Stop me from buying all these bloody magazines! Hold me back. OK, just the one this week. Just one posh one and one crap one. Then maybe a literary one, and a gossip/fashion magazine. Then a house decor one - STOP THE MADNESS.
But just had to buy a little bit of British gossip. And your Aussie dollar goes no further than Hello magazine. Posh and Harper on the cover, what more could a girl want than a flat white and Hello magazine.
Australian newspapers are rubbish, so you read what you can, but spend the rest of the time looking at gorgeous magazines. Has done nothing for my IQ, let alone kept me abreast of world affairs. But I did see an International version of The Guardian for $4.00 which looked good. The Accountant, of course, hates The Guardian ("hippy shit"), but then he is to the right of Ghengis Khan.
So I will revel in my Hello magazine whilst Rufus is at Kindergym as lovely Nanny Sue is looking after Jonty, who by the way is very proud of himself for being able to assume the position of all fours, but not actually crawling yet. Still very chuffed.
Tuesday 29 November 2011
Monday 21 November 2011
Bang on the Head Part II
I am not even going to mention the fact that yet again on a Sunday night we had a medical emergency in our house. Same child. Same head. Same accident. Sunday night!
After dinner Henry and Rufus were playing with the doorbell at the gate in front of the house. They had very sweetly picked flowers for me and wanted me to come out and give them to me. Nanny Sue and I were inside eating dinner laughing at the fact that we only knew two people who would ring a doorbell 5 times in a row, then about 30 seconds later Henry was running up the driveway screaming.
But it wasn't Henry who was in trouble. Poor little Rufus had so much blood gushing down his face I couldn't even see what had happened. He had split his head on a rock and grazed his face badly. I could see his skull! Was absolutely awful, much worse than last week. Again we called the ambulance, and ended up at the same hospital as last week. Even the nice lady doctor did a double-take when she saw the same mother and child in the waiting room.
Luckily whilst at home waiting for an ambulance and kind neighbour from a few houses down just ran into our house, she had heard the screaming, she was Head Nurse at a nearby hospital. She calmed us all down and applied pressure to Rufus' head to stem the bleeding.
So poor little Rufus had to have 5 stitches into his forehead last night. Another late Sunday night at the hospital (I went prepared this time with comforting books and blankets). He is fine today, and even playing football with Henry and David. Aside from keeping him in some sort of bubble contraption, we will be keeping an eye on all sharp objects from now on. I broke an icy pole stick this afternoon (in place of a matchstick) as these things come in threes. So the broken icy pole stick is the third thing. Most accidents do happen in the home.
After dinner Henry and Rufus were playing with the doorbell at the gate in front of the house. They had very sweetly picked flowers for me and wanted me to come out and give them to me. Nanny Sue and I were inside eating dinner laughing at the fact that we only knew two people who would ring a doorbell 5 times in a row, then about 30 seconds later Henry was running up the driveway screaming.
But it wasn't Henry who was in trouble. Poor little Rufus had so much blood gushing down his face I couldn't even see what had happened. He had split his head on a rock and grazed his face badly. I could see his skull! Was absolutely awful, much worse than last week. Again we called the ambulance, and ended up at the same hospital as last week. Even the nice lady doctor did a double-take when she saw the same mother and child in the waiting room.
Luckily whilst at home waiting for an ambulance and kind neighbour from a few houses down just ran into our house, she had heard the screaming, she was Head Nurse at a nearby hospital. She calmed us all down and applied pressure to Rufus' head to stem the bleeding.
So poor little Rufus had to have 5 stitches into his forehead last night. Another late Sunday night at the hospital (I went prepared this time with comforting books and blankets). He is fine today, and even playing football with Henry and David. Aside from keeping him in some sort of bubble contraption, we will be keeping an eye on all sharp objects from now on. I broke an icy pole stick this afternoon (in place of a matchstick) as these things come in threes. So the broken icy pole stick is the third thing. Most accidents do happen in the home.
Thursday 17 November 2011
Gill Clarke
Great dancer, teacher and mentor Gill Clarke has died. She was such an inspirational dancer and teacher, and always showed such calmness and poise both in and out of the studio.
I always loved it when Gill used to, very enthuastically, bring out her odd little drawings of the human skeleton, and together we would all crowd over them as she pointed out various intracacies of the backbone or skull.
I will always be grateful that she allowed me to perform at 7 months pregnant with Rufus, at the Pegasus Theatre. We all had great fun that week, and she bought out something special in all of our performances, regardless of age, experience or style.
Gill will be greatly missed in the UK, and even here in Australia I feel a huge vaccum of intelligence and information has gone. In my quiet moments I will think on all Gill has taught me, offered me in dance. Amongst all the hectic dance studios of the world, Gill's was a thankful, calm and thoughtful place.
I always loved it when Gill used to, very enthuastically, bring out her odd little drawings of the human skeleton, and together we would all crowd over them as she pointed out various intracacies of the backbone or skull.
I will always be grateful that she allowed me to perform at 7 months pregnant with Rufus, at the Pegasus Theatre. We all had great fun that week, and she bought out something special in all of our performances, regardless of age, experience or style.
Gill will be greatly missed in the UK, and even here in Australia I feel a huge vaccum of intelligence and information has gone. In my quiet moments I will think on all Gill has taught me, offered me in dance. Amongst all the hectic dance studios of the world, Gill's was a thankful, calm and thoughtful place.
Sunday 13 November 2011
Bang on the Head
I was going to write a Blog provisionally titled "Three Outfits in One Day", which was going to be a lovely little ditty about going the market, the beach and having old friends round. But the latest incident has to take precedence.
Poor little Rufus banged his sweet little head on our marble fireplace last night. Amongst the high jinx of bedtime stories he rolled off the sofa-bed, right on to the sharp edge. Much drama and bleeding ensued, and luckily The Grandparents were around to help out with the other children as well. We waited a dramatic one and a half hours for the ambulance. They checked him over and then we ended up driving Rufus to Box Hill Hospital at 10:30pm ourselves as they didn't have a child seat in the ambulance. They did, however, switch on the red and blue flashing lights especially for Rufus - otherwise the bang on the head would have been all for nothing!
Not much seemed to be happening at the Hospital when we got there. The nurse checked Rufus over, cleaned up the wound, and gave him a completely over-the-top head bandage which we were all very much chuffed with. How jealous Henry would be! This was real life. After years of playing doctors - Rufus was actually in the midst of the action.
We were eventually seen by a nice English lady doctor at 3am. She glued the wound together, and brave little Rufus only cried right at the end. So sore, so tired and very much over it. "I want to go home." he said very quietly and sadly. No one wants to be in a stinky old hospital 5 minutes longer than necessary, let alone 5 hours in the middle of the night. He is at the moment, sleeping peacefully, holding lifeline blanket, with a massive bandage wrapped around his head.
The funny thing was the nurses and doctors kept asking Rufus what had happend. 1. To check that he actually remembered the incident and thus was not suffering concussion and 2. To check that his parents didn't whack him soundly on the way to bed. They were getting nothing out of him, just a blank stare, wide-eyed bewilderment at the staff. As soon as they were gone he would rattle on to me non-stop talking, then they would come back and ask the same question "Rufus? Can you tell me what happened tonight?" Nothing. Zip. Much sucking of fingers and clutching of blanket. Once I saw his lips move in mumur, but he thought the better of it. I think he thought it was the naughty children police checking if he was behaving at bedtime.
Eventually an old lady came in with a similiar head injury and bandage. "What happened to her?" asked Rufus. "I don't know" I replied, "But I'm guessing she wasn't doing a backwards roll off the sofa-bed".
Poor little Rufus banged his sweet little head on our marble fireplace last night. Amongst the high jinx of bedtime stories he rolled off the sofa-bed, right on to the sharp edge. Much drama and bleeding ensued, and luckily The Grandparents were around to help out with the other children as well. We waited a dramatic one and a half hours for the ambulance. They checked him over and then we ended up driving Rufus to Box Hill Hospital at 10:30pm ourselves as they didn't have a child seat in the ambulance. They did, however, switch on the red and blue flashing lights especially for Rufus - otherwise the bang on the head would have been all for nothing!
Not much seemed to be happening at the Hospital when we got there. The nurse checked Rufus over, cleaned up the wound, and gave him a completely over-the-top head bandage which we were all very much chuffed with. How jealous Henry would be! This was real life. After years of playing doctors - Rufus was actually in the midst of the action.
We were eventually seen by a nice English lady doctor at 3am. She glued the wound together, and brave little Rufus only cried right at the end. So sore, so tired and very much over it. "I want to go home." he said very quietly and sadly. No one wants to be in a stinky old hospital 5 minutes longer than necessary, let alone 5 hours in the middle of the night. He is at the moment, sleeping peacefully, holding lifeline blanket, with a massive bandage wrapped around his head.
The funny thing was the nurses and doctors kept asking Rufus what had happend. 1. To check that he actually remembered the incident and thus was not suffering concussion and 2. To check that his parents didn't whack him soundly on the way to bed. They were getting nothing out of him, just a blank stare, wide-eyed bewilderment at the staff. As soon as they were gone he would rattle on to me non-stop talking, then they would come back and ask the same question "Rufus? Can you tell me what happened tonight?" Nothing. Zip. Much sucking of fingers and clutching of blanket. Once I saw his lips move in mumur, but he thought the better of it. I think he thought it was the naughty children police checking if he was behaving at bedtime.
Eventually an old lady came in with a similiar head injury and bandage. "What happened to her?" asked Rufus. "I don't know" I replied, "But I'm guessing she wasn't doing a backwards roll off the sofa-bed".
Wednesday 9 November 2011
Frankie
Just as I thought I was losing touch (and hope) with all things cultural and edgy - I found THE coolest, cutest, hip magazine this morning. Frankie might just have been written especially for me (and Carole). Gorgeous stuff, ecclectic people and lots of information about cool places to go in Melbourne and Australia, which are just delectable.
I was a bit worried, dear readers, that you would think me glass-half-empty after yesterday's Mummsy Blog. But then this dear magazine had written this editorial by way of introduction:
"We all know that a few dropped stitches in a handmade scarf, or a few scuffmarks on an old book, make it that much more lovable. So wear your scratches and dents with pride, and be happy to be a bit scrappy around the edges. There's nothing so boring as perfection."
I was a bit worried, dear readers, that you would think me glass-half-empty after yesterday's Mummsy Blog. But then this dear magazine had written this editorial by way of introduction:
"We all know that a few dropped stitches in a handmade scarf, or a few scuffmarks on an old book, make it that much more lovable. So wear your scratches and dents with pride, and be happy to be a bit scrappy around the edges. There's nothing so boring as perfection."
Mummsy Alert
Is it me or is the whole new age mothering thing a bit dull? Would love to have the opinions of the other mothers of a certain age who have young children. These Australian mothers are so organised and engrossed in their little ones that they cannot possibly do anything else. I think if you have time to colour co-ordinate your little tuperware containers for healthy snacks for toddlers, then you simply have no time for anything else.
Or anything very interesting.
Sorry that just slipped out. God I'm a bitch. But if I see one more of those tuperware containers at a swimming lesson/karate session/kindergym - I'm going to slap someone.
Or anything very interesting.
Sorry that just slipped out. God I'm a bitch. But if I see one more of those tuperware containers at a swimming lesson/karate session/kindergym - I'm going to slap someone.
Sunday 6 November 2011
Kulture
I need to get me a bit of Urban. And I am not talking about the musical genre, but I have been living in a cultural bubble here in sunny Camberwell. Everything is very nice, everything is very pleasant and middle-class and everything is a little bit Stepford Wives. Scary stuff in the suburbs.
I saw some graffiti the other day, and that was a bit more normal. But it was very orderly graffiti and it was on the underground part of the train line, which is not visible from the road anyway - so that doesn't even count.
My Cowley Road crew will know exactly what I am talking about. School pick-up conversations with the yummy mummies are very correct and domesticated. I am dying to start a conversation with "...so I was at the gig last night, ended up on someone's boat, and we were all so wasted didn't know which way to walk through the field..." or "...that piece by blah blah was fantastic, although the theatrical elements were not dynamic enough for the movement material....".
But I can tell you an excellent website for labels and stickers for the children's belongings. Lunchboxes, drink bottles, clothes etc. See - I'm losing it. Gonna get me a bit of urban darlin'.
I saw some graffiti the other day, and that was a bit more normal. But it was very orderly graffiti and it was on the underground part of the train line, which is not visible from the road anyway - so that doesn't even count.
My Cowley Road crew will know exactly what I am talking about. School pick-up conversations with the yummy mummies are very correct and domesticated. I am dying to start a conversation with "...so I was at the gig last night, ended up on someone's boat, and we were all so wasted didn't know which way to walk through the field..." or "...that piece by blah blah was fantastic, although the theatrical elements were not dynamic enough for the movement material....".
But I can tell you an excellent website for labels and stickers for the children's belongings. Lunchboxes, drink bottles, clothes etc. See - I'm losing it. Gonna get me a bit of urban darlin'.
Friday 4 November 2011
And Now A Word About The Weather
Melbourne weather is crazy! I mean really out there. Yesterday was fifteen degrees, drizzly and even I had to have a hot bath in the evening to warm up a bit. A little interlude here whilst I rephrase the word "hot", as the Australians are so bloody PC that even the hot water here is only 43 degrees at the hottest. So when we have a shower or bath, we cannot add any cold at all. Even the children have showers at full pelt. It sucks.
Back to the weather report: so cold, drizzly - pretty much right up my alley really as I love cold, damp English weather. Then today a more normal 22 degrees. Tomorow 29 degrees and then Sunday a whopping 34. What's that about?
But I am looking at a very beautiful pink sunset tonight. Shepherd's Delight.
Back to the weather report: so cold, drizzly - pretty much right up my alley really as I love cold, damp English weather. Then today a more normal 22 degrees. Tomorow 29 degrees and then Sunday a whopping 34. What's that about?
But I am looking at a very beautiful pink sunset tonight. Shepherd's Delight.
Wednesday 2 November 2011
The Melbourne Cup
Well I only had winning horses in no less than three races people! Picked the winner for Race 7 (the big one), then had winning horses in the two before as well. We had a lovely invitation from Auntie Debra to watch the race. What really made my day was not just the strawberries and champagne on offer, but the bright pink, bejewelled jockey's cap Auntie Debra was wearing. Much joy!
Today Auntie Deb will be wearing that very same (very camp) cap to the Ladies Oaks Day. More live horseracing I am missing out on! Will get to some country races in the summer months when mothering and housewifery are but a distant memory....
Off to the TAB later to collect on my bets.
Today Auntie Deb will be wearing that very same (very camp) cap to the Ladies Oaks Day. More live horseracing I am missing out on! Will get to some country races in the summer months when mothering and housewifery are but a distant memory....
Off to the TAB later to collect on my bets.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)