On March 14, Chrissie and I got as close to married as the current legislation will allow – that is to say, we did the legal deed last year (see below), but on Saturday, we confirmed our relationship in a formal, public ceremony and a most wonderful celebratory event.
We thought about it long and hard, over the past year, and finally decided to commit to a date and a format. I scoured the internet to find words that would suit a couple of old chooks such as ourselves, and believe me, it wasn't easy to find anything that wasn't soaked in religiosity or saccharine aspiration for the very young hetero couple.
So, a very postmodern pastiche developed as I picked up phrases and readings from here and there, and the result was really pretty fine, though I say so myself! If I can figure out how to attach a pdf of the ceremony, I will do so, and hope that anyone who would like to use it or adapt it for their own purposes will do so.
We had the marvellous Rosemary Follett to officiate – and as we'd hoped, she had just the right combination of gravitas and humour to make the whole thing work. We had our wonderful former neighbours, Jenny and Graham Scott-Bohanna as our Best Girl and Best Boy. We had Chrissie's closest friend Gail Winkworth, and my friend and colleague Jonathan Wills, to do the readings. And, most joyfully, we had the superb and brilliant Canberra Gay and Lesbian Qwire to sing for us! My dear brothers Kit and David MC'd and took photos respectively, and my mother, just turned 88 and none too sure about things, was there as well, singing along and having a great time :o)
There was food and drink galore, and lots and lots of wonderful presents ( I LOVE presents!!), and the whole day went off tremendously well. I feel incredibly blessed. AND, as if all that wasn't enough, we also had the beautiful and talented Jose from El Salvador to play classical and latin guitar music for us. It was all especially lovely because we were also celebrating my sixtieth birthday (god almighty). So how lucky am I!
Monday, March 16, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
The new puppy and other developments
Well, it's been a long time coming: a new member of the family. Considering I never envisaged myself having a terrier, nor, indeed, a male dog, I am quite surprised at how far I've fallen for this dear little dog named Pepper, called Peppie. Inasmuch as the loved dog has many names, he is also called a number of other names, including Pep, puppy, Mr P and raggedy dog. He looks a bit like a rug, with soft wavy fur the colours of wood ash – fawn, charcoal, apricot, grey, white and wheaten – and is descended from a proud heritage that includes Australian Silky, poodle, Shih-Tzu and Maltese, so he is quite little (at six months) and not likely to grow much bigger.
We got him from good friends: Affrica, her former partner Shona and their daughter Ruby had little Pep from a tiny puppy, but Shona is very ill and, having two dogs already, they realised they would have to give him up. Luckily they thought of us, and so there we are: grandmothers. :o)
I've taken a number of pix of the little fella, but he is so bouncy and Tigger-ish that it's hard to get a good shot of him other than when he's asleep.
And now, in other news: we had a splendid storm the other night – not so splendid for people who lost roofs and trees, and the ceiling in my room is leaking which is a pain in the bum, but it was rather beautiful and speckie, so I took some photos.
And of course, January is bushfire month. This January 18 was the sixth anniversary of the Canberra Firestorm, and C, P and I went down to the Bushfire Memorial. It was a beautiful, tranquil evening, just on sunset. I was amazed and delighted at how the memorial planting has developed and grown. It has become a truly worthy memorial, and will only get more lovely as time goes on. Peppie thought it was pretty good, and defended us noisily from the other visitors who had chosen the cool of the evening to see the memorial.
This is the one problem with young Peppie: he is inclined to take loud offense at any untoward sound, person, car, motorbike etc that dares to impinge upon his very sharp hearing. I think a few sessions with the Bark Buster people is called for. Oddly (in view of dear old Jessie's extravagantly noisy welcomes), he doesn't bark when one of us returns from being out – which is not to say he doesn't go mental with delight, he just doesn't bark madly. It's a relief, I must say.
Meanwhile, in other news, C is pressing on splendidly with her PhD, so now there are two in the (extended) family doing PhDs. I am SO jealous.
The sad news is that our wonderful, bon vivant neighbours, Jenny and Graham Scott-Bohanna, are leaving us for a new life in Melbourne. It's such a blow. We will miss them terribly, but we've had some wonderful times lately with them, for example when they stayed with us down the coast earlier this month. We had New Year together and of course had a feast on the deck. Ah, me, when will we meet there again, I wonder...
The dear old thing is losing marbles day by day, but still enjoys dinner with us on Sundays. Her grasp of recent and distant memory is increasingly feeble. She is mixing up Kit with her brother Peter, and Daddy with her father. But she can sing, and remember songs from her childhood and youth. We often have a sing at dinner and her voice (though astonishingly deep) is as true as true.
Coming back to the present, for me, I finished up my summer term today with concluding marking and submitting results. It's a big relief, I can tell you. Now I start to prepare for the units I am to teach in first semester. I'm looking forward to the new version of PR Theory, now called Principles of PR. The other part of my work is at Masters level, Marketing Communication Theory, which is also very interesting. I'd like to have had time to re-jig it but the summer term teaching put paid to that, so I'll use what I did last year for both f2f and online versions of the unit.
We got him from good friends: Affrica, her former partner Shona and their daughter Ruby had little Pep from a tiny puppy, but Shona is very ill and, having two dogs already, they realised they would have to give him up. Luckily they thought of us, and so there we are: grandmothers. :o)
I've taken a number of pix of the little fella, but he is so bouncy and Tigger-ish that it's hard to get a good shot of him other than when he's asleep.
And now, in other news: we had a splendid storm the other night – not so splendid for people who lost roofs and trees, and the ceiling in my room is leaking which is a pain in the bum, but it was rather beautiful and speckie, so I took some photos.
And of course, January is bushfire month. This January 18 was the sixth anniversary of the Canberra Firestorm, and C, P and I went down to the Bushfire Memorial. It was a beautiful, tranquil evening, just on sunset. I was amazed and delighted at how the memorial planting has developed and grown. It has become a truly worthy memorial, and will only get more lovely as time goes on. Peppie thought it was pretty good, and defended us noisily from the other visitors who had chosen the cool of the evening to see the memorial.
This is the one problem with young Peppie: he is inclined to take loud offense at any untoward sound, person, car, motorbike etc that dares to impinge upon his very sharp hearing. I think a few sessions with the Bark Buster people is called for. Oddly (in view of dear old Jessie's extravagantly noisy welcomes), he doesn't bark when one of us returns from being out – which is not to say he doesn't go mental with delight, he just doesn't bark madly. It's a relief, I must say.
Meanwhile, in other news, C is pressing on splendidly with her PhD, so now there are two in the (extended) family doing PhDs. I am SO jealous.
The sad news is that our wonderful, bon vivant neighbours, Jenny and Graham Scott-Bohanna, are leaving us for a new life in Melbourne. It's such a blow. We will miss them terribly, but we've had some wonderful times lately with them, for example when they stayed with us down the coast earlier this month. We had New Year together and of course had a feast on the deck. Ah, me, when will we meet there again, I wonder...
The dear old thing is losing marbles day by day, but still enjoys dinner with us on Sundays. Her grasp of recent and distant memory is increasingly feeble. She is mixing up Kit with her brother Peter, and Daddy with her father. But she can sing, and remember songs from her childhood and youth. We often have a sing at dinner and her voice (though astonishingly deep) is as true as true.
Coming back to the present, for me, I finished up my summer term today with concluding marking and submitting results. It's a big relief, I can tell you. Now I start to prepare for the units I am to teach in first semester. I'm looking forward to the new version of PR Theory, now called Principles of PR. The other part of my work is at Masters level, Marketing Communication Theory, which is also very interesting. I'd like to have had time to re-jig it but the summer term teaching put paid to that, so I'll use what I did last year for both f2f and online versions of the unit.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
The Girlz Have Fun
The Hayman Island thing (see below) actually happened! We've just come back from five days (four sleeps) at the Hayman I. resort with Kerry & Marg, and oh boy was it gorgeous. I suppose I have stayed in flash places in my life, but I've never experienced the sheer professional excellence nor the aesthetic delight of a resort like this. Not only are the staff everything you could hope for (friendly, helpful, kind without being over-chummy): also, the food is superb, the accommodation is extremely comfortable, the administrative service highly efficient – and, the place itself is almost beyond belief beautiful.
Alongside this account are some of the photos I took while we were there. While they give an idea of what it was like, they can't really convey the softness of the air, the incredible humidity, the heat, the cooling breeze, the crunch of coral sand, the intense saltiness of the water in the main pool at the resort, the quietness, the nothing-is-too-much-trouble service, the whole feeling of being taken care of with superior quality in every aspect from sheets and towels to gourmet food and wine. It is absolutely no surprise that the Hayman I. resort is recognised as one of the world's leading hotels.
The journey there wasn't too arduous: we flew straight to Brisbane and stayed overnight with Jude and Louise, which is always such a treat. Jude very generously took us to the airport the next morning after a most interesting tour of the area of Brisbane which had been well and truly biffed by a huge storm recently.
We met up with Kerry & Marg at the airport, and flew from Brisbane to Hamilton I., whereupon the real luxury adventure began: met at the airport by Hayman staff, taken on board a huge launch, and plied with champagne and nibbles for the 90-minute trip to Hayman (during which I managed to lose my glasses, bugger it). Then greeted at the wharf by more flunkies, and escorted to our "Retreat" amidst an abundance of tropical shrubs, trees and bushes. It was very hot and humid, especially to our Canberra-attuned sensibilities, but our room was beautifully cool, spacious and well equipped, including a ceiling fan and a frighteningly well-stocked bar fridge. One of the most splendid and enjoyable things about our retreat was the outside shower. Set in a little walled alcove amidst tropical shrubs with coconut palms waving gracefully above, and blessed with a huge shower head, this was a complete joy after a swim.
Each evening, great clouds of fruit bats set off from Hayman across the waters to Hook I. and beyond – it was a signal to get ready for dinner. There are five different places to eat at the resort, and we tried all but one (the VERY flash La Fontaine where tiaras are mandatory). By far the most impressive was the Oriental, where we all had dinner on the second night, out in a beautiful foresty garden high on a wooden platform, away from the hoipoloi, overlooking a dark, glinting pool. It was a magic night and the food was utterly superb.
Every morning we met up at the Azure, a bright and breezy open restaurant with very good buffet food and opportunistic seagulls. They even had congee and miso soup, as well as catering for the northern European taste for cheese and fish for breakfast. And, blessing of blessings, they had proper leaf tea in proper teapots, not to mention proper espresso coffee. Again, the service was impeccable.
I think all four of us must have been pretty whacked when we arrived, as a lot of sleeping and dozing by the pool(s) took place. We roused ourselves for late breakfasts, fell into the pool, dozed and read in the shade of the coconut palms, dressed for lunch, repaired to the pool afterward for more dozing, reading and flopping into the pool, dressed for cocktails and dinner, and tottered off, replete, to our air-conditioned blissful suites/retreats for another quiet, peaceful night filled with all the dreams you could imagine – a lot of stress-processing going on, I think.
We had pretty good weather for the four days – fairly hot and humid, and one day of overcast grey which got darker and darker, but no storm eventuated for us which was a shame. I would have enjoyed seeing it bucketing down.
One thing we didn't get round to doing – possibly because of the general level of fatigue (or possibly sloth) – was taking the round-island walk. I thought about it, and managed to get up early on the first morning (because I was so excited to be there), but the next morning was all too hard. So we will save that up for another time.
One of the things I noticed about the place was the quietness of it. Somehow, the natural beauty, the quiet waters, the gently susurrating palm fronds and garden foliage, and the layout of the buildings and facilities, allowed people to behave quietly. Even young children were not as noisy as they usually are. I saw one tiny little girl of about four singing softly to herself at the edge of the lagoon pool while her mother gazed at her, besotted.
The poinciana trees were in spectacular bloom, and all the gardens were simply beautiful. the whole place is watered with recycled water and the resort uses a desalination plant. It's all very eco. Lots of little lizards flitting about, and crickets at night.
The main pool (huge!! and very salty) was really too warm to be refreshing, but it was extraordinarily pleasant just floating about. We were told that the hotel had 60% occupancy, so it was never even vaguely crowded. In any case, the place is so big crowds of people could get lost quite easily. And yet the scale and proportion of the buildings and open spaces are such that you never feel in any way overwhelmed or lost.
We also spent time at the lagoon pool, which seemed to be more favoured by families with little kids. There was more shade there, and the nearby Beach Pavilion provided us with drinks and afternoon tea. There are also other pools, not for swimming but for the pleasure of their appearance – beautiful, dark, mysterious pools with glimmering reflections of sky and foliage, graced with the odd swan or duck rippling along the dimpled glassy surface.
The local bird life was also very entertaining: a band of 5 or 6 curlews (which I am inclined to think might actually have been little whimbrels) had taken up residence around the gardens at one end of the main pool, and did a lot of lurking and snoozing. During the night they let out several series of ghastly banshee wailing. There were also the usual kookaburras, currawongs, rainbow lorikeets and seagulls, some very cheeky dusky moorhens including a fluff-ball chick with huge feet, two ducks that shat a lot, a couple of white swans, and I saw a most beautiful little yellow-breasted sunbird. The staff patrol all the pathways in the resort first thing every morning, scrubbing off all the bird poop. Poor things!
Of all the charmingly described "water sports" on offer, C and I selected only the snorkeling trip, which involved setting off on a boat to one of the nearby islets, staring at passing fish through the underwater windows, and then plunging into the tepid water wearing these marvellous "stinger suits" along with masks, snorkels and fins. I wanted to buy some for us because not only do they protect you from stingers, jellyfish and the like, they also stop the UV. Not exactly flattering, but still. Let's face it, we are women of substance. Anyway, they only had kids' sizes. We saw some gorgeous parrot fish, lots of amazing coral formations and a myriad other finny things going about their business of eating and being eaten. It was a lot of fun, and they gave us champagne on the way back too!
We were extremely careful of the sun and slathered ourselves with sunblock, so both of us ended up with a slight, healthy-looking tan which will probably fade within days.
The retail area was interesting – everything was very pricey and resorty (not my style). I did try to buy a hat but it didn't suit me. I managed to resist all retail blandishments, amazingly. C bought some very glam new bathers, however.
The journey back was pretty dismal, not least because we had a very long wait at Brisbane to catch the direct flight back to Canberra. Admittedly, life is reasonably pleasant waiting in the Qantas Club lounge, but even so it gets tedious. And of course, on the aircraft, Qantas seats are so infernally cramped that you nearly go mad. I was scrinched into the window seat with the back of the seat in front of me less than 30cm from my face, and the seats are so narrow there is nowhere to put your elbows without jamming them up against the person sitting next to you. My shoulders were shrieking by the time we landed.
So, well, here we are, back in Canberra, and life is returning all too quickly to normal. Tomorrow I am back in the classroom, dealing with incomprehension and incomprehensible English. Wot larks, Pip!
Alongside this account are some of the photos I took while we were there. While they give an idea of what it was like, they can't really convey the softness of the air, the incredible humidity, the heat, the cooling breeze, the crunch of coral sand, the intense saltiness of the water in the main pool at the resort, the quietness, the nothing-is-too-much-trouble service, the whole feeling of being taken care of with superior quality in every aspect from sheets and towels to gourmet food and wine. It is absolutely no surprise that the Hayman I. resort is recognised as one of the world's leading hotels.
The journey there wasn't too arduous: we flew straight to Brisbane and stayed overnight with Jude and Louise, which is always such a treat. Jude very generously took us to the airport the next morning after a most interesting tour of the area of Brisbane which had been well and truly biffed by a huge storm recently.
We met up with Kerry & Marg at the airport, and flew from Brisbane to Hamilton I., whereupon the real luxury adventure began: met at the airport by Hayman staff, taken on board a huge launch, and plied with champagne and nibbles for the 90-minute trip to Hayman (during which I managed to lose my glasses, bugger it). Then greeted at the wharf by more flunkies, and escorted to our "Retreat" amidst an abundance of tropical shrubs, trees and bushes. It was very hot and humid, especially to our Canberra-attuned sensibilities, but our room was beautifully cool, spacious and well equipped, including a ceiling fan and a frighteningly well-stocked bar fridge. One of the most splendid and enjoyable things about our retreat was the outside shower. Set in a little walled alcove amidst tropical shrubs with coconut palms waving gracefully above, and blessed with a huge shower head, this was a complete joy after a swim.
Each evening, great clouds of fruit bats set off from Hayman across the waters to Hook I. and beyond – it was a signal to get ready for dinner. There are five different places to eat at the resort, and we tried all but one (the VERY flash La Fontaine where tiaras are mandatory). By far the most impressive was the Oriental, where we all had dinner on the second night, out in a beautiful foresty garden high on a wooden platform, away from the hoipoloi, overlooking a dark, glinting pool. It was a magic night and the food was utterly superb.
Every morning we met up at the Azure, a bright and breezy open restaurant with very good buffet food and opportunistic seagulls. They even had congee and miso soup, as well as catering for the northern European taste for cheese and fish for breakfast. And, blessing of blessings, they had proper leaf tea in proper teapots, not to mention proper espresso coffee. Again, the service was impeccable.
I think all four of us must have been pretty whacked when we arrived, as a lot of sleeping and dozing by the pool(s) took place. We roused ourselves for late breakfasts, fell into the pool, dozed and read in the shade of the coconut palms, dressed for lunch, repaired to the pool afterward for more dozing, reading and flopping into the pool, dressed for cocktails and dinner, and tottered off, replete, to our air-conditioned blissful suites/retreats for another quiet, peaceful night filled with all the dreams you could imagine – a lot of stress-processing going on, I think.
We had pretty good weather for the four days – fairly hot and humid, and one day of overcast grey which got darker and darker, but no storm eventuated for us which was a shame. I would have enjoyed seeing it bucketing down.
One thing we didn't get round to doing – possibly because of the general level of fatigue (or possibly sloth) – was taking the round-island walk. I thought about it, and managed to get up early on the first morning (because I was so excited to be there), but the next morning was all too hard. So we will save that up for another time.
One of the things I noticed about the place was the quietness of it. Somehow, the natural beauty, the quiet waters, the gently susurrating palm fronds and garden foliage, and the layout of the buildings and facilities, allowed people to behave quietly. Even young children were not as noisy as they usually are. I saw one tiny little girl of about four singing softly to herself at the edge of the lagoon pool while her mother gazed at her, besotted.
The poinciana trees were in spectacular bloom, and all the gardens were simply beautiful. the whole place is watered with recycled water and the resort uses a desalination plant. It's all very eco. Lots of little lizards flitting about, and crickets at night.
The main pool (huge!! and very salty) was really too warm to be refreshing, but it was extraordinarily pleasant just floating about. We were told that the hotel had 60% occupancy, so it was never even vaguely crowded. In any case, the place is so big crowds of people could get lost quite easily. And yet the scale and proportion of the buildings and open spaces are such that you never feel in any way overwhelmed or lost.
We also spent time at the lagoon pool, which seemed to be more favoured by families with little kids. There was more shade there, and the nearby Beach Pavilion provided us with drinks and afternoon tea. There are also other pools, not for swimming but for the pleasure of their appearance – beautiful, dark, mysterious pools with glimmering reflections of sky and foliage, graced with the odd swan or duck rippling along the dimpled glassy surface.
The local bird life was also very entertaining: a band of 5 or 6 curlews (which I am inclined to think might actually have been little whimbrels) had taken up residence around the gardens at one end of the main pool, and did a lot of lurking and snoozing. During the night they let out several series of ghastly banshee wailing. There were also the usual kookaburras, currawongs, rainbow lorikeets and seagulls, some very cheeky dusky moorhens including a fluff-ball chick with huge feet, two ducks that shat a lot, a couple of white swans, and I saw a most beautiful little yellow-breasted sunbird. The staff patrol all the pathways in the resort first thing every morning, scrubbing off all the bird poop. Poor things!
Of all the charmingly described "water sports" on offer, C and I selected only the snorkeling trip, which involved setting off on a boat to one of the nearby islets, staring at passing fish through the underwater windows, and then plunging into the tepid water wearing these marvellous "stinger suits" along with masks, snorkels and fins. I wanted to buy some for us because not only do they protect you from stingers, jellyfish and the like, they also stop the UV. Not exactly flattering, but still. Let's face it, we are women of substance. Anyway, they only had kids' sizes. We saw some gorgeous parrot fish, lots of amazing coral formations and a myriad other finny things going about their business of eating and being eaten. It was a lot of fun, and they gave us champagne on the way back too!
We were extremely careful of the sun and slathered ourselves with sunblock, so both of us ended up with a slight, healthy-looking tan which will probably fade within days.
The retail area was interesting – everything was very pricey and resorty (not my style). I did try to buy a hat but it didn't suit me. I managed to resist all retail blandishments, amazingly. C bought some very glam new bathers, however.
The journey back was pretty dismal, not least because we had a very long wait at Brisbane to catch the direct flight back to Canberra. Admittedly, life is reasonably pleasant waiting in the Qantas Club lounge, but even so it gets tedious. And of course, on the aircraft, Qantas seats are so infernally cramped that you nearly go mad. I was scrinched into the window seat with the back of the seat in front of me less than 30cm from my face, and the seats are so narrow there is nowhere to put your elbows without jamming them up against the person sitting next to you. My shoulders were shrieking by the time we landed.
So, well, here we are, back in Canberra, and life is returning all too quickly to normal. Tomorrow I am back in the classroom, dealing with incomprehension and incomprehensible English. Wot larks, Pip!
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Further meanderings
Life seems to be taking some odd turns at the moment. Nothing specific, just a feeling. Maybe it's that Chris has decided to do a PhD which I think is a wonderful endeavour; maybe it's because Doady has found a true soul-mate and is happy at last. Maybe it's because I am feeling really stimulated by both the teaching I'm doing at present, and by the exhilaration of singing with the Qwire. I always feel more optimistic at this time of year, especially when not one but two families of red wattle birds have been raised in what we laughingly refer to as our garden. Perhaps it's the drugs, but I feel as though some sort of new beginning is in the offing.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Truckin' on into the mist
It's nearly the end of October. I am relegated to teaching at the college and have an impossibly large class of good young girls and a few boys mostly from the Middle Kingdom ... they are there ostensibly to prepare themselves linguistically and with academic and professional knowledge to go straight into second year of their UC degree. It is a well-nigh impossible task – there are 24 of them. For god's sake. The college is supposed to be a place where small classes of mostly linguistically challenged international students can get intensive tuition to bring them up to speed at the university proper. *Big sigh*
I haven't finished Drusilla, gnome of the desert, and Floriade is over. But she is still awaiting finishing touches, which may or may not happen one day ...
Barak fights on, McCain says truly inexplicable things, Palin amazes and horrifies the rest of the world ... the world economy is going to hell in a handbasket (as they say), and do I care? No. I selfishly care about my too-big class of children whose parents are paying through the nose for their beautiful only-children's future. I care about my colleagues who are despairing of their future at UC. I care about my poor, frail, diminishing mother. And I now firmly believe that if I develop some killing disease or condition, I will let it take me over that bourne from which no traveller returns. I fear old age, not death.
I haven't finished Drusilla, gnome of the desert, and Floriade is over. But she is still awaiting finishing touches, which may or may not happen one day ...
Barak fights on, McCain says truly inexplicable things, Palin amazes and horrifies the rest of the world ... the world economy is going to hell in a handbasket (as they say), and do I care? No. I selfishly care about my too-big class of children whose parents are paying through the nose for their beautiful only-children's future. I care about my colleagues who are despairing of their future at UC. I care about my poor, frail, diminishing mother. And I now firmly believe that if I develop some killing disease or condition, I will let it take me over that bourne from which no traveller returns. I fear old age, not death.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Gnoming on
I'm reminded that it was the bus that was called Priscilla. So I think I will call my gnome Drusilla, Gnome of the Desert. She is starting to look somewhat alarming and therefore a lot like a real drag queen.
I've always found drag queens quite confronting. On the one hand, you can't help but admire the incredible courage it takes to be a full-on drag queen. On the other, I find the parody of ultra-femininity (especially when it's held up as superior to the female version, as it is in this movie and nastily so), quite offensive. Still, I find ultra-femininity pretty off-putting when it's demonstrated by a woman, too.
It's not something I think about much, so I haven't got far in my analysis, but there is something profoundly misogynistic in the classic drag queen, and not just in the exaggerated, grotesque make-up, wigs, falsies, huge heels, feathers and frills. It's also in the argot of feminine pronouns, 'bitch' behaviour and the adoption of extreme stereotypes of women's behaviour (always the worst of it).
The most peculiar thing about drag queens to me is that many straight men seem to be transfixed with fascination when they are watching a drag show. Go figure.
Anyway, all that aside, let's celebrate the courage, artistry and bravado of the drag queen. Drusilla is coming along quite well, although her rouge is catastrophic.
I've always found drag queens quite confronting. On the one hand, you can't help but admire the incredible courage it takes to be a full-on drag queen. On the other, I find the parody of ultra-femininity (especially when it's held up as superior to the female version, as it is in this movie and nastily so), quite offensive. Still, I find ultra-femininity pretty off-putting when it's demonstrated by a woman, too.
It's not something I think about much, so I haven't got far in my analysis, but there is something profoundly misogynistic in the classic drag queen, and not just in the exaggerated, grotesque make-up, wigs, falsies, huge heels, feathers and frills. It's also in the argot of feminine pronouns, 'bitch' behaviour and the adoption of extreme stereotypes of women's behaviour (always the worst of it).
The most peculiar thing about drag queens to me is that many straight men seem to be transfixed with fascination when they are watching a drag show. Go figure.
Anyway, all that aside, let's celebrate the courage, artistry and bravado of the drag queen. Drusilla is coming along quite well, although her rouge is catastrophic.
Gnomes ahoy
Chris and I were tottering through the Woden Plaza the other day and happened upon an arty crafty shop with a window full of terracotta gnomes. Immediately attracted, I realised this was part of a 'Paint your own gnome' competition being run for Floriade, our annual foreign flower fest. So naturally I bought one, and a set of paints and sealants. The theme is Great Aussie Movies. I thought immediately of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. It will be a feat of incredible magnitude to transform a terracotta gnome into a raging drag queen, but who doesn't love a challenge? Here is Priscilla, Gnome of the Desert, with two coats of sealant in preparation for costuming.
Friday, August 29, 2008
At home, quietly
Chris is away in Tallangatta again, and I am pootling around home, reading, watching animated movies (tonight's treat is Tim Burton's Corpse Bride), and generally being quiet. I took Kit to have his leg x-rayed this morning, but otherwise I've pretty much been at home all day, researching tropical holidays for C and me at the end of the year. Hayman Island, I'm hoping.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
The long way home
We are home again after a long-way-round trip that took in some of the most gorgeous scenery along the upper Murray, wonderful glimpses of the snow country and a marvellous walk around Yarrangobilly in the Kosciusko National Park.
At some point (the days are hazy) we decided to visit a camping spot recommended by our neighbours Jenny and Graham. It's on the Mitta River and rejoices in the unfortunate name of Pigs Point, but it's quite lovely and the river is flowing beautifully. We skulked around finding wombat holes and bemoaning the felling of a number of willow trees: we assume they've been cut down to reduce the amount of water being guzzled to the detriment of the flow downstream, so we weren't too dismayed.
On Friday, Chris took John to see a different GP (none of us having much faith in the about-to-retire 80-year-old whom John has been seeing). The new GP is reviewing the (staggering) number of different drugs John is taking, and seems to be on the ball. John is less troubled by the vexed signature issue, but is still having memory lapses. He agreed to let us buy a new mobile phone for him (we took a trip into Wodonga before the Pigs Point visit) which he is rather pleased with: the best thing about it is that it is next G so it works at the cemetery. This is quite a long way out of Tallangatta and therefore a really long way from anywhere, especially mobile phone towers. He visits the cemetery every day to have a chat with Marj. It's a sad, sad thing, but he likes to do it and now, if he has a fall or something, he'll be able to get help.
We set off for home on Friday after the doctor visit and decided to avoid the dreary Hume Highway for once, so we drove up through Granya to the Murray River Road and followed the river course to Walwa and all the way to Tintaldra, then north to Tumut through some of the most gorgeous countryside. They've had a fair bit of rain, by the looks of it, and the place is mostly quite green.
I wanted to see the Pine Mountain monolith which is said to be 1.5 times the size of Uluru, but of course it's mostly covered in scrub and bushes so it's hard to get an idea of it as a monolith. The countryside thereabouts is really lovely and the road is very good. We crossed the Murray at Tintaldra and headed north to Tumut. TUMUT is not only a palindrome, but with a sans serif face is also a mirror palindrome. I like that sort of thing.
Wonderful place names along that route: Welaregang, Welumba, Jagumba, Maragle, Tumbarumba, Courabyra, Wondalga, Wereboldera ... We stopped in the mid-afternoon at a lookout, and saw the great white mounds of Kosciusko and the high country in the distance. And a beautiful little flame robin.
When we arrived at Tumut in the late afternoon, we found a very comfortable motel quite by chance – the Tumut Motor Inn – and found ourselves surrounded by ALP apparatchiks and Mike Kelly, member for Eden Monaro, who was having a community day the next day. We got the last room in the motel! We had a good dinner at a restaurant called Jazz River.
Saturday dawned still, frosty and sunny, a perfect day for touring. We decided to visit Yarrangobilly to see the caves and the thermal pool, so set off south along the banks of Blowering Reservoir, past Talbingo and on into the Kosciusko National Park. Blowering is a huge dam, very picturesque, and does seem to have a fair bit of water in it, although the water level is far lower than the dam is designed for. We saw traces of snow along the way and were supposed to be carrying chains, but the roads were clear and the sun warm in a perfect blue sky, so I thought we'd probably be OK.
Yarrangobilly caves and guest house are off the main road down a narrow dirt road, but quite doable in a 2-wheel drive. We borrowed binoculars from the rangers, and set off on the caves-thermal pool walk. The main cave, South Glory, is really spectacular and very worth the trip.
There is a walkway lined with handrails and very well-designed lighting that brings out the weird beauty of the limestone formations. The special lighting is on a movement tripped, time-limited system, so you are walking along with the path lit by lights at floor level, and suddenly lights will come on, revealing a whole new vista of stalagtites, shawls, coral formation and other mysterious mineral eternities.
It's a big cave system but very spacious with some really large caverns, and it takes quite a long while to walk right through the South Glory. Such silence there is in a cave, save for the dripping of water in hidden pools. It was all rather Lord of the Rings-ish. Gollum and the Dwarves would have loved it. There are a number of other caves open to the public but you have to have a guide, so that's an adventure for another day.
The walk along the river to the thermal pool is a delight – quiet, pretty and easy walking – although getting down to it and then back up again is something of a challenge to those with difficult knees. The pool itself is warmish, clear as glass, and very inviting.
On the way home we passed through the Kiandra area which was completely blanketed with great gollops and quilts of deep snow – beautiful! It's an interesting experience to be driving gradually up into higher country, and you notice that the road markings have turned from white to yellow, and there are red snow poles on either side of the road. We passed through areas that had clearly had massive snowfalls, but the road was clear and mostly dry. Then onward via Adaminaby, a quick visit to Cooma and due north straight up the Monaro Highway to Canberra. Luckily the snow crowds were not travelling on a Saturday!
We arrived home at last, quite weary and glad to end the journey, late on Saturday evening.
At some point (the days are hazy) we decided to visit a camping spot recommended by our neighbours Jenny and Graham. It's on the Mitta River and rejoices in the unfortunate name of Pigs Point, but it's quite lovely and the river is flowing beautifully. We skulked around finding wombat holes and bemoaning the felling of a number of willow trees: we assume they've been cut down to reduce the amount of water being guzzled to the detriment of the flow downstream, so we weren't too dismayed.
On Friday, Chris took John to see a different GP (none of us having much faith in the about-to-retire 80-year-old whom John has been seeing). The new GP is reviewing the (staggering) number of different drugs John is taking, and seems to be on the ball. John is less troubled by the vexed signature issue, but is still having memory lapses. He agreed to let us buy a new mobile phone for him (we took a trip into Wodonga before the Pigs Point visit) which he is rather pleased with: the best thing about it is that it is next G so it works at the cemetery. This is quite a long way out of Tallangatta and therefore a really long way from anywhere, especially mobile phone towers. He visits the cemetery every day to have a chat with Marj. It's a sad, sad thing, but he likes to do it and now, if he has a fall or something, he'll be able to get help.
We set off for home on Friday after the doctor visit and decided to avoid the dreary Hume Highway for once, so we drove up through Granya to the Murray River Road and followed the river course to Walwa and all the way to Tintaldra, then north to Tumut through some of the most gorgeous countryside. They've had a fair bit of rain, by the looks of it, and the place is mostly quite green.
I wanted to see the Pine Mountain monolith which is said to be 1.5 times the size of Uluru, but of course it's mostly covered in scrub and bushes so it's hard to get an idea of it as a monolith. The countryside thereabouts is really lovely and the road is very good. We crossed the Murray at Tintaldra and headed north to Tumut. TUMUT is not only a palindrome, but with a sans serif face is also a mirror palindrome. I like that sort of thing.
Wonderful place names along that route: Welaregang, Welumba, Jagumba, Maragle, Tumbarumba, Courabyra, Wondalga, Wereboldera ... We stopped in the mid-afternoon at a lookout, and saw the great white mounds of Kosciusko and the high country in the distance. And a beautiful little flame robin.
When we arrived at Tumut in the late afternoon, we found a very comfortable motel quite by chance – the Tumut Motor Inn – and found ourselves surrounded by ALP apparatchiks and Mike Kelly, member for Eden Monaro, who was having a community day the next day. We got the last room in the motel! We had a good dinner at a restaurant called Jazz River.
Saturday dawned still, frosty and sunny, a perfect day for touring. We decided to visit Yarrangobilly to see the caves and the thermal pool, so set off south along the banks of Blowering Reservoir, past Talbingo and on into the Kosciusko National Park. Blowering is a huge dam, very picturesque, and does seem to have a fair bit of water in it, although the water level is far lower than the dam is designed for. We saw traces of snow along the way and were supposed to be carrying chains, but the roads were clear and the sun warm in a perfect blue sky, so I thought we'd probably be OK.
Yarrangobilly caves and guest house are off the main road down a narrow dirt road, but quite doable in a 2-wheel drive. We borrowed binoculars from the rangers, and set off on the caves-thermal pool walk. The main cave, South Glory, is really spectacular and very worth the trip.
There is a walkway lined with handrails and very well-designed lighting that brings out the weird beauty of the limestone formations. The special lighting is on a movement tripped, time-limited system, so you are walking along with the path lit by lights at floor level, and suddenly lights will come on, revealing a whole new vista of stalagtites, shawls, coral formation and other mysterious mineral eternities.
It's a big cave system but very spacious with some really large caverns, and it takes quite a long while to walk right through the South Glory. Such silence there is in a cave, save for the dripping of water in hidden pools. It was all rather Lord of the Rings-ish. Gollum and the Dwarves would have loved it. There are a number of other caves open to the public but you have to have a guide, so that's an adventure for another day.
The walk along the river to the thermal pool is a delight – quiet, pretty and easy walking – although getting down to it and then back up again is something of a challenge to those with difficult knees. The pool itself is warmish, clear as glass, and very inviting.
On the way home we passed through the Kiandra area which was completely blanketed with great gollops and quilts of deep snow – beautiful! It's an interesting experience to be driving gradually up into higher country, and you notice that the road markings have turned from white to yellow, and there are red snow poles on either side of the road. We passed through areas that had clearly had massive snowfalls, but the road was clear and mostly dry. Then onward via Adaminaby, a quick visit to Cooma and due north straight up the Monaro Highway to Canberra. Luckily the snow crowds were not travelling on a Saturday!
We arrived home at last, quite weary and glad to end the journey, late on Saturday evening.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
A trip to North Eastern Victoria
Chris asked me to join her in Tallangatta as she was feeling a bit overwhelmed with things, so I drove down on Monday. It's a long drive from Canberra, but the time passed quite painlessly as I listened to a talking book version of Donna Leon's 'Through a glass darkly'. It's an odd thing to be driving through the dry undulating countryside of eucalyptus, wattles, and rolling paddocks of southern NSW while listing to a tale of intrigue and nefariousness in watery Venice.
John is not very well. He has a bad shoulder, is recovering from a cold, and is very troubled by having witnessed a neighbour's signature which allowed her to put her husband Bob into local respite care. He feels he has collaborated in 'putting Bob away', as he puts it. Nothing we can say can shift his anxiety about this.
So it's probably a good thing that C has an appointment in Corryong today as part of a contract she has with ACU - an interview with a beneficiary of a government assistance program. So here I am, at Corryong public library, doing my blog (as opposed to block). We had a very pleasant lunch at a place called the Pepperleaf, and when I finish here I will go for a wander along the town's main street. I've taken a few pix and will upload them when I have time.
Yesterday C and I went for a walk along the old railway track from Tallangatta toward Old Tallangatta ('the town that moved'). C's dad used to be the station master at Tallangatta Station, and she showed me where the station used to be, and the house opposite where she lived as a child.
It was cold but a lovely walk, easy, fine white gravel underfoot and only the gentlest of inclines. The whole railway walk actually stretches a very long distance, but after we'd walked for about 45 mins, we turned back. Such a peaceful place, with beautiful rolling hills, quite green (considering), and so quiet! Just the tsiptsiptsip of little brown birds in the underbrush, the odd moo, the cry of a crow ... The Hume Weir, along one side of which the track runs, is a sad mess of black, dead tree trunks, meandering, thin waterways, erosion and dried bog - a perfectly good valley ruined. One wonders if, in the end, the weir and the Snowy Mountains project will not be looked upon as among the greatest engineering mistakes ever made in this country. So much has been done with the expectation of ongoing rainfall.
John is not very well. He has a bad shoulder, is recovering from a cold, and is very troubled by having witnessed a neighbour's signature which allowed her to put her husband Bob into local respite care. He feels he has collaborated in 'putting Bob away', as he puts it. Nothing we can say can shift his anxiety about this.
So it's probably a good thing that C has an appointment in Corryong today as part of a contract she has with ACU - an interview with a beneficiary of a government assistance program. So here I am, at Corryong public library, doing my blog (as opposed to block). We had a very pleasant lunch at a place called the Pepperleaf, and when I finish here I will go for a wander along the town's main street. I've taken a few pix and will upload them when I have time.
Yesterday C and I went for a walk along the old railway track from Tallangatta toward Old Tallangatta ('the town that moved'). C's dad used to be the station master at Tallangatta Station, and she showed me where the station used to be, and the house opposite where she lived as a child.
It was cold but a lovely walk, easy, fine white gravel underfoot and only the gentlest of inclines. The whole railway walk actually stretches a very long distance, but after we'd walked for about 45 mins, we turned back. Such a peaceful place, with beautiful rolling hills, quite green (considering), and so quiet! Just the tsiptsiptsip of little brown birds in the underbrush, the odd moo, the cry of a crow ... The Hume Weir, along one side of which the track runs, is a sad mess of black, dead tree trunks, meandering, thin waterways, erosion and dried bog - a perfectly good valley ruined. One wonders if, in the end, the weir and the Snowy Mountains project will not be looked upon as among the greatest engineering mistakes ever made in this country. So much has been done with the expectation of ongoing rainfall.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Tempus fugit
The middle of August already. August is a wicked month, according to Edna O'Brien and, no doubt, others. August is often the time the oldies leave us. Daddy died 11 years ago on Monday. I shall go to the grave as usual to tidy it up and, as usual, explain myself to him in ways I couldn't when he was alive. In the meantime, speaking of old dads, Chris has gone to Tallangatta to look after her dad who is nearly ninety, and not in very good shape. He has a cold and a bad shoulder, he's miserable and lonely and starting to lose the plot. I already know that old age is not for the faint-hearted. What I didn't know was that looking after the old aged is not for the faint-hearted.
To cheer myself up today I decided to go for a brisk, invigorating walk. (!) The initial plan was a gentle saunter around the park at the end of the Woden Town Centre between the govt offices and the cemetery, but in the end I walked up Mount Taylor right to the top. God I am so unfit, I had to stop every 20 metres to get my breath back. But when I got to the top it was wonderful! Such a view of my lovely little bush city nestled in its valleys among the trees so that you can hardly see it. That's one of the many reasons I love Canberra: there's nothing showy or grandiose about it. Even our premier buildings – Parliament House, the National Museum, the National Library, the War Memorial – are scaled to fit the landscape, not to dominate it.
So, up there in a chilly westerly wind, with all the city and suburbs and hills and mountains before me, I rejoiced in the beauty around me. And then began the trek down. My new walking boots (Merrells) are excellent: despite stones, gravel and dust, I didn't slip once. Met a number of other walkers making their way up or down, so it's clearly a favoured weekend pastime.
And, inspired by David and Linda's blog, when I saw some kangaroos, naturally I had to take a few pix of them.
All in all, a good day, if somewhat solitary. I'm going to the Jehangir tonight with Graham for a good Indian nosh-up. And as we will be walking there and back, we can get completely stonkered if we feel like it :o)
To cheer myself up today I decided to go for a brisk, invigorating walk. (!) The initial plan was a gentle saunter around the park at the end of the Woden Town Centre between the govt offices and the cemetery, but in the end I walked up Mount Taylor right to the top. God I am so unfit, I had to stop every 20 metres to get my breath back. But when I got to the top it was wonderful! Such a view of my lovely little bush city nestled in its valleys among the trees so that you can hardly see it. That's one of the many reasons I love Canberra: there's nothing showy or grandiose about it. Even our premier buildings – Parliament House, the National Museum, the National Library, the War Memorial – are scaled to fit the landscape, not to dominate it.
So, up there in a chilly westerly wind, with all the city and suburbs and hills and mountains before me, I rejoiced in the beauty around me. And then began the trek down. My new walking boots (Merrells) are excellent: despite stones, gravel and dust, I didn't slip once. Met a number of other walkers making their way up or down, so it's clearly a favoured weekend pastime.
And, inspired by David and Linda's blog, when I saw some kangaroos, naturally I had to take a few pix of them.
All in all, a good day, if somewhat solitary. I'm going to the Jehangir tonight with Graham for a good Indian nosh-up. And as we will be walking there and back, we can get completely stonkered if we feel like it :o)
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Ah well, here we are back at home with all the responsibilities and comforts thereof. It's been very cold and the house was freezing when we got back, but it's nice and snuggly now. C is tippy-tapping away preparing for a workshop she is giving at Mt Macedon tomorrow. I am paying bills. Doady and Linda are due back in Australia in about an hour, all being well. Kit is still laid up with his broken leg. I took him to see the orthopedic surgeon yesterday and thankfully all appears to be going as planned. Very piratical scar! Mama has taken to saying grace to herself before dinner but can't remember how to do the sign of the cross. Sadness, sadness. She doesn't look very well and her legs are in pretty bad shape. Sadness, sadness. I'm taking her to see Jenny Ross on Thursday. In the meantime, my new enterprise (along with C) is Tai Chi, which I've started in the hope of strengthening my limbs and calming my mind. Week 3 of my sick leave: I am slowly getting there.
Monday, August 4, 2008
A sunny weekend at Spotty Gum Lodge
Our friend Judith managed to borrow a car and zoomed down the mountain to spend the weekend with us. As usual our time was taken up with walks, conversation, reading, eating and drinking, all activities that are extremely conducive to good health and a sense of well-being. The weather stayed fine with warm sun and cool airs, and the sea was blue and clear and beautiful. Our neighbours, Brendan and Beth, were visited by not one but two Tawny frogmouths, which we inspected with great interest, and I saw a Spoonbill down at the swamp. Also, the Bower birds seem to have returned, I'm pleased to say.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Anniversary
I worry about the wallaby (as opposed to badgers). We had a visit from an excessively eager, bouncy Staffordshire terrier this morning, who charged around like a small steam train scaring the living daylights out of the lorikeets who were squabbling over the remains of a Ryvita biscuit we had given them for brekkie. She (the Staffy) was definitely ADHD, but was eventually gently discouraged, and bounced off into the bush. If she does this as a regular thing, it's no wonder we've seen no sign of the wallaby.
We met with old friends for lunch today at a rather amazing cafe-restaurant called the Quarterdeck on Wagonga Inlet foreshore, round the back of Narooma. Dozens of brightly coloured vinyl chairs, yellow formica tables, rough wooden board floor, fabulous views on three sides of the windy waters of the inlet (a big fat cold front was coming through), and really extraordinary decor: nets, fishing rods, lobster pots and the usual coastal paraphernalia alongside dozens of bizarre items including a 1960s Decca Records sign, a red disk with a hammer and sickle attached, a large portrait of Mao Tse Tung, and a Hawaiian hula girl mannequin wearing an RAAF officer's cap (to name a few). I loved it.
And we had a jolly fine meal too! Between us we consumed scallops, baby octopus, crumbed prawns, tuna and asparagus pie, ocean perch and some deeply sinful chocolate fudge cheesecake (to name a few). Of course this all went down a treat with some gorgeous Basedow 1999 Semillon-Sauvignon Blanc. Then a restorative walk along the waterfront where the pelicans were sheltering from the wind. A really lovely day all round, especially lovely in that today is Chris's and my 23rd anniversary of being together. I am truly, truly blessed.
We met with old friends for lunch today at a rather amazing cafe-restaurant called the Quarterdeck on Wagonga Inlet foreshore, round the back of Narooma. Dozens of brightly coloured vinyl chairs, yellow formica tables, rough wooden board floor, fabulous views on three sides of the windy waters of the inlet (a big fat cold front was coming through), and really extraordinary decor: nets, fishing rods, lobster pots and the usual coastal paraphernalia alongside dozens of bizarre items including a 1960s Decca Records sign, a red disk with a hammer and sickle attached, a large portrait of Mao Tse Tung, and a Hawaiian hula girl mannequin wearing an RAAF officer's cap (to name a few). I loved it.
And we had a jolly fine meal too! Between us we consumed scallops, baby octopus, crumbed prawns, tuna and asparagus pie, ocean perch and some deeply sinful chocolate fudge cheesecake (to name a few). Of course this all went down a treat with some gorgeous Basedow 1999 Semillon-Sauvignon Blanc. Then a restorative walk along the waterfront where the pelicans were sheltering from the wind. A really lovely day all round, especially lovely in that today is Chris's and my 23rd anniversary of being together. I am truly, truly blessed.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Spotty Gum Lodge
On Monday we drove down the mountain to our little speck of peace and beauty by the sea: Spotty Gum Lodge. Called thus because it's a little wooden house in the midst of tall Eucalyptus maculata (the opposite of Immaculata, i.e. spotted), iron bark gums, and cycads whose ancestry dates back to the time of dinosaurs and before. (Ah, the wonderful ancientness of this country!) There are also a number of spindly wattles which are not doing terribly well because the spotty gums take all the light up in the canopy. We are visited regularly by rainbow lorikeets, king parrots, wattle birds, currawongs and magpies, plus the odd (noisy) possum and wallaby all looking for a free feed.
In the past I've seen Wonga pigeons, tree creepers, bower birds, Superb wrens, peaceful doves and other beautiful, delicate, intent little birds scouring the forest for whatever it is they scour it for. There are lots of other birds too, but getting more shy and rarer as people keep building in the bush and taking up their habitat. There was a family of tawny frogmouths here a few years ago (well, 12 years ago, actually), and they come back to check out the environment from time to time, but I fear they have fled for nesting purposes to more remote, less human-infested spaces.
Meanwhile, I have to report that my father's association of the amount of sand at Josh's beach with the dominant weather conditions seem to be borne out yet again: Josh's is absolutely crammed with sand. Towel Rock, upon which we used to drape our towels to dry in the old family days of the late 60s and other later times, is easily accessible for this purpose again – at other times, it towers above the sand level, too high to use for draping. Daddy always said that the sand came in with the drought. High rainfall over SE Australia leaves Josh's beach a horrible fanged mess of green slimed rocky spines, not a grain of sand to be seen. Which has had an unexpected benefit: when the beach inspectors visited (we surmise), they came at the time when there was no beach, just rocks (Josh's beach has another name: Disappearing beach). So they decided not to put up that wretched sign that forbids dogs from walking unmolested, unleashed (even at all), on the beach. I am very gratified to say that our old Jessye the Wonder Dog frolicked on that beach a score of times unhindered by rules or regulations. Or leashes.
Anyway, Josh's is agog with sand and gorgeousness. Why is it that winter makes the water look so irresistibly inviting? So clear, clean, delicious, like liquid glass? The waves were absolutely majestic today – rolling in against an off-shore breeze (like lions coming, said D.H.Lawrence), turning their magnificent aqua-spearmint shoulders into the white tumult of foam and froth. The blown spume and the flung spray... misquoted, no doubt. How I love watching it. How mighty is the great Pacific Ocean.
I took lots of photos today, something I rarely do. And blow me down if I didn't check out David's blog this evening and find he had taken uncannily similar photos, but his are the black jagged volcanic rocky shore of Maui in Hawaii: mine are humble local photos of the beautiful Eurobodalla coast. I shall put a selection of these photos up in due course.
In the meantime, our recent culinary acquisition – the Weber Baby-Q – has produced a couple of stunning dinners for us. Last night we cooked a superb whole (free range – of course!) chicken and tonight a fillet of beef. But what I really need is a book of accurate, specific recipes to tell me precisely how long to cook things, because at the moment it is very reliant on guesswork. For example, I'd like to know how to bake vegetables such as potato, pumpkin, sweet potato etc. Last time I tried, they were overcooked to a burnt nub. But it certainly does beef fillet and chicken well!
In the past I've seen Wonga pigeons, tree creepers, bower birds, Superb wrens, peaceful doves and other beautiful, delicate, intent little birds scouring the forest for whatever it is they scour it for. There are lots of other birds too, but getting more shy and rarer as people keep building in the bush and taking up their habitat. There was a family of tawny frogmouths here a few years ago (well, 12 years ago, actually), and they come back to check out the environment from time to time, but I fear they have fled for nesting purposes to more remote, less human-infested spaces.
Meanwhile, I have to report that my father's association of the amount of sand at Josh's beach with the dominant weather conditions seem to be borne out yet again: Josh's is absolutely crammed with sand. Towel Rock, upon which we used to drape our towels to dry in the old family days of the late 60s and other later times, is easily accessible for this purpose again – at other times, it towers above the sand level, too high to use for draping. Daddy always said that the sand came in with the drought. High rainfall over SE Australia leaves Josh's beach a horrible fanged mess of green slimed rocky spines, not a grain of sand to be seen. Which has had an unexpected benefit: when the beach inspectors visited (we surmise), they came at the time when there was no beach, just rocks (Josh's beach has another name: Disappearing beach). So they decided not to put up that wretched sign that forbids dogs from walking unmolested, unleashed (even at all), on the beach. I am very gratified to say that our old Jessye the Wonder Dog frolicked on that beach a score of times unhindered by rules or regulations. Or leashes.
Anyway, Josh's is agog with sand and gorgeousness. Why is it that winter makes the water look so irresistibly inviting? So clear, clean, delicious, like liquid glass? The waves were absolutely majestic today – rolling in against an off-shore breeze (like lions coming, said D.H.Lawrence), turning their magnificent aqua-spearmint shoulders into the white tumult of foam and froth. The blown spume and the flung spray... misquoted, no doubt. How I love watching it. How mighty is the great Pacific Ocean.
I took lots of photos today, something I rarely do. And blow me down if I didn't check out David's blog this evening and find he had taken uncannily similar photos, but his are the black jagged volcanic rocky shore of Maui in Hawaii: mine are humble local photos of the beautiful Eurobodalla coast. I shall put a selection of these photos up in due course.
In the meantime, our recent culinary acquisition – the Weber Baby-Q – has produced a couple of stunning dinners for us. Last night we cooked a superb whole (free range – of course!) chicken and tonight a fillet of beef. But what I really need is a book of accurate, specific recipes to tell me precisely how long to cook things, because at the moment it is very reliant on guesswork. For example, I'd like to know how to bake vegetables such as potato, pumpkin, sweet potato etc. Last time I tried, they were overcooked to a burnt nub. But it certainly does beef fillet and chicken well!
Friday, July 25, 2008
Mount Clear
Speaking of enchanted places, a couple of weeks ago Chris, my brother David and I went down to the Mt Clear camping ground at the southern-most tip of the Namadgi National Park. It's one of the few bits of the park that escaped the bushfires of 2003. It was a cold, sunny day. There was a ranger down there having lunch when we got there, who told us that this was her favourite place in the park and that she often came there to have lunch. After she left, there was no-one about but us. We had a delicious picnic of cold meats, cherry tomatoes, olives, hummous, cheeses and fresh bread cut from a crusty loaf baked that morning. And of course, a good bottle of Sauvingon Blanc and a flask of hot coffee. (The wonder of food culture in Australia is that typical Mediterranean foods took so long to take off here.)
Anyway, we went for a wander by a little stream murmuring gently and saw numbers of kangaroos looking like they'd just stepped off a penny. Some birds made themselves visible to us, which was one of the reasons we went there, but it was really the wrong time of day. I so wanted to stay there but we would have needed a lot more in the way of warm clothes after the sun slipped behind the hills. A wonderful day, to be repeated as soon as possible.
Anyway, we went for a wander by a little stream murmuring gently and saw numbers of kangaroos looking like they'd just stepped off a penny. Some birds made themselves visible to us, which was one of the reasons we went there, but it was really the wrong time of day. I so wanted to stay there but we would have needed a lot more in the way of warm clothes after the sun slipped behind the hills. A wonderful day, to be repeated as soon as possible.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
An amazing day at Bundanoon
Last weekend C and I went to a (can you believe it!?) 70th birthday party, given by our friends Roz and Jan. There must have been about 16 of us, all sitting at a beautifully set long table. I had the best fun and the most laughs I've had in AGES. What a party. All I can say is, I hope I shall enjoy the wit, humour, conversation, erudition and just over-all fabulousness of that day at my 70th! It seems that my women friends (mostly boomers, inevitably) just get more and more interesting as the years go by. Somehow it is a truly wonderful gift to have known someone for more than 20 years, and to see the decades leave their traces on our faces and in our stock of collective wisdom. Not that I have much wisdom, and of course I haven't changed a bit since I was 32. Heh! Boomers rule OK!
Nothin' you can say ...
After 22 years of loving partnership, Chris and I were finally able to legalise our relationship when the ACT government introduced legislation allowing the legal recognition of same-sex partnerships. We were the first couple in the ACT to become registered s-s partners. Here are a few images of that day – cold, clear and beautiful, a typical Canberra winter's day.
Introibo
I will go ... to enchanted places.
A word about the name of this blog:
"They walked on, thinking of This and That, and by-the-by they came to an enchanted place on the very top of the Forest called Galleons Lap, which is sixty-something trees in a circle; and Christopher Robin knew it was enchanted because nobody had ever been able to count whether it was sixty-three or sixty-four, not even when he tied a piece of string round each tree after he had counted it. Being enchanted, its floor was not like the floor of the Forest, gorse and bracken and heather, but close-set grass, quiet and smooth and green. It was the only place in the Forest where you could sit down carelessly, without getting up again almost at once and looking for somewhere else. Sitting there they could see the whole world spread out until it reached the sky, and whatever there was all the world over was with them in Galleons Lap."
From The House at Pooh Corner, by A.A. Milne, Methuen & Co, 1928.
A word about the name of this blog:
"They walked on, thinking of This and That, and by-the-by they came to an enchanted place on the very top of the Forest called Galleons Lap, which is sixty-something trees in a circle; and Christopher Robin knew it was enchanted because nobody had ever been able to count whether it was sixty-three or sixty-four, not even when he tied a piece of string round each tree after he had counted it. Being enchanted, its floor was not like the floor of the Forest, gorse and bracken and heather, but close-set grass, quiet and smooth and green. It was the only place in the Forest where you could sit down carelessly, without getting up again almost at once and looking for somewhere else. Sitting there they could see the whole world spread out until it reached the sky, and whatever there was all the world over was with them in Galleons Lap."
From The House at Pooh Corner, by A.A. Milne, Methuen & Co, 1928.
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