Listen no longer in silence

We love Pambula Beach a lot

2011-01-27T21:22:00.012+11:00

I think it's going to be a big year. There's plenty of new beginnings on the horizon - my daughter starts high school next week! We're very seriously considering selling our home of 13 years and buying a new one. I'm just about to begin a new contract at work. And I'm going to England - sans husband and children - later in the year. (There's also that big birthday happening at the end of the year, but I'm pushing thoughts of that into a dusty corner of my mind.)

So it's been good to start 2011 in the same way that we've started every one of the past five or so years - a chilled out week in Pambula Beach in southern New South Wales. And it was perfect again. Lovely weather (not too hot and not too cool). Great food. Relaxed people. Sand in between the toes. Happy times.

This year we brought two extra kids with us - one of my eldest son's best friends and one of my daughter's. It was just lovely; two very funny 15 year old boys, two sweet and excitable 12 year old girls, our delightful (for the most part - once he got over not having his very own friend along) eight year old son, my husband and me. It meant loads of washing and a lot of food to buy and prepare, but not a lot of extra cleaning up for me, as we made the kids pull their weight and do chores. Most importantly, the kids were great company.

I read, went on long walks, bought some pretty summery clothes, and drank plenty of wine. And I took loads of photos using my new Hipstamatic app, my latest obsession.

It really was a perfect summer holiday, right down to staying in a very cute 1950s holiday house. I've already booked next January's stay - for two weeks.

The best laid plans...

2011-01-02T20:12:00.003+11:00

Well - that didn't work. One blog post all year, a year ago today!

It was a good year too. Everyone got through it, hale and hearty. Daughter finished primary school. I fell in love with a gadget (my iPhone). Some things fell into place and I changed jobs. And went on some fabulous holidays including a glorious fortnight in Vietnam!

Let's see what happens this year, which we saw in with mirth and some dancing!

Jump to it

2010-01-02T16:44:00.005+11:00

Righto, let's see if this blogging caper improves now we've bounced into a new year....

Twenty-one today!

2009-12-31T17:57:00.020+11:00

When I was a teenager in Perth, I wished that I lived in Melbourne. It seemed that the cooler wetter weather suited me better, and it was a lot more interesting in terms of shopping, galleries and things to do. Once I was in university and then started work, I often came over to The Eastern States by bus (it was far too expensive to fly), to suck up all of that exotic moody Melbourne lifestyle. Then it dawned on me that I could actually move here.

Today is the 21st anniversary of that move. It's completely lived up to my expectations, and exceeded it in many ways. I've now lived here for longer than I've lived anywhere else. So, in the spirit of end-of-year (and end-of-decade) lists, here's my list of 21 observations about my life in Melbourne.

1. For the most part, I love our trams. But our trains suck.

2. I refer to all street directories as Melways, even the Sydney and Perth ones.

3. Well-made coffee is essential to my wellbeing.

4. Melbourne is made up of lots of smaller communities, which connect in interesting ways, across the suburbs and the years.

5. There's a lot of snobbery about which secondary school your kids go to. It can be hard to swim against this tide, and I'm pleased we did.

6. I really do have a lot of black in my wardrobe. And several coats.

7. The CBD has changed a lot over the past two decades, particularly around the QV area where I now work.

8. While I don't actively follow the footy, I do know a lot about the ladder each year via osmosis. This was especially helped along this year by my seven year old son who is into the AFL in A Big Way.

9. Our city hosts a lot of wonderful festivals, most of which I don't get to, as I'm pretty busy just trying to keep the delamare family show on the road these days.

10. In 1989 I moved to a city in which an umbrella was essential item virtually all year. Nowadays it is pretty easy to get caught out without one. Most Melburnians seem to have lost the habit of carrying a brolly about with them as it so rarely rains.

11. These days, I don't find Leunig as interesting as I once did. (Although the 2010 calendar free in The Age isn't too bad.)

12. We really do have loads of great food on offer here.

13. I've only taken my kids to the Myer Christmas windows twice. We've never been to the carols at the Myer Music Bowl. Hope they won't feel like they've missed out something essential in their childhood!

14. I've been through about five serious lots of Melbourne househunting, but only bought property twice.

15. We've bought one house at a Melbourne auction, and sold a flat the same way. It's nervewracking on both sides.

16. I need to get to the fresh food markets a lot more.

17. I can't live without The Green Guide; I even read the letter section religiously.

18. I really miss the way Acland Street was in the early 1990s before it became too touristy.

19. There are always lots of interesting places to discover, and great tracts of suburbs I've not explored.

20. I am still amazed that we have a holiday for the Melbourne Cup.

21. I really feel like this is my home, even though it's not the city where I grew up.

It's been a great move. But these days Melbourne's weather now feels like Perth weather. Today it's a sticky 38 degrees, and windy (can't have everything I suppose).

Happy New Year.

Dear me

2009-12-05T07:00:00.028+11:00

In this year of big anniversaries, here's another one: it's 30 years since I left school. Yowza - how did that happen so quickly! Virtually half of that period has been spent as a mother too, which has made time go faster I think, as I have three young human beings about me growing up at an alarming rate.

There's not been a reunion to mark the 30th anniversary. I finished my highschool education in Perth, and I would have made the effort to get over there to catch up with the people I did my TAE with (I think it was called the TAE!) if there had been one organised. I have been looking at some Facebook photos of a reunion held by another school I went to in Perth. The organisers of this one have posted a stack of old photos featuring skinny 1970s teenagers smoking, wearing shell chokers, frizzy hair and dodgy footwear. In sharp contrast, there are also lots of pictures of the reunion itself, smiley people well into their 40s, nicely dressed and hugging one another in wine-induced merriment.

I wasn't tempted to go this reunion, as I only went to this school for a year, and I hated it. As well as being 14, my parents had just split up, I had moved from the other side of the country, and I felt like a greasy gawky dork. I made very few friends and had an utterly miserable time. I begged my mother to be allowed to move to another school, which she did. It was a great move, and I spent the rest of my secondary education feeling a whole lot happier.

I must be in the mood of reminiscing about my life as a teenager, because I was recently drawn to a little British book called Dear Me: A Letter to My Sixteen-Year-Old Self. This is a collection of very amusing letters that famous people have written to their younger selves. Of course, in this modern age, there's also a blog and a Facebook page to go with it, with the author encouraging people to write their own 'Dear Me' letters. So here's mine...

Dear Mandy

At the moment you're really enjoying school, now you feel you belong somewhere again. You'll keep feeling that for a while as you move into university. It's a feeling that will come and go, no matter what age you are, so enjoy it while you have it.

You're right in the middle of discovering the writing of William Faulkner, ee cummings, Charlotte Bronte and Jane Austen. You'll still love these writers when you're a lot older; you'll never get into Tolkien though. (Just nod a lot when your husband raves about these books.) This newfound love of literature and words is going to shape what you end up doing career-wise ... but you're not going to be a teacher. You'll never quite shake off that feeling that you'd like to be a writer.

You've made some great friends recently. I'm happy to tell you that you'll still be close to a few of them throughout your adult life, even if you don't live in the same city, and don't get to see each other for years and years. Hold on to the self-belief that you've got a great capacity for friendship and loyalty, because it's going to be sorely tested quite a few times in the future. You'll regain it though, and make lots of great friends on the way.

The not so great news (for you) is that you're not going to have a boyfriend for a long time yet. You're still far too self-conscious to notice that boys do see you, even when you're feeling better about yourself once you get to university. Here's a clue - it's all to do to your father. You'll work it out in the end, but listen to Mum when she suggests that counselling is a good idea. It will hold you in good stead too in embracing a long marriage.

It's still going to take quite a few years for those pimples to clear up, or for you to work out how to deal with that fine hair. I know you won't believe now, but you'll live in jeans when you're older even though you can't find any to suit you now (and won't throughout the 1980s). Stay away from pleats. And keep strong about having pale skin - I'm proud that you're staying firm against all that pressure to coat yourself in babyoil to get a tan. You'll be relieved that you didn't. You're never going to master wearing eyeshadow. You'll look young for your age until you are a sleep deprived mother - it's a slippery slope from then on I'm afraid.

There's a lot of great stuff to come, as well as some rocky times. You're going to get your heart broken. You'll have some regrets. You'll wish that you'd travelled more and taken a few more risks socially. That's life. Just make sure you appreciate it as it unfolds.

Two more things ... you are going to hate being called Mandy before too long. You'll insist that everyone starts calling you by your proper name on the day you leave school. Stay firm. And be kind to yourself and those you love, even with that temper.

Love always, Amanda

PS. Oh, and it would be a great idea if you don't fritter away all your money on clothes, magazines and fripperies in your 20s and scrape together enough money on a deposit on a flat in Subiaco or Shenton Park. Think how much it would be worth now!

You'd better shape up

2009-11-30T18:17:00.022+11:00

One of the pleasures in working in the city and catching public transport is that I get to indulge in people-watching on a daily basis. Having had a lifelong interest in the way people dress, this is a source of endless fascination. Especially when people make really interesting choices in what they wear to work, school and to just plain lurk around the metropolis.

I get many of my best ideas about what I want to wear this way. And, of course, oh so many of what not to wear. And I don't even need Trinny and Susannah around to interpret - most of it is just so bleeding obvious.

While we have thankfully passed the horror-filled era of extremely lowcut jeans and crop tops (which offered far too much information about the state of your midriff thank you very much), there are still plenty of rather startling clothing choices out there. Here's a selection of some of the sights I've been treated to recently.

While I am not against a bit of crochet, I'm not sure that an Afghan throw strewn over a short skirt is really the way to go. Especially when worn with bare legs and Crocs.

It seems that clunky granny sandals worn with shin-high dark socks is now a legitimate choice to make for 20-something students. It just makes me think of all of those chaps who used to marry walk socks and sandals with their short safari suit back in the 1970s. (And what kind of term is 'walk socks'? Are we only allowed to walk wearing walk socks, with all other socks intended for a more mysterious purpose?)

T-shirts from French Connection UK. The acronym may have been a tad clever in the beginning, but now it just seems ho-hum, unclever and nasty.

Harem pants suit NO ONE. Certainly not people like me - middle-aged women who've popped out several kids and are no longer svelte. Sorry lady, these gathered duds just work over-emphasize your chunky bits, not disguise them.

While I haven't actually spotted one of these on some unsuspecting child, I have been shocked to find black jersey-knit harem-pant-jumpsuits on sale in Target. Horrifying on several levels, but especially in the thought of some poor seven year old being subjected to keeping it together while swinging on the monkey bars in one of these.

I spotted this last one on a recent hunt to find my 11 year old daughter some leggings to wear under her school uniform. Which brings me, yet again, to the greatest crime of all - the mushrooming of the trend in wearing leggings as pants. This is now an epidemic, closely followed by the horror of tights (tights!) worn as pants. Please, put some real pants on, even if they are only shorts.

There is only one person on the entire planet who is allowed to go there - Olivia Newton-John. And then only if she transports herself back to that funfair at Rydell High in the 1950s as seen through the lens of 1978. Even Sandy couldn't get away with it strolling down Bourke Street Mall in 2009.

Is there anybody out there?

2009-10-24T20:33:00.010+11:00

It's been a long, long time between blog posts.

I'm in one of those happy periods where life is chugging along very nicely. Everyone is busy, we're all getting along like a charm for the most part, and there's a general feeling of contentment about the place. Plans are being made, things are being celebrated, and the weeks are rushing by. I've even started reading again (thank you Marian Keyes).

Of course, life is not always like this, so I'm making sure that I appreciate things being the way they are right now. Even if it doesn't lend itself for much blog activity.

I expect that inspiration will return (and not necessarily only if life starts to go a bit pearshaped), but in the meantime, I'll keep the doors of Listen no Longer in Silence open, even if there's only my Twitter updates on offer. (I'm still pretty obsessed with Twitter.)

Incidentally, we've just returned from a fantastic family holiday in New Zealand. Here's a picture from the day we visited the Franz Josef Glacier, which is one of the best days I've ever had, fullstop.

4,500 plus photos

2009-08-02T10:26:00.002+10:00

This is so clever - a beautiful (very) short film made up entirely of still photos. Lovely!

I found it on the beautiful blog, MA Belle.

That was the month that was: July

2009-08-01T12:14:00.005+10:00

Winter school holidays, hanging out with the kids. Celebrated 20 years of marriage. MasterChef final frenzy. John Brack exhibition at the National Gallery Victoria. Learning to use my gorgeous new camera. Starting to read again (slowly). All about the Twitter. Thinking lots about New York. Catching up with more old friends.

Television series of the month. I've watching even more than usual this month, due to the national (and domestic) obsession with MasterChef, and my equally greedy digestion of vampire-saga True Blood, both of which I've blogged about before. So I'm choosing Pushing Daisies instead. This is quirky television, a fairy tale about a man with a special gift - he can bring dead things back to life - which has a tragic twist. It is full of intense bright colours, larger than life characters and a omniscient narrator. It took me a little while to get into it, despite its obvious appeal, but once I go into its rhythm, I did enjoy it immensely. I'm now looking forward to getting my hands on the second (and last) series.

Fangs a lot

2009-07-26T19:34:00.040+10:00

Back in the day, I was a devotee of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I came to the series late - sometime in series four, and the episode with virtually no dialogue to be exact. Once I did, I got seriously hooked on the drama, the witty repartee and the suitably reigned-in angst. The Chosen One battled some big problems (homework, teenage misunderstanding and sending her beloved to hell as well as the weekly vamp patrols), all while managing to keep her dignity in tact wearing extraordinarily short skirts. I loved me some Spike too, although at heart I was more of an Angel girl, even though I didn't find the series Angel as compelling as Buffy.

(As an aside, it was Buffy, together with Jane Austen, that introduced me to the joys of the worldwideinterweb and fanfic in the early days. I remember trawling through the excellent buffyguide.com for a synopsis of episodes I missed, because back then VHS tapes of television programmes were expensive.)

I've not really been much interested in vampy-flavoured literature or drama since then, but here I am ten years later completely entranced with them again. It seems I'm not alone, as suddenly vampires and the human gals who love them are absolutely everywhere, rating their moody socks off. Here's what I've been watching lots of lately.

Although rather similar to Angel (without the supernatural overtones), I found the one-series wonder Moonlight most entertaining. Vampire detective, pledging not to bite any human unless absolutely necessary, Mick St John had great chemistry with the heroine of the story, journalist and human Beth. It's glossy and disposable television, if a bit twee, but thoroughly enjoyable.

Much more compelling is TrueBlood, the first series of which I have nearly finished watching and am now completely hooked on, just like in the old days of Buffy. These are people - both un-dead and alive - behaving very badly indeed, but so sharply written that you can't help feeling sympathy for almost every character. It's set in the South, full of oppressive heat and a sense of decay, and twangy accents. I particularly like the plot device of having vampires coming out into mainstream society (albeit only at night), rather than hiding away in the shadows.

Most of all, I like the way the character of Bill, a 173 year old vampire, is portrayed. He retains something of his time - the Civil War - in his speech, manners and clothing. Great acting and writing indeed; I'm about to start reading the first of the Sookie Stackhouse novels by Charlaine Harris, which the series is based on. They are meant to be a fantastic read.

Of course, there's also the biggest vampire-fest around - the Twilight juggernaut. I've read a couple of the novels, and found that while they can be engaging, it is essentially far too teenage angsty for my taste. (And, yes, I know that I am way out of the demographic it's intended for.) I liked the film better.

But seriously, Edward Cullen needs to get over himself already, as this brilliant Twilight/Buffy mash-up proves.

All most entertaining, but why can't we have a series in which the troubled vampire is female, struggling with what she has become, living in the contemporary world struggling with her doomed attraction to a human male? Is it too much to ask?

'Twas 20 years ago today

2009-07-15T16:16:00.011+10:00

1989 was a landmark year in world history. The Cold War unravelled, and the Berlin Wall came down. The Exxon Valdez spilt oil in Alaska. People protested in Tiananmen Square. Seinfeld was first screened, as did the Simpsons. Nintendo launched the first GameBoy. Batman was a big movie hit.

It was a big year for me too. I was in my first year of living in Melbourne, working at a small design company in Fitzroy, and studying Editing & Publishing part time. I was making new friends, living in Carlton, and feeling excited about life in general.

But the biggest day of 1989 for me was 15 July, the day I married The Hubster.

Twenty years ago today, I was in a Sorrento restaurant, wearing a creamy white Thai silk and satin dress and carrying a huge bunch of lillies, surrounded by family and friends and having a great time.

Happy memories, of which there have been many more - notably the birth of our three children - in the two decades since. Of course, there have been some low periods too, but we're so very fortunate that the happy stuff has outweighed the not-so-great.

And I still like my dress, even if it was the 1980s, the time style forgot.

Warm and comfortable

2009-07-02T18:46:00.047+10:00

At any given time, there are things I especially favour. Here's my current list, circa winter 2009, with the emphasis on keeping warm and comfortable.

I suffered from an unexpected bought of insomnia a week or two back. Unexpected in that it was unlike the usual insomnia I suffer from time to time, the sort that has me suddenly wide awake with a busy mind at 3am. That is a classic side affect of stress for me, and I don't seem to be suffering much from stress this year. This insomnia is different ... it meant that I couldn't get to sleep in the first place. After four nights of this I decided to try a homeopathic remedy (not that I'm necessarily against the use of medical intervention for this problem under other circumstances, but this wasn't such a circumstance for me). So I purchased a nifty little homeopathic spray at my local chemist, and promptly managed to get over my overactive imagination and get to sleep. Ahhh. Even if it's only a placebo, that's why my magic spray currently at the top of my favourite things list. If only I could find a similar solution to block out The Hubster's snoring ...

On the subject of comfort and things alternative, I've taken to padding around the house in woolly socks - and meditation ones at that. Not that there's much meditation going on in this noisy house. Every one of us have a pair, and the kids have discovered that the combination of woolly feet and wooden floors is excellent for sliding. And squealing.

As I've blogged recently, I have embraced fashion a bit this winter, despite donning my hippy meditation socks whenever I get the chance. While I've been enjoying TL Wood, Witchery, Cue and rediscovering Country Road after a decade of shunning it as overpriced and boring, my most favourite label at present is Metalicus. Made of magic stretchy fabric, the entire collection is 'one size fits all' (although that can hardly be true, if you happen to be very small or very large), and is just so damn comfortable. I particularly like their skirts and coats, and look forward to wearing the 'pieces' I've purchased this winter for years to come. I've also taken to wearing my Metalicus with the blackest of black opaque tights, something that I was very 'meh' about a couple of years ago. Contrary, I know.

Another advantage of Metalicus clothing is that it doesn't need ironing. Much to the puzzlement of some friends, I seem to spend an awful lot of time with my iron, one of my least favourite tasks. I'm much more attached to my spanking new washing machine, which has recently replaced my faithful 16 year old number, which finally died. The new one has been with me for about a month, and I still get a ridiculous sense of excitement whenever I push on the little soap drawer and it opens out magically. I was at the stage of prising open the soap drawer of the old one with a screwdriver.

The new Asko isn't my only electrical love. In the midst of our horrible summer heatwave in Melbourne, back in January, I finally got around to buying a slowcooker. Now I've mastered the adaptation of conventional recipes to the slowcooker, it's become my favourite kitchen contraption, which is handy as I spend every Sunday with it. Especially good for casseroles and curries, and all working families should have one (and now I'm channelling KRudd!).

That was the month that was: June

2009-07-01T23:12:00.012+10:00

Busy end of term; school reports and grumpy kids. Cracker of a school fundraiser quiz night. Worked fulltime, and now enjoying the fruits of my labour in two weeks off with the kids over the winter holidays. Celebrated Mum chalking up a milestone birthday and Number One Son turning 14. Welcomed new babies. Still not reading - lost cause for 2009 methinks. Trying to find accommodation in New Zealand in preparation for upcoming jaunt through the South island. Ate an amazing lunch at Vue de monde. Enjoyed macaroons and little cup cakes with the girls from work, and homemade puddings at home. Feel naked without a scarf during the day and bedsocks at night. Started to Tweet (doesn't hurt a bit).

Television series of the month: Grand Designs. Is there anything more comforting than curling up on the sofa on a winter night with a cup of tea and Grand Designs on the television? I got hooked on this fly on the wall series last year, and am thoroughly enjoying the latest one which has just started on the ABC. British architect Kevin McCloud follows home renovators on their journey from plan to (near) completion, a route which is invariably paved with budgets being obliterated, windows not turning up on time, and extraordinary amounts of mud. This simple premise is completely mesmerising thanks to loads of human drama - especially when people make completely nutty decisions about their homes, like four ovens 'for balance' - and the thrill of seeing it all come together. All pulled together with the delicious Mr McCloud's intelligent and amusing commentary.

Jonesing about

2009-06-22T19:19:00.030+10:00

Late last year, I wrote a post on my delight in being part of generation no-name, in that I am too young to be a B-Boomer, and too old to be an X-er. Someone wrote a comment in response, telling me that I was wrong wrong wrong ... because my generation does indeed have a label, and it seems that I am part of a cultural steamroller coming soon to a media outlet near you.

Apparently I, along with millions of other early 1960s babies, am part of Generation Jones.

Suddenly the Jones label is popping up everywhere. We even have our own website, which states that we're on the up and up, as the 'number one trend of 2009'; here I was thinking that the number one trend for 2009 would have been ankle boots or media identities behaving extra-badly or the GEC. The idea gets more of a go at this British communication site complete with pictures of Maggie Thatcher, and at Jonathan Pontell's site, there's even graphs to explain what we're about. (Pontell is the chap who coined the term Generation Jones, for people born between 1954 to 1965.)

Then there's the piece yesterday's Sunday Age, which boldly claims that we are the 'lost generation that's found its voice'. Makes me wonder about all of those pre-Baby Boomer generations, going back centuries. What snappy label did the generation of people born between 1765 and 1790 go by?

Does this mean that the delightfully silly Channel Ten gameshow 'Talkin Bout My Generation' needs to get itself a new panel member and guest each week, now we Joneses finally have found our voice? By rights they need to move 47-year-old Amanda Keller into heading up the Jones team, and find a real Baby Boomer to take the reigns to answer questions about Gidget.

When I read The Age article yesterday, I did find its focus on a raucous 40-something wedding a bit odd. But then I remembered (through a rather fuzzy head) that I'd been at a very raucous event myself the previous night - our primary school Trivia Night Fundraiser. It was full of Gen-Jones types dressed up in their going-out clothes, drinking buckets of red wine, shouting, playing games, dancing to My Sharona, and squealing in delight as we managed to name four characters from F-Troop correctly.

Yep, partying like it was 1989!

Way to go, dude

2009-06-17T19:42:00.017+10:00

Some time ago, fellow blogger Kath tagged me on a post about the great things about being a mum. And I really do intend getting around it: my blogging pace this year is what you'd call erratic (if you were being kind), while Kath is much more dedicated to the craft. But in the meantime, I want to point out one great, relatively unexpected bonus of being a Mum.

You get to embarrass your children with extraordinarily little effort.
Nowadays, I only have to use the word 'dude' in a sentence to send my eldest son (aged 14) into a fit of apoplexy. It seems that the use of this term is unseemly in one as ancient as me.

Lately, I've taken to marrying the word with the statement 'don't give me tone'. I learnt that one with a lovely Gen Y girl I work with. I've asked her to supply me with other words I might torture him with.

Add in a bit of dancing, and I become an Embarrassment Machine! Only my youngest child (aged six) will allow anything resembling parental dancing in his presence.

So, suck it up, dude. And don't give me tone about it.

(That should render him speechless!)

F-f-f-fashion #3

2009-06-03T19:56:00.044+10:00

Last Saturday, I had the great pleasure of an afternoon to do exactly what I want. This is a rare thing, as three children, working (practically) full time and a house to run keeps me very busy indeed. Finding time to get out of my weekend whirlwind of food shopping, kid transportation and laundry takes a special event.

This was a special event - a series of talks about Regency fashion at Melbourne's National Gallery of Victoria (NGV). The talks accompanied a wonderful clothing exhibition called Persuasion: Fashion in the Age of Jane Austen. Historical costume? Jane Austen? In Melbourne? I'm there!

So on Saturday I visited the NGV with two good friends and fellow Austen devotees, to listen to three talks about the exhibition. The first was by the curator of the exhibition, a delightful fellow called Roger Leong. He spoke about the changes to the fashionable waist line during Jane Austen's life time and slightly beyond, from its natural position in the late 18th century to it sitting right under the bust in the early years of the 19th century. I learnt some interesting things about how their clothes were worn, including what a round gown is and how dresses of the period featured a clever bib front which was pinned up. A lot of pinning was used, it seems, as buttons were expensive. He also spoke a lot about how people selected their clothes, and how they were re-fashioned to make best use of expensive fabric.

The second talk was on the emerging importance of the shawl during the period, as an item of luxury, love and warmth, as well as fashion. This was a surprisingly interesting subject, addressed by Susan Scollay. I now know how to tell the difference between a Kashmir and a Paisley shawl too; you never know when that may come in handy.

And finally, academic Dr Clara Tuite spoke on 'Jane Austen’s Double History of Fashion and Politics', which was about how fashion fits into Austen's novels, in their original form and in their recent adaptations. She spoke at length about the lovely scene in Emma when the heroine goes shopping with her protege Harriet Smith. She made lots of reference to Darcy in his Wet Shirt too, which of course isn't in the novel Pride & Prejudice; however, it seems that every post 1990s Darcy now has to be wet at some point in the story. Dr Tuite didn't actually show a photo of said Soggy Darcy, so here's a gratuitous shot of him now, in which he is not only damp, but also kind of glowy.

After the talks - which were held in a large, packed lecture theatre - we rushed up to see the actual exhibition. There wasn't much time to view it unfortunately (the gallery was due to close), but my impression was favourable. The gowns were beautiful, some in dark interesting colours, and many of them featuring lovely, hand-worked details. Two things really struck us; how small most of the dresses are, and what wonderful condition they were in. Some of them were very simple, but all of them obviously for the well-to-do woman, which is why they have survived for 200 years. It's not a large exhibition, but there is plenty to see and read. It includes accessories such as shawls and jewellery, and fashion magazines from the period.

Oh, and it includes one of the costumes that Colin Firth wore as Darcy in the 1995 BBC production of Pride & Prejudice. There was a squeeeee or two heard when some people read that description.

I'm intending to go back and take a proper look at the exhibition before it finishes. It is lovely, and it's free. I will also be heading back to MoVida Next Door where we went after the gallery closed, for beers and absolutely delicious tapas. The tapas isn't authentically Austen, but I suppose the beer (ale) is...

An excellent outing all round. (I caught up with all of the food shopping, cooking and child schlepping on Sunday.)

That was the month that was: May

2009-05-31T12:22:00.010+10:00

Another very busy month at work; currently working fulltime. Spending Sundays each week cooking in preparation. Miss Mucks away at camp for a week. New after school arrangements working wonderfully well. Multiple visits to the dentist to fix kids' teeth. Fighting a case in VCAT against an unsavoury local development (no news on the result yet). Visit to Persuasion - a lovely exhibition on Regency clothing - at the National Gallery Victoria. Ate at two great restaurants - MoVida Next Door and GingerBoy. Kept bumping into old friends.

Television series of the month: Master Chef Australia. I know I said back in March that I'm not a big fan of reality television, and yet here I am choosing another one as my telly-treat-of-the-month. I'm really enjoying this one, along with my kids. It's the wide range of ordinary people cooking up a storm and sometimes getting it horribly wrong that I really like, like Sam's flaccid rice paper rolls a few weeks ago. And it's great to see when they do get it really right, like Julia's Chinese dumplings from that same challenge. The judges are all great fun too; just how many cravats does Matt Preston own? What I don't like though, is the reality show gimmicks, like the eliminations on Thursday night, and the editing to play up the different factions. I'm think that that tad arrogant Chris guy who always wears a hat is being set up for a fall ...

A Glamorous life?

2009-05-29T20:32:00.007+10:00

It seems that I am not the only person to wonder about the June issue of Glamour. Jezebel has been pondering about it too, deciding that this issue is a 'hot pink journey into the heart of darkness'. Yep, that just about sums it up.

(Click on the picture above to read Jezebel's take on this month's cover lines.)

F-f-f-fashion #2

2009-05-28T20:16:00.026+10:00

As I wrote last time, my daughter Miss Mucks is becoming increasingly interested in clothes. And giggling about boys. And talking endlessly on the telephone. And listening to pop music. Help - she's only 11!

That said, she is still a kid, and I'm all for her taking as long as possible to grow up. This means that I enter the realm of being a Mean Mum by not letting her read Dolly just yet or watch 'Twilight', even though "everyone else gets to!".

After all, as my very wise mother told me during my teenage years, you are a grown up for most of your life, so enjoy being a child while you can. Among other things, this meant that I wasn't allowed to get my ears pierced until I was 18, something which drove me to despair. Especially when my younger sister managed to wrangle her way into having her ears pierced at 15, a turn of fate which I am only just forgiving them both for now (Mum tells me by the time my sister started her pleading for piercing, her resistance had been completely worn down). Miss Mucks is now on at me to let her have hers pierced now, but I've said she has to wait until she is at least 13, and I may even make her wait longer. I may be mean, but I'm not that mean.

Miss Mucks is still at an age where she thinks that I wear nice clothes - she gave me a big thumbs up for a dress I bought today (I must say that I can't blame her, because it is a very nice dress indeed, a bit silky with a black heavy lacy overlay, and I know I would have liked it when I was a teenager). I am sure, however, that I am this close to her deciding that I dress like an utter dag, and what on earth am I doing wearing black ankle boots with a kicky heel when I am over 40?

But we are getting to the stage where we're having disagreements about what is and isn't suitable for her to wear out in public. For example, I think it is completely unsuitable to wear leggings-as-pants unless it's under very specific circumstances, a subject which I have previously blogged about. She, however, thinks that a pair of black leggings-sans-skirt constitutes a perfectly suitable part of her school uniform. I have caught her on more than one occasion with her school skirt stuffed away in her bag when I've collected her at the end of a school day (my kids attend an inner city primary school, with a relatively relaxed uniform policy).

This isn't the first time she's asserted her firm opinion on what she wants to wear. When she was smaller, she went through a long stage of insisting that skirts that twirl were the only thing she could possibly wear. And she would frequently decide that she needed to change not twice, nor three times, but at least four times a day, stuffing her 'dirty' clothes at the back of the wardrobe where she thought I wouldn't notice. A habit that lives on. Unfortunately.

These days, her clothing interests lie towards skinny jeans, funky t-shirts, boots, scarves and knitwear, capped off with a very messy hairdo (some things haven't changed from the photo of her above).

Miss Mucks is also now at the stage that she wants to try before we buy, and she comes home from school sometimes with saying "Oh Mum, I've just heard of this great shop called Jay Jays ...". She wants to join me in shopping for her clothes, which I'm pleased to do because she's great company, and I enjoy seeing how much she enjoys it. And yes, I've stumbled my way through the nightclub that is Supre with her, and waited outside the change room while she's tried on eight different tops in eight different shades of blue.

I am just pleased that the awful early-noughties trend for low rise jeans has passed, so I'm not facing pleas for jeans with zips so tiny that only elves with very small fingers are able to sew them into place. And midriff tops seem to have disappeared too (for now); teenagers can now rejoice in their kidneys staying warm.

So far, so good. I'll exert my influence on her clothing choices for as long as I can. Because I seem to be losing the battle with my older son (who turns 14 next week), who will only wear his jeans very baggy, sliding down his bum.

At least he hasn't started begging for a pierced ear.

F-f-f-fashion #1

2009-05-26T18:45:00.036+10:00

Fashion has piqued my interest a lot of late. Maybe it's because it's nearly winter, and I'm much happier with winter clothes than I am with those in summer. Or perhaps it's because I'm currently working with people who are hyper-interested in clothes, coupled with a daughter becoming increasingly opinionated about what she wears (more on that in another post soon). Actually, I think it's a combination of all of these things, plus a nice big dose of people watching; some of my best clothing related-ideas come from seeing what other people wear.

One thing I do know is that this interest is not being fed by magazines. Once you get past about 35, magazine fashion inspiration practically dries up. This was brought home for me yet again when I received the June issue of Glamour (the American edition) in the mail late last week.

I haven't opened a copy of Glamour for years; indeed I was rather fond of it back in the 1980s. But now it doesn't speak to me at all - not in terms of its feature stories and its lifestyle tips, and certainly not as far as its fashion is concerned. To be fair, this is an issue celebrating summer. Nevertheless, no inspiration for me within its glossy pages.

(I'll get more of a chance to evaluate how Glamour stacks up over the next few months as I am a temporary subscriber, thanks to the very sad demise of Domino, a wonderful home magazine I did subscribe to. They've sent me Glamour instead.)

If I want to look at pretty pictures and read something interesting about fashion these days, I'm much more likely to turn to the world-wide-inter-web, where there are all manner of entertaining and inspirational takes on fashion to be found. One is an old favourite - Go Fug Yourself - which takes one of Glamour's long standing concepts called Dos and Don'ts and morphs it into an always amusing dialogue on celebrity, and the stupid things famous people wear.

Another is a more recent discovery, The Sartorialist. Well, it's a recent discovery for me; thousands of people follow this stunning blog, penned by Scott Schuman, who has combined his fashion-industry background with great photography and an advanced diploma in people watching. He's recently been in Melbourne and Sydney, which is where this photo was taken.

I've followed another 'what real people are wearing' blog - called bits and bobbins - for a number of years now. This one is about wearing what you want with confidence, and is full of quirky, colourful ideas. On another tack is the entertaining A Dress A Day, which is about vintage and modern dresses. My sister - who also keeps a blog about making and wearing clothes from old patterns - put me on to it. Both of these blogs are about the sewing, crafty side of fashion which I enjoy reading about but never actually do.

And I have to give a shout out to Cute When Frustrated, a blog which often touches on fashion. It's written by a dear friend of mine, who is not only one of the most stylish people I know, but also has a witty turn of phrase and a good heart. So pleased to see her blogging again.

All of these blogs - unlike 99.99% of fashion magazines - share a reflection on fashion which is not age specific. You don't have to be aged between 18 and 35 to find something that you can imagine yourself wearing, or a nifty new way to tie a scarf. All have a good dose of good humour and sense too, which is sadly lacking in most fashion focused mags.

I just wish that someone would take up fashion writer Maggie Alderson's idea of a new magazine, which she shared when she was interviewed recently by Girl With a Satchel (another blog I like a lot). Here's what she said.

If there was a 'Maggie' magazine, what would it feature? Ooh, now you're talking! I do have a magazine I would love to do aimed at my age group - 40 to 65. We have rather 'seen it all' and I think there is a market for a magazine for us. My mantra for it is 'Show me something I haven't seen before...'

We're an interesting group because some of us are already grandmothers, then there others like me with junior school children and a large sector who don't have kids. I would relish the challenge to appeal to all of them. I would approach it in an attitudinal way. That's what unites us. Just because we are older, we are not necessarily into baking and crochet - although we might be - but whatever we do, we approach it in a way that is specific to our generation. That is what I would like to address.

And it would have wonderful fashion shoots in it. I wouldn't use only old models. Women want to aspire. I would inspire women to try new looks by creating atmosphere in the fashion shoots. You want the feeling of the clothes - then it doesn't matter if the model is 19. It's a subtle thing, but I am convinced about it.

I for one would subscribe to that.

She's lovely to me

2009-05-14T22:17:00.024+10:00

The gender balance has shifted in our house this week. It's been just me and the boys (Hubster, Number One Son, The Little Guy, plus our two male pets), while Miss Mucks has been away on school camp since Monday.

It's been somewhat quieter around this place, although the general hum of the household is punctuated with the sound of wrestling sons; their seven year age difference doesn't get in the way of a good tackle. Mornings have been a lot easier too, without a tortuously slow-to-get-moving 11-year-old girl to coax along in getting dressed. And the spats about television program selection - together with milk consumption, colour pencil debris and phonecall activity - have decreased considerably.

But I miss her terribly and can't wait to see her when the bus rolls into school tomorrow afternoon. I want to hear all the news of her adventures, about the funny things her friends did, updates on what the mean girls got up to, and the latest on the grade five 'boys my friends and I have crushes on' register.

Most of all, it will be nice to have balance restored to the house. Even if that balance comes home with lots of dirty washing, some inevitable post-camp grumpiness and the need to sleep for about 14 hours straight.

That was the month that was: April

2009-04-30T22:30:00.011+10:00

Relaxed school holidays, and very hectic weeks at work. Everyone in the family taking a turn of being sick. Changing the house around (again); peace has descended on the house now the kids aren't sharing bedrooms. Winter arrives early - gloves came out in April this year. Rain! Lots of cooking; soups, Easter roast lamb, cakes and the slow cooker working overtime. Spending lots of time with family and friends. Easter. Making my way through lists (dentist appointments, electricians, new childcare arrangements) and feeling pleased I'm ticking tasks off. Generally very content.

Television series of the month: Party Animals. I was a bit late in getting to this one - it was screened on the ABC over summer, but I only got around to watching my stash of recorded episodes this month. It's what the British do particularly well, a mix of comedy and drama, with well rounded characters that you come to care about. Shame that they only made one series (it was made in 2007 I think), as there is a lot more life in the characters. Oh, and it stars the new Doctor Who, the geeky Matt Smith. I think he's going to be a very interesting - an incredibly young! - Doctor.

He has delighted us long enough

2009-04-19T19:11:00.004+10:00

It seems that my love of Jane Austen is rubbing off on my children via osmosis.

My youngest child - a six year old boy - told me this evening that he hates going to aftercare, because "it is the worst company I have ever met".

In the firing line

2009-04-17T20:28:00.021+10:00

Over the past few months, I've been receiving Gwyneth Paltrow's blog, Goop. It's a bit like watching an accident happen in slow motion - oddly fascinating, even though you know that it's all going to end in tears.

Her latest entry has attracted a lot of attention. She's written about frenemies, which of course has the tabloid media in a frenzy. Is she talking about Jen or JLo or Winona or Mads? This is a particularly amusing slant on the story, as it assumes that famous people only know other famous people. Um, isn't it just possible that she could be talking about someone who is just a regular human being, or aren't normal folk allowed to mooch around with stars?

I think that this is what is at the heart of what's both weird and fascinating about Goop. When someone as famous as Gwyneth Paltrow expresses something like this - "[someone] really did what they could to hurt me. I was deeply upset, I was angry, I was all of those things you feel when you find out that someone you thought you liked was venomous and dangerous" - those of us in the cheap seats will of course ponder on who she could mean; come on Gwynnie, was it Jen or JLo or Winona or Mads? When (almost) any other blogger writes about friendship gone bad, the rest of us would just say "OK then, what do you have to say on the subject?" and not try to guess who we're actually referring to.

But on the other hand, her blog is a strange combination of someone portraying herself as living a very normal life, naturally preoccupied with getting her children to eat peas and doing the school run. But this is also someone for whom 'normal' means:
- sharing her intimate knowledge of several cities (Paris and NYC) where the restaurants know her by name and what her favourite dish is
- wearing Chanel mini dresses that you can pass down to your daughter, and
- her day job this spring is filming a movie.
Bit different from tackling crowded transport, the joys of finding a bargain, and working out how to make a kilo of mince stretch into three interesting family meals.

And I mean, really, do we imagine that Gwynnie really gets around dressed like she is here?

And while I definitely don't agree with the morning television presenter I heard today that suggested that she should stop blogging because she should be concentrating on Apple and Moses instead (assuming that she does write her own entries of course, and what the hell is wrong with mothers blogging you tool!), I do wonder what she's actually getting out of Goop?

Other than getting people talking about her of course...

More things I know now

2009-04-09T22:29:00.022+10:00

Time for another list of random thoughts.

1. School holidays are much easier to deal with when both parents can take turns having time off. For the first time in years, I've not had to ask anyone to look after my kids at all these holidays.

2. It's four days to Easter. This is the gospel according to the Little Guy, who is obsessed with chocolate eggs, and has been giving us a running countdown to The Big Bunny Day the past two weeks. He may get a shock when he discovers that Easter actually begins tomorrow, and we're eating fish. The hot cross buns for breakfast may make up for it.

3. On the subject of chocolate, the 'high end' stuff from Aldi is really really good. As I haven't got any on me at present though, I'll just make do with a couple of lines of Dark Kit Kat instead.

4. Our water consumption has been, on average, 87 litres per day per person this past quarter. I'm chuffed; and I'm pretty sure it's because I've been obsessively using grey water on our garden rather than turning on the hose. It's saved our trees, and lugging those full buckets in and out has been good for my arms.

5. As predicted, my interest in cooking has returned now it's cooler. Yes, I know that it's not really cold yet, but I've already started on soups and slow-cooked casseroles.

6. Enduring a horrible work situation gives you a keen appreciation of what a blessing a happy workplace is. I feel very lucky that I'm in the latter situation these days.

7. I now have a daughter who is old enough to revel in her musical discoveries with me; she shared the Ting Tings with me recently (I like them a lot too), and Lily Allen (should I worry?!). I responded by showing her clips of The Go Gos and Blondie thanks to the wonders of YouTube, the ultimate source of "well, in my day...". Luckily she's not yet of an age to roll her eyes at me in embarrassment of my daggy musical choices. That's coming soon, no doubt. (And Blondie will never be daggy, anyway.)

The Knowledge

2009-04-06T08:47:00.022+10:00

It's not fashionable to admit it these days, but I love shopping. It's in the thrill of the chase, and in the moment of discovering a bargain or an unexpected treasure. I thoroughly enjoy window shopping, and I have been known to embrace online shopping for some very specific items, like DVDs, books and locating particular homewares from eBay.

My love of shopping isn't just for fun things either. I love shopping for food (even in a supermarket), plants, and the newspaper. About the only shopping experiences I don't enjoy is buying petrol, stamps at the post office, and lining up for hours on end to buy school books and kids' shoes. I think I've probably spent an entire week of my life over the last 13 years waiting to buy shoes for my children.

In the last week, I had a bit of an epiphany about shopping: it's even more enjoyable when you have a friend in tow to share their inside knowledge of a particular shop or brand with you. Or when you share one of your favourite shopping experiences with a friend.

My dear friend J is an expert at making her dollars last and last. She took me on a tour of our local Aldi last weekend, and pointed out all of the great products and the ones to avoid. I'd been before, but felt rather overwhelmed. This time, I came away with two bags of the good ones; organic black tea, tinned tomatoes, cornflakes, muffins and many packets of biscuits, including the infamous Jaffa Cakes. (Which I did enjoy, but still not as much as the late lamented Arnott's version.) All of these items were already on my shopping list, and I managed to save quite a bit, and learn how to do the whole speed check-out thing.

Later in the week, a work friend and champion shopper took me on a similar excursion, but this time to Witchery. Now I know that Witchery had a complete revival about a dozen years ago, when it morphed from being all about daggy pink angora embroidered jumpers to offering up of the moment 'pieces' in great styles and colours at good prices, but I still tend to overlook it when it comes to the quest for clothes (I'm not even sure why). But armed with a 20% off voucher, my friend's intimate knowledge of what Witchery is really good at, and some specific ideas of what I need to buy this winter, I had a ball trying things on. She helped me find that rarest of things too - good scoop neck t-shirts, with really long sleeves in a stretchy fabric (surprisingly hard to find at a reasonable price). I'll be including Witchery on my list of "I know I'll find something great in here" places now.

I had my turn of sharing my shopping Knowledge during the week too. I caught up with an old friend for coffee during the week, and she admired my tablecloth - a brightly coloured plastic coated length of fabric from Mexico. I ended up taking her to where I'd bought it before Christmas: Market Import. I, like thousands of other people, adore this homewares shop, which stocks lots of bright Mexican, Italian and Spanish ceramics, glassware, baskets, fabrics and accessories. My favourite bangles, platters and bowls come from there. My friend hadn't discovered it before (it's tucked away in a little street in Armadale near a train station), and she was in heaven. It was such fun seeing her oooh and aahh over different things.

All of this demonstrates that, while it is perfectly pleasant to shop alone, shopping with a friend is one of the world's great participation sports, especially when you get to share in The Knowledge.

That was the month that was: March

2009-04-01T16:59:00.011+11:00

Changes to the house - a new attic went in yesterday. Enjoying my job a lot. Writing plenty at work, but not at all on this blog. Putting some lovely winter clothes on layby (a new coat!). Pleased I saved my trees from the drought thanks to buckets of bathwater: I like to think that lugging those heavy buckets around has been good for my upper arms too. Learning to use the slowcooker. Reading lots of fanfic; some great, some very very bad. Helping kids with homework (all three have plenty at present). Planning a holiday to New Zealand later in the year.

Television series of the month: Farmer Wants a Wife. Now, I'm not normally a fan of reality TV (although I was a big fan of 'The Apprentice') or dating shows, but I have fallen for this one. I think it's a combination of being engrossed in watching the way some people behave, and lots of pretty countryside to admire. But most of all, its appeal is in being able to shout "you're making the wrong choice!" and "what on earth do you see in him/her!" at the telly on a Wednesday night. I've not watched the previous two seasons, but the farming blokes, and one girl, have got me in. I just hope that, in future series, if they do include some more capable female farmers looking for love, they give her a better selection of fellas to choose from. Farmer Jenny - what are you going to do? All will be revealed in tonight's two hour bumper finale episode. Grouse.

Supply interrupted

2009-03-11T16:45:00.007+11:00

So I'm going through a bit of a slump, blogging wise. Haven't had any inspiration for weeks now, or a particularly strong urge to write. Same thing to report regarding reading ... just not very interested at the moment.

Meanwhile, life is bouncing along its merry, busy way.

Perhaps the inspiration will return when the colder weather does. Not too long to wait now.

That was the month that was: February

2009-02-28T11:00:00.003+11:00

Disbelief at the devastation caused on one day by the Victorian bushfires. Feeling thankful about what we have. Kids back to school, slowly and sometimes painfully getting back into the routine. Wishing it was autumn. The Oscars. Making changes to the house. Planning our tactics on how to stage a fight against inappropriate development at VCAT. Working a lot. Blogging inspiration set to low.

Television series of the month: Cranford. This beautifully crafted adaptation of three of Elizabeth Gaskell's short novels had me crying in every episode (I watched it on DVD rather than waiting for it to screen on Aunty each week). I sobbed several times in the last episode. The acting is breathtaking, the stories touching and very funny. It's about feeling that you belong, loyalty, gossip, kindness and cruelty, and, most of all, female friendship at its very best.

Oscars 2009

2009-02-27T22:46:00.047+11:00

I've been too busy to post an essay on the Oscars finery worn earlier this week. So here's a quick overview, written before I fall to sleep after what has been a very looooong day.

Because I am feeling weary, and because I just can't not blog about Oscars fashion, I'm only going to review the gals who wore pale colours, of which there were plenty this year.

Taraji P Hensen was fabulous in Benjamin Button, and she looked absolutely gorgeous at the Oscars. As did Anne Hathaway (she's my pick of this year's best dressed).

Then there are those that I can't quite decide on. I've put Evan Rachel Wood into this basket; great dress, but perhaps a bit too pale on her white white skin. (Although, looking at this again, I do like it a lot.) Marisa Tomei is on this list too. Her dress is an extraordinary piece of construction - how did she sit down in it? - but with just too much going on.

Another choice in my not-sure category is Miley Cyrus. Quite a few people I know really liked this, and there is something appealing about her scalloped number (it certainly is age appropriate, the sort of dress little girls draw). But there are things that I don't like ... mainly the belt and the scallop up front and center just under it.

Although I haven't posted their pictures here, I'm including Penelope Cruz (not sure about the Austrian blind-ish skirt of her gown) and Jennifer Aniston (a bit on the boring side) in this category too.

As to what I don't think worked, Sarah Jessica Parker makes this list for me. As well as the whole distracting booby thang, I don't think her loose hair worked with the whole princessy vibe; it was aging too. The dress is a pretty colour though. Although Matthew doesn't looked too thrilled with any of it in this photo (click to enlarge, and check him out standing to the left of SJP).

Melissa George gets my worst dressed award; was this originally a petticoat for an elaborate 1980s wedding dress? To give her the benefit of the doubt, I suppose she may have been going for a canny bit of recycling in these recessionary times. It's a blessing she left the crystal head piece and veil at home.

And finally, a special mention to Heath Ledger's mother Sally Bell and sister Kate Ledger, who not only handled themselves with grace - they also both looked lovely in their creamy pale gowns.

over-Due meme

2009-02-22T10:49:00.055+11:00

I'm afraid that the blogging inspiration has deserted me this month. It's due primarily to my online focus being more on the bushfires and their aftermath, as well as being very busy writing at work, which has meant that I've not felt like doing much more than writing an odd FaceBook comment.

But thanks to the ever-eloquent Kath over at Blurb from the Blurbs, I've got a reason to start blogging again: a meme in which I have to list ten things about me starting with D. So here we go, in no particular order.

Dinner parties. Back in the carefree 1990s, when I was a young married person, we used to regularly host dinner parties. Saturdays used to be spent whipping up three course meals for four to six friends, all carefully balanced and presented. Good china, freshly pressed linen, flowers, a touch of kd lang playing in the background. I shudder at the thought of putting on such a turn these days. Because these days we have three children in our lives, and almost of all of our friends have one or two small people in tow too. So when we entertain, like we did last night for 13 (six adults, seven kids), it's strictly snags and marinated chicken on the barbecue, salads and icecreams for all those under the age of 14. Less planning and food preparation, with different challenges (the meal gets served in two sittings so the little kids get fed as early as possible), but just as much fun. And possibly more wine consumed.

Delicious. Continuing with the theme of my love of food, I turn to the every day adventure of feeding the people I share my life with. Most of the time, I find cooking enjoyable and relaxing. However, from time to time, I go through a slump in which I entirely lack motivation and inspiration for the whole exercise. It usually happens at the end of summer. Over the past few years, I've relied on the food magazine Delicious to prod my creative cooking juices. It's just not working for me this year though, as I haven't found a thing to inspire in the last two issues. I hope this isn't the end of this particular magazine love affair ... maybe I'm just not that into Delicious anymore.

Darcy. Ah yes, another great enduring love in my life. Actually my love affair is not with Fitzwilliam Darcy, hero of Pride & Prejudice, or indeed with any of the other heroes who populate Jane Austen's novels (even you Captain Wentworth). My true love is for Austen's words. Her deceptively simple stories of social interaction are essentially about being true to yourself, and learning to laugh at yourself as well as others. Austen manages to be timeless, emotionally satisfying, insightful and just damn funny. These are the novels I can read over and over, and still laugh out loud. Which is a good thing, as I spent the last year of my English degree writing my dissertation on Austen, and laughter was one thing that got me through it (laughter and Arnotts Jaffa Cake biscuits, which are sadly no longer made). These days, I also enjoy my Austen on DVD, of which I have a large collection. Her work has suffered some appalling adaptations, as well as some wonderful ones; I enjoy them all, although in some cases, only to marvel on how some directors can get it so wrong.

Daughters. I come from a long line of devoted daughters. I feel very blessed that I have had a clear memory of five generations of daughters in my family - my maternal great grandmother, her daughter my grandmother, my mum, me, and my own daughter. A long line of women existing in living memory, stretching back to 1876 (or thereabouts) when Great-Granny was born, to now, with my daughter about to turn 11. I am so pleased that I have distinct memories of Great-Granny - I was six when she died - as well as many many memories of my grandmother, who died just after my daughter was born. Perhaps if I'm lucky, I'll get to see at least one more generation of daughters emerge too.

Names starting with D. While thinking about what to include in this list, I realised that every member of my family, except for me, has a name starting with D. Only one of them - my eldest son - has a first name starting with D; my other son, my daughter and my husband all have D middle names. My Mum's name begins with a D too; we used her name as our daughter's middle name.
I don't have a D in my initials though (they are A and J instead). I do make up for it with my online name of Delamare. I chose that name about ten years ago when I was looking for an online identity, and found that every name I thought of had already been taken. Looking at my bookshelf I saw a book of poetry by Walter de la Mare, so pounced on that. Good thing I still like it - I might not have felt the same if one of my earlier choices like 'Frazzled' or 'Exhausted mum of two' had been available.

Doubt. It seems that the older I get, the more doubt I experience. In the last ten years, I've had some of the deepest truths I held about myself challenged - my friendships, my career and my marriage. These experiences have been horrible to go through, and have led me to sink into a depressed funk once or twice, but what I've got out of working through these challenges has enriched my life immeasurably. Work is more in perspective, and I've come to value relationships for what they are, good and bad. Maybe I am finally growing up.

Dancing. One thing I don't doubt about myself though, is that I am a completely hopeless dancer! I was able to bop away with the best of them at a school social back in the 1970s and at a nightclub in the 1980s with no shame, but now I am a ridiculous dancer. The lucky thing is that the same can be said of virtually every one of my contemporaries. I read somewhere that women lose the ability to dance once they have a child. Based on my highly scientific examination of the validity of this statement, I'd say it was true. Just put on 'Blame it on the Boogie' next time you're at a school fundraiser which includes alcohol, and see for yourself.

Drawing. I spent hours and hours drawing as a child. I drove my mum mad - I sought out every writing pad and pen in the house and scribble away, so she could never find a piece of clean paper when she needed one. I drew flowers, houses, cats, horses and girls (characters from stories I read mostly). For a long time I thought that I would teach art when I grew up, and I did do art up to the end of year 12. But as I got into my last two years of school, I discovered how much I loved words and writing, so ended up studying English and later editing, and have made this my career. Most of my scribbles lately have been to keep myself entertained in boring meetings, or to entertain my children. But I've recently found the urge to paint again, brought on by the beautiful bush around Pambula Beach when we were there in January.

Due-date. For someone run by deadlines at work (which I am very good at hitting 98 per cent of the time), I have become pretty useless at keeping to a due date in the rest of my life. Bills almost never get paid on time, laybys invariably have to be extended, and we seem to run on an agenda of 'just making it in time' on almost everything. I know why this happens: this is a hectic household of three school-age children, and two adults with busy jobs. Something's got to give around the edges. And keeping my three children to a deadline was always going to be a challenge - all three of them had to be induced to get a move on out of the womb.

Dating. I've never really 'dated'. Does anyone? In my experience it's a case of "I like you, you like me, let's spend some time together as friends and let's see what happens", rather than formal dates. My romantic life has gone more like this; numerous crushes, an unrequited love affair that never got off the ground, a formative relationship with a man that was never destined to last, and then a head over heels love affair that's morphed into a marriage of nearly 20 years. So what could be more delightful than to receive a big bunch of lillies last week from my husband, all the more romantic because it was totally unexpected? Maybe we should arrange to go on a date. Just not one involving dancing.

So there's my list of Ds. It was surprisingly hard to get started, but lots of fun once I got going. Let me know if you want to do one and I'll tag you a letter too.

That was the month that was: January

2009-01-31T08:30:00.012+11:00

Fireworks over Sydney Harbour. Hangover on Balmoral Beach. Beach holiday. Fish and chips multiple times. Long distance car rides. Busy return to work; lots of deadlines then delayed. Kids on holidays all month. Catching up with old friends and making new ones. Horrendous heatwave. Swimming at Harold Holt Pool. Struggling to keep the plants alive. Not much interest in cooking (too hot). Broken down trains. Sourcing school books, clothes and stationery. Getting active on FaceBook. Dreams of a studio out the back, and plans to change the house around so kids can all have their own bedrooms. Celebrated Chinese New Year, and was moved to a tear or two by the Obama inauguration.

Television series of the month: Mad Men. I finished watching series one, which I got for Christmas. I must admit that I started off not warming to the characters much, but ended up finding it addictive, and the flawed people mesmerising. I suspect that at least a third of the characters will go on to have respiratory problems later in their (fictional) lives given the amount of chain smoking that is going on. The series deserves its reputation for gorgeous design and costuming. I'm really looking forward to seeing the second series, which is set two years later in 1962.

(Also an appropriate choice as one of the main characters - the blonde on the left - is played by an actor called January Jones.)

Hot enough for you?

2009-01-29T22:29:00.006+11:00

Survived today, although now soaked in chlorine. 43 degrees again tomorrow. May lose will to live.

Hot and cross

2009-01-29T07:20:00.014+11:00

It seems that Melbourne is suffering through its hottest week in a century. Great. All I know is that I'm getting hotter and hotter, and grumpier. It's a simple formula for disaster: me + heat = middle aged cross patch.

There are plenty of signs about how badly I cope with this kind of weather. Here's a handy list.

1. I am covered in mosquito bites
2. I am tired from not sleeping properly
3. My face is all red and shiny, and my hair is beyond rescue
4. I am depressed about the state of the plants I had managed to keep alive so far this summer
5. I am actually relishing the idea of taking four children to the pool this morning
6. I am writing a blog entry before I have my morning coffee
7. I feel thirsty most of time despite drinking lots of water
8. I have lost interest in food

I know this last one because last night I could not make a simple decision about which pizzas to order (we had friends over for pizza and beer). But the biggest sign was that I could not bring myself to watch Nigella Lawson cook on the telly last night...

But at least I don't have to battle the Connex demons this week - I am on holidays* to get the kids ready for school. I can't help thinking that it would be nice to be in the airconditioned comfort of work this week though.

*Luckily the heat isn't getting in the way of all of my fun this week though. Yesterday I met up with one of my very favourite bloggers - Kath from Blurb from the Blurbs. Together with our daughters, we had a delightful time chatting in real life, in the airconditioned comfort of her new home, drinking copious amounts of her favourite iced coffee.

"I want an Australian accent!"

2009-01-25T13:03:00.012+11:00

It's Australia Day tomorrow, which means that we're all enjoying a long sunny weekend, and hopefully thinking about how fortunate we are to live here in this big, dry, beautiful and predominately peaceful and prosperous place.

The Good Weekend magazine in yesterday's The Age had a wonderful feature on just this subject - a photographic essay on kids who were born in another country but now live here. It's worth checking out - there's a multi-media feature based on it here on The Age website too.

(I know one of the kids featured too - he's one of my eldest son's best friends.)

Reading this yesterday made me reflect some more on one of the things that President Obama said in a recent speech - that his extraordinary story could only be possible in the United States of America. I don't think that's true; I like to think that what was once unthinkable is possible in Australia too. I hope so.

Fur too hot

2009-01-20T19:58:00.022+11:00

Like the tennis, summer has hit Melbourne with a vengeance this week. And while I could very well get started on a rant on our appalling train system, which is apparently not designed to cope with temperatures over 35 degrees Celsius (we live in AUSTRALIA for gawd's sake!), I will focus instead on the two furry members of our household, and their different ways of coping with our current heatwave.

Our cat Zeb lies around pathetically mewing, complaining about the heat. He likes to writhe around in the dust for dramatic effect, just so we know how damn hot he is. This is a trait he shares with other members of the family; while we humans may not wriggle around on the 'lawn', like Zeb we do so like to complain endlessly when the temperature gets higher than 29 degrees.

Zeb is also a Big Flirt. This again is a trait he shares with one or two other (nameless) family members.

In contrast, our bunny Smokey just sits there, Zen like, in a shady spot as he ponders the heat. He is stoicism personified (or should that be 'lapinified'?). At least until you try to pat him, at which point he runs furiously around the garden in a spirited game of 'betcha can't catch me!'. I don't think he sees the value in flirting.

All we humans can do is to make sure that the Furry Boys have plenty of cold water on tap, and somewhere cool to sit, just like the rest of us. At least these lads don't have to worry about forcing their way onto crowded, unconditioned trains.

Oh, and isn't our lawn delightful... I so want to just get rid of it!

What me worry?

2009-01-18T12:00:00.013+11:00

OK, time to talk New Year resolutions.

I made two last year, and was very successful at keeping one of them - read more widely. I enjoyed lots of serious modern literature and historical biography, some fantasy, and washed it down with some fun, well-written fluff. I'm keeping this resultion going for 2009.

My other 2008 resolution was to get my garden in order. I got started on that one, and I'm managing to keep my new plants alive during summer, but I haven't made lots of progress. It's a daunting one, not helped by the size of the job, a lack of time and lots of distractions. Plus the fact that Melbourne gardens can look so scrappy and disheartening these days thanks to our neverending drought. Nevertheless, this resolution is back on the list for 2009.

I'm adding another one this year - don't worry so much.

Always the eldest child and being female, I tend to always be thinking ahead (right now, my mind is on what we need to do to get the kids ready for another year of school ). Which is fine, except that it can tip over to worrying.

While worry is part of the natural state of things, it is also a big fat waste of time for the most part. The older I get, the more I know that problems usually have a way of sorting themselves out, especially as I've finally got it into my skull that there are problems you need to act on, while others just need to be given time to resolve naturally. You just need to be clever in working out which one is which.

So, while I will never stop planning ahead (would you like to know what we're having for dinner next Tuesday?), I am determined to let up in being a worry-wart this year.

And that will include not worrying if my resolutions don't all bear fruit (see, I'm being sneaky about my gardening one again!).

Road trip 09

2009-01-11T19:06:00.027+11:00

Actually, it was a road trip that started in 2008 ... we left Melbourne on 28 December after a great family Christmas that stretched over two days (much easier than trying to fit it all in on one day).

Back in September, we decided that we'd take a road trip of sorts - the sort you can take with three children, aged 13, ten and six. Rather than doing the separate Sydney and beach holidays we've been taking over the last few years, which ended us spending a crazy FOUR DAYS in the car over January, we combined the two this year, doing a mammoth Melbourne-Canberra-Sydney-Pambula Beach-Melbourne trip, over two weeks, and cutting a day out of the time spent cooped up in the car.

We got home yesterday, tired but happy, with some lovely memories. And lots of dirty washing.

After an overnight stay in a dodgy motel in Gundagai, we arrived in Canberra for a few days. Poor Canberra, our nation's capital, suffers from some bad press as being extraordinarily boring, but it is a terrific place to visit for a few days, with heaps of things to interest kids. Lots of museums (the War Memorial is truly extraordinary), some pretty mid-century architecture, and good food (Sammy's Kitchen) makes it a great place to stay.

The reason for our visit was for me to wallow in some nostalgia mostly, as I spent my childhood in Canberra. We visited my old house, and my old school, which is looking rather sorry these days unfortunately; it closed down for many years I think, and is only now re-establishing itself as a school. We spent a lot of time in Canberra with me reminiscing about my childhood; the children had a very high tolerance level for me waxing lyrical about the olden days of the 1970s, bless their cotton socks. I also got them doing some of the things I liked doing as a kid, like ride on the old merry-go-round in Civic (ironically originally from just around the corner from us in St Kilda in Melbourne).

On to a lightening quick visit to Sydney to see in the new year, as we have done the past three years. A good friend has a gorgeous apartment in Cremorne Point so we get to see the new year fire works in style. As always, Sydney was all about hot and steamy weather, ferries, crowded beaches, great food, David Jones (for some reason much better in Sydney than it is in Melbourne), and lots of loud people.

Then it was off to the beach for a week. The trip from Sydney to the south coast of NSW is a lot prettier than the trip from Melbourne up to Pambula, but it is tiresome. Bad roads, big traffic jams, and impatient drivers. Wonderful to get to Pambula Beach at last, to a week of sleeping, eating, reading, laying in the shade, wading in the water, and drinking coffee.

Fishing was done (and one was caught!), boardgames played, long conversations held, movies watched and lots of wine drunk. We made tiramasu and had a barbecue and salad almost every night. And as always, we planned to do some things like go for long walks, but the plans didn't materialise; we were too busy relaxing.

It was sad to leave yesterday, but great to get home to our pets, our own beds, missed friends, and Christmas presents not yet enjoyed. And the good news is that there is only three more bags to be unpacked, and I've made it through all of the dirty washing.

I must admit that I am not thrilled about returning to work tomorrow... at least I'll have another week off at the end of January before the kids go back to school.

Bah-humbug (well, almost ...)

2008-12-23T21:15:00.008+11:00

I wish I felt more Christmassy. I started December well ahead in my Christmas preparation, but I'm afraid it's just got closer and closer to the big day with me turning into a grumpy mess. And that's sad, because I normally love Christmas.

It's no one's fault and it's not one thing. Just a combination of people being sick (my daughter hurt her foot badly yesterday - she's OK thankfully), some big family issues to deal with (my mother-in-law moving into assisted care and the ripple affect that this move has had), the end of the school year, and some truly huge work projects that both The Hubster and I have had to deal with - it's been one of those years when the work Christmas do was a very hurried affair. So I've had to squeeze the Christmas preparation in between everything else, and have felt frazzled as a result.

Still, there's still 36 hours for things to redeem themselves. My Mum is recovering from her flu, my husband's work project was delivered today, the food shopping is handled at long last, and almost all of the presents are wrapped. All it will take is me running around like a loon tomorrow afternoon to get the rest of it done.

I'll get there yet!

The year in review: television

2008-12-21T09:02:00.059+11:00

As the label says, I watch too much television, but I don't care. There's been a lot to enjoy this year too: here are my ten favourites for 2008.

It's a jungle out there
My picks for favourite dramas of the year include two Australian ones, which is great to be able to say, as Australian drama hasn't been too inspiring over the past few years. I came to Rush rather late; thank you Channel Ten* for repeating the series over summer, so I can see the episodes I missed out on. Made by the same people who created Police Rescue back in the 1990s, Rush has some silly moments, and Catherine McClements irritated me at first, but I'm really enjoying watching an Australian police drama again.

My other favourite was Underbelly (of course), an essay about how some people never grow past being four years old ("I'm cross at you so I'm going to throw my toys at you").

Living in Melbourne, I saw Underbelly via 'interesting means'. This was a great way of seeing it actually, because we'd watch it two episodes at a time, several nights in a row, before handing the DVDs back into circulation. Everyone else was watching it the same way too, so there was a lot of discussing plot points - and Roberta's dialogue - without giving too much away to people who hadn't caught up yet.

Both Rush and Underbelly were tightly scripted, well-told dramas, featuring terrific acting. See, we can still do it.

Let me pitch you this - it's about a serial killer of serial killers
I can just imagine the meeting when the creators of Dexter pitched their idea to the studio. Miami based blood-splatter expert by day, serial killer at night. A hero that lacks emotional connection with others, is driven to kill, and yet completely engages the viewer's sympathy. Dexter is one very clever - and amusing and gruesome - drama. Plus it unites Michael C Hall, who played the neurotic gay brother in Six Feet Under, with Julie Benz who played Darla, the blonde vampy-vampire from Buffy. We're watching the second series of Dexter on DVD now, because Channel Ten** in their wisdom decided to only screen the first season.

Another drama I really enjoyed this year was a six episode series made in 2006 by the BBC, about British diplomats in the United States. The State Within was gripping, involving and very confusing. The goodies and the baddies kept changing, and you couldn't be sure if a character was going to survive from one week until another. Great stuff.

Best of British
In any given year, my list of favourite television includes a lot of British television. While there was nothing like Life on Mars to really grip me this year, there were plenty that kept me entertained. (Yes, I know that the ABC screened the second series of Life on Mars in February this year, but I had already seen it on DVD in mid-2007.)

Dr Who makes the list of course, with this year's series being emotionally engaging as well as big silly family fun. I also got into the family history series Who Do You Think You Are?, which made me cry from time-to-time, even when it was about British celebrities I'd never even heard of.

And for pure, snuggle under the throw-rug, keep me company while I'm folding huge piles of washing television, there's nothing like a British domestic drama to keep me entertained. Channel Seven ran a lot of them this year; the final episodes of Life Begins and William and Mary, as well as Mistresses (pictured here). And of course, my guilty pleasure of the year, the enormously ridiculous domestic drama about the fictional royal family The Palace. I even enjoyed the overacting and dodgy sets.

Another family drama that I got wound up in was an American one - Brothers & Sisters. Somehow I managed to miss the first series completely, but I taped all of the second series. I watched almost all of them while sick a few months ago, and really enjoyed it (even Callista Flockhart, who I'd never found appealing before). All that Walker gossip, bickering, and red-wine consumption is great fun.

Music, laughter and a fine romance
In considering this list though, my three most favourite programmes of the year are comedies. All three are hidden away in late night programming here, but they are all gems.

Firstly, everyone's favourite cult comedy, Flight of the Conchords. Geeky, brilliant, sweet, funny.

I have their CD on my i-Pod too, and the words to 'Robots' and 'Inner City Pressure' have kept me entertained on many a crowded train ride this year.

And then there's 30 Rock, which is American television at its wackiest and best. It made me like Alec Baldwin again, and I want to be Tina Fey when I grow up. Oh Liz Lemon.

Finally, to my favourite television programme of all this year - the American version of The Office. Yes, I know it's a copy of the British version and these things are almost always lost in translation (Kath and Kim anyone?), but I think this one is wonderful in its own right. It started off as a copy and has morphed into something else, thanks to great writing and a fantastic cast, led by Steve Carrell. (Seriously, the man is almost always brilliant; just watch his quiet troubled Dan become unhinged in Dan in Real Life. Get Smart? Mmm - not so much.)

It is very clever, very funny, and features one of the most touching romances - Jim and Pam - to unfold on television. It also has two completely dellusional and brillant characters in Andy Bernard and Dwight Shrute. Of course, it's virtually impossible to see The Office on Australian television (Channel Ten screened half of series three in 2007, stopped it suddenly, and is now screening the rest of it at midnight on Sundays***), so I have been making do with DVDs puchased through Amazon.

Looking at this list, I do watch too much television. I still don't care though!

*See that, I thanked Channel Ten! A rarity indeed.
** See what I mean?
*** I rest my case

Another (school) year over...

2008-12-20T08:37:00.016+11:00

In the midst of a particularly crazy time at work and preparing for Christmas (eeek - haven't really planned for the in-laws meal on Boxing Day yet!), my three children seemed to have finished school for another year. We are now officially in summer holiday mode.

It's been a big school year - the first we've had with all three of them at school. And while on the surface it was a VERY big year for my two sons, it was a pretty significant one for my daughter too.

Number One Son has just completed his first year of secondary school. He has also become a teenager this year - a bit of grunting and withering looks come our way occasionally, but so far so very good. He's had a wonderful year academically and socially. And My Little Guy started school. He took to it beautifully, has learnt to read, made lots of friends, learnt to swim, play soccer and cricket, and turned six. He is very proud to be a Grade One kid come February.

But in many was it was Miss Mucks, aged ten, who had the biggest year. She was in Grade Four, and started the year struggling academically, again. We got reports that she wasn't focusing, and that she was falling behind. Her writing was very messy, she has trouble spelling, and she couldn't remember how to tell the time. In the middle of the year we were told that she might have attention deficit disorder. We had her tested, and were pleased to find that it's not ADD. We needed to try other things.

Changes were made in the classroom, and we engaged a wonderful tutor to work with her once a week on her maths. We adjusted some of the way we doing things at home. And what emerged was that she has been suffering from very low self esteem academically, and basically felt hopeless. Somewhere along the way it seemed that she had missed out on some of the basics, so she was just flummoxed when she tried to do sums. Now the basics are clicking into place she's feeling so much better about her abilities. She's able to focus more too, and her writing is getting a lot better.

But best of all, she's happier and more resilient. Two of her closest friends have left the school recently (they've moved to other parts of Melbourne), and she's been able to take that in her stride too.

So it's been a good year school-wise. But we all need a holiday. Time to rest, be lazy, read for fun, and not have to find lost school jumpers or make school lunches for six weeks!

Extreme sport - Christmas shopping

2008-12-07T13:52:00.020+11:00

I broke one of my firm-rules-to-live-life-by this morning. I went to a large shopping centre - Southland - to do some commando Christmas shopping. You know the sort; plan your attack, get in, get out, don't get distracted, return home for a cold compress and a nice cup of tea (or gin, if it's been really bad).

Several years ago, I made a pledge to myself to stay far far away from overgrown shopping malls in December, as they are basically HELL. Much better to stick to strip shopping - far less crowded, more interesting things to choose from, and not as likely to bring on a headache.

But this weekend I had to return something to K-Mart, which meant that I had to brace myself and visit a mall. Thankfully, I made it easy on myself, arriving there at 9.30am (no problem finding a park), and getting out of there by 11am. I had to hang around a bit, as the shops didn't open until 10am; I was not alone though, as there were already dozens of other people milling about, waiting to hit the cash registers. Overall the expedition was bearable - but only just.

God knows what it's like right now (just after 2pm). There were plenty of people there this morning with a crazed look in their eye as they wandered apparently aimlessly from one shop to another, pushing others out of their way. Southland is the sort of place that can make a grown woman cry on a good day, let alone on a weekend a couple of weeks before Christmas. No wonder that Kath & Kim chose it as the setting for their favourite mall Fountain Lakes.

Now I can return to my scheduled Christmas shopping, most of which is done, and avoid the crowds as much as possible.

The year in review: movies

2008-12-02T20:07:00.032+11:00

In the lead-up to yet another new year, I'm making lists and checking them twice. Here's the first of my lists of my favourite 2008 things. (I promise that I'm not trying the channel Martha here though. Or Julie Andrews.)

I'm starting with my favourite films of 2008. While there's been films I've enjoyed a lot (the adorable How to Lose Friends and Alienate People), some disappointing (Quantum of Solace), and others I've cringed over (Nights in Rodanthe!), there's been several that have stood out as being satisfying movie experiences for the year. So I'm going to choose five that I enjoyed very much, for different reasons.

I read and really enjoyed Ian McEwan's Atonement early in the year. The adaptation was a rare example of a novel which translates to the big screen remarkably well I thought. It was beautiful and operatic, and moving - even though I knew what was coming. Keira Knightley was perfectly cast (which is not something I always think when I consider her movie roles), and the other actors were fantastic. I loved the recurrent tap-tap-tapping of the typewriter keys too. It was a very satisfying film, and I'm very interested in seeing what the director Joe Wright does next.

The next is a film I saw only last weekend - And Then She Found Me. Part comedy, part drama, this was an interesting and occasionally odd film about choices and happiness. It starred and was directed by another actor who can leave me cold - Helen Hunt - but this film has turned my opinion of her around. I'd like to see it again.

My third film is French - Roman de Gare. A thoroughly entertaining romantic comedy slash mystery thriller, this has a plot to keep you guessing, and a cast of great characters. It is just the sort of film that Hollywood will remake, but with a conventionally handsome leading man (Dominique Pinon is not what you'd call handsome, but his character was nevertheless appealing). I just hope that if the Americans do go the obvious route, they don't stuff it up too much, because the original is so entertaining.

And my final two films are chosen for pure enjoyment. Mamma Mia is in no way a great film, and it's well documented that Pierce Brosnan is a terrible albeit very pretty singer, but that's not the point. And Sex & The City had a meandering plot tied together with lots of faaaaabulous shoes and frocks. But I had a ball seeing both of these films. I saw Mamma Mia with a good friend and our daughters (aged ten and seven) - they loved it, and their excitement was infectious. And you can't beat the joy expressed in the 'Dancing Queen' scene of all of the island women jumping into the sea.

Nor could you beat turning up to a cinema with a bunch of girlfriends on a cold Tuesday night to watch SATC on the big screen with a huge audience that was 95 per cent women (and being Melbourne, all dressed in black!). Such fun.

That's my list. What's on yours?

Speedy

2008-11-29T11:52:00.009+11:00

There's a big push on saving water in Melbourne. Our water storage levels are frighteningly low, and, while it may have been raining a lot over the past week, we're now a parched city.

We're on 3A water restrictions, which means watering the garden is restricted to twice a week between 6 and 8am, among other things. In an attempt to prevent us moving to level 4 restrictions, the government has launched a big campaign about reducing everyone's personal water consumption to 155 litres per day, with the four minute shower at the heart of the campaign.

They were handing out tiny four minute hourglasses at Flinders Street Station earlier in the week, so I now know that I already take a speedy shower - two minutes without washing my hair, three minutes with. All well and good, with an interesting side affect. While showering this morning, I took to making deals with myself, considering when I was next going to shave my legs - a two minute job? - and exfoliate said legs in preparation for summer fake-tannery. If I washed my hair this morning, and shave one leg (I'm wearing jeans today), I can shave my other leg and exfoliate both legs tomorrow.

Modern life. So complicated.

(On a related matter, someone I spoke to recently was amazed that my 13 year old son still takes a bath rather than a shower. But my way of thinking, it saves more water to have all three kids use the same bath water - separately! - than have him take a shower, while the other two use a bath. I'm keeping the serial bathing going as long as I can.)

Blog eyed

2008-11-24T16:42:00.027+11:00

I've had a sick day off work today, thanks to the dodgy tums of both Number One Son and myself. Not nice.

Now the other two kids are back from school, I've been entertaining myself by visiting a range of new (to me) blogs mentioned in an article in yesterday's Sunday Age; I can't find a link to it unfortunately. While two of my long terms favourites - Go Fug Yourself and A Dress a Day - are featured, I've now stumbled upon some interesting sites to enjoy, including The Thoughtful Dresser, Jezebel and Eglantine's Cake. It's like cracking open a new magazine, which is one of my very favourite things to do, after all.

There are two I can't quite believe though, but for completely different reasons.

One is a very pretty blog called StyleRookie, which apparently is written by a 12-year-old. This girl is not only a dab hand at writing and photography, but she also knows how to put together amazing outfits. She is one extraordinarily sophisticated 12 year old ... but then again, I remember thinking that about the actor Diane Lane back in the day. She published a novel and starred in a sweet romantic comedy when she was about 13. I remember reading all about her in Seventeen, in the 1970s when reading magazines was the main way of finding out about people who lived shiny lives in other lands.

(Incidentally, I went to see the completely dreadful Nights in Rodanthe last week, purely on the basis of Diane Lane. She was the best thing in this very silly movie, and I'm so pleased she's decided that it's much better to look like a gorgeous 40+ woman than a 40+ woman who's still trying to look 32. Move away from the botox please.)

The other blog which has me rather gobsmacked is that by Melissa C Morris, who is living a life not out of a magazine, but straight out of The Preppy Handbook.

You can't make these things up ... I think.

Gen-No-Name

2008-11-10T22:56:00.022+11:00

I've always been rather chuffed about belonging to a small group of people who are without a generational label. Too young to be babyboomers - apparently you have to be born between the end of the Second World War in August 1945 and 30 June 1961 to be one of those - and too old for Generation X, we early 1960s babies have been happily wandering around the planet this past 40-odd years without a moniker.

So, it was with some disappointment that I found it reported on the front page of this morning's The Age, that I, together with Barack Obama, the late Princess of Wales, Meg Ryan and kd lang, belong to Generation X.

Oh no I don't. I'm sticking with the definition that Gen-X started with babies born in 1965, because that way, I don't have to conform to any generational stereotypes. (Don't get me started on the current workplace obsession with the needs of Generation Y.)

It's all to do with perception of course. In the same week that I turned (gulp) 47, I was happy to hear another 1961 baby - Obama - repeatedly described as a young, fresh leader. Although, the new conservative Prime Minister of New Zealand John Key is only 'relatively young' at 47, according to The Age. Then again, Mr Key is a whole five days older than Senator Obama.

Whatever. Just let those of us born between mid-1961 and 1964 keep our label-less state.

Pants

2008-11-06T19:09:00.028+11:00

How hard can it be to find a simple pair of smart black well-cut pants* for work?

Well, apparently it's really quite hard, which is very annoying, because that's what I need right now for work. The two pairs that I do have are both starting to look rather faded.

I went hunting for these elusive pants today during my lunch hour. And I discovered that I was in between sizes, before I found one pair that I quite liked, but they were a bit too shiny. (For the most part, I hate shiny pants.) The fact that they weren't quite right - and that they cost nearly $200 for cotton pants! - couldn't be overcome once I put my own pair back on, and found they suited me so much better.

My own pants were part of the first Limited Editions range that Target launched early this year. That first range was full of great pieces, as they say on home-shopping fashion shows. Unfortunately, the current range is frighteningly full of shiny pants.

So, I trotted off to the horrendous Melbourne-city Target in my fast dwindling lunch hour, in the elusive hope that their buying staff have realised that women just wanna have decent, fashionable black non-shiny pants to wear work for well under $100. Of course they didn't have any, but I did find a pair of exactly the same pants as my own in a nice bone colour (trust me, much nicer than they sound). I forgive you now, Target for your Jenny Kee debacle. But I will really love you if you produce these pants again in black.

Of course, when shopping for something specific, you're much more likely to stumble on something else that you fall in love with. For me, it was this Sportscraft silvery bag. (And yes, it is a bit shiny, but that's OK in an accessory in my book.)

And in a strange twist of good fortune, it's on sale, I really do need a new bag, and I have birthday money to spend!

*On looking at my description of 'a simple pair of smart black well-cut pants', I can't help thinking that I sound like my grandmother. Although she'd have never worn a pair of smart black well-cut pants - she would have been after a smart well-cut shirt-waister dress. However, she did own a couple of pairs of jeans to wear around the farm.

The pies have it

2008-11-05T21:24:00.012+11:00

One of the nicest - and strangest - things about living in Melbourne is that we get a day off work for a horse race. I have very little interest in horse racing; I've lived in Melbourne for nearly 20 years and I've never been to the races, even though I'm very fond of hats, shoes and champagne.

I do like a bit of tradition, however, so I've decided that Melbourne Cup Day should be the official start of the summer season. Which for me means a picnic. Which means proper picnic food. Which means a homemade pie.

I made this bacon and egg pie last year and loved it. It was just as nice this year, and I'll be making it again next year. It's from Belinda Jeffery's Mix and Bake, which I recommend heartily. I had leftover pie for lunch at work today, and it was even more delicious.

Belinda suggests making pastry leaves for the pie. I added stars instead this year in honour of the USA election, about which I have been ridiculously excited (and completely thrilled with the result).

In keeping with our new tradition, we had our Cup Day picnic yesterday at Ripponlea Estate for the second year in a row. It's walking distance from where we live - although I drove yesterday because I had a lot of picnic paraphernalia to schlep. We lolled around with friends and kids and had a fine old time, not listening to the race, wondering why we don't make more use of the lovely, National Trust listed gardens. Sunhats were worn, and there wasn't a fascinator in sight.

It was a wonderful way of finishing up an extra long weekend, which is just what's needed at this time of the year. Now, about Christmas...

Off target

2008-10-26T10:44:00.010+11:00

I know that clothes directly lifted from the 1980s have been readily available in mainstream stores for the last few years, but home furnishings?

Has Target discovered a long-lost shipping container of Jenny Kee homewares they lost track of in 1986? Because that's what this 'exciting new' range of designer homeware looks like.

To be fair, when Kee first released her home designs on the Australian market they were fresh and exciting. I'm sure I lusted after some of her zig-zaggy black and white ceramics at one time. But now, over 20 years later, they feel totally out of date. She seems to have used exactly the same designs as she used then.

What's next? Target targets koala jumpers as the next big trend for winter 2009? Or a range of Ken Done doona overs?

Guilty pleasures

2008-10-20T19:54:00.012+11:00

There is a scene in series two of the American version of The Office in which the characters discuss their desert island movies - the five DVDs they would take with them if stranded on an island (with some form of power of course). One of the characters says that her list includes movies like Bridges of Madison Country and Legends of the Fall - and Legally Blonde. While her choices are generally derided, another character states that she actually quite likes Legally Blonde, to which her friend replies that this is a choice of your greatest movies of all time, not your guilty pleasures list.

Well, I have a confession to make. While I could tell you what is on my list of greatest television series of all time, I am always completely stumped when it comes to my list of all time great movies. I know that The Philadelphia Story and When Harry Met Sally would make the list, but beyond that, I'm afraid I am stumped.

I could come up with a list of movies that made me laugh uncontrollably when I first saw them (which would include but is certainly not limited to Cat Ballou, What's Up Doc?, Spinal Tap, Best in Show and 40 Year Old Virgin), my favourite romantic comedies, my top period films, and movies that swept me up in their excitement. But coming up with a definitive list of my-desert-island-movies is not possible.

Is it because there are just too many choices, or is it because my choices always look a bit naff when I come to list them? I suspect that it's a combination of both.

So I'll just confess now about what's currently starring on my guilty pleasures list - The Lake House with Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock. Wooden acting (not just Keanu's), nonsensical plot, pretty pictures. Can't get enough of it. It's like eating Oero cookies ... you know you shouldn't, but you can't stop.

And yes, Legally Blonde would probably make my list of guilty pleasures too.

Book it

2008-10-19T17:32:00.020+11:00

I've actually managed to keep one of my new year resolutions this year - to read a wider variety of books. And while I am not the world's quickest reader these days (my reading is confined to my daily train commute), I have managed to read all sorts of different things this year. The list includes only one Jane Austen, which is unusual for me.

Instead, I've read fantasy (Neil Gaiman), contemporary literary fiction, a couple of bestsellers, and some autobiographies. I've had a bit of a thing for historical biography, which has been fun, as it's been years since I studied history. Those Tudors led particularly busy lives.

I've also been discovering Ian McEwan's work. I love the way he uses words and how he constructs his sentences; take, for example, this line from the book I'm currently reading, On Chesil Beach: "...it was not yet customary to regard oneself in everyday terms as an enigma, as an exercise in narrative history, or as a problem waiting to be solved". Wonderful.

It's a resolution that I'll be able to keep up. Especially with the seductive Popular Penguins series that has just hit the shops - all sorts of great titles under $10 a piece. I picked up The Big Sleep today, which I've always meant to read, as well as Lady Chatterley's Lover. I seem to have lost my old copy, which I have wanted to read again since I watched the very entertaining The Chatterley Affair, the story of the court case in which Penguin Books was tried under the Obscene Publications Act.

And on the subject of penguins, a new favourite book in our house is 365 Penguins. It's a tale of excess, and one of those kids books that everyone finds funny.

Things I know now

2008-10-16T23:11:00.013+11:00

My blogging speed has decreased significantly these past few months, but that doesn't mean that I've been unaware of what's been happening around me. I've just been too tired/emotional/busy to comment on them.

So here's a quick list of things I didn't know much about until recently.

It's hard to explain to a 13-year-old what you're supposed to do in an analytical essay.

Canada celebrates Thanksgiving in mid-October. (We celebrated it last weekend at a Canadian friend's house.) Oh, and pumpkin pie is yummy.

Watching episodes of overseas television series on YouTube is not that satisfying because they get broken up into little bits.

Sarah Palin is one scary woman.

So is Colleen McCullough, but for different reasons. (Please stop calling Mr Darcy Fitz!)

Trains are much more pleasant to travel on when every second one isn't being cancelled. I've been getting a seat most mornings, which is a much nicer way to start to my day because I can read.

Happily, scarves continue to be a fashionable item for summer, which is great when you have a neck that has been around for 40 plus years. Unfortunately though, leggings-worn-as-outer-wear continue to be a blight on society.

Having reflux is not fun.

I held an utterly beautiful newborn baby yesterday and for the first time in my adult life, I didn't feel clucky for one of my own.

Getting kids to get themselves ready in the morning can be hell. (That may explain the previous observation!)

It must be spring in the air...

2008-09-19T18:21:00.011+10:00

Because we're now enjoying longer daylight hours. The weather here in Melbourne is erratic. For the most part, winter coats and boots have been put away. And the annual Who Best & Worst Dressed issue was published today.

This year's selection is better than last year's sorry choices ... but with the exception of Carla Bruni, there's no one on the list that makes me want to shout 'yes!' And even then, Carla only got to number nine on the list, with Charlize Theron taking out top spot. Two of the current three Australian 'supermodels' are on the list too - Jennifer Hawkins and Miranda Kerr - but I think they're both there purely based on being very pretty girls rather than the way they dress.

I would have picked Anne Hathaway for the best dressed list this year. And Cynthia Nixon at all of those Sex and the City premiers.

On the worst dressed side of things, well, it's pretty easy to take shots of Courtney Love, Mischa Barton and Jordan. But I was most pleased to see 'Our Nic' in the 'what went wrong?' feature in her ghastly "is it Gladwrap or tinfoil?" suit.

Yep, what was she thinking?

We all love Millie-mac

2008-09-11T23:30:00.010+10:00

Life is very busy at present, what with work, children participating in various concerts (all stuffed into the end of term three for some reason), end of soccer season for assorted sons, serious family business with my mother-in-law needing to move into aged care, lots of meetings with neighbours about fighting a permit application from a dodgy businesses that wants to open an extremely dodgy 'adult entertainment venue' close by, and generally trying to keep the show (household) on the road. Thank heavens it's nearly time for our annual spring holiday week at the beach.

But I didn't want another day to go by without me writing my first blog entry on our new i-Mac. She is very beautiful, and fast, and easy to use - unlike our poor old clunky computer which would take 15 minutes to crank up, and still not print.

(The old dear was nearly ten, which in computer terms is elderly! Perhaps one year in the life of a computer is the equivalent to nine years in the life of a person.)

The only problem is that I've had to wait until after 11pm on a weeknight to get to use this delicious new machine, which we've named Millie-mac. Every other time I've tried, a child has appeared at my shoulder asking to watch something on YouTube, or if they could see what's happening on Club Penguin.

But at this late hour, she is mine!

Chilly season

2008-08-12T20:32:00.005+10:00

Back in March I wrote a post about an unseasonably hot spell here in Melbourne. Now we're having what feels like an unseasonably cold spell, with temperatures struggling to get above 12 degrees this week.

It's very chilly, very wet, rather windy, pink-cheeked, cold-kneed kind of weather. But it does feel rather late in the year to have such a cold week, even though it's still winter.

I suspect this is because we're now in the latter half of the year, people are talking about how they're going to fit their holidays in before Christmas (eeekk!), and the summer clothes are in the shops. I had to buy a black skivvy for The Little Guy's school concert next week - he's playing an alley cat apparently, not a beatnik - and I couldn't find one anywhere. In July! It seems that I should have thought ahead and bought this winter basic back in March.

I know I'm odd, but I much prefer this cold snap to that stinking March heatwave. I always feel a bit sad when the cold weather is over for the year, and the daylight hours are starting to get longer.

Eldery smelderly

2008-08-11T22:17:00.007+10:00

At what age does one become elderly? According to a report about an unfortunate incident in Sydney, it's when you're late 60s.

Since when is 69 elderly? I could understand this definition if we were living in 1808 with a much shorter life expectancy, but in 2008, this is ridiculous! Eighty-nine years old is elderly, for heavens sake: 69 decidely not. Retired yes, getting on a bit, perhaps, but not elderly.

Someone tell Helen Mirren, Mick Jagger, Paul McCartney, Jack Nicholson, Sean Connery, Joan Collins and Dame Judy Dench that while they may not be quite there yet, they are now officially elderly.

In the soup

2008-08-10T14:37:00.014+10:00

I'm obsessed with soup this winter. Not a week has gone by without me making a vat of it.

Last year, it was all about Karen Martini's chicken and vegetable brodo, which is one of those clever recipes that take a very cheap cut of meat (in this case, chicken wings), and turns it it to something wonderful. The soup is full of good things, including fennel. I got the recipe out of a Sunday newspaper magazine a couple of years ago, and it's since been published in her latest cookbook, Cooking at Home.

This year, it's Scotch broth that has me in its trance. It uses another cheap cut of of meat - stewing lamb - to get a great result. There are plenty of recipes for this very traditional soup around, but my favourite one is from Ross Dobson's Kitchen Seasons. Although, I've adapted his recipe to use the more traditional pearl barley rather than the brown rice he suggests (I love the texture of pearl barley, which to me is purely a winter food).

This is a good cookbook, but very much one for winter. I bought it last summer, but didn't find the warmer weather dishes particularly inspiring.

In the interests of expanding my soupy skills, I've made cream of mushroom today, using Jamie Oliver's recipe. This one is very nice indeed, and very easy, which is just what I want went I'm cooking on a cold, wet Sunday morning. And two out of three children sampled it today (sans the cream being added) and declared it yummy, although I suspect that once they sit down to a bowl of it, they will decide that they don't like it.

Which brings me to my big problem with soup. It's one of those foodstuffs that small people decide that they don't like. Fullstop. The Little Guy refuses to eat it at all. This is a problem in a household in which the cook wants to make weekly vats of the stuff. I've taken to making very thick minstrone and putting it on rice, calling it vegetable medley, to trick him into eating it. This tactic actually does work sometimes (and when it does, he loves it). It won't work at all with this week's mushroom number, of course.

It's the universe paying me back for my own sins against soup: I spent a decade of my childhood refusing to eat anything which even resembled the evil soup foodgroup, much to my mother's chagrin. Perhaps one day my youngest son will be blessed with a child who will also declare soup the food of the devil.

It's all about meme

2008-07-30T08:54:00.020+10:00

I've not done a meme in a long time, so I'm doing this one now, in the hope of kick-starting my blogging juices, which have been dormant for a while. I got the idea from Amelia, whose blog bollewangenhaptoet I enjoy a lot.

1. What was I doing ten years ago?
I was on maternity leave, at home with my baby daughter and my three year old son. (Coincidentally, I was on maternity leave from the same company that Amelia was working at the time.) We were in the first year of living in this house, with its decidedly odd bathroom. Lots of boxes still had to be unpacked. It was a very happy and rather sad time for me: in the midst of the great joy of Miss Mucks's arrival, I lost my beloved grandmother.

2. What are five things on my to-do list today?
Get my hair cut; hang out with Miss Mucks and The Little Guy (they are not at school today because the teachers are having a curriculum day); see my mum; visit Mediterranean Wholesalers to stock up on pasta and tinned tomatoes; and see some old friends tonight at our first 'stitch one sip one' craft evening. It's going to be a good day!

3. Snacks I enjoy
Chocolate, salty things, cheesy biscuits

4. Places I've lived
My life has been going around in a circle. Perth, Melbourne, Canberra, Perth, Melbourne. (No plans to move back to Canberra.) When you get down to suburbs, I've lived in Guildford, Brighton, South Caulfield, Lyons, Shenton Park, Subiaco, Cottesloe, Wembley, Northcote, Carlton, St Kilda and Elsternwick.

5. Things I would do if I was a billionaire
Well, apart from the obvious stuff like move to a slightly bigger house so everyone could have their own bedroom and invest in my kids' future, I'd take the family to live in Italy for a year. Indulgence aside, I'd find a way of investing in some of the things that I think are important, like improving public education, particularly at the secondary school level. And I'd buy lots of handbags, quirky old furniture, books and china at whim.

6. Some of the jobs I've had.
Sales assistant, research assistant for a politician, registrar for an alumni association, marketing manager for a gay publishing company (yes really, and I've always been straight), communication manager. Unpaid domestic manager, and general bottom-wiper of small children.

Like Amelia, I'm not going to tag anyone for this meme, but do let me know if you've decided to play too.

The Doctor is in

2008-06-29T18:35:00.009+10:00

It seems I am not to only woman in Melbourne with a crush on the good doctor, as Melinda Houston confesses in today's Sunday Age. (I don't share her stance on Tom Baker though.)

Doctor Who is back on the ABC tonight, much to our collective delight, and a perfect way to spend a winter Sunday night, folding washing. I'll be rounding out the perfect nerdy-man evening later with Flight of the Conchords .

Daydreaming

2008-06-28T22:52:00.016+10:00

Well, we're in the middle of the year and I've not posted for a while. Real life has been distracting me, especially my clutch of grumpy children. The winter school holidays have been a very long time coming. *Sigh*

But this past month has not been without its pleasures. As well as indulging in some scarf purchasing (I do so love me a scarf), I've been enjoying daydreaming thanks to some current popular culture.

I've been to see Sex and the City - twice. I loved it the first time, of course, but found the second viewing just as enjoyable (and not just due to the Cosmopolitans I drank beforehand - the second viewing was thanks to a supplier's event for their clients). And I cried both times.

On reflection, these are the reasons why I enjoyed this film.
- It's focused on women in their 40s. This is very rare indeed in big movies.
- It is a fairytale, with New York the palace. And sometimes there's nothing wrong with fairytales, especially ones in which the writer heroine gets to live in a bright blue apartment in Manhattan, complete with a sassy assistant.
- It's about the importance of friendship. The bit that made me cry both times was the New Years Eve scene.

Oh, and lapping up all of the clothes, shoes and bags was frivolous and fun!

Another fantasy I've been enjoying of late is that portrayed in the Australian magazine, Country Style, which has recently undergone a very stylish re-design. It's gone from being rather daggy to very appealing.

It's all about finding the perfect Victorian cottage somewhere in the countryside, buying it for a song, painting it creamy white, and decorating it with old furniture and homewares sourced from out-of-the-way second hand stores. It's scones eaten in front of an open fire, gumboots by the back door, and time to paint, write, make jam and quilt. The garden is gorgeous, and friends come to stay.

Nice dream, and the antithesis of that put forward in Sex and the City.

Naming rights

2008-06-01T12:03:00.008+10:00

Two of the women I'm working with are expecting babies (one each), so there has been quite a bit of chat about names lately. There have been some lovely names thrown into the discussion, as well as some funny ones, with the amusement factor being in how a potential first name fits with a surname.

There is a lot of discussion too about which gender is harder to name. I think boys names are much harder to come up with. This is an opinion based on experience. In each of my three pregnancies we came up with a girl's name very quickly, but found naming our two sons very tricky. So much so that even though we knew we having a boy third time around, we didn't have a name for him until he was 13 days old. (When I was eight weeks pregnant, we decided that we were going to call the baby Amelia. That obviously wasn't going to work for our 8lb11oz bouncing baby boy.)

I am rather fond of old-fashioned names for girls. And they certainly have had a resurgence over the last 15 years; every primary school in Australia must have at least one Ruby, Ella, Grace, Charlotte or Lily hanging off the monkeybars. There's a girl called Olive at our school, and there's a Hazel coming next year.

But I have got to thinking that there are some old fashioned names which haven't made a comeback.

Where are the little girls called Gladys and Eunice? Will Norma, Norah, Thelma, Wilma, Enid and Ethel ever reappear in the Saturday paper's baby announcements? I would very much like to see a revival of Dorothy as a name: we need more women called Dot or Dottie around.

Perhaps Angelina and Brad can call their twin baby girls (apparently they're girls) Beryl and Gertie. That will be very distinctive in a family which already has Maddox, Pax, Zahara and Shiloh to play with.

And think of the service that they would be doing for the truly old fashioned moniker.

See me read

2008-05-11T11:51:00.023+10:00

Reading has preoccupied me a lot this last week (in between lengthy negotiations about how to manage numerous Mothers Day activities for our mothers and yours truly).

I have finally joined a bookclub, and we had our first meeting on Thursday. It was just as I had hoped and expected.

Now while it would be lovely to have the likes of Hugh Dancy in our bookclub (as pictured here in a publicity still from The Jane Austen Bookclub), it's made up of an interesting bunch of busy working mothers from my kids' primary school and friends who live locally. None of us can be described as shy retiring types, so it made for a very funny evening.

Naturally enough, we only spoke about the chosen book for about ten per cent of the time; the rest of the evening we discussed (and laughed uproariously at) life in general. I don't think that anyone joined this group expecting that we'd be revisiting an English 101 tutorial.

Our first book was an autobiography by the Australian daughter of Cambodian/Chinese refugees. Alice Pung's Unpolished Gem was amusing and interesting, and nicely fitted in with one of the reasons why I wanted to join a bookclub - it's not a book I would have normally read.

I do most of my reading these days on the train to and from work (I seem to have lost the habit of reading in bed of late). Looks like I'll have to remember to pack my reading glasses for the journey now though.

I've been feeling that my eyesight is beginning to deteriorate over the last few months, particularly when I'm working on the computer. Hardly surprising really, as my optometrist told me a couple of years ago that almost everyone in Australia starts needing reading glasses at some point in their 40s. So while my long distance sight is excellent, I now have to get a pair of low strength reading glasses.

The hard part starts now - what frames to choose? I think I've found some very nice, low key Leona Edmiston ones, but I've decided that I might need some like-minded help selecting a suitable pair. My optometrist is a delightful fellow, but the women in his shop lean towards flashy 'statement' eyewear. I just need to decide what statement I want to make, and it's not "I drive a very expensive luxury people mover".

Work hazards

2008-05-02T19:42:00.013+10:00

The working day is fraught with challenges.

Like dealing with people pushing to get on the train while you're still trying to get off.

Or not being able to select the floor you need in the lift because you can't find your building pass in your handbag.

Or finding that your tights are falling down around your knees while you walk down Collins Street...

Wednesday

2008-04-30T17:06:00.011+10:00

My working week has now settled into a great rhythm; I work long days on Mondays and Fridays, shorter days on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I have Wednesdays off. I chose this routine because I need a day in the middle of the week to replenish the family's needs, see to chores, and frankly to maintain my sanity as a working mother.

While I do use Wednesdays for such activities as the mid-week grocery shop, adding to the washing mountain, and the corralling of children, it's also my day with catching up with people I really like spending time with. It's when I can enjoy a morning coffee with other mums after school drop-off, have lunch with old friends, and spend time with my Mum.

Mum and I had a great Wednesday today. It had a completely unplanned schedule (expect for the necessary sojourn into the supermarket). We had coffee in two nice cafes, visited both of our houses, did some online browsing, and she helped me solve a tricky problem I have with an old piece of furniture.

We also went to a nursery, as I needed some fertiliser to plant our new lemon tree. As a child I found nurseries utterly boring, but now I love a good fossick about in one. Especially with Mum, as she is a devoted gardener, and has lots of advice and information to share about plants. I bought some sage, ginger lillies, and potting mix (and the fertliser).

When I dropped Mum home she also gave me an oakleaf hydrangea (a fully grown one is pictured here), which I am going to plant in a tub to fit into an old copper. Planting will be on the agenda this weekend.

So it's been a perfect Wednesday. Things were achieved, enjoyment was had, and plans were made. Even the kids have been well behaved.

(If only that washing mountain wasn't still waiting to be folded.)

Dedicated couch potato

2008-04-28T19:17:00.014+10:00

I do love me some television. Unfortunately, the pickings are pretty slim on Australian free-to-air at present. I've been getting by on Grey's Anatomy, an occasional episode of Brothers & Sisters, Armstrong & Miller and the delicious 30 Rock (which, of course, Channel Seven chooses to screen at 11.30pm on Monday nights).

Which means that most of my current television fix comes from DVDs. I recently purchased series three of The Office. This was purely out of frustration, because Channel Ten screened half the series and then just left it. So rather than wait and wait until they start up again on Channel Ten's whim, I decided to buy it, gobble up the rest of the series and enjoy the DVD extras.

This series has been a very pleasant surprise, as usually copies of successful television series just don't recreate the original's brilliance (I shudder to think what will happen to Kath & Kim when it is reborn as an American sit-com). However, the American version of The Office is very very funny and clever in its own right: they took the British concept and turned it into something quite different. Can't wait to see series four, which I will also purchase on-line, because at the rate Channel Ten goes, they'll screen it in June 2011.

My other current television dalliance at present is Dexter, the tale of an emotionally-crippled-forensic-expert-by-day-serial-killer-of-serial-killers-by-night kind of fellow, who is one of the oddest heroes ever to appear on screen.

This is dark, disturbing, amusing, can't look away television. I've watched four episodes so far, and I'm hooked.

Which begs two questions. Who said Americans can't make fantastic, off-centre, clever television? And can you imagine the pitch the Dexter creators made to the studio boss?

Mutton

2008-04-25T08:03:00.033+10:00

Over the last few years, I have been somewhat obsessed with avoiding the mutton-dressed-as-lamb syndrome. A surefire way of looking old is to dress like you're 20 years younger than you really are.

I'm not suggesting shopping in Fella Hamilton as soon as your neck begins to crinkle. But it can be trainwreck if you don't adjust your wardrobe choices as you get older.

It's a belief that has really crystallised for me over the last few months as I've observed two of the women in my office - one with horror and the other with admiration. There's probably a decade between them, but the older of the two (who I would guess to be in her mid 50s) is by far the more elegant, stylish and youthful woman.

She looks immaculate every day, dressing in solid colour - usually black, white or a great coffee-hued brown - slim fitting pants, skirts, simple tops and coats. The thing I most like about the way she puts herself together is that she wears funky clothes, with interesting tailoring, and without fussy details. She finishes it off with good quality but low-key jewellery, and her grey blonde is always beautifully groomed.

Her clothes would look great on women of any age. They work because they disguise some of the things that I think you should start to cover up as you get older. Even if you are in fantastic shape ... just take a look at Ellen Barkin* in Oceans Thirteen for evidence.

I suspect that if evening dresses were considered suitable office workwear, my other work colleague would be swishing around the photocopier wearing something like Ellen's gown here. I suspect that this woman is up for any trend going, as long as it is tight, garish, low-cut and flashy. It's not a good look for the office, especially if you have already faced the Big 4-0 in the eye (and stared it down).

Dressing in the clothes designed for 15 to 25 year old girls doesn't mean you'll look young. Rather, it just draws attention to the bits that aren't so taut and springy any more. Much better to throw people off the scent and play up the better bits of the aging bod ("Hey - look at my great shoes!").

*For the record, I think Ellen Barkin is a terrific actress. She looked fabulous in Someone Like You - and in the scenes in which she wore a cardie over a fetchingly fitted sheath dress in Oceans Thirteen.

Our half semester report

2008-04-16T19:20:00.018+10:00

The Hubster and I underwent another right of parenting passage last night - our first highschool parent/teacher interviews.

It's like speed-dating! (Not that I've ever been sped-dated. The concept hadn't even been invented last time I was dating, which was back in the late 1980s.)

For the uninitiated, what happens is that your child books you a series of appointments with his or her teachers, each at five minute intervals. Then you turn up on the big night - with a somewhat reluctant child in tow - and attempt to find the teacher you need to talk to. Each room houses around four teachers, each one with a bank of several anxious families waiting to talk to them. No one runs on time. Or in order. And the rooms are located all over the place. So you rush around a bit lost, with your son saying, "Oh, it doesn't matter if we get to talk to the science teacher! Let's get out of here now!".

Hmmm. Easy for you to say Number One Son, but both your Science and your English teacher ticked the 'interview recommended' box on your report. There is no escape.

We emerged after an hour feeling pretty good actually. He's managing to keep up with his challenging workload, and we weren't surprised with the common theme from his teachers: "enthusiastic and capable, but gets distracted easily". And he's obviously settled into this new phase of life very well - every teacher commented on his social prowess. And his lack of dedication to the great homework quest.

He is still only 12 however. Twelve going on 15 sometimes, but essentially he's still a kid. A kid settling very well into a big new institution with 1,199 other kids of various sizes and dispositions. (I wish I'd have had his self-confidence and positive outlook at the same age.)

Being there last night made me feel that I was back in highschool myself. I know that some of the teachers had their game faces on, but I did feel sometimes that my parental aptitude was what was being evaluated.

Hopefully we got a tick as suitably concerned and interested parents, even if our timekeeping was shot.

PS This is my 100th post!

Ex-libris

2008-04-10T21:55:00.018+10:00

Another month has rushed past, and I'm afraid there's been no blogging to be had. In the midst of juggling work and school holidays, and now the busy-ness of the children returning to school for second term, I've been re-arranging our bookshelves, which has kept me away from the 'puter. (Except for a bit of a current dalliance with e-Bay, but that's another story.)

It's been fun, attempting to create some order in three big bookcases. About two years ago, and while recovering from an awful headcold, I arranged all of our books by the colours of their spines. It looked great - and individual books were surprisingly easy to find - but I couldn't really do that again. This time our books are located in two rooms, and our newest bookcase has smart square 'pigeon-hole' shelves, so the look of the books is quite different.

This time around, I've organised the books according to category, not colour. Except for the orange-spined Penguins, which are all on one shelf and are colour coded.

There's been some surprises in this category focused arrangement; I didn't realise we had so much poetry. Which in itself was an odd thing to think, as we both have Arts degrees and I majored in English Literature. They sit above my collection of Shakespeare, which I took quite a bit of time arranging as I kept checking out the annotations I wrote in margins 20 years ago. It seems that in 1983, I was very concerned about the recurring theme of time.

I have created full shelves of non-fiction categories too, like the cookbooks that aren't in current use and therefore have been banished from my kitchen. There are sections devoted to interior design with a bit of gardening thrown in. And reference books for pregnancy, childbirth, and raising toddlers. Books with confronting titles like He'll Be OK (Growing Gorgeous Boys into Good Men), Some Girls Do (My Life as a Teenager) and The Puberty Book are now finding their way onto this shelf.

And it's been fun to discover the fiction too. Some of my Marian Keyes novels are mislaid, and I have a whole lot of dodgy chick-lit that I've obviously read, but can't remember their plots. There's also quite a few books that I've started but haven't finished, and which I can't yet part with.

A nice surprise was to find a Georgette Heyer I've had lurking around but had not read. She's one of those writers that I've been meaning to read for a while, as there's been a surge of interest in her work this past decade. I'm currently reading Devil's Cub, and I must admit that it didn't leap up and grab me at first. Too self-conscious in its creation of a time and place I felt. But now the story has hit its straps, and I'm enjoying it immensely. Just plain fun!

Naturally this task means that I have only increased the number of books on my 'to read' pile. And I've just joined a bookclub, so there will be even books that I must read (and find space for) this year.

And that can only be good.

Too darn hot

2008-03-13T21:42:00.010+11:00

Two weeks ago, I wrote about the delight of a cold change, and made the prediction that even though it was a 19 degree day in March, we'd be returning to the heat of summer before winter arrived.

Unfortunately, I was right. It's nearly 10pm, and it's still 33 degrees outside (and an unpleasant 29 degrees inside). This is the first day of our unseasonal autumn heatwave in Melbourne - it's 40 degrees tomorrow - which is due to stretch well into next week.

It's just plain horrible. Especially in an ancient over-crowded train carriage without airconditioning at 5.49pm.

So I'm really feeling for the poor people of Adelaide who have already been coping with this heatwave for a record nine days, and are also facing another week of temperatures over 35 degrees.

I am hoping that Easter will be nice and cold - and wet! - to make up for what we're enduring now. (Ever the optimist.) I need such a thought to keep me going while I freeze icecream containers full of water to keep the bunny cool tomorrow, work out exactly when is the perfect moment to open the house up at night to get some fresh air in, and stay out of the kitchen as much as possible.

Legging it

2008-03-11T16:37:00.028+11:00

While I have overcome my fear of leggings, I do wonder when it was decided that a pair of leggings is just as good as a pair of jeans or pants (or even shorts, for that matter).

It's not unusual to see women substituting real pants with this flimsy piece of clothing - which is just a form of hosiery after all. This has some unfortunate side affects (or should that be side effects?). I followed one girl down the street this morning wondering if she realised that her hip length top had ridden up at the back over the waist band of her leggings-worn-as-pants. I'm sure that this wasn't the look she was aiming for when she got dressed this morning.

I'm not talking about people who are obviously dressed for the gym or have just returned from a run, or even the wearing of leggings under a mid-thigh length dress/top. It's using leggings as streetwear, with a much shorter top, and nothing between one's footless tights and the general population. Invariably, it's accompanied by some surreptitious pulling down of one's top, to make it look at least you've gone for the mid-thigh length dress/top with leggings ensemble.

It's a social phenomenon that the good women at Go Fug Yourself are truly concerned about; just look at their commentary on Lindsay Lohan.

Unlike the GFY girls (and as much as I agree with their LiLoh stance), I do think leggings have a place in a layered look, and then only if they hit your leg at its slimmest part. You just have to proceed with caution. And please wear a dress or a skirt with them.

Domesticated

2008-03-09T10:09:00.009+11:00

There's nothing like a long weekend to get things done about the house, even when we're in the grip of another bout of hot weather.

So far this weekend, we've:

- had friends plus child over for a meal last night

- made a lemon and yoghurt cake

- filled most of a skip with debris from our 'garden' (the first step in the great garden renovation of 2008)

- cleaned up the front verandah, removing bits of furniture that have been resting there since the big house re-organisation of 2007

- cleaned the house

- carted children around to birthday parties and sleepovers

- done multiple loads of washing (although this happens every weekend, long or not)

- dusted and re-arranged the open shelves in the kitchen.

The best news is that it's still only Sunday morning, and the weekend's only half over. There's yet another birthday party to go to this afternoon, and more friends plus children are coming over for a barbeque tonight.

I even managed a sleepin this morning, and the Hubster has played nine holes of golf.

By the book

2008-03-04T17:29:00.023+11:00

I made two New Year's resolutions this year. My old favourite - to create a proper garden in the dustbowl that surrounds our home - is one of them. Sadly not yet started I'm afraid, as it has been far too hot and dry to attempt the type of major work our poor garden needs.

My other resolution is to read more. More as in quantity, and more as in variety.

I'm doing better with this one so far. I'm certainly reading a greater variety of books, including rediscovering historical biography, ignited by Antonia Fraser's Marie Antoinette over the summer holidays. I really enjoy the way she writes, and have added a couple more of her biographies to my 'to read' pile.

I'm also reading novels, including a fantasy based one, which was fun (Stardust by Neil Gaiman). But I'm on the verge of giving up on Salley Vickers's The Other Side of You. This came highly recommended by friend who loved The Time Traveler's Wife as much as I did, but I'm finding the narrator off-putting. This might be one of those books I put down and then pick up and enjoy six months later.

I'm also up for reading beloved old favourites too - I have Sense & Sensibility on the go, having enjoyed the most recent adaptation so much.

Another friend asked me the other day how on earth I found the time to read, no doubt because I have three young school-aged children, I work 3.5 days a week, and don't have a cleaner. Good question, as I no longer read in bed; by the time I hit the pillow I am far too tired to do anything other than keep half an eye on Letterman.

My secret is public transport. Now I'm back working in the city, I have around 40 minutes a day at my disposal for reading. Luxury! Although, I'm finding that the increasing number of cancelled trains and severe overcrowding means that I'm having trouble getting in a chapter or two during the morning commute. It's hard to pull out a book when you're wedged in against a door, hanging on with jaw-clenched desperation.

Which was most annoying this morning, as I am now very engrossed in the book I'm currently carting around in my handbag: Shakespeare by Bill Bryson.

It's a corker.

A decade of my daughter

2008-03-03T21:17:00.025+11:00

Miss Mucks, my middle child and only daughter, turned ten today.

She was a much longed-for girl baby, and has been a delightful, mischievous, funny, caring, daring, sweet, and at times challenging child. This picture was taken five years ago, while she was still at kindergarten. I'm pleased to report she still likes dressing up.

Now ten, she's thankfully not displaying too many tweenie attributes, much to my relief; most of the time she's still a kid, albeit one who's getting more interested in popular music, clothes and nail polish. She is intensely loyal to her friends, obsessed with animals and soft toys, a great sister to her brothers, and, without a doubt, the messiest person in this house. She is also great company, and I'm blessed to have her as my daughter.

That was an important point to remember when she woke us up this morning at 4.20am (eeek!), excited about it being her big day. We made her wait until a more civilised hour to open her presents, which were mainly books, clothes and Smiggle this year, with a Beanie Kid thrown in for good measure.

We gave her some great books this year. Some classics - the first Famous Five and a lovely illustrated hardback edition of Heidi - as well one of the Andy Griffiths books she's been devouring lately (Just Crazy).
And two highly recommended novels about animals. One is Best Mate: the many lives of one incredible dog, by Michael Morpurgo. She pounced on the other - Cat and the Stinkwater War, which is about a girl who turns into a cat (a trick that Miss Mucks would love to pull if she could).

So happy tenth birthday Miss Mucks. I suspect that the next ten years will speed by at an even greater pace ...

Oscars Part Two

2008-03-01T13:43:00.026+11:00

With everyone trying so hard to be safe at this year's Oscars, very few fell into the "What was she thinking?" category.

Only three names keep cropping up on the 'it didn't work' list: Jennifer Hudson, Sarah Larson (aka George's girlfriend) and Rebecca Miller (Mrs Daniel Day-Lewis). The general consensus is that their outfits were - in order - unflattering, boring and too whacky.

However, reading Who last night I discovered that Ms Larson's Valentino dress may have worked better if she'd have dressed it up more, like it appeared on the runway. Although it must be said that the model here looks far too cross - perhaps she's just heard that George is stepping out with Sarah Larson instead of her? It's either that, or she's just in want of a good feed.

Sarah dressed down, which made this elaborately beaded gown look rather dull. Now I've seen the original, I can't help but think that more dramatic earrings, and upswept hair might have made the dress work better. Or maybe she just looks bland in the photos but looked sensational in real life?

And is that the explanation for what Rosamund Pike was wearing? This is a surprisingly unflattering dress, which I hadn't seen before I opened up Who on the train last night. It looks like a toile - the practice dress you make before you make the real thing.

Oh dear. What was she/her sylist thinking?

In her defence, she is one of the prettiest actresses around at the moment. Here's a much more fetching photograph of her, hopefully pondering a better dress to wear next time.

Baby it's cold outside (for now)

2008-02-28T16:18:00.013+11:00

Today's weather forecast was for a cold change, and that's what we got. I spent the morning at work smelling of wet wool, thanks to the downpour that accompanied me as I was walked one block from the station to the office. (Yes, I did have a sturdy umbrella, but the rain was fierce.)

The chilly day has made me start to crave cold-weather food, fuelled in no small part to the latest issue of Delicious, which I bought yesterday.

Fish pie with prawns and cheesy leek topping. Swedish meatballs. Chickpea & chorizo stew. Pappa al pomodoro (tomato & bread soup). Slow bolognese. Mmmmm

I suspect that this hearty fare may have a little while to wait though. While is was only 19 degrees today, it is still February. And Perth had a scorching 39 degree day today, which means we must be in for another bout of hot weather, so it's more likely that I'll be making salads next week.

Still, a girl can dream.... of boots, grey cardigans, bedsocks, and fish pie with cheesy leek topping.

Frock on

2008-02-27T08:15:00.021+11:00

It's been my grand final this week - the Oscars. And while I am actually interested in who-wins-what, my real interest (of course) is in who-wears-what.

The Age has a great summary of the 80th Oscar fashion frenzy: "A couple of disasters aside, this year’s red carpet parade was, fashion-wise, a deeply conservative event with a subdued feel and a tendency toward homogeneity that made it seem as though it had been choreographed by a single stylist. Beautiful but bland sums it up."

Exactly. It was all very pretty indeed, but safe and all rather similar.

Nevertheless, a girl has to have some favourites in this feast of satin, lace and diamonds. Here are some of mine.

I've always loved mermaids.

Loved what Our Nic wore, and she has very pretty accessories (the necklace and Keith). However, I am getting seriously worried about how plastic her face is starting to look.

Nic, you need to take some lessons from this dame, stat. She continues to look fabulous, and she has wrinkles. And a very long career, in which she has won squillions of awards. A large part of her success must come down to her ability to communicate emotion through expression. Just saying.

There was a lot black worn. As well as Our Nic, Jennifer Garner was my favourite, although the bodice looks rather uncomfortable.

Dropping the F bomb

2008-02-24T10:59:00.009+11:00

I am not a prude, but I am getting very tired with the frequency that the F-word is tossed about these days.

It's not just groups of teenage boys on trains who use it as an adverb and adjective ("and then I f***ing told him to get me a f***ing bucket of f***ing chips, but he said I had to f***ing give him some f***ing money to f***ing pay of them"). I hear it everywhere. Two businessmen walked past my desk the other day for a sum total of five seconds, and both of them dropped the F-bomb twice. Loudly. While I was on a conference call.

Of course, I use the word myself. Occasionally, and more often than not, in anger. And yes, I tell my children that it is a rude word to use. But it's getting a bit hard to tell them that they mustn't use it when they hear it everywhere.

While it is easy to blame the likes of Gordon Ramsey, who drops the word into every sentence as often as he includes garlic in his recipes, this development in the use of the English language probably needs to be seen for what it is; the natural development of our language. Like the everyday use of 'crap' or 'bloody', which were taken as being most offensive as recently as 30 years ago, but are now considered mild.

The Age has recently explored the same matter, but concerning what's now considered the only real rude word.

I suppose it's only a matter of time that this other taboo word is flung about with abandon. That's sad, because surely we need some really rude words in our lexicon to bring out when they are really needed?

As for me, I shall continue to use my trusty i-Pod on public transport, so I don't have to contend with the F-bomb quite so much.

Ode to Thursdays

2008-02-21T18:23:00.007+11:00

Thursday has always been my favourite day of the week (well, apart from the obvious delight that is 6pm, Friday). Maybe it's because when I first started work, I was paid on Thursdays.

These days, maybe it's because the working week is nearly over, but I'm still in the productive groove of things; I work a 'short' day - until 3pm - anyway; the Green Guide is published; I don't have schlep children to sports training; and generally, people have lost their early-in-the-week grumpiness.

Or maybe it's just because the ABC is finally screening the sublime second (and final) series of Life on Mars.

In the black

2008-02-19T16:44:00.010+11:00

A blistering hot summer's day in Melbourne creates a dilemma for the women of this great city. What should you wear when it's too hot to stand in the sun?

Most of we Melbourne women have our wardrobes filled with black clothes. As a city, we've cornered the market on black dye. It suits our climate (four proper seasons), our style and our approach to life. We don't see black as gloomy - it's smart, low-key and it goes with everything. (Take that, Trinny and Susannah.)

So the answer to the dilemma of what to wear on a blistering hot Melbourne day is black. It's 36 degrees celcius in the city, and every second woman I saw today seemed to be wearing head-to-toe black. Sundresses, cotton blouses, camisoles, pants, short skirts, shift dresses, shorts, t-shirts, full skirts. Everyone looked remarkably cool (as cool as you can be when your foundation is sliding off your face).

You can't get away with it in Brisbane, Perth or Sin-city, but - strangely - you can here.

So from now on, I'm not going to fight it. I'm not going to worry that I shouldn't dress entirely in black just because it's hotter than Hades outside. I'm just going to take out the coolest* black clothes I have, and wear them with aplomb. Like I did today.

*Coolest as in least-hot, not as in hip.

Not all there

2008-02-16T10:57:00.022+11:00

I've been pondering a question all summer, which I now feel compelled to share after observing my fellow commuters on the way to work yesterday morning.

Are three-quarter length pants ever a good idea?

The thought struck me yet again as I walked behind a well groomed woman on her way to work. Her clothes were nicely tailored, in attractive colours, and she wore a smart cropped jacket. She had paired the jacket with neatly fitting capri pants and espadrilles - the kind that tie up above the ankle. From behind, all those cropped clothes and high shoes made her look like she'd had had an unfortunate encounter with the hot wash cycle, or that she had accidently put on clothes belonging to someone who was a foot shorter than her.

In her defence, she wasn't wearing the horrendous kind of three-quarter length pants pictured here, which flatter no one. These are the kind of pants that people wear when they've decided that they need to dress middle-aged (no matter what age they actually are).

They're the equivalent of the apalling ribbed crimpolene pants stocked in the women's department in Myer Perth when I worked there on my Saturday job in the early 1980s. Loads of people bought those dreadful pants, just as they buy these three-quarter numbers in murky pale colours now.

But clearly, choosing to wear tailored three quarter length pants is minefield too. Invariably it looks like you've run out of fabric or that your good pants have shrunk in the wash.
Finding the right shoes to go with them seems to be a big dilemma too, especially if you're wearing them to work. Heels don't work, and neither does anything remotely clunky, and ballet slippers can look too casual for work when paired with the cropped pant. (Although ballet slippers work well at work with full length pants and skirts, so go figure.)

Of course, there are exceptions. Yesterday, I also saw a woman in head-to-toe black. She had a gorgeous top on, wide cropped pants and glossy black ballet slippers. She looked smart and professional.

And I think that there is definitely a time and a place for good old three-quarter length pants. Like in the supermarket or a barbecue or on holiday, and with qualifications. They must fit around your bottom properly (there's nothing worse than a saggy, fabric swathered rear end), and you have to be careful with shoes and the proportion of what else you're wearing.

Personally, I can't do without my three-quarter length jeans - in fact, I'm wearing them right now. It's just that I don't think I should ever wear them to work, even on casual clothes day.

Of beauty rich and rare

2008-02-13T16:22:00.013+11:00

As a healthy middle-class, white, university-educated, employed woman, whose ancestors immigrated from England, Scotland and Ireland well over a century ago, I've always felt my great good fortune in being an Australian. Life may be a struggle sometimes, but in essence, together with my extended family, my friends and the community I am privileged to be part of, I have little to really complain about. If something goes wrong, I have the resources and support to do something about it.

Our Governor General noted yesterday at the opening of our 42nd parliament that we are blessed to live in country which can change its government without bloodshed, and for the most part with goodwill.

I felt that good fortune and goodwill today in being one of millions of Australians to witness a pivotal moment in our history - our new Prime Minister offering a heartfelt, unequivocal apology to the indigenous people of this land. It has been a long time coming, and not a moment too soon. And importantly, he expressed sorry as a place to start, not as an end in itself.

I found it a moving moment to share with my own children too. Even my five year old understands that our prime minister is saying sorry for previous generations taking children away from their parents. I'm sure that as my kids grow older, they'll refer back to today when we discuss our country's history.

Of course, this being a democracy, not everyone agrees that sayng sorry has been the right thing to do. As well as some unconvinced opposition politicans who didn't participate in the motion before parliament, or who offered a strained response to Kev's apology, there have been some dissenting voices among the general population. Like the author of a letter to the editor in today's Age newspaper, who believes he "might be owed an apology [because] possibly one of my ancestors was poorly treated, beaten and lived in harsh conditions for being suspected of eating bread that was not theirs".

Besides it being a stretch to compare these two experiences, surely the point is that, for indigenous Australians, today's apology is about experiences within living, painful memory for an entire community of people, who are dealing with the ramifications of our actions on a daily basis. A true apology shouldn't have to be conditional.

Sorry.

All Jane Austen, all the time

2008-02-10T10:02:00.000+11:00

It's no secret that I have had a life-long passion for Jane Austen's novels. It's a love that led me to serious study of her work; I wrote my honours thesis on Persuasion. I re-read at least one of her novels every year. And I happily consume all of the screen adaptations of her novels, be they be good, bad or utterly laughable.

Each of the novels except for Northanger Abbey was adapted for the screen during the 1990s, for the most part with great success. They've had another go-around a decade later, only this time without Emma.

This time, the results haven't been so satisfying. Last year, Britain's ITV network produced a dreadful Mansfield Park and a rather sweet Northanger Abbey, and managed to mangle Persuasion in an appalling way. Great leads (Sally Hawkins and Rupert Penry-Jones, pictured above) and a handsome production, spoilt completely by a ridiculous interpretation of one of the most moving and romantic endings in literature.

(I believe that the ABC will be screening these adaptations in Australia this year. I've already seen them thanks to my fellow Austen-obsessed pal Beth, who purchased the DVDs when she as in England last year.)

So I'm pleased to report that in the last week I've watched a very good new Jane Austen adaptation which has screened recently in the UK, Sense & Sensibility. A BBC production, I bought the DVD online, and saved it to watch with Beth and another JA-devotee last week. Adapted by Andrew Davies, this production has the good sense to stay true to the novel, although Davies does manage to throw in his signature wet shirt scene for one of the male leads, as you can see here.

This version manages to do something that previous adaptations of Sense & Sensibility haven't. This Elinor, played by Hattie Morahan, is suitably sensible and controlled, but she is also young (with apologies to the great Emma Thompson), with an air of sensitivity and vulnerabilty. And Edward is finally portrayed as an attractive young man rather than a stuffed shirt, with he and Elinor having real chemisty.

The rest of the cast is good too. Charity Wakefield as Marianne doesn't manage to outshine Kate Winslett's sublime portrayal of the character in Ang Lee's 1995 version, but that's not surprising. While her Marianne is appropriately selfish and strong willed, she's harder to warm to, and I wondered a bit why someone like Colonel Brandon would fall in love with her. I would have liked too for her to look more unwell during her decline, but no matter. Overall, this is still one of the better adaptations of an Austen novel.

Now would someone please make a good adaptation of Mansfield Park?

While Sense & Sensibility doesn't get much of a look-in in the other Austen-related film I've seen this past week, The Jane Austen Book Club, it's interesting that Austen's most complex novel Mansfield Park does. In essence, however, this isn't a film about Austen or even her novels. It's about the bookclub itself, an ensemble of characters whose lives reflect the concerns, but not the plots, of Jane Austen's novels. It does touch on what her novels mean to people though.

I'm glad I liked this film, because I found the novel it was based on intensely annoying. I went to see the film only on the basis of its good reviews. It was an enjoyable way to pass a couple of hours, and it's refreshing to see women in their 40s as romantic leads.

And I can't fault a film with the tagline, "all Jane Austen, all the time"!

The time has come

2008-01-29T19:41:00.000+11:00

The long summer holidays end tonight. The kids are horrified about going to bed at a more reasonable time - it being a school night - and we're horrified at the thought of preparing school lunches tonight. But most of all we're all excited about tomorrow morning. Excited, with a big dose of butterflies.

It's been a very busy day today: lining up (twice) to pay big dollars for school books and stationery, labelling all of said stationery, getting haircuts, buying the last bits of school uniforms, and teaching 12-year old boys how to catch two trams home (we want to get Number One Son as independent as possible and luckily he has a couple of good friends to share the adventure with).

So tonight it will be back to ironing school uniforms. Only this time around, it's three lots. The Little Guy is joining his big sister at primary school. He's very excited at the thought, and has already laid out his new uniform, shoes, lunchbox and bag ready for the morning.

And I'm getting my tissues ready. I'm not sure who I'll get more teary about - leaving Number One Son at the school gate as he heads into highschool, or taking my last baby to Prep.

Seeking answers to the big questions

2008-01-18T21:54:00.000+11:00

Why do people think that they look fabulous wearing shorts that show off their bits that really should be hidden?

Why can I never find the overdue bill/electrical cord/half opened packet of craisins when I really need it?

When did the memo go out that wearing thongs (flipflops) in the office was appropriate? (And when did I officially become middle-aged?)

Why when I have the time to go an see a film, the ones I want to see are only showing at ridiculous times?

Why doesn't the Sandringham train run from Southern Cross Station during peak hour?

Why can't people use apostrophes correctly?

And most of all, why-oh-why is packing to go on holiday sooooo tedious?

Tomorrow, we're off to the beach for a week. I need to remember to pack my bathers this time: as I inevitably end up packing my own stuff last, I always forget something significant. It's my version of the burnt chop.

Inside on a summer holiday afternoon

2008-01-09T14:54:00.000+11:00

Hot outside (again). For once all of the children are at home at the same time, with a very eerie peace resting on the house. In a week in which yelling has frequently featured, this is a blissful and welcome state. I may even bake something this afternoon in its honour.

It's thanks in part to these lovely crafty activity books, given to them at Christmas and properly discovered now.

That's the lovely thing about Christmas and the summer holidays all being squished up together. There's lots of time for everyone to enjoy their new toys. (For Number One Son that means epic battles with Metroid Prime in his new Playstation game.)

2tlbs inspiration

2008-01-08T09:30:00.000+11:00

I'm not cooking a lot at present. After all of the Christmas feasting, and then a week in Sydney which threw our family eating habits a bit out of whack, it's taking me a while to get back into the rhythm again. Plus it's been very hot, which means that spending time over the stove isn't all that pleasant.

However, I am storing up plenty of inspiration thanks to two lovely, recently acquired cookbooks.

The first is The Kitchen Diaries by Nigel Slater. I love his food, and the way he writes, and this book is fabulous. He charts what he cooks, craves and eats over the course of a year, sharing recipes on the way. You get a wonderful insight into how Slater thinks, and how much food matters, not just to fill our bellies, but also for pure enjoyment.

The only difficulty with this book is that it follows the northern hemisphere seasons, which means that January is big on the comfort food. So I'm reading June at present, to get inspiration for summer eating. Think I'll take this one away when we go to the beach later this month.

(If you haven't read Slater's autobiography Toast, I can heartily recommend it. It is both moving and amusing.)

The other cookbook I'm enjoying at present is another journal style one, and one of the most beautiful books around at the moment - Falling Cloudberries by Tessa Kiros. Thanks to a generous gift voucher left over from my birthday in November, and Dymock's recent 20% off booksale, I finally treated myself to this gorgeous book, having loved one of her other books, Apples for Jam.

Kiros has enjoyed a very cosmopolitan life. The child of a Finnish mother and Cypriot father, she has also lived in South Africa and is now based Italy with her own family. Each chapter is based on one of these countries (as well as Greece), with Kiros sharing her memories of each country through food. And there are plenty of wonderful evocative photographs of the food, the places and her family.

I've not cooked anything from Falling Cloudberries yet, but I know her recipes will work beautifully, as everything I've made from Apples has done.

Obviously, I don't belong to the school of thinking that you can have too many cookbooks (especially ones as lovely as these), although I know many people who think that you can. I find really good ones hard to resist, and I do return to them again and again.

Now, what's for tea tonight? (Actually, I'm going out to see a chick-flick with my mate Beth, and we'll eat out.)

A bit of blah on the side

2008-01-06T18:12:00.000+11:00

I'm in the midst of a slight new year funk. After the festivities of a very happy Christmas (a celebration I embrace with gusto), and a thoroughly delightful new year spent in Sydney, I'm feeling a bit blah. I think it's all part of the new year deal.

I put it down in part to the child care juggle, which involves trying to find suitably laid back holiday care for at least two children over a two week period. As The Little Guy is no longer at kindergarten, there is no easy option for him. And Miss Mucks needs supervising too of course (at 12 years old, it's less of an issue for Number One Son, who's off to the coast with one of his best buds next week anyway). We've found solutions for the six days in question - of course - but it's the finding of solutions makes my 'why can't I just lie down somewhere shady with a glass of something refreshing and a good book?' head hurt.

In between all this, the end of year spending spree continues, as I have to make pressing decisions about how many pairs of ugly grey shorts Number One Son really does need when he starts high school at the end of the month. I shudder to think of what my credit card statement currently looks like.

I shouldn't complain, as we have more family holidays coming up in a fortnight, heading up north for our annual summer week at the beach. But I will anyway.

In truth, the major source of my blahs is recognising that I'll need to think more seriously about how I'm going to earn my living from now on. My current contract may end soon, and I need to work out what to do next. I know what I don't want, but I'm not entirely sure about what I do want. I suspect that this is a dilemma that we all face several times over the course of our working lives. It's just my time now.

So, while I ponder the question, and feel a bit blah about being in limbo, I should also remember that at least I have choices. And another week of holidays coming up.

Well read?

2008-01-05T15:28:00.000+11:00

Melbourne is having a very hot spell. Today is one of those days that gets lost - it's too hot to even think, let alone use productively. So, while I should be making childcare arrangements for the next two weeks, what I'm doing instead is catching up on some of my favourite blogs, while I drink iced coffee.

I've stumbled upon this list - the top 106 books most often marked as ‘unread’ by LibraryThing’s users. The idea is that you bold what you have read, italicise what you started but couldn’t/didn’t finish, and strike through what you couldn’t stand. Add an asterisk* to those you’ve read more than once. Underline those on your to-read list.

Given that I've decided that 2008 should be about lots of reading, this makes a pleasant diversion on a day such as this. I've added notes to some of my entries, and given that it's too hot for me to work out how to underline things or strike them through, I've put the books I'm intending to read in blue.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
Anna Karenina - started at university, but not finished
Crime and Punishment
Catch-22
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Wuthering Heights - with a big strikethrough I'm afraid
The Silmarillion
Life of Pi: a novel - a friend told me last week that this is a must read
The Name of the Rose
Don Quixote
Moby Dick
Ulysses
Madame Bovary - see Anna Karenina
The Odyssey
Pride and Prejudice *
Jane Eyre *
A Tale of Two Cities
The Brothers Karamazov
Guns, Germs, and Steel: the fates of human societies
War and Peace
Vanity Fair - Becky makes me cross
The Time Traveller’s Wife
The Iliad
Emma*
The Blind Assassin
The Kite Runner - purchased this week
Mrs. Dalloway
Great Expectations*
American Gods
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
Atlas Shrugged
Reading Lolita in Tehran: a memoir in books
Memoirs of a Geisha
Middlesex
Quicksilver
Wicked : the life and times of the wicked witch of the West
The Canterbury Tales
The Historian: a novel - couldn't get into it
A portrait of the artist as a young man
Love in the Time of Cholera
Brave New World
The Fountainhead
Foucault’s Pendulum
Middlemarch
Frankenstein
The Count of Monte Cristo
Dracula
A Clockwork Orange
Anansi Boys
The Once and Future King
The Grapes of Wrath
The Poisonwood Bible: a novel
1984
Angels & Demons
The Inferno
The Satanic Verses
Sense and Sensibility *
The Picture of Dorian Gray
Mansfield Park*
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
To the Lighthouse
Tess of the D’Urbervilles
Oliver Twist
Gulliver’s Travels
The Corrections
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time
Dune
The Prince
The Sound and the Fury
Angela’s Ashes : a memoir
The God of Small Things
A People’s History of the United States : 1492-present
Cryptonomicon
Neverwhere
A Confederacy of Dunces
A Short History of Nearly Everything
Dubliners
The unbearable lightness of being
Beloved
Slaughterhouse-five
The Scarlet Letter
Eats, Shoots & Leaves
The mMists of Avalon
Oryx and Crake: a novel
Collapse: how societies choose to fail or succeed
Cloud Atlas
The Confusion
Lolita
Persuasion * - where the name of this blog comes from
Northanger Abbey*
The Catcher in the Rye
On the Road
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Freakonomics: a Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: an Inquiry into Values
The Aeneid
Watership Down
Gravity’s Rainbow
The Hobbit
In Cold Blood : a true account of a multiple murder and its consequences
White Teeth
Treasure Island
David Copperfield
The Three Musketeers

Now I've completed this, I should find a cool dark place and read some more of my current book - Antonia Fraser's Marie Antoinette (which is very good indeed).

Transition

2007-12-04T14:00:00.000+11:00

It's been weeks since I've posted. It's not for want of inspiration or interest; it's just other parts of life have been getting in the way. That, and we've not had easy internet access of late thanks to the endless house re-organisation we've currently undertaking. My cupboards are now frighteningly well-organised (a blissful state which will probably only last three months until the mess creeps back).

This will be a quick post too, but I did want to mark this significant day. Number One Son is spending his first day at high school today. He and two of his best friends have gone off to their secondary college for their orientation, ahead of starting Year Seven on 30 January next year. Full of excited energy, anticipation and a good dose of nerves. Which is true of me too!

[Happily for us, Number One Son's going to the great government school we really wanted him to get into back in May.]

It feels like he just started primary school, and here we are at the end of it already. Twelve years old, ready to graduate from primary school, and about to really launch into adolescence.

Of course, with the The Little Guy we're starting this adventure all over again. As we've been getting the big one ready for high school, we're also in the midst of preparing our youngest for Prep next year. Transition indeed.

Pretty dotty

2007-10-23T14:27:00.000+10:00

It's my birthday soon, and my sister has decided she wants to make me some table napkins as a present. We had great fun choosing which fabrics to use - I'm getting six made up in each of these designs.

These great 1930s-ish prints are from an American fabric designer called Denyse Schmidt. They are mostly used for quilting - think how lovely a quilt would be made up in these!

Magorgy

2007-10-12T20:32:00.000+10:00

I indulged heavily while we were away at the coast a few weeks back - on extraordinarily delicious bread, sleep, wine and magazines. Lots of magazines!

Instead of buying coffee and lunch every day, I purchased a magazine. And read it. Yes, it was indulgent, and frivolous to boot. But I was on holiday, and it was an excellent opportunity for research on the current state of interior design, women's and food magazines.

I loved some of them. Delicious is great this month (the Japanese salmon salad is a real winner). Oprah was fun in a splashy American way; I even considered visiting the Kohls site to check out the new range Vera Wang has designed for the mass market. And my biggest treat was finding the new issue of Livingetc (could I please live in this holiday house in New England?), and an old, very pretty issue of Real Living.

But I was disappointed with other of my magazine purchases. Real Simple and Notebook seem pretty interchangeable, and I'm afraid, very worthy and rather uptight. I didn't feel at all relaxed when I read them. And while Australian Home Beautiful underwent a rather dramatic makeover a few years ago, it's lost the flair it acquired back then. Now it seems more of a catalogue of houses with loads of bling, all plasma televisions and plunge pools.

I'm sorry to report, however, that my most disappointing mag purchase was Belle. Long regarded as a bible of cutting edge Australian interior design, I found this issue left me cold. The interiors featured are stunning, but I can't imagine living in them. Everything is just so, styled within an inch of its life. And yes, I know that this is the case with all interior magazines, but it just seems so blatent here. I'd be worried about the children scuffing the parquetry floors, or leaving oily handprints on glossy black joinery.

It's all about money too. Nothing about how someone has managed to make an attractive, comfortable home out of some hand-me-down chairs, some canny eBay finds and a can of white paint. Even the children's feature notes that this is a generation "destined to be the first uber-designer generation. Forget pastels and tank engines, for this lot it's all about Vitra red and Scandinavian purism, with iconic furniture designs now in children's sizes". Um, not in this house it's not.

All this says more about me than the publications themselves. While I'm not into shabby chic - or Shabby Shit as one second hand furniture shop I frequent calls it - I am happier with a more lived-in look. Which is a good thing, because my own home, which underwent a major renovation three years ago, has a very lived-in look. It's look that not just due to my beloved tapestry cushions the rabbit has chewed on or my grandmother's china: it's been created through the ugly stuff too, like the overflowing boxes of plastic toys I have to sort through and donate to the school fete. (Spring cleaning might be tiresome, but it is necessary.)

Which is why I was happy to return to Melbourne and find three new issues of some of my favourite mags - Real Living, Inside Out, and my new American magazine crush, Domino. (I've subscribed, as it's loads cheaper than buying it at an Australian newsagency.)

These three, together with Livingetc, certainly do feature houses which have had squillions of dollars thrown at them (like the New England holiday house above). But they also have plenty of more down to earth homes, and lots of pretty inspirational pictures, like those below. And isn't that what house magazines should be about?

[Images from Livingetc, Domino, InsideOut, Real Living and Belle websites.]

Addendum - what is 'vintage' anyway?

2007-10-09T16:21:00.000+10:00

I apologise for an error I made in my last post. I used the word 'vintage' to describe a pattern on a brand new quilt cover. My bad.

My sister - moggy , she who is one half of a very clever pair of ladies who sew up old dress patterns - and I were discussing this yesterday.

Since when did the words 'vintage' and 'retro' become so overused that they are now meaningless? When I was younger, vintage was used to refer mainly to very old cars and as a way of describing wine. Now it used to describe everything that isn't brand new, or things that are meant to look old and pre-loved. And retro can mean anything from a 1950s kitchen table to 1980s slogan t-shirts. Come next year, no doubt the minimalist 1990s living room will be considered retro.

What I should have said was that I liked the old-fashioned pattern on the sheets. They're not vintage. They just look old-fashioned (a term which makes me think of roses, tea cups and afternoon tea). The picture below, for example, shows a room with an old-fashioned feel; it is not vintage !

And in a further addendum, I also have to report that Moggy gave me the bad news that the pretty sheets I like actually aren't all that nice in real life. I shall have to check them out to see for myself.

[Image from the Country Living website.]

Very pretty indeed

2007-10-04T23:24:00.000+10:00

I am a sucker for lovely bedlinen, and this looks very pretty indeed.

Over the past few years my bed has been dressed with white bedlinen (an Italian waffleweave doona cover to be exact), and I've been thinking it might be time for a change. But perhaps this is just too feminine in a bedroom that belongs to a man as well; I might just settle for a quilt coverlet instead.

You can't see the detail in this photo, but it's a vintage pattern, off-set with stripes, with a 1950s feel.

[Image from the Actil website]

We do like to be beside the seaside

2007-10-02T17:20:00.000+10:00

We had a lovely week at the coast last week in Merimbula, southern New South Wales. We spend a week there - or in its very close neighbour Pambula Beach - every September. It's a long drive from Melbourne, but so worth it. We get up there and just relax. The weather is always mild and sunny at this time of the year (if a little windy), and there is a great combination of beach and bush to enjoy.

We rent a holiday house for the week, a different one each time (I find them on the net). This year's was a beauty, a 1950s number, kitted out to be very comfortable, and with a fantastic view. The Hubster spent a lot of time on the deck outside playing guitar, while Miss Mucks spent most of her time catching large skinks in the back garden. She had an unfortunate experience in some of them dying from heat exhaustion, about which she felt incredibly remorseful. It was a hard lesson for her to learn that while they seemed friendly and tame, they aren't pets and really need to be let go after you've played with them.

We to the beach a lot, with friends who were holidaying there as well. But only Miss Mucks and her two friends braved swimming (Miss M will swim in every weather, and even got in fully clothed on the one occasion she didn't have her bathers or wetsuit with her - she was not a happy camper walking back to the car through the bush). The boys spent their time playing with balls, while the Hubster and I actually got to read. I love reading at the beach, but it's years since I've been able to.

We ate very well too - Merimbula has a great butcher, Pambula has an amazing bakery, and there is plenty of great seafood to be found. Even bloody good fish and chips, the sort that you hope to find, but never do.

A great holiday - we played mini-golf in the bush and even saw a baby wombat in the wild - which managed to exhaust the junior delamares. Here they are on the trip home.

[Photos courtesy of me!]

Film report: Stardust

2007-09-30T21:11:00.000+10:00

Another quick post, for another rave.

A friend and I took our daughters (aged seven and nine) to see Stardust today. (No Beth, not the one starring David Essex!)

Billed as a fairy tale, this film is a delight from beginning to end. It has a romping good story, is full of wonderful actors, and is very funny. Laugh out loud funny - especially the scenes with Captain Shakespeare.

And it is a rare creation; it's a PG rated film which the girls loved, but it also had a cinema full of adults very entertained throughout. A lot of kid flicks attempt this, but rely on heavy reference to popular culture to appeal to adults. Instead, Stardust derives its broad appeal through an outlandish yet sweet plot, and telling it with a genuine sense of humour. Playing 'spot the actor' under all the makeup was an added bonus.

Highly recommended.

[Image from Yahoo Movies]

Book Report: The Time Traveler's Wife

2007-09-29T21:08:00.000+10:00

Lots to blog about, after our week away (we arrived home safely tonight, after a six-hour car journey, made faster by cheering on The Cats to their amazing victory).

But before I write about our holiday, I want to have a quick rave about The Time Traveler's Wife, which I finshed during the week.

I've spent most of the last month savouring Henry and Clare and their very strange life. Audrey Niffenegger drew me in straight away - not only has she created a fantastic plot device, she also managed to create characters that I really cared about. Alas, that's the hardest thing in writing to pull off I think.

I cared so much for the characters, that one event late in the story had me gasp embarrassingly loudly while reading on the train. By this point, I pretty much knew what was in store for the lovers, so I didn't want to finish the novel on the train.

I left the last pages unread for a few days until I was away, and I could nestle down and read undisturbed - not an easy feat in my house (holiday or otherwise). But I needed to finish without interruption, because I knew the ending would make me weepy. It did.

Beautifully written, entertaining, moving. The Time Traveler's Wife has gone to 'my five favourite books' list (I'm not sure which book I'll knock off the list though to make room for it though - maybe I'll have a 'my six favourite books' list instead).

The only problem I have now is what to follow it up with. I've chosen Maggie O'Farrell's The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox. And I'm enjoying that too, but not to the same extent. It's kind of like my rebound book...

What a difference a year makes

2007-09-22T03:53:00.000+10:00

I am sitting here, just before 4am on a Saturday morning, with the car half packed for our annual September trip to a great seaside town in southern New South Wales. I'm not meant to be awake and blogging, but The Little Guy is so excited that he can't sleep so I have to be up to supervise him, and let the Hubster sleep (one of us has to sleep because we've got an all day drive ahead of us).

Not the best start to our holiday, but I know that it will be a great week away anyway. A large part of this is because it's now a year since my life went pear-shaped. I am in a completely different place than I was a year ago.

This time last year I was subject to some really horrible office politics. I discovered that some people I trusted had a completely different agenda to me, and I went away feeling awful. I spent several days of our holiday with severe neck pain; this was the beginning of a stress-induced journey which ended up in some strange physical sensations earlier this year. I had to face the fact that I was in a toxic work situation that was causing me harm, and the only way to look after myself was to get out.

I've learnt some really important lessons in all of this. One is not to be quite as trusting in a professional situation; this was a hard one to learn, because basically it is my wont to think well of the people around me.

Another lesson is that sometimes triumph is in the form of surrender. I left a permanent well-paid position in a major global company - and I didn't have anything to go to. After a much-needed rest for a couple of months, I took a five week contract on significantly less money. I'm still there four months later and they want me to stay at least until early next year. And a few weeks ago, a recruitment agency called me with a lead for another long term contract for well-paid, very interesting, part-time position with an employer I really want to work for. I had the interview this week, and it's looking very hopeful.

This time last year, I thought that my career was over. I had let some other people's opinions be my truth. These days I'm working with people who are really appreciative of what I'm doing, and I've realised that there's still plenty I want to do in my professional life. I got my mojo back!

There are two other big lessons I learnt this past year.

Your job should only be part of life - not the be all and end all, and not what defines who you are. I like it much better this way. It is a great gift not to be waking up in the middle of the night worrying about office politics, or feeling that I have to jump on an 11pm global conference call. (Now I'm just waking up in the middle of the night because my five year old son is too excited to sleep.)

And most of all, it's really important that I look after me. Life goes by far too quickly. I am bringing up three children; I have a husband, extended family and a lot of friends I love dearly; and I have a home to run and many interests to pursue. I like going to work three days a week and being part of a team. I'm truely enjoying all this a lot more now I am feeling physically well and happy again. I am as fit as a fiddle, and ready to have a great week away.

Just as soon as I have a good sleep in the car.

What?

2007-09-14T23:34:00.000+10:00

Some time ago I wrote about the end of my relationship with Who. I haven't missed it a bit, but I have bought this week's issue - the annual best and worst dressed issue.

The selection this year is just plain boring. Sienna Miller isn't a particularly elegant or interesting choice as best dressed, and what the hell is Jodi Gordon - who indeed - doing at number eight? The most interesting inclusion is Dita Von Teese, but besides her, the best dressed list is pretty blah. I'm not sure what Katherine Heigl (much as I like her) or Chloe Sevigny are doing on the list ... they're certainly not badly dressed, but their look is hardly WOW. Chloe turns up in some wild and quirky outfits, but the ones illustrating this article are pretty pedestrian.

I think the problem is that the list-makers want to avoid repeating the same people on the list year after year. Cute and perky as she is, how can Hayden Panettiere be judged as better dressed than Cate Blanchett or Reese Witherspoon (neither of whom are on this year's list)?

But the biggest omission this year has to be Helen Mirren, who managed to look devastatingly elegant and gorgeous at every award show she attended this year. Pure class.

You can be a fan girl at any age

2007-09-13T21:55:00.000+10:00

I realise that I am a married 40-something woman with three children, a mortgage and a reasonably sensible career. And that I drive a station wagon. But age and relative wisdom doesn't stop me having crushes on actors.

While some of my "mmmmm, he's nice" daydeams float around the usual suspects - namely Matt Damon, Michael Vartan, McDreamy, and, of course, George - I am particularly fond of rather weedy English actors. And I'm not talking about Hugh Grant or Jude Law. My tastes run more towards Matthew MacFayden, Toby Stevens and Richard Armitage. (I must also confess to a longstanding soft spot for token Yank, John Cusack, because I am an 80s girl at heart.)

I also have a big silly, girly crush on the current Doctor Who, David Tennant.

I grew up watching Doctor Who and was sort of interested when it was updated a few years ago. But I didn't start watching it avidly until he morphed into the delectable and funny Mr Tennant. The last few episodes have been particularly good too - really great story telling.

But this week I will be really enjoying it thanks to my other big crush - John Simm - joining the cast as The Master. Oh my! This will fill the gap left in my small screen crush calendar since I finished watching the brilliant Life on Mars a few months back.

And I solemnly promise not to blu-tak their poster to my wall.

[Images from the BBC website.]

Livingetc

2007-09-12T17:54:00.001+10:00

The latest issue of my very favouite magazine - the UK's Livingetc - finally hit the newsagent this week. (Well, it's the latest issue here in Australia; while we're discovering the August issue, the October issue is already out in the UK.)

Livingetc serves up a seductive combination of drool worthy houses, great design, and fun ideas. Best of all, a lot of it feels achieveable.

Like this picture from an issue earlier this year, which inspired me to fill our own empty, dirty fireplace with logs; this simple idea has kept the heat escaping from our living room this winter, and it looks great. It cost me less than $25 to do.

I know that Livingetc is from another country which means you can't get hold of some of the treats featured, and some of the renovations have been done by people who are clearly not afraid of spending serious amounts of money. The point for me though is this magazine is something that I look to for inspiration rather than using as a bible. The inspiration is in terms of colour, the mix of old and new, with Ikea thrown in for good measure.

The August issue doesn't disappoint. There are some lovely homes featured, and I'm looking forward to having a good old stickybeak at how other people live.

[Images courtesy of the Livingetc website which is really worth a visit.]