Sex and the City

Hi everyone

Cat and I went to see Sex and the City last night - it was so much fun! We got dressed up, had cocktails and moet. Here we are looking glamourous in 'the' city.

Having a blast xx

Stay in touch

Dear Kell,
Just back from a long cooperate style lunch with Alice where we were joined by Hugh on the Champs Blues Point at Café Imbroglio to feast on Mums Spaghetti and Meat Balls in gorgeous autumn sunshine. Wish you were here where things are much the same except that this arty type photographer, Bill Henson, has managed to light a fire under the loonies bringing them out in droves to rant about the fragile margin between art, and pornography and the application of censorship in relation to paedophilia. Even silly Mr. Rodd has let himself be drawn in. The vehemence and duration of this argument (5 days and still counting) has this mite, when kneeling to pray before bed, adding the addendum ' thank you Lord for not making me a paedophile’. Don’t know why I never included it before really. Makes me wonder whatever happened to the pulling power of Fascist Dictator, Holocaust, Genocide, or even Commie, words which once would have roused similar interest but seem to have fallen from the modern psyche.

We breathlessly await world youth day, what a shame you can’t be here. Contractors have been bulldozing a path from the Quay to Randwick Racecourse for pilgrims who are also expected to swarm ‘Bridge Climb’ where it’s rumoured Mary MacKillop may appear with discount cures for poverty and similar twenty first century plagues. Over at St Andrews the Jensen brothers whilst not welcoming the papists have agreed not to contest the election nor pray for rain.

Footballers, who never seem to be able to sort out their differences no matter how often they win or loose, continue to do battle and NSW are one up in the state of origin though if states had anything to do with it, it would be New Zealand one up on Tonga. Your old friend Mr. Daly is now an apprentice commentator who as it turns out can thread two words together and is working on a third. By the way he now has a lot more hair and of a darker hue than before obviously a result of his new non-playing stress free career. Our Hollywood star and his billionaire mate, Russ and Pete, are finding it difficult to get the South’s script on track. Russ is trying to get George (Clooney) to play half back but is having difficulty explaining what seems such a negative position in americaneese.

Have to close and run now. Take care of Cat; she’s such an innocent you know. Looking forward to hearing from you and give Cat my number in case she needs to call when she’s feeling low.

Lots of love

Aunty R

Passport Blues

You may dismiss it as sour grapes but I see it as my representation of your cause. You who unlike me are time poor will surely agree that $232.00 is too much to pay to renew a passport which in my particular case had served no purpose at all as I had never travelled on it nor been asked for proof of age. Presumably this last passport, now mutilated by the local postmaster if that’s what I’m supposed to call this high street store operator, cost me a similarly exorbitant amount ten years ago. You’d think it possible to get a trade in and a very good one for mine which was in mint condition with no miles on the clock but no and in its present condition it would probably be rejected even by some New Guinea highlander who’d never seen paper and who if he only knew better could probably record therein a lifetime of taro crop yield.

The document itself costs $200.00 and I suppose I should be gratefull that its issue is not yet in the hands of private enterprise where it would have cost $199.99. The rest of the cost was taken up by the photography which must be very precise and it is here that my experience will be invaluable to you. For $10.00 the Marrickville Metro DIY photo booth professes to offer a set of four passport compliant photos. Only two are required but as we all know that it is fruitless to argue or bargain with a machine. Following the automated voice I centred my face in the oval and the first shot cut off my head from the eye brows up but I was offered another chance and lowered the stool till the centere of my face was a point between my eyes. Half my forehead appeared in this shot and I was offered another but warned it would be my last. With the new centre of my head mid forehead I got one more shot and was offered a choice of the three as a print. All shots unsatisfactory I foolishly imagined I now was master of this machine and invested another ten dollars. Five minutes later I left with eight photos, some quite glamorous I thought though none unfortunately with a full head of hair.

Undeterred I approached my ‘postmaster’ who had earlier that day reasonably informed me that passport renewals would be dealt with between two and four thirty daily. Inspecting my best photos he was sceptical, showed them to the ‘postmistress’ who was quite negative and then proceeded to fumble in a box producing a department of foreign affairs pamphlet with photos much better than mine all of which were absolutely unacceptable. “So” I said, “where do I go” “To the chemist” he said indicating the premises next door. “Oh silly me” I said. Next door the Chemaster for only $12.00 produced four perfect snaps in one simple shot from which the Postmaster was able to select the best two (?). Worn down by now I didn’t argue about the other two non necessary photos or suggest a six dollar discount, I was really quite happy to escape to the Duke for one of their flagon size glasses of house Cabernet.

Now more relaxed and studding my new collection of portraits I can see their point. The photo booth shot on the right doesn’t look anything like the real criminal in the chemasters shot. By the way, any of you out there who would like your very own autographed snap just let me know but at only $2.50 each I wouldn’t dally, there’s only ten.

It's Scientific: Terrific

Let’s see now, the budget is down with our boy Rodd taking a swipe at inflation, that’s gott’a be a good thing with Portuguese tarts up to $2.20 making my budget hard to balance to say nothing of the added complication with the maths. I hope some of you have been able to feel the bite in this one, not because I like seeing you taxed, but because I like the idea of knowing someone on over $150.000 PA especially a relative. I recon Ridd’s got it right this time. There’s not much in it for me of course unless I start producing children with my obviously excellent sperm and some girls from, let’s see, Walgett? Mmm that could turn into a nice little earner but how hard do I want to work? No I think I’ll be OK with the tax rebate though if I was Radd I would have given the rebates in reverse proportion to the tax paid. You know, the poorest would receive the richest’s rebates and the rich the poorest’s. That would have been really Rudden Hoodish don’t you think though I guess the thought of Jamie Packer who no doubt inherited his dad’s accountant, getting the biggest rebate in Australia puts a bit of a damper on it.

What else? Lot of people are spooked at how all these Chinese disasters add up to eight eh. Who can believe such superstitious waffle when nanno scientists are inventing self repairing paint for automobiles? Oh I can easily see some fool finding the Porshe he keyed last night with a perfect gloss this morning declaring it a miracle, lighting half a dozen candles and dedicating the rest of his life to work with lepers. Its just science though and in the near future scientists will show us conclusively how the figure eight, once the symbol for infinity, stood upright as we did in evolutionary history and has the same double helix DNA as the everyday disaster.

Oh that reminds me, if those scientists who can sometimes be pretty tardy with all their cross checking and peer supervision, don’t finish the molecular memory anti gravity suit before I die, just you remember that it was I who did the hard yards in coming up with the concept. Any scientist with a few billion dollar grant could join the dots. No amount of money can create the vision of genius. If they want to name it after me, something like Bob’s AG Suit now available in herringbone and pin stripe, you have my proxy but no marketing hype that suggests any form of superstition such as miracle OK.

I’m going to the engagement party of Bob O’Keefe’s daughter at the Bardwell Park Golf Club next Saturday night. I must call John for some ancestral revision in case I’m asked any tricky questions. Doesn’t seem to matter how often I hear them those straggly lines of relationship always seem to end up getting knotted in my brain. Who knows I may wind up talking to great grand pappy’s twin’s descendant. Bob is the husband of my mate John Nancarro’s sister. John is our shared computer geek and often forwards emails from Bob O’Keefe at the RTA who obviously has little else to do at work than scour cyberspace for humorous diversions. Yes a potential relative in the RTA, at least as exciting as the afore mentioned rich one and possibly a combination of the two.

Back in the Tropics

We must apologize that we have not blogged since May when we were in Mt Gambier SA, and we posted the photos of our hot air ballooning in Tanunda. Of course we have seen most of you since then but here is a summary of our travels since SA.

We spent a week in Mt Gambier as we needed to avoid the Victorian coast due to a public holiday booking out the Vic coastal caravan Parks, however Mt Gambier was a very pleasant place to stay for a week seeing all the “limestone coast” scenery and catching up with Kath Black from OPSM days.

We traveled the Victorian coast staying at Port Fairy and Apollo Bay and visiting Warnambool and having a great couple of days doing the Great Ocean Road. We were lucky that we had beautiful clear and fine weather on this part of the coast, which is so often cloudy, windy and wet. It is truly spectacular. We crossed the entrance of Port Phillip Bay by car ferry from Queenscliff to Sorrento which was interesting and saved us traveling through Melbourne. We stayed a couple of days at Sommerville and explored the Mornington peninsular. From there onto Lakes Entrance, which is very scenic too and then we climbed the Victorian Alps via Omeo and Mt Hotham to stay at Bright. This was a very interesting trip, never having the caravan at such high altitude (1800 meters) and then taking it easy on the way back down the mountains to Bright. Bright is a place I would love to see again in the winter, probably not in the van.

As we were due in Goulburn on March 23rd for Stephen Yeadons 50th we stayed a night at Gundagai before arriving in Goulburn. We ended up staying three weeks in Goulburn with our wonderful hosts, visiting the Yeadons, Shirl (Sue’s mum) and Steve & Jeanette, buying a new car (in Sydney) and contributing lots to the Goulburn economy getting the car set up for our travels. We had a great time there with the Yeadons, who spoil us, but it was good to get back into the van, it’s just like getting home.

The next 3 weeks were spent in one of the best caravan locations we have been in at the home of Steve and Jeanette at Werombi, near Camden. We caught up with all our family members that we had been missing for the previous 10 months. We also enjoyed a picnic with a number of our ex OPSM friends at Steve & Jeanettes. We also did the rounds of doctors (all ok) optometrist ( first time I have had to buy glasses but got them half price at least) and dentist (one less wisdom tooth). Thanks to Steve & Jeanette for their wonderful hospitality and we are looking forward to being back with them in December.

Sadly we lost Shirl during this time. She fell ill after developing a foot infection in the nursing home and was admitted to Wollongong hospital but deteriorated fairly quickly due to her poor blood circulation. Fortunately Shirl did not suffer for too long passing away on April 30th. It was good that Sue and I as well as Christine and Stephen were able to spend some time with her before she died. Shirl had not had a good quality of life in the past 12 months so it was a relief for her and the family.

Following the funeral last Monday Sue and I realised it was time to start heading to warmer climates again. We left Werombi last Wednesday having overnight stops at Mudgee (catching up with Judy Hitchcock for a drink), Narrabri and Miles and feeling the warmth at Rockhamton. We are currently spending a few days a Sarina and will visit some of the Queensland spots we have not seen before on our way to Mission Beach where we plan to spend the winter, life’s tough !!

Bye for now, love Chris, Sue & Olly.

Goth Horror

I sometimes fantasise that just as in that classic about an enchanted toyshop where toys come out after hours to play and dance, that the product from Bunning’s shelves behave similarly once night fill and cleaners have left for the night. Chains becoming restless might shake and jingle encouraging hooks to climb down from there shelves to seek out eyelets who have better night vision. Spy holes might team with magnetic catches to neutralise the wowser motion alarms while springs naturally spring the dead locks giving free reign to the castors to roll their stuff. Barrel bolts and door stops, padlocks and wedges would set out hiding their stash from smoke detectors and like fly mesh accompanied by her ever present spline make their way to flooring in the hope that the electrical section might power another nights disco. There low life brooms and brushes who had already been imbibing of bleach and furniture polish, would literally peg their hopes on that old clothes line, to hit up in the garden stakes. Wheels and glides would dance with their favourite bolts and I don’t even want to think of what screws would be doing with washers before the night is out. Turps and thinners would no doubt be sponged up at these events, never more than by the sponges themselves. Then before dawn comes with its key in the door, all must hurry back to their allocated isles and barcode positions to slumber through the day as humble stock should.

This is the only explanation I can find for the placement of product I find each morning as I make my rounds, returning the aptly named returns like recidivist criminals to their cells. Wall vents too tired or exhausted lying with chisel sets. Wire coiled around sash cramps in post coital slumber. Screw caps discarded by fleeing screws in scented door snake side stacks. Ladders deprived of vitamin A by their internal, unnatural light upbringing, with sprains or broken legs from the nights exuberance. Is it any wonder that so many return from the cold servility of life on the outside to once more share this much missed camaraderie?

There are at Bunnings a considerable group of products that bear a close kinship to those stateless folk we hear of, condemned to spend their lives in transit or in transit lounges. These products born into this world for various reasons could be special orders (not stocked items) that the customer decides do not suit their purpose and return. They may have been promotional product whose only homes are side stacks, clip strips or those vast cardboard bins that clutter the main isles. When only a few of these are left or they have all been sold only to be returned there is no permanent home for them and they spend their lives in shopping carts wheeled out from the dock by excess cash register staff who knowing no better aimlessly wander the isles looking for their homes. Then with a surge of customers they are called to register duty, abandon the trolleys and wares which spend the rest of the day as obstacles till night fill under instruction from their rather severe co-ordinator Veronica, wheel them back to the dock. I know that you like I will feel a great compassion for these homeless wares and will appreciate what joy these late night shindigs bring to their lonesome unhappy lives.

Given this cast of characters and their controlled environment it’s no surprise that this idle mind begins constructing tales of their exploits. Mills and Boon like torrid passions between brutally handsome astro turf clad cordless grinders and frail, fair extendable clothes lines draped in almost transparent sparkling plastic table cloths. Hogwart like gate spring gurus so perfect that their design hasn’t changed in a hundred years give classes in meditation to young hollow wall anchors anxious to make heroes of themselves in the plasterboard pavilions of their world. My favourite though is a gothic horror tale inspired by a post stirrup in the shape of an arm length long auger tapering from Willy Mason bicep to a extremely nasty point on isle three. You get it, a horrible mythological construct from sleepers and shelf units with bags of concrete mix and grout to add muscle and stomach. I’m still struggling with the female lead who must of course be frail, fey and incredibly beautiful. She’ll come from somewhere over by the mirrors I’m sure but so far all I can find there are hot water services who may be cast as her mum.

Stay tuned to this station for the next instalment

Robert

The umbilical cord is stretched a little further

Well another milestone has been reached. Gabby has left the building or the big house as I now refer to it. She has moved to the little house in Dee Why, actually a one bedroom unit in an older block which is quite ambient. I am so happy and excited for her to be embarking on this next adventure and even happier that the place she has chosen is so liveable in and so close to everything. So as you can imagine there has been much packing and cleaning and discarding going on which is quite adrenaline driven and consequently exhausting. So its all positive and all good and then when you stop you think shit she's gone from under this roof, your roof, and suddenly you feel adrift and your eyes start leaking as you remember when she first walked at ten months and everyone was so amazed when you would put this tiny child down and she toddled off on her own, and you are so proud of her as you were then....................I'm sure Anne and Sue and Jane and Ross and Chris and Robert can relate well to this. Happy Mothers Day to you all. The life cycle keeps turning and we have another beautiful person waiting in the wings. Bring it on I say!

Neighbours

This a sculpture in one of my neighbours front yards, maybe a holocaust survivor?




I’ve noticed that I’m becoming obsessed with my neighbours in the big house. Some rational explanations for this obsession may be found in the fact that all, bar my bedroom, windows provide a view directly into their backyard cabana and that their burglar alarm, which goes off regularly to alert us that they are not home, is mounted about fifteen unobstructed meters from all my living windows. Now this house, only marginally smaller than the mansion scale premises now broken into nine flats in which I live, was obviously not of adequate scale for the current occupants who were forced to blight their enjoyment of family life turning their house into a building site to achieve the afore mentioned essential cabana.

Rereading I realise that the word family could be misleading and shall attempt to elaborate. There is certainly a Mr. who I have seen several times noisily putting out the rubbish. There is also an early teen junior who I noticed once though he must be more than comfortable in his own room as I’ve not seen him again and certainly not in the cabana which has glass doors on my side providing a good view inside. Aren’t you glad you don’t live next to me? One presumes a Mrs. would be attached to such an arrangement however I have never seen anyone I could identify as such and that’s it, a very small nuclear family doing their best to occupy so much space. My heart cries out for them.

This Saturday the cabana was laid out with a long table with white cloths and at about seven some elderly ladies were wheeled in to be joined later by an extended group ranging in age down to sub teen. Had this group, eventually some twelve to fifteen party animals, been anymore agitated or raucous I would have felt bound to call an undertaker.

Now I know some of you are saying he’s just jealous and of course in a certain way your right. I’m well aware of the comfort provided by space and am thankful for my nine foot ceilings. I’m also well aware of the grandeur that vast enclosed spaces can provide in temples, cathedrals and other great public buildings. It’s my opinion that Sydney should follow the example of India’s Taj Mahal, erect purpose built opera and concert houses elsewhere, with function as there priority and re name the sails at Bennelong Urtzon’s or Keating’s tomb. I don’t care about the name, I just want the inside to reflect some of the awe and grandeur that the outside seems to promise. I bet if you hollowed it out you’d get some terrific echoes. The Echo House-use-use-se, Mmm that sounds good.

Back to the domestic scale though and I grant that I wouldn’t say no to a bit extra space but to be part of the neighbouring family trying to occupy such a vast space would be daunting if not arduous. Imagine all the dusting let alone the responsibility for furnishing and designing décor. I know I occupy one of the extremes when it comes to taking responsibility for stuff like colour schemes, some would say for any stuff at all and I wouldn’t argue, but to have fifteen or more rooms to name not counting bathrooms, well after bedroom six and sitting and dining and living and ironing and library and storage and then trying to fill all with appropriate furniture wouldn’t you be counting the occupants again and questioning the ratios.

This sort of mad spaciousness leads straight to Harvey Norman and Domain of course where one can buy all manner of temperature controlled wine cabinets, steam irons as big as motor scooters, cinema screen size plasma TVs and a great many other devices for which we space starved have yet to contemplate a need let alone find accommodation. Yes with that house you’d be a chump for every new marketing ploy, you’d have every better mouse trap even if no mice. You need to keep a clear head around marketers when they present with their glossy bling. I recall in the seventies that ear phones, cans to the professionals, were well established as a product and roused little more interest than a radio around the house. Then in the nineties along came the ipod which with its emphasis on compact portability came with a funny ear button. What a success story that was but success is ephemeral and marketers have to keep marketing and add ons are an ever present device. Now that we can’t live without our ipods they are being marketed with bulky cans and are no longer compact. I don’t care how many ways they invent to fold them, cans will always be bulky and will only travel well on ears. That said I feel confident, as do the marketers, that the relative quality and comfort (the button always felt, like a deb, to be coming out and at risk of becoming waxy don’t you think) will obscure these pitfalls in the portability stakes.

Yes I have strayed from my theme haven’t I. The only problem I can imagine the neighbours having with their ipods would have to do with the vastly increased number of places they might misplaced them. Oh no those poor folk, imagine how much longer that “Oh god! Cant find my keys” panic might last.

This one is probably a survivor of Singapore's Tiger Balm Gardens

Two years in London

God, I never thought I'd last this long away from home! Today is 2 years since I arrived in London, a fresh-faced Aussie full of adventure. I may not be as fresh-faced but my adventure is far from over yet!

And what an adventure it's been - especially in this last 12 months! I became a permanent fixture at EY when my boss kindly offered to sponsor me. We jumped through all the hoops to get my UK Work Permit - including an 'EY sponsored' trip to Portugal in May and Sydney in June. Life's tough!

It was so nice to be home and catch up with everyone - even though it rained almost everyday!

I returned to the UK and had to find a new place to live. From Wapping to Canada Water, I think I've lived with 12 people from all over the world in just under a year - Australia, Nigerian/Canadian, Swedish, Italian, South African, Portuguese, New Zealand, French, Spanish and German.

While at home, my best friend had a baby boy, my little cousin got married and the next generation of O'Keefe's is on its way!

Perhaps the biggest adventure of all - love! Aw, how mushy! Yes, I got myself an English boyfriend. Can't believe it myself. In fact, this week is also one year since we first met, on that romantic evening at The Cock. I can't wait to bring him home at Christmas to meet you all!

What else? I've seen a little bit more of Great Britain with weekends in Devon, Cornwall, Blackpool, Edinburgh, the Cottswolds and Oxford. Plus, I've seen a little more of the big wide world with Christmas in Cleveland, New Year's in New York and a white weekend in Stockholm!

There's always more travel to do and this year I've got lots planned - Ireland in May, Croatia in July, Thailand in August, Oz in December, Hong Kong in January and France in February - I can't get enough!

I've had too many farewells (Nic, Samara, Melissa) - and thankfully - some welcomes (Kim and Cat - on Sunday). I've missed so much - like the sunshine! - but more importantly I've missed weddings, funerals and births. I've been amazingly homesick and still I'm here, having a ball, continuing my adventure. Long may it continue!

Lots and lots AND lots of love xxxx Kel