Well what have we done in 2011 so far? For New Years Eve we thought about going into town for a good meal, followed by a cabaret and a piss up in a local bar, then into the city to watch the festivals, followed by the fireworks display at the lake, then nipping home for some hard drugs (Viagra) , expensive Champagne, and a few hours of naked oily wrestling. But we couldn’t be arsed, so we had a glass of wine or two, and were in bed by 9.30 pm. Which is further evidence, not that any were needed, that I’m getting so old. In fact in a vain attempt to stave off the effects of old age, I now take each morning, when I remember, for breakfast, or more often instead of breakfast;
4 x 100 mg fish oil capsules. (Brain health/arthritis)
1 x 1500 mg glucosamine & chicondrine. (Joint health/Arthritis)
2 x 7 mg milk thistle. (Liver function)
1 x 100 mg aspirin. (blood health/cholesterol/cancer)
One “centrum” multivitamin, (in case I’m missing out on anything.)
Iron tonic.
I don’t know if they’re doing me any good, but as they’ve not (yet) done me any harm I’m happy. For my birthday, (oh thanks for the total absence of cards, they really cheer me up by not reminding me I’m a year closer to the grave,) we decided to go out for a good meal. We had searched the net for recommendations for the best meal in Canberra, and narrowed it down to three choices. Two of these choices were shut on the night, so that narrowed it down to one, called “Courgette.” Not a particularly inspiring name, and when we arrived there, not particularly inspiring to look at, it being based in a downtown office block. However once in and feasted we found that it actually did live up to it’s “one hat” rating. (“Hat ratings” are “Michelin star” ratings of Australia.)
In fact it turned out to be near faultless. LeeAnne’s mum joined us for the meal and evening out. We always invite her, as she pays for the wines. Superb food, most excellent grub, lots of choice, and innovative menu items, perfectly cooked and beautifully presented. A great wine list, superb service (a tiny bit slow if anything) , lovely decor, so easy to forget you are in an inner-city office block. We all had three courses. I don’t know what it is about eating at good restaurants, but every bloody time without fail, the highlights of the meal for me have been the starters and the cheeses. Rick Stein’s place, Jamie Oliver’s “15 Cornwall”, “Grazing” at Gunderoo, every bloody one has given me starters and deserts which outclass the mains. It’s a conspiracy I tell you! I must admit that I should not have had a second Laphrohaig with my cheese board,. Not only was that was greedy, but after drinking the recommended wines with each course beforehand, it gave me a stinking hangover the next day. (Never mix the grain and the grape!) Highly recommended, well worth their “hat”, and we will definitely patronise them again. Oh and interestingly, as this place was a bit nobby to say the least, all the staff, male and female, were rather beautiful, and all of them had bums like two tennis balls in a sock.
It was our 9th wedding anniversary on the 12 th of January, don’t worry, we both forgot it too
The saga of Bethy’s Xmas present took until the end of January to resolve. (See last months episode for details.) It also resulted in me getting RSI and high blood pressure from the number of e-mails I sent out demanding our money back. But it also resulted in us getting full refund. As soon as I got the cash back, I rushed back onto e-bay and ordered another one (Toshiba satellite.) The next day I got an e-mail off the people I’d ordered from, stating they were out of stock of the model I’d ordered, and would either give us our money back, or they were prepared to give us the next model up at no extra cost. Sorted. Or at least we will be sorted when the bloody thing arrives, we’re still waiting. Oh dear, Bethy’s growing up so fast you know. 
It’s her first day of the Baccalaureate Course at Melba College today. Recently she went on a “Girlies shopping trip” to Sydney, for the first time to the big city without adult supervision. To be fair there were a couple of boys on the trip with them, but as they were of dubious sexuality, they didn’t count. They took a coach up first thing in the morning, did some shopping, sang in a karaoke bar, toured the CBD, ate at a Korean noodle place, visited Manly beach to go ogling totty, and then caught the late coach home. We were on tenterhooks until they got back safe.
The first cricket match we attended this year was the Prime Minister’s XI vs England. A traditional match, though still keenly fought.
LeeAnne couldn’t attend due to work pressures, so Bethy had her ticket. I don’t think she found it too boring. It was a day of forecast squally showers so we took stacks of warm clothing. To be fair it only rained on us three times, and England’s inning was curtailed a few overs. Of course I wore my Welsh flag, I wear it to every cricket match, it makes me so popular. I did in fact meet two other ex-pat Welshmen due to me wearing it, and thus vindicated my sartorial choice. Though it also meant Bethy spent the day pretending she didn’t know me. Going off to get some drinks, I noticed that the queues were dead long. So I got myself a tray of four beers in (VB). Bethy kindly pointed out to me that it was not yet ten in the morning, and my breakfast had been a handful of vitamin tablets. A good breakfast to start the day then.
England won, but it was great to watch Brett Lee bowling again for the Aussies.
The final hour of the match was enlivened by a streaker, who kindly showed us his anus. 
Bethy found this mildly amusing, but it didn’t do much for her view of men, which, after living with me couldn’t get much lower. The mother in law had to be restrained from running onto the pitch to give him her phone number. I met two Welshmen at the match, one up from Victoria, one down from Brisbane, who identified the flag, natch. Coincidentally they both had sons working and living in Canberra. We got to see the PM, who is also Welsh none the less, give out the trophy. I waved my flag at her but she didn’t wave back. The cow. Oh, and of course England won the Ashes!
As I am the only “Pom” in a an office full of Aussies I thought it best not to wear my flag for the final deciding day of the tournament, as it was clear we were going to retain the trophy. So I just wore my Wales scarf instead. How to be Mr Popular! I’m still collecting the $5.00 bets I had with other “cricket tragics”, it gives me great pleasure to string it out. However, England’s form in the One Day Series has been a bit rubbish to say the least, so I’ve kept a lower profile since, (more on this later.)
One Saturday, when I was off, and Bethany was with us rather than her dad, we decided to do the old “Culture Vulture”, thing. In fact we maxed it out, visiting no less than three galleries for three different touring exhibitions. Old Parliament House. 
Take a journey back over the year in Australian politics with Behind the Lines: The Year’s Best Political Cartoons. Cartoons have always reflected key moments in Australia history. Behind the Lines brings together the best political cartoons of 2010 in a unique exhibition which documents the highs and lows of the political year.
Martin Schoeller: Close Up is the artist’s first Australian exhibition. The New York-based photographer is best known for this series of celebrity portraits, framed to exclude context and show only the face in extreme close up. Under the unflinching scrutiny of his lens, the faces of actors, politicians, musicians and unknowns, are transformed by the wealth of unfamiliar detail to expose the complexity of the human face.
Face becomes topography, an undulating landscape of hills, valleys, crevasses and plains marked by pores, hair and skin textures. Schoeller uses his close up technique as a way of levelling the differences between individuals. His portrait of Barack Obama, the President of the United States, is framed no differently than that of a tribal man from the Amazon region of Brazil. Without a background to provide clues about social status, the uniform presentation of each head places each one in a position of equality, a democracy of effect that encourages comparison.
National Gallery of Australia.
At the beginning of the 20th century, art—whether visual or literary, music or ballet—had become a blood sport. At the 29 May 1913 premiere of Sergei Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes’s Le sacre du printemps, the creative fusion of Igor Stravinsky’s score, Vaslav Nijinsky’s choreography and Nicholas Roerich’s design exploded into the theatre. The orchestra had barely embarked upon Stravinsky’s now-famous primitive, syncopated passages when the audience erupted into a riot. Shouting turned into fist fighting. The police had to be called. Stravinsky retreated backstage. Nijinsky continued bellowing counts to the dancers. Later, it was revealed that it had not only been the music that had set the audience off, but the choreography and the costumes. Afterwards, Diaghilev claimed that the scandal was just what he wanted.
The portraits were stunning. The juxtapositions interesting; Anglina Jolie next to Heath Ledger*, not Brad Pitt? Donald Rumsfeld next to Marlyn Manson, (guess who looked the more evil?) Bill Clinton between Sarah Palin and Iggy Pop. Christopher Walken next to the human race. Despite my loathing of Palin, the only one that made me feel like putting my fist though it was Paris Hilton, and she was next to Dame Judy Dench, for fuck’s sake. Jack was beautiful. Bethany burst into tears on seeing the portrait of Heath, bless. I’ve changed my mind about Sarah Palin, I initially thought she was just one of those joke politicians which the USA parades in front of the rest of the world to make us laugh. Having looked into her dead fish eyes never want her to be in charge of anything bigger than a whelk stall, let alone the USA. I’ve never seen such evil, ignorance, and inhumanity displayed in a portrait.
I’ve seen some weird and wonderful creatures since I’ve been living here in Aus, (human and animal). But in the garden I came across this monster, which really takes the cake, biscuit the whole sweet trolley in fact! 
It’s some sort of caterpillar on steroids and acid. It was about 5 inches long and thicker than my thumb. Knowing the way of Australian creatures I thought it may be poisonous. I did try to get LeeAnne to touch it to find out, but she declined. Truth be told, it was truly beautiful, and had me gamboling around the garden like an excited child. It’s one of these
LeeAnne and I visited a woodcraft outlet the other day, this one in fact. Took me back to my days of woodwork teaching, and the pride and time and love taken in some of the work I knocked out, (despite the utter shittyness of most of it,) of which my Mam still has many examples.
But is there a place for the artisan these days? Looking around the gallery, I was totally blown over by the quality of work on display, and also by the prices. I would have gladly paid the money being asked for some of the stuff there, if I could afford it, which I cannot, so the point is moot. I had to wonder how many $16,000 dollar tables they sell, if any. But as I say, the question is; is there a place in the internet driven world for the man/woman who can take base materials wood/clay/paint/steel or whatever, and turn them into things of great beauty? I’ve got mates (you know who you are) who are capable of making the most wonderful things, but making a living from making wonderful things? .
Ok, I know I’m always on the scrounge I know, and to be fair most of the time I end up with the items requested, thanks to you lovely people. But I saw this the other day, and seeing as it by some miraculous process manages to incorporate two of my favourite foodstuffs, blue cheese and beer, I Must Have Some!! (I’ll pay postage)
East Midlands brewery produces ‘Stilton’ beer
Blue Brew is a “chestnut coloured ale”, made by mixing whey with wort – water and barley liquid – before fermenting.
Colin Brown from Belvoir Brewery in Leicestershire said it tasted “creamy” rather than cheesy. Stilton – produced only at dairies in Leicestershire, Derbyshire or Nottinghamshire – has previously been used to make a perfume and a milkshake. Martin Taylor of Long Clawson Dairy said: “It sounds like it could be awful, but it doesn’t taste of mouldy blue cheese. It has a smooth rounded flavour – quite delicate.” Nigel White, secretary of the Stilton Cheesemakers Association, said: “People often think of Stilton as a cheese just for Christmas and forget how versatile it is. “Traditionally the whey from cheese making would have been fed to pigs. We wondered if it could be used for other purposes and Belvoir Brewery has now made a new beer.”
Thanks to all of you who wrote to us about the terrible floods here in Aus. You were all pretty much aware of the distance between us and the devastation, but your expressed concerns were very heartening. Obviously we’ve been giving out money as and when we can to the various appeals, and have participated in fund-raising events were they were accessible. A mate of ours is flood affected, but turned down our offer of a few hundred as a loan, or present, to tide him over (ouch!) as he’s a bit too proud to accept charity. BUT! He does make kilts, so I agreed to buy myself a kilt off him. I can hear the screams from here; “Taff? In a kilt?!?! With HIS legs?!?!?!?!” So it duly arrived, with a “wife beater”, two t-shirts, and a neat little flask for scotch. The kilt’s plain black with blue stitching, and to be fair I look absolutely “sex on a stick” in it.
We’ve had massive storms here in Canberra too. Obviously nothing like the damaging stuff in QLD, but we’ve had innumerable trees downed, rivers bursting banks and all sorts of damage.
On the brights side our garden pear and plum trees are full of fruit. 
One tree in the front garden suddenly sprouted apples, we didn’t even know it was an apple tree!
We’ve been getting used to messages like these; TOP PRIORITY FOR IMMEDIATE BROADCAST SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WARNING for FLASH FLOODING and DAMAGING WIND For people in parts of the Central West Slopes and Plains, South West Slopes, Riverina, Lower Western and Upper Western Forecast Districts. Issued at 4:15 pm Saturday, 5 February 2011. Severe thunderstorms are likely to produce very heavy rainfall, flash flooding and damaging winds in the warning area over the next several hours. Locations which may be affected include Griffith, Wilcannia, White Cliffs, Broken Hill, Ivanhoe and Menindee. http://www.bom.gov.au/products/IDN65156.shtml .
Here’s a video, shot off our front porch of a storm front hitting our street. You can see the clouds trailing a curtain of rain towards us, (and hear LeeAnne calling me to tea at the end.) Note the branch which has blown off the tree opposite.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7BjbFQF9cWA Charnwood is one of the “less desirable” areas of Canberra. Someone’s been playing with the suburb sign.
Not a great shot. The sign reads;
Charnwood. Lowest incomes. Largest flatscreens.
Which is funny in an “Oh so true..” way So we went to Adelaide for our holiday. We flew via Melbourne, we were hoping to pass over the Victoria floods area, so’s I could get some photos from up there. No joy, very inconsiderate of them. We took a taxi to our digs, a one bedroom flat in the gloriously palandromic Glenelg area. After a few conflabs with our landlord, who really wasn’t cut out for this job, no more than I would be for underwater goat wrestling, we settled in. The area itself was wonderful. Our digs were a spit from the Glenelg pier and beach, and Glenelg had everything we needed right on our doorstep, (bars mainly, and restaurants.) We spent the first day wandering around the area, it was warm enough to go in the sea, so I took my annual dip in the briny. The sea was warm, nicely warm no matter how far I went out into it, (which wasn’t that far I’ll admit.)
It was also crystal clear and full of marine life. We strolled along the beach for a while. We both (yes both,) noticed the beach was crowded with the most astonishing collection of tall, thin, blond, beautiful, totty. We found out later that there is a harbour full of millionaire’s yachts and powerboats around the bay, so no prizes for guessing who the totty was with/ trying to pull. We spend an amusing half hour watching the kids doing back flips off the pier, and strolled around the various entertainments and buskers along the seafront. In the evening we found a bar with a look out over the beach and had a few refreshers. We took a tram into Adelaide city the next day, went to the galleries and the museum. The museum had an area dedicated to Douglas Mawson, an Antarctic explorer who I hadn’t heard of before, so I bought a book by him at that shop. Beautifully written description of a fateful expedition, six men died, one went mad, his description of being reduced to eating the sled dogs was rather awesome in its lack of emotion. We strolled around the cathedral, and then onto the Adelaide Cricket ground as we wanted to see where to go the next day for the match. The ground was surprisingly open to anyone who wanted to stroll about, so we did. I must say here that I’ve always rated the ground as one of the most beautiful in the world, seeing it “in the flesh” for the first time brought me out in goosebumps. We visited the museum to the Don, and were walking out of the ground when; “Fuck me that’s Dougie Bollinger!” I ran over and shook the big Aussie paceman by the hand; “I still hope we beat you tomorrow though!” I said, expecting a smack in the mouth for my cheek, “Thanks very much,” he replied. I don’t think he understood my accent. Unfortunately, as LeeAnne was lost in a glow of reverence, at what for an Australian is as close to encountering a deity as possible, didn’t get a photo of this momentous meeting.
We strolled back into town and found a nice hotel with a first floor balcony overlooking the city centre. Unusually decorated, it was more like a Harem than a posh hotel. Still they did a decent local ale, Vale Ale, and had a cheese board of local cheese on the menu, so we sat and blissed out for a while. The next day was the match! I dressed in my kilt, my wife beater, and my Welsh flag, but LeeAnne still agreed to go with me. 
We took a tram into town, the place was heaving with cricket fans, and others celebrating “Australia day”. So there’s me dressed in my Welsh kit, in a city heaving with opposition cricket fans, and other Aussies celebrating their national day, mainly by getting pissed, unmistakeably dressed as one of the old enemy. Let’s hope England don’t win then. Interestingly I didn’t stand out like a sore cock at the match, as there were people FAR more extravagantly dressed than I was. 
The ground was truly magnificent and we had great seats. And of course, England won.In the park next to the ground the Adelaide Aussie day celebrations were in full swing. We were too knackered to stay to see Jessica Mabouy, I’ve no real desire to watch her in any case, who the hell got the idea that “Australian Idol” runner up’s constitute a night out, or are entertaining in some way? But we did watch the huge and spectacular fireworks display.
We played sardines with the millions of people trying to get on trams back to Glenelg. Once back, at around midnight, we remembered we needed milk for a cuppa, LeeAnne went into a Turkish kebab place, the only place open, to scrounge some for us. While outside, I had this unnerving thought go through my mind; “I’m stood outside here, wearing a flag with a dragon on it, what to all extents and purposes is a skirt, I’m half pissed, and I’m being stared intently at by a group of middle eastern Taxi drivers, who seem to be discussing something quite heatedly, I hope LeeAnne gets back soon..” Fortunately she did, so we run away. The next day we took a coach tour of the vineyards, not something I’ve done before, but something well worth doing. South Australia produces half of all of Aus’s wines, that’s a fucking lot of vino, more than a good week’s worth for me. The coach driver had a great spiel, and was a wealth of information.
We stopped first at the Wolf Blass vineyard, got a reasonable little lecture on wine appreciation from the vineyard guide, and sampled their wares. For a small fee we also got to try; Wolf Blass “Black Label Cabernet Savignon/Shiraz/Malbec” 2006 ($130.00 bottle) Wolf Blass “Platinum Label Shiraz” 2007 ($169.00 bottle). LeeAnne took my wallet off me. We ate at the next place Kaesler Winery, the grub wasn’t all that great, but we enjoyed chatting with a strange American woman and a Kiwi couple who were also on the tour. We made our excuses shortly, and thus were first into the tasting room.
Here, as we were the first in, we had the place virtually to ourselves, neato! We were plied with VERY generous helpings of wine by Julie, our host. (She was so much fun, and such a kind person I wrote to the vineyard owners on our return thanking them and praising her, I got a nice mail back too.) She was a hoot, and made us very enamoured of the place and its products, or maybe that was just the large measures of the “samples” she poured us. So enamoured that we ordered a case of their wines to be delivered back to us in Canberra. 
They had a wine there, “Old Bastard”, with a label designed by none other than Ralph Steadman. 
We got a free sample of it from Julie, ooh it were nice, nice , nice! We got it free as they had some promotion thing running on a laptop there, so for a comment and some feedback we got to sample it. Now, what with me being both old, and a bastard (in all the meanings of the term), I was dead keen to get a case, only for laying down you understand. But at $160 a bottle LeeAnne declined the investment. Though she hasn’t, as yet, refused to let me order a bottle for my next birthday. The tour next took us to Handorf, Australia’s oldest surviving German village.
A strange claim to fame. But the place is famous in Aus for its sausage manufacturing (gee, handy for me!) and it’s German hotel and hospitality. Truth be told it was ok in a sort of “Totnes” sort of way, if a bit of a tourist trap. I don’t think I got the full “Handorf experience” as I was still a bit muzzy from Julie’s generous sized tasters. Afternoon drinking is something I rarely do, only at Cricket matches usually, and even then I try to pace myself. But it’s an event that could become a habit if not watched. One to save for when I’m retired I think. The day rounded off with a drive around the area. Oh, and I soon realised I’ve now seen enough vines to last a lifetime. Jacob’s Creek alone has 50,000 acres of them here, there is only so much entertainment value in looking at regimented rows of vines.
Now then, I’m not one to complain, much, but on this trip were two Indian women, with two Indian kids. The kids did nothing but whine, the women drank no wine, and seemed totally indifferent to the vineyard visits. The kids wrote some stupid comments at Wolf Blass, complaining the place was a dump (it was a new and very well presented tasting room) and informing us that “You are all very stupid, you should not drink wine it’s bad for you! Do you not know what you are doing to yourselves!” This so incensed LeeAnne that she tore it up in front of them, which is most unlike her. We could only imagine that they’d booked themselves on a winery tour in error.
We hired a car for the last day, a nice little “Getz”. Our plan was to go hiking and touring in the hills around Adelaide and to visit some of the scenic towns there. We got off to a great start on Mt Lofty, as they had a cafe there which did us a tea toast and scrambled eggs to fill us up and fuel us up for the day. The views down over the city were magnificent.We knocked off a short trail there just to warm up. This was a bit pointless as it went nowhere and wasn’t that scenic, but it did get us warmed up. In fact as the day was going to hit 39 degrees (102 f) warming up should have been the last thing on our mind.
So we drove off from there looking for another venue. We were driving along a windy hill road, very scenic, when LeeAnne screamed loudly. Now fortunately, I’m quite used to this, though this was a particularly loud scream. LeeAnne’s screams are normally followed by; “Did you not see/just hit/run over that old person/truck/gorge/policeman?!?!” So I turned to look at what had caused her to scream so, and screamed myself! This little beauty had run up the passenger side window. Wonderfully sunlit from behind, glowing in effect. 
We came very close to having to pay to get the car seats dry cleaned. It was a fully grown huntsman, about 6 inches in span. (For an idea of scale, those red heater stripes on the car rear window are about 1 1/2 inches apart.) My heart didn’t slow down to under 120 bpm until I realised it was on the outside of the car. Such a beauty when you are safe from them. We’ve currently got one living in our hall, it’s to big to ask to leave. I eventually managed to sweep that one off the car roof using my camera strap. We drove off to some place which had been recommended to us, which was so boring I’ve even forgotten its name. We had a change of plan, and headed off to do a walk at the Morialta Waterfalls. We had a slight diversion before getting there, as our GPS was talking us to Morialta Falls road, which is nowhere near the falls, but is very near central Adelaide. We got there and chose to do the “2 falls” walk. this promised us a gentle 2 1/2 hour walk on which we would see two falls, and innumerable scenic delights. We had a small water bottle with us, and luckily the toilets were open for us to top it up, (from a tap, honestly!) We set off, the day got hotter.
The views were fine, looking down over the city from the top of the cliffs was spectacular. 
But it was so bloody hot we started melting. The path, which seemed to head uphill it’s entire length, was festooned with wildflowers and butterflies, small skinks darted out t look at us. The signposting was rubbish, we got lost so many times I think we doubled our journey. Oh, and when we eventfully found the falls, at the mid point of the walk, they were dry. Which sort of defeats the object of visiting a waterfall, in fact that’s what we call visiting a “slightly damp cliff.” Totally dehydrated, we hit the car park just before hyperthermia set in. We decided to hit Handorf again, but we were so dehydrated we sat in the pub there, amongst this wealth of German ales and brews, and demolished a gallon (or so it seemed) of soda water. I nearly wept, all these class German ales on offer, and not only am I driving, but I’m so dehydrated I don’t dare touch a drop..
That night, our last one in Adelaide, we spent in Glenelg, we found this place. It was fantastic. The best pizzas I’ve eaten outside of our homemade ones. We got a direct flight back, no change at Melbourne this time, and I got a window seat, and we didn’t fly over the floods again. I think they did it to annoy me. So that’s it for this month, I know I’ve rambled on a bit, but it keeps me amused and off the streets, so fuck it. Oh, we’re off to see the Big Yin tonight, he’s playing the local entertainment centre, best seats in the house too.
Catch you next month. Write a response. Go on. Keep me happy.
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