Had a little family jaunt to Mount Dandenong. Stayed from Friday afternoon til Sunday in a little house perched on the side of the mountain. Heaven. Log Fire. A balcony with a view of just the forest and NO BLOODY NEIGHBOURS. Loved it. Revelled in it. Smelled that fresh air and all those lovely Eucalyptus trees. The boys played "army" in on the grass, in the forest, on a walk. Henry and Rufus smeared their faces with charcoal from a blackened tree to get in character. It was rather embarrassing.
Jonty was not feeling well. Still reeling from the flu a couple of weeks ago. So I took him on a drive. Ended up at a Real Estate Agency - "just have a look" - I thought. Before I knew it the agent was my new best friend (along with the hairdressers and the lady in the teashop). We had sorted out all my housing needs and I had booked our family in for a viewing at a property up the road at 2pm.
What the ….?
I had to literally drag the family kicking and screaming to the viewing (that was just The Accountant really). And when we got there it was…..nirvana. Paradise. I even knew where our bookcases would go, how I would position the fridge, which bedrooms for children and which for guests. 1.5 acres of a country retreat, surrounded not by brown countryside and farmland, but trees and rhododendrons. Not one entertaining deck outside, but two. Chickens. A stable. A bloody ride-on mower!
So now the hard work starts. Do we uproot the children from their amazing school? Their friends and activities? Our own new friends and activities? Social life? Or do we scrimp and save and forever shop at K-Mart and spend $1million on a 2-bedroom unit on a main road with no garden? Hmmmmm…..
Wednesday 17 September 2014
Thursday 7 August 2014
Trivia Night Part II
Deciding to attend the annual Kindergarden Trivia Night is like some nightmare ritualistic ceremonial test for adults. It is right up there on a list of have-to but don't-want-to. Like doing a tax return or booking a dentist appointment. You don't want to, but you know you have to join the normal people and grow up sometime. The funny thing is the last time I went to a Kindergarten Trivia Night, the adults were acting like teenagers. Like caged animals who had not been let out for years and finally went on party safari in the wild.
It might be a bit like that. Or it might be OK. We have a very busy weekend ahead but all of it revolves around the children. Football Saturday morning. Gymnastics Saturday afternoon. The Accountant taking the boys to watch an AFL match. Me attending the dreaded Trivia Night. Sunday morning I am taking part in the school Working Bee. This is not a comedy script this is really happening! Followed by taking Jonty to a party in the afternoon. The bigger boys are going to a scouts show (like the Gang Show only Australian).
And then tonight the boys are going to the school disco! Not me dancing my pants off, but the 7 and 9 year old. Unbelievable. I think there is time on Sunday between 9:10pm - 9:20pm where I will have time to have a cup of tea and read my book right before it falls out of my hand and on to the bed and I drift off to la-la land.
It might be a bit like that. Or it might be OK. We have a very busy weekend ahead but all of it revolves around the children. Football Saturday morning. Gymnastics Saturday afternoon. The Accountant taking the boys to watch an AFL match. Me attending the dreaded Trivia Night. Sunday morning I am taking part in the school Working Bee. This is not a comedy script this is really happening! Followed by taking Jonty to a party in the afternoon. The bigger boys are going to a scouts show (like the Gang Show only Australian).
And then tonight the boys are going to the school disco! Not me dancing my pants off, but the 7 and 9 year old. Unbelievable. I think there is time on Sunday between 9:10pm - 9:20pm where I will have time to have a cup of tea and read my book right before it falls out of my hand and on to the bed and I drift off to la-la land.
Tuesday 13 May 2014
Spirit of Tasmania
The trip did not start well. The night before we were to embark on the Spirit of Tasmania, The Accountant and I went to a wedding. It was a lovely wedding, but as the Accountant was busy counting, he could not arrive until the reception. There were the usual speeches, toasts and dances but the Accountant kept elbowing me in the ribs to leave as he was concerned about not finishing his work before the family holiday.
A few hours later I woke up in a fever feeling ill and dizzy. I promptly fainted in the hallway and woke up lying diagonally on the floor with my head jammed up against the wall. The Accountant looked slightly concerned as he pulled me up, and went to get ice for the back of my head and a cool flannel for the fever - all the time muttering that he was not getting his necessary rest….
I awoke feeling not great and spotted the blood stain on the wall from my head on my way to the kitchen. I was feeling not so great as I took the boys to school and even less human as I worked with the dancers in the studio. There was still packing to do and last minute washing. We had to get to the boat by 6:00pm. Who organises a family holiday on the last day of school, the day after a wedding, where both parents are working and one of them has a bump on their head?
Over a quick dinner in St. Kilda The Accountant regaled me with stories of 20 foot waves in Bass Strait and other ferry disasters. He knew I was nervous about the voyage. Luckily the Korean ferry disaster had not happened before our holiday, otherwise I would have gone to the airport.
The family cabins were very cosy and comfortable, and whilst I looked on enviously at people quietly enjoying their wine or tea, our family headed straight for the games room. After that ordeal was over it was straight to bed for everyone and a very easy night of putting everyone in their bunks. I did not sleep so well, even though it was very comfortable, as I woke with my bunk tilting sideways and the ferry creaking ominously. The engine speed was determined by the huge waves pounding the ferry. And I spent the rest of the night making sure Henry did not fall out of the top bunk. He kept rolling toward the outside rail (about two inches high - who designs these things?) and I kept getting up and pushing him back (whilst trying not to look at the foaming water outside).
The last words The Accountant offered me before he went to sleep were: "If you see the waves above this porthole - then you know we are really in trouble. Goodnight".
Wednesday 19 March 2014
The Bad Book
Had a pretty easy walk to school yesterday morning. It was a lovely sunny day, Jonty was on his scooter and Henry and Rufus were busy firstly shooting lasers at each other and then secondly being on hotted-up motorbikes. These are all imaginary of course. Not the scooter - that was real. At the traffic lights they were discussing in great detail the dimensions of the smoke-pipes on their bikes (exhausts).
I did get some funny looks as I was trundling along with one pram, two backpacks, two school jackets (thrown off during the heat of the game) a library bag and occasionally a hand on Jonty to stop him going pell-mell on to the crossing. The pram is for when it all goes to pot with Jonty on the way home. Which it frequently does when tired. That's me, not Jonty.
Normal families walk along nicely. Ours is like some sort of travelling circus freak show. After a day in which a great deal got done, I had prepared dinner, bathed Jonty and everyone was playing nicely. I therefore settled on our porch with a glass of wine and current book The Great Gatsby. THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE. It was the best ten minutes of the year so far.
At bedtime I read to Henry and Rufus from a book I had got from the library that day - The Bad Book. It is literally a book with illustrations about everything bad. Hilarious. I highly recommend it for anyone with children aged between 6 - 10. The last story in the book is about how everything was bad. Once upon a time everything was bad. It goes on to say how it got badder and just when things couldn't get any worse they got very bad indeed. The last ten pages of the book just get badder and badder and badder and badder and badder…….
Photo is from recent picnic on the river with some friends. Rufus and Jonty not looking at camera. Henry is not good with dogs but got quite attached to this one for the entire day.
I did get some funny looks as I was trundling along with one pram, two backpacks, two school jackets (thrown off during the heat of the game) a library bag and occasionally a hand on Jonty to stop him going pell-mell on to the crossing. The pram is for when it all goes to pot with Jonty on the way home. Which it frequently does when tired. That's me, not Jonty.
Normal families walk along nicely. Ours is like some sort of travelling circus freak show. After a day in which a great deal got done, I had prepared dinner, bathed Jonty and everyone was playing nicely. I therefore settled on our porch with a glass of wine and current book The Great Gatsby. THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE. It was the best ten minutes of the year so far.
At bedtime I read to Henry and Rufus from a book I had got from the library that day - The Bad Book. It is literally a book with illustrations about everything bad. Hilarious. I highly recommend it for anyone with children aged between 6 - 10. The last story in the book is about how everything was bad. Once upon a time everything was bad. It goes on to say how it got badder and just when things couldn't get any worse they got very bad indeed. The last ten pages of the book just get badder and badder and badder and badder and badder…….
Photo is from recent picnic on the river with some friends. Rufus and Jonty not looking at camera. Henry is not good with dogs but got quite attached to this one for the entire day.
Tuesday 11 March 2014
Portrait
My new boss at the ballet school asked me if I had a professional head and shoulders shot to put up in the lobby. (I didn't want to tell her that I had wondered why the previous contemporary dance teacher's portrait was still up there - but also had that unnerving feeling when starting a new job that they are just waiting for you to trip up - and therefore no need to get rid of the portrait. I must have passed whatever test was in store.)
Apropos of this it occurred to me that I have been 25 years in the business, and I have never once had a head and shoulders shot to use for publicity etc. Lots of dancing shots. Lots of me pretending to teach people dance. Lots of ugly photos of me in the theatre/studio in the middle of rehearsals. And one very funny picture of literally just my head which went into the Oxford Times, Banbury Post and Buckinghamshire Herald - unbeknown to me - until DH and I bought some copies at the petrol station. How he laughed! Three weeks of non-stop laughter.
Anywho, at the grand old age of --, I need to get a proper professional portrait taken to put in the lobby of the dance centre for all to see. I will need to wash my hair and get some bloody good lighting going.
If it is any good I will post it on my blog in a couple of weeks. So you too can laugh for about three weeks.
Apropos of this it occurred to me that I have been 25 years in the business, and I have never once had a head and shoulders shot to use for publicity etc. Lots of dancing shots. Lots of me pretending to teach people dance. Lots of ugly photos of me in the theatre/studio in the middle of rehearsals. And one very funny picture of literally just my head which went into the Oxford Times, Banbury Post and Buckinghamshire Herald - unbeknown to me - until DH and I bought some copies at the petrol station. How he laughed! Three weeks of non-stop laughter.
Anywho, at the grand old age of --, I need to get a proper professional portrait taken to put in the lobby of the dance centre for all to see. I will need to wash my hair and get some bloody good lighting going.
If it is any good I will post it on my blog in a couple of weeks. So you too can laugh for about three weeks.
Future Music Festival
Went to a Music Festival. It was nothing like Glastonbury unfortunately. The Chav/Bogans who turned up should have been told that denim shorts showing much bottom for the ladies and singlets with logos for the gentlemen are so passé. It was OK. Things I did not like:
1. No wine, sparkling or otherwise. Instead we were offered only canned pre-mixed drinks. Yuk.
2. Seven stages of dance music/DJs or live artists - all completely the same! No variation whatsoever.
3. No ambient tent/stage.
4. 34 degree heat and not much shade. Not very well thought out by the organisers. People were being carried off everywhere by ambulance workers. But perhaps they sniffed something they should not have.
5. The price - a whopping $170 for what? So-called International DJs and bloody Pharrell Williams (more of him later in the blog).
Things I liked:
1. Hanging out with Karolina and Jo - thanks girls!
2. Tinie Tempah. Fantastic stuff.
There is something very odd indeed about drinking a G&T at one in the afternoon in the baking sun and listening to dance music. It is meant to be like you are at a club. But you are not. You are at Flemington Racecourse trying to find some kind of ambience or atmosphere, and hopelessly despairing at the lack of creative genius as well as any kind of dress sense. Kate Moss and her little dresses and wellington boots with bohemian plaited hair are another universe away (and 24 hours as well as completely the wrong season).
We had lovely greetings from the DJs/live acts "Welcome fucking Melbourians! You mother-fuckers! You are fucking awesome! Fuck me! Yeah!" And then they would pretend to sing. How inspiring - it turns out they know how to swear and everything.
Poor old Pharrell Williams must have thought 30 minutes of work was 30 minutes too long. He couldn't sing, couldn't perform and could not muster any kind of stage presence. What a disaster. His backing track sounded so much better than he did, and the audience knew the lyrics - so he did even less. Perhaps he should have been having a cup of tea somewhere and then the price of the tickets would have been about seventy dollars less for the rest of us who really didn't give a fuck. Look I can swear too! Perhaps I will take up DJing…..
Friday 7 February 2014
The Toff In Town
Had a girl's night out last night. We had dinner and drinks at this marvellous place on Swanston Street in the city. Climbed lots of stairs in the heat and walked into - nirvana. A gorgeously bohemian place filled with secret booths made out of old railway carriages. Buttons to call your waiter like a butler. Nothing better than a delightfully young camp waiter in a white t-shirt with good suggestions. The food was Thai tapis, and my Champagne Bellini had red rose petals floating in a 50s glass. It was very cool.
Then we went clubbing in the same building. Now as you know readers I am partial to a good night out, although I must say my clubbing days are not as many in a year as they used to be. But they were playing exactly the same music I have been dancing to for the last three decades. EXACTLY THE SAME. All of the young men sported beards. And all of the young people new the words to Witney Houston and Ah-Ha. I ended up dancing with a young man who may or may not be blowing up a plane today - big black bushy beard.
It was so daggy it was good. Nothing like a bit of Ce-Ce Peniston to make a girl feel good again. Perked me up no end. I even stayed out with the late-nighters and came home at what I thought was a very respectable 2am. Rock on.
Then we went clubbing in the same building. Now as you know readers I am partial to a good night out, although I must say my clubbing days are not as many in a year as they used to be. But they were playing exactly the same music I have been dancing to for the last three decades. EXACTLY THE SAME. All of the young men sported beards. And all of the young people new the words to Witney Houston and Ah-Ha. I ended up dancing with a young man who may or may not be blowing up a plane today - big black bushy beard.
It was so daggy it was good. Nothing like a bit of Ce-Ce Peniston to make a girl feel good again. Perked me up no end. I even stayed out with the late-nighters and came home at what I thought was a very respectable 2am. Rock on.
Ballerinas
Got a new job readers. I work! I am helpful to the community and to my family. I leave the house at a certain time - and come back when it is dark. It is fun.
Somehow I managed on reputation alone, to secure a new job. I am teaching contemporary dance at the Australian Conservatoire of Ballet. They are proper ballerinas. I mean serious dancers. I cannot tell you how satisfying it is to work with dancers of this calibre again. It gives me so much pleasure to see my choreography on astute bodies. Also they get my jokes.
Of course the childcare has to be arranged with military precision. Henry and Rufus are often to be found at school pick-up looking vacantly into the distance, wondering which young babysitter brandishing Jonty will be taking them home. The Accountant now gets home before me and has to go into full take-over mode. It is join-the-dots parenting though as I have cleaned the house, made the dinner and prepped the babysitter beforehand. I even found laundry neatly-folded into piles when I arrived home, but then remembered it probably was not the work of a man.
Especially when there is roast chicken and salad to be had.
Somehow I managed on reputation alone, to secure a new job. I am teaching contemporary dance at the Australian Conservatoire of Ballet. They are proper ballerinas. I mean serious dancers. I cannot tell you how satisfying it is to work with dancers of this calibre again. It gives me so much pleasure to see my choreography on astute bodies. Also they get my jokes.
Of course the childcare has to be arranged with military precision. Henry and Rufus are often to be found at school pick-up looking vacantly into the distance, wondering which young babysitter brandishing Jonty will be taking them home. The Accountant now gets home before me and has to go into full take-over mode. It is join-the-dots parenting though as I have cleaned the house, made the dinner and prepped the babysitter beforehand. I even found laundry neatly-folded into piles when I arrived home, but then remembered it probably was not the work of a man.
Especially when there is roast chicken and salad to be had.
Wednesday 5 February 2014
The Twits
What kind of freaks decide to move into a house, unload a bunch of boxes, and then promptly move out again? Well you are reading words from one of them. The Accountant and I did take The Addams Family House. Decided that the smell and the prickles in the garden were deal-breakers of one kind and another, and as The Accountant looked as if he might have a stroke any minute, clearly decided it was a terrible idea.
No sooner had we unloaded the last box back to lovely Christowel Street than the landlords gave us our notice. Happy Fucking Christmas.
So folks for some reason this has sapped all of my creative energy, and even though I have had a million blogs going round in my head, I have not managed to tap these thoughts on to my laptop. Until now. So get ready for a surge of blogs about……ah, stuff that doesn't really matter to anyone in particular but me! And now you.
No sooner had we unloaded the last box back to lovely Christowel Street than the landlords gave us our notice. Happy Fucking Christmas.
So folks for some reason this has sapped all of my creative energy, and even though I have had a million blogs going round in my head, I have not managed to tap these thoughts on to my laptop. Until now. So get ready for a surge of blogs about……ah, stuff that doesn't really matter to anyone in particular but me! And now you.
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