Blair's coming!

Blair was my boyfriend in New York.
He had a restaurant and a motorbike.
He was handsome and glamorous and when he became attainable he'd already become bored of the whole idea...

You recognise the story.

Still, memories... Supermodels. Free drinks. Dinner when it was clear I could do with some.

Now he tells me coming to visit in August – what will I wear?

And how will Mick handle this?

Stay tuned!

BiscuitWatch 7: Biscuit Goes Bananas

Forgive her.

Wouldn't you?

The hijacking of pink

Rugby league yesterday, for Women in League ostensibly, but for breast cancer generally:

What colour is mouth cancer?

Right on trend

Despite my absence from professional journalism and the world of fashion for some years, my current pills couldn't be more spookily on the mark:

Just look at Balenciaga's Fall 2010 collection:

Superannuated Vixens' Unit

Law & Order: SVU outdid itself.
The casting director should be given an honorary Emmy, at least.

We had Ann-Margret:

Susan Anton:

And Morgan Fairchild:

But that's not enough;
they have to throw in my favourite Angel of all time, the only woman I ever tried to emulate in drag (the Polaroid evidence of which I hold in a safe buried deep beneath the house), Jaclyn Smith.

And she hasn't changed at all (if you don't count turning into a cross between Sally Field and Calista Flockhart. Is she angling for a role on Brothers and Sisters??)

Reagardless, it was a camp episode.

Having said that, Stabler could do with an occasional bout of shirtlessness.
Relate it to his struggles with fatherhood or something – it can't be that difficult after this episode's ludicrousness, surely.

Got milk?

This is a disused shopfront on Olive Street, Maitland.
It's actually in a fancier part of town, but evidently unloved and rendered obsolete by Woolies et. al. around the corner:

You'll have to click to enlarge enough in order to find the last remaining original bit of signage (clue: it's very small, in lovely script).

I do yearn to know what happened to Bentfan, I must confess...
I hope he and Bonka found, if not happiness, then at least a regular cheque somewhere.

Critters of The Bend #5

Mick and I went to Woolies briefly this afternoon (to buy the things I forgot about this morning). It took half an hour, at most.

By the time we got back, this little spider:

... had managed to spin a thread along this entrance:

Do they leap? Have accomplices? Scuttle really fast?

I'm glad my life no longer involves deadlines.

Just the one. 

I love you, Dad

My father turned up unannounced around midday today carrying a bag containing a new Macbook for me.

Thanks Dad!

I killed the last one, although Trade Computers managed to retrieve all my photos and stuff, much to my relief.

Anyway, currently just waiting until mid-July for a PET scan. Devilishly cuddly-sounding, isn't it?
I presume it's much like the CT scan, no big deal.
I just have to wait six weeks after surgery.

I'm in limbo. Or purgatory. Not sure what the difference is.

It has had its lighter moments, though.
I wonder if this this is dresult of dspeech impediment or an unexpected riff on It's D'Lovely:

Happy to be back. Will post more soon enough.

Handy computer hint #2

Do not spill liquid on your laptop.
It does not like this. At all.

I'm typing this in the John Hunter Hospital's little internet area.

Hopefully normal transmission will resume shortly.

Bearing fruit

The passionfruit vine, after its prolonged, spectacular floral displays, is finally producing something that looks like it might, at some point, be edible:

Or am I just being optimistic?

Apologies to Louise Bourgeois

I just completed a hit-and-run visit to Sydney, for medical reasons. This necessitated a trip to Taylor Square, Darlinghurst.

At the moment, for some purpose (presumably artistic), there is an installation there that simultaneously apes and degrades the work of the recently deceased sculptor, Louise Bourgeois.

I mean, really:

Given that it looks like it's been fabricated in cardboard, and given the torrential rain we've been having, I can only hope it will disappear of its own accord.

When happy thoughts aren't enough...

... a bit of vintage beefcake is in order.

Robert Mitchum in Cape Fear; the only man who ever managed to make high-pants hot: