Good luck

SOS chic

Mick and I have, almost by osmosis, amassed a tableau of maritime disaster in the living room:

The main photo is of the Hereward, which had a small hitch off Maroubra in Sydney in 1898.
The clipper on the left is barely mantle-worthy, let alone sea-worthy; the piece of festival glass with a mounted clock would be considered a disaster by many but shut up! – it's growing on me; then there's the Bounty (say no more), plus a Sydney ferry in a snowglobe (it's one of our less reliable services).
The Thessalus on the mirror in the middle there, sure, she was considered the fastest, hottest thing on the high seas, but she ended up hauling coal in Naples for chrissake.
As for the piece of hallucinatory copper art on the far right... ever had handicraft make you seasick?

All in all, I totally think we should apply for The Renovators next year.

Hot spots, highlights

Mick and I took Blair to Morpeth today.
We had a nice lunch - if you don't ask for coffee the overall impression is much better - then we drove home the long way.
We passed several attractions.
The really big rusty shed:

And lots and lots of baby cows (hard to see in the grass but captivating nonetheless):

I think Blair's ready to buy...

Noxema's dirty past

Great balls o' comfort indeed...

A blow to my cynicism

Damn you, thoughtful faculty!

Modern nature

Frankly too excited to sleep

Blair (who looks better than he did when I last kissed him goodbye in 2000) has crashed out in the guest room, Mick's in our bed, I'm still in shock.

By which I mean the good, I-just-won-something-on-Ellen shock, minus the screaming.

I really didn't think I'd ever see Blair again.
And as I hoped/figured, he and Mick get along like they've known each other for years (mutual amusement in my supposed foibles possibly helps).

In any case, haven't been happier in yonks.
Struggling to find a sufficiently exuberant musical accompaniment...

Fashion

Turn to the left...

From World of Wonder, natch.

Randomly threatening yet arousing image

Just tossing up ideas...

Think of the horses

Suzi has taken a great deal of our allocated animal time.

Now I feel guilty every time I look out the window and see the horses.
We have kind of neglected these (already perfectly well-fed) pets – of other people, mind you...

Anyway, Wiz got supplied with top-quality bread today:

This is no dream...

This is really happening. (I think I've used that before...)

Anyway: Blair arrived from New York in Sydney this morning.
He gets here on Sunday.

As you can see, I have relinquished exclamation marks, knowing they would fail to express fully my inner-happy dance. I've become a little frenetic and alert, if I may be frank, as well as teary and fearful.
I'm nothing if not attuned to melodrama.
I haven't seen him in 11 years, and since then I've had part of my wrist attached to my face. That could have been better articulated...

Here's a tune just for him.



What should I wear when we three (Mick, Suzi and I) meet him at the train station?

I was thinking a look of quiet desperation with a librarian-flapper twist.

Organ failure

That magnificent musical instrument Mick bought isn't quite what it seems.

Now, if I actually knew how to play this instrument, I might be able to conjure its many intrigues:

As it is, the thing is dodgy: notes are either deafening or barely audible, the 'banjo' sounds just like the 'flute' and do you think I can find one bloody person in this town who knows how to play a musical instrument beyond the frickin' guitar?
In any case, it's a conversation piece.

Are you a Harpsi or a Man?

The road home

Regardless of how wretched the visit to the doctor/hospital might have been, I do enjoy the trip home.

It was strangely smoggy this afternoon; bushfires or burn-offs I guess:

I quietly relish the sign at Hexham that extinguishes any enjoyment any motorist night have had:

Then Suzi meets some bogan hound and starts a flirtation that we all know will never work:

She's a tramp.

Mysteries of The Bend

The case of the missing bones has, I suspect, been solved:

Suzi has managed to burrow a hole of sorts in every available shrub.

Unlike Sir David Attenborough, I have no inclination to crawl inside to verify our supposition that Suzi is a hoarder. Just take our word for it.

Waiting room, thinking space

Seriously, my doctor's reception area couldn't be more jam-packed with disturbing page-turners:

I am now worried I may have to add chlamydia to my already impressive array of life-threatening illnesses.

(Note to readers: I spared you the 'Give yourself an anal swab' poster.)

(Note to medical professionals: This is what happens when you make your patients wait for longer than half an hour.)

Mortified Update: I forgot the ultimate horror. The Big One, you might say.

Please, if you have children, warn them of this scourge:

I used to love Lucy

For me, Lucille Ball lost her flavour, paradoxically, when colour entered the picture; certainly, once her kids turned up as TV characters the magic had well and truly died.

The upside of her later years, however, was an unprecedented run of major guest stars.

Today's repeat had Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton looking weathered yet magnificent and managing to maintain their dignity throughout an excruciating piece of arm-behind-the-curtain vaudeville schtick (Lucy couldn't remove Liz's ring!):

Liz was a trouper; I presume he was drunk.

But I was wearing a red T-shirt...

I don't think so, sir.
Will you take a look at this for me:

As you can see in the reflection of the horse's eye, the person who took this photo is clearly wearing a Krystle Carrington-blue T-shirt.
(Cue gasps from the assembled crowd of formerly credible actors.)


I've been watching too much Columbo...

Now I've done it

I confess, I'd never heard of the Boswell Sisters before I just stumbled upon that previous video.
But now I've started exploring.

I mean, this... it's beautiful.
I had to share:

Morning glory

Very early rock and roll courtesy of the Boswell Sisters:

Sightseeing with Suzi

Went on a walk yesterday afternoon with Suzi and a tiny, glamorous pen knife. The plan was to let the dog sniff and piss her heart out while I took a free floral display.

Well, bugger me, but someone removed the cherry blossom tree and replaced it with a horse:

(He is lovely, but while considering a name for him it occurred to me that Spotty, Dotty and Patchy all have negative connotations. I'm calling him Splatter.)

On the upside, someone has created a cultural walk of sorts, not unlike the brass footpath plaques of Kings Cross:

Also, I saw a fantastic shed right on the river near the Gladiators' HQ that I hadn't noticed before:

Put a bar where the windows are and you've got an awesome bikie river clambake waiting to happen.

Louis Virtel

The clip isn't brand new, but this bloke is brilliant.
Twentysomething, beautifully caustic; I'm dead jealous. Check out his other stuff:

I love my nieces to pieces

I have two gorgeous little nieces in London.
Most of the family's with them at the moment.

Love you!

I have to shoot the card in a lot more places before I risk giving it to Wiz...

Happy dreams

Going to bed on a pleasant note. And two Temazepam.

Gidget was before my time but, thanks to the preternatural cheapness of TV programmers, I've seen the series several times over.

Anyway, I love the theme tune (and no Sally gurning!):



Nighty etc.