Back in NZ. Doing Christmas in Dunedin. Cold here. Hail today. Wearing three layers to the shops.
It's great to be back.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Saturday, October 28, 2006
14 Years
My husband and I celebrated our 14th wedding anniversary this week, on Tuesday.
I cooked one of my favourite meals - Surf and Turf - steak, prawns and bernaise sauce. Followed by chocolate mousse with strawberries.
Then the next night, Wednesday, after an evening in the city, he got on a train home without me, and I spent half an hour wandering around Wynyard station looking for him, thinking he'd been bashed and left for dead in the toilets.
After 14 years, you think I would know better. He thought I'd pulled one of my "fuck this, I'm not waiting around" routines, and had got on the soonest train home.
But I didn't did I? No, I waited in the station, for him to come out of the loo. And he didn't. I waited 15 minutes .. thinking maybe he had some kind of serious gastric problem (after all the prawns). So I mustered my courage, shoved my foot in the toilet door and called out his name a few times.
Someone replied with "no Greg in here love" so I went to get the station manager.
Incredibly, there is someone on duty at 10.30pm in Sydney's second busiest train station on a Wednesday night.
I told him I appeared to have misplaced my husband and could he quickly check the toilet for me. Which he did, with remarkable acceptance ... I believe he may have been asked to do this before.
He said "He's not in there love" and when I just kinda stood there, he said it again. "He's not there." Oh. Ok.
So where did he go? The bastard just got on a train, didn't he?
I kept wondering why I wasn't getting mad. I was very cool-chick about the whole thing.
He left me in a CBD railway station at 10.30 at night, wandering around for half an hour, not getting to Strathfield til 11pm, to get a cab home by myself.
And I wasn't really mad.
He rang my phone as soon as he got home - I was still at Central, still half an hour from home.
He was very apologetic.
So you are wondering - why didn't I just call his phone? Good question. I couldn't call his phone. It was in my pocket.
It was in my pocket because he had been at quiz night, had plenty of beers, then was making noises about calling people in New Zealand. With daylight saving, it was about 1am in NZ.
To stop him doing this, I took his phone. This has happened before.
Where I went wrong - was not giving it back BEFORE he went into the men's at Wynyard.
After 14 years, I'm still making these basic errors.
I cooked one of my favourite meals - Surf and Turf - steak, prawns and bernaise sauce. Followed by chocolate mousse with strawberries.
Then the next night, Wednesday, after an evening in the city, he got on a train home without me, and I spent half an hour wandering around Wynyard station looking for him, thinking he'd been bashed and left for dead in the toilets.
After 14 years, you think I would know better. He thought I'd pulled one of my "fuck this, I'm not waiting around" routines, and had got on the soonest train home.
But I didn't did I? No, I waited in the station, for him to come out of the loo. And he didn't. I waited 15 minutes .. thinking maybe he had some kind of serious gastric problem (after all the prawns). So I mustered my courage, shoved my foot in the toilet door and called out his name a few times.
Someone replied with "no Greg in here love" so I went to get the station manager.
Incredibly, there is someone on duty at 10.30pm in Sydney's second busiest train station on a Wednesday night.
I told him I appeared to have misplaced my husband and could he quickly check the toilet for me. Which he did, with remarkable acceptance ... I believe he may have been asked to do this before.
He said "He's not in there love" and when I just kinda stood there, he said it again. "He's not there." Oh. Ok.
So where did he go? The bastard just got on a train, didn't he?
I kept wondering why I wasn't getting mad. I was very cool-chick about the whole thing.
He left me in a CBD railway station at 10.30 at night, wandering around for half an hour, not getting to Strathfield til 11pm, to get a cab home by myself.
And I wasn't really mad.
He rang my phone as soon as he got home - I was still at Central, still half an hour from home.
He was very apologetic.
So you are wondering - why didn't I just call his phone? Good question. I couldn't call his phone. It was in my pocket.
It was in my pocket because he had been at quiz night, had plenty of beers, then was making noises about calling people in New Zealand. With daylight saving, it was about 1am in NZ.
To stop him doing this, I took his phone. This has happened before.
Where I went wrong - was not giving it back BEFORE he went into the men's at Wynyard.
After 14 years, I'm still making these basic errors.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Top Ten Things I Will Miss About Sydney
1. The Pyrmont Growers' Market
The sun, the coffee, the catching up with friends and family. It is a supremely idyllic thing to be able to do in this world, wander around among high quality produce, on a beautiful morning, beside a glistening harbour, with a cappucino.
And I'd like to take this opportunity to say pull-along shopping trolleys, coloured purple, are trendy and very cool.
2. The Weather
Compared to Wellington, NZ, lots of places have great weather, and Sydney is one of them. A bit too hot in summer, not quite cold enough in winter, but generally - fantastic. Today: 24 degrees, fine, calm, again.
3. Pasenella Cheese Shop, Haberfield
Haberfield is the 'real' Leichardt. Both Italian suburbs, but Haberfield doesn't have the flashy restaurant spruikers and the lousy parking. This shop sells the best parmesan in Sydney, and the most amazing caramelised semi-dried tomatoes. I take friends there and make them buy them. Oddly, this is where I was when I heard Steve Irwin had died. So the shop will always be included in my list of 'JFK' moments.
4. Rubbish Collection
Apart from some initial problems figuring out what to do and when, I have come to adore the suburban rubbish collection system. Three big bins, no hassles with buying the right bags and all that other nonsense we have back home. One of the bins is for recycling so you still feel like your doing the right thing. Which the council probably isn't once they get your stuff back to the depot - but well, you tried. They also have 'clean out days' a couple of times a year when you just put all your old junk on the roadside and they take it away. Brilliant.
5. The ABC
The Australian Broadcasting Corporation costs about $700 million to run and is almost entirely non-commercial. I've always been a bit conflicted about taxpayer-funded media because it can have a significant financial impact on commercial media, and it's pretty much always been commercial media that pays the bills in my house. However, since there is nothing I can do about it, I figure it's ok just to enjoy it. In fact, as a taxpayer, it's my investment and I should watch to get my return. I don't think Australians have any idea how lucky they are to have this kind of broadcasting - of course it still has flaws - certainly for the indigenous population, but overall it's just a great big rich helping of untainted media every day, the Belgian chocolate mousse of information and entertainment. Which probably makes Television New Zealand a Kit Kat and Radio New Zealand a carob-topped rice biscuit.
6. The David Jones Food Hall
I hardly venture in there anymore because it's so expensive and I don't have a real job anymore to support my DJ's habit. But I still know it's there and I regularly direct visiting folk to the place. I've been in bigger food markets and probably seen more amazing produce in places like France, and even Melbourne, but for Sydney, this is pretty good. Indulgent. Have a coffee and rub shoulders with the old ladies from the Eastern Suburbs. If you want to go really posh, find the tea rooms upstairs dear, by the men's suits.
7. The Lorikeets Outside My Window
Lorikeets are the most gorgeous pretty little green birds, with blue and red cheeks. They are so pretty. So bright and cheerful. A couple of them like to hang out in the tree right outside the window over my desk. They chirp away to each other and hop around in the bush, and they don't give a damn about me. Nature is so, natural.
8. Umbrellas
Not sure whether this is a plus or a minus. I like being able to use an umbrella here .. which you don't really in Wellington. But on the other hand, I always carry one here, which I don't have to do in Wellington. You learn to keep one close at hand most of the time here after you've been caught in a downpour and have to walk through the streets trying not to look like the last-placed entrant in a wet t-shirt competition.
9. Fruit & Veg
Fresh fruit. Cheap in season, sometimes very cheap. All kinds of vegetables, some that are a mystery. Dozens of different kinds of Chinese cabbage. There are so many different kinds of fruit and vegies available here, our last quiz night used to have a regular “what is this vegetable?” question.
10. Juice & Gluten free beer
They don't really go together except I had to stick to ten, not 11. I guess they are both liquid refreshments. The fresh juice in Sydney is brilliant. Most cafes etc make their own juices. Some of them go in for exotic combos, or let you choose your own. My favourite is watermelon and mint. As for the beer, O'Briens. Very special people. I buy their beer in Manly. Will have to import to NZ.
The sun, the coffee, the catching up with friends and family. It is a supremely idyllic thing to be able to do in this world, wander around among high quality produce, on a beautiful morning, beside a glistening harbour, with a cappucino.
And I'd like to take this opportunity to say pull-along shopping trolleys, coloured purple, are trendy and very cool.
2. The Weather
Compared to Wellington, NZ, lots of places have great weather, and Sydney is one of them. A bit too hot in summer, not quite cold enough in winter, but generally - fantastic. Today: 24 degrees, fine, calm, again.
3. Pasenella Cheese Shop, Haberfield
Haberfield is the 'real' Leichardt. Both Italian suburbs, but Haberfield doesn't have the flashy restaurant spruikers and the lousy parking. This shop sells the best parmesan in Sydney, and the most amazing caramelised semi-dried tomatoes. I take friends there and make them buy them. Oddly, this is where I was when I heard Steve Irwin had died. So the shop will always be included in my list of 'JFK' moments.
4. Rubbish Collection
Apart from some initial problems figuring out what to do and when, I have come to adore the suburban rubbish collection system. Three big bins, no hassles with buying the right bags and all that other nonsense we have back home. One of the bins is for recycling so you still feel like your doing the right thing. Which the council probably isn't once they get your stuff back to the depot - but well, you tried. They also have 'clean out days' a couple of times a year when you just put all your old junk on the roadside and they take it away. Brilliant.
5. The ABC
The Australian Broadcasting Corporation costs about $700 million to run and is almost entirely non-commercial. I've always been a bit conflicted about taxpayer-funded media because it can have a significant financial impact on commercial media, and it's pretty much always been commercial media that pays the bills in my house. However, since there is nothing I can do about it, I figure it's ok just to enjoy it. In fact, as a taxpayer, it's my investment and I should watch to get my return. I don't think Australians have any idea how lucky they are to have this kind of broadcasting - of course it still has flaws - certainly for the indigenous population, but overall it's just a great big rich helping of untainted media every day, the Belgian chocolate mousse of information and entertainment. Which probably makes Television New Zealand a Kit Kat and Radio New Zealand a carob-topped rice biscuit.
6. The David Jones Food Hall
I hardly venture in there anymore because it's so expensive and I don't have a real job anymore to support my DJ's habit. But I still know it's there and I regularly direct visiting folk to the place. I've been in bigger food markets and probably seen more amazing produce in places like France, and even Melbourne, but for Sydney, this is pretty good. Indulgent. Have a coffee and rub shoulders with the old ladies from the Eastern Suburbs. If you want to go really posh, find the tea rooms upstairs dear, by the men's suits.
7. The Lorikeets Outside My Window
Lorikeets are the most gorgeous pretty little green birds, with blue and red cheeks. They are so pretty. So bright and cheerful. A couple of them like to hang out in the tree right outside the window over my desk. They chirp away to each other and hop around in the bush, and they don't give a damn about me. Nature is so, natural.
8. Umbrellas
Not sure whether this is a plus or a minus. I like being able to use an umbrella here .. which you don't really in Wellington. But on the other hand, I always carry one here, which I don't have to do in Wellington. You learn to keep one close at hand most of the time here after you've been caught in a downpour and have to walk through the streets trying not to look like the last-placed entrant in a wet t-shirt competition.
9. Fruit & Veg
Fresh fruit. Cheap in season, sometimes very cheap. All kinds of vegetables, some that are a mystery. Dozens of different kinds of Chinese cabbage. There are so many different kinds of fruit and vegies available here, our last quiz night used to have a regular “what is this vegetable?” question.
10. Juice & Gluten free beer
They don't really go together except I had to stick to ten, not 11. I guess they are both liquid refreshments. The fresh juice in Sydney is brilliant. Most cafes etc make their own juices. Some of them go in for exotic combos, or let you choose your own. My favourite is watermelon and mint. As for the beer, O'Briens. Very special people. I buy their beer in Manly. Will have to import to NZ.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
New Blog Link: Sip Slurp Suck
No, not my favourite porn site.
Food writing blog for those who like to feel the tastebuds tingling as you read.
Hmmm .. maybe that does qualify as porn.
Food writing blog for those who like to feel the tastebuds tingling as you read.
Hmmm .. maybe that does qualify as porn.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Hello Wind, Goodbye Tree
Bit of excitement here at the weekend. The wind kicked up Sunday afternoon and suddenly I was feeling all homesick, listening to the sound of branches thrashing against the house and bits of backyard rubbish blowing down the street.
Then things really got interesting ... a crash, a tearing noise and all the lights in the house start flicking on and off. The tv goes 'splut, splut' and disappears. The computer kinda blinked on and off, then just sat there with all the little lights blinking, ominously, as they do.
Obviously I knew the power had gone. I was cool about it til I looked out the window, saw the neighbours gathering to gawk at the tree on the corner, just one house away from us, a big branch down over the power lines. The power pole directly outside our house swaying, the street sign flapping in the wind like a flag.
There were lines dangling everywhere. I had a couple of thoughts - first, this is not my house and we have insured our stuff for a decent sum. Second, houses never catch fire when power poles fall over. Three, can I be electrocuted if a power pole falls on my house? Four, I think I'll get the hell outta here.
I rang my husband - careful not to use the landline because I heard once you shouldn't do that in electrical situations. Asked him what I should do. This alarmed him greatly. He rang the emergency people and I said "I think I'll go out somewhere".
I pull on some decent outside-the-house clothes and swiftly go for the car. I'm driving down the street past all the trees, all the power poles thinking .. hmmm ...maybe it's better to stay near the ones that have already fallen over ...
I make it to the local pub and I calm my nerves. Power poles never fall on pubs. I hear later a man riding a motorbike was killed by a falling tree.
There's no doubt, it was a big wind, even by Wellington standards. But the damage a good wind storm does here is considerable. Stuff just isn't nailed down here like it is at home. Not even the trees seem to put the effort into staying in the ground. Maybe it's something to do with the dryness of the soil. The plants just don't have a decent grip on the land.
Our friends up the street have rescued their tent-like pagola thing from their neighbour's backyard twice. A one and a half metre square tent, manages to escape from a two metre square courtyard, over a metre and a half high fence. The funneled force of the wind just lifts it up and plops it over the fence, with its little pagoda legs waving in the air. The last time, it was even tied down. At least, they thought it was.
Clothes blow off clotheslines cos people don't know how to peg stuff up properly, or insist on hanging stuff out in a windstorm!?
The State Emergency Services people and the power company were great. We had power back again in five hours. In NSW 120,000 houses had power cut that day, three days later 7000 were still waiting to be reconnected.
As I write this I can hear the chainsaws cutting into the tree on our corner. This mighty tree has to go because one branch fell off. It's very sad. They are very protective of trees here in Sydney, but it's just too dangerous to leave it.
Now I can hear the shredder turning it into woodchips. It is a sound more painful than the noise it made when the branch fell on Sunday.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Handy Tip No 2
Secondhand coat shopping.
It only takes one winter for folks from NZ and the UK to get here to Sydney and realise they ain't gonna need all those coats they brought with them anymore.
I got two winter coats dry-cleaned this winter and by the time I went back to pick them up, winter had finished.
This is not the case in Wellington.
So, I'm about to set off on a detailed and thorough investigation of the secondhand clothes shops of Sydney, to find all those lovely coats that the Poms bring here and then flog off because they never want to wear a coat again.
I'm thinking full length leather and plenty of fur. And maybe something in a moleskin.
It only takes one winter for folks from NZ and the UK to get here to Sydney and realise they ain't gonna need all those coats they brought with them anymore.
I got two winter coats dry-cleaned this winter and by the time I went back to pick them up, winter had finished.
This is not the case in Wellington.
So, I'm about to set off on a detailed and thorough investigation of the secondhand clothes shops of Sydney, to find all those lovely coats that the Poms bring here and then flog off because they never want to wear a coat again.
I'm thinking full length leather and plenty of fur. And maybe something in a moleskin.
Handy Tip No 1
Very nice and extremely astute removals person told me last week to buy up Aussie wine before we go to add to our "cellar" (yeah right) and NZ Customs don't charge duty on it, and there are no quantity restrictions.
She said as long as we've owned it for a couple of months, and don't have 20 cases, should be ok.
Very useful tip.
Have since found man on eBay selling 5 cases of SA red at a time for about A$150. It has no label, so you have to guess if you've opened a shiraz or a merlot. Like you can tell the difference anyway.
As long as no one in NZ Customs finds this blog before Christmas, I should be sweet.
She said as long as we've owned it for a couple of months, and don't have 20 cases, should be ok.
Very useful tip.
Have since found man on eBay selling 5 cases of SA red at a time for about A$150. It has no label, so you have to guess if you've opened a shiraz or a merlot. Like you can tell the difference anyway.
As long as no one in NZ Customs finds this blog before Christmas, I should be sweet.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Countdown Starts
Time to go!
We are off back to NZ. End of the year - 13 weeks.
Damn it, I haven't seen as much of the place as I said I would.
I've been to Terrigal but I haven't been to Darwin.
I've been to Woy Woy but I haven't been to Alice Springs.
Shit I haven't even been to Adelaide. Or Tasmania. Or Lizard Island. http://www.lizardisland.com.au/
Actually Lizard Island is a bit pricey - probably won't be getting there any time soon.
Will I be sorry to go?
Ah, no, not really. There's way to many Australians living here.
We are off back to NZ. End of the year - 13 weeks.
Damn it, I haven't seen as much of the place as I said I would.
I've been to Terrigal but I haven't been to Darwin.
I've been to Woy Woy but I haven't been to Alice Springs.
Shit I haven't even been to Adelaide. Or Tasmania. Or Lizard Island. http://www.lizardisland.com.au/
Actually Lizard Island is a bit pricey - probably won't be getting there any time soon.
Will I be sorry to go?
Ah, no, not really. There's way to many Australians living here.
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Meet the Quokkas
I wrote all that stuff about Perth and WA and didn't mention anything about the quokkas!!!
Quokkas live on Rottnest Island, off the coast of Fremantle.
They are small and look like short, chunky wallabies.
The little guy above thought I was going to feed him another wattle gum seed. You are not supposed to feed them, but when the lady taking the "quokka tour" says it's ok ... well, get those gum seeds out.
She had a better trick - getting them to drink water from a bottle cap. The poor little buggers struggle with finding water the whole time (as many Australians do) so they are not going to turn their furry backs on tourists offering capfuls of spring water from the supermarket.
Apparently it is the influence of the tourists on the quokkas' food and water supply that has turned this supposedly nocturnal animal into one you can easily find while strolling around the island.
It is certainly different from the meaning of nocturnal in New Zealand - "animal you will never ever see in daylight in your lifetime in the wild." My husband is more nocturnal than a quokka.
It's the same with the possums here .. or should I say "opossum" (they are only 'possums' in NZ, little furry bastards). I've seen a couple of possums in daylight here, in parks and gardens. They are supposed to be nocturnal too.
I call out to them and say, "you are lucky you are in that tree here in Hyde Park you little furry bastard possum, for in NZ I could shoot you right now and turn you into a keyring." They just sit, staring at you. I don't scare them at all.
I wouldn't ever want a quokka keyring tho. They don't seem to damage the ecosystem on Rottnest Island, it damages them more. A friend told me there have been reports of kids going to the island in the summer to play 'quokka soccer'. Something very bad will happen to those people.
Rottnest is quiet in August, and warm. You could wander off and actually find places where you could just sit and look out at the ocean, no one around you, the footsteps in the sand are yours, the sun slowly setting over the horizon and ... you have about 600 quokka pics on your digital camera.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
The Big State
Now I can say I've been to WA.
Spent four days in Perth last week, which yes .. is in Western Australia .. but given the size of Western Australia, spending four days in Perth means you've seen, well, bugger all of the state really. It's like saying you've been to New Zealand after spending two hours in the transit lounge at Auckland airport.
You can buy a tea towel that has a map of WA on it, with the countries of Japan, Germany and the UK all sitting within its borders, with room to spare. You know Australia is big, right ? Well, WA takes up a third of the Australian continent - with less than a 10th of the population. The population of the state is about two million, and just over half of those people live in Perth.
It feels big. Everything is big. Perth has a big river running through it, called the Swan ... looks like the ocean, or at least Lake Taupo. It's a wide, wide river, miles from one side to the other in some places. It takes an hour to get down the Swan from Perth to the ocean at Fremantle ('Freo'). But only 25 minutes to drive there. The river winds in and out on itself, and is flanked on all sides by marinas and wharves and jetties, with some very tidy real estate sitting up on the banks.
Australia's most expensive home is here ... owned by the family who have the most shares in mining company Rio Tinto. The home is valued at A$60 million. It has a bowling alley and a movie theatre soundproofed with water.
I loved it. It's not like Sydney at all. Perth spreads far and wide because there's plenty of room for everyone ... a little like the way Auckland just spreads in all directions, except Perth has tended to stick to the coast. It goes for miles and miles, along beach after beach.
There's plenty of money here, but it's not flashy like Sydney. A long time ago someone told me "In Australia, when they need more money, they just dig another hole." Western Australia is where they dig the holes.
Businesses do well because the money flows round and round. Everybody earns, buys, earns, buys ... round and round the money goes. But every second car is not a convertible (like Sydney), people travel and have holiday homes, but they drink beer and eat pies.
I've checked and the state's GDP is about US$30 billion. Probably quite a bit more now since the "commodities boom" they all talk about over here. That's the kind of figure that would bring tears to the eyes of Treasury officials in NZ. People in Perth supposedly also earn about the same on average as people in NSW. This makes sense to me, as I see people in NSW struggling on average money to pay enormous mortgages. In Perth they get the same average money, without the enormous mortgage. Sounds like a good deal.
The Perth CBD is surprisingly restrained, the corporate blocks are simple and efficient. The old and historic buildings scattered around are delightful, the old 1830s courthouse still sits in its original gardens.
There are trendy shops, but they are new-looking and confined to small streets and malls. Some of the trendier food places looked really good and the handful of coffees I had were .. actually not too bad.
Perth is often criticised by those from the three larger Australian cities for its lack of nightlife and its tendency to close up shop early. The reason this happens is because everyone is off doing stuff. These people surf, and cycle, and run, and drive, and fish, and garden and build holiday homes and ... when you do all that there's only so much time left for standing around in bars.
It does have a bit of that 'small town' thing going on, which you would just have to do your best to ignore if you lived there. I noticed the "West Australian Club" having a gathering one night - no one got in without a bow tie. No blokes anyway. It's not often you see women wearing what can only be described as "a gown". Not a frock. Not a dress. Not an outfit. A gown.
I have a friend in South Africa who has been talking about moving to Australia for years. Up until last week I'd been recommending Brisbane as the spot she should settle in first. I told her Sydney was too expensive, and just too hard to live in, Melbourne too cold - and that Brisbane would remind her more of Cape Town, her home town. Of course that's all changed now. Now I think Perth is the place to be - although it gets stinking hot in the summer and I think most Kiwis would struggle with that. There are plenty of South Africans and Kiwis already there, so if you are looking for a new home, it would be a place to seriously consider, as long as you don't mind aircon.
You'll see a lot of references to its "Mediterranean climate" and although I haven't actually been to the Mediterranean, somehow it just doesn't feel like the right description. Does the Mediterranean have strong coastal sea breezes? Perth gets a good strong sea breeze blowing in off the Indian ocean, and Fremantle is well and truly exposed to some very blustery conditions - the day I was there reminded me of Wellington. That ain't Mediterranean.
The really interesting thing about Perth, and WA, is its distance from everywhere else. Perth is closer to Singapore and Jakarta than it is to Canberra - the nation's capital. That's weird.
This reminded me of home too. That feeling that you should just get on and do what needs doing, and not worry about the rest of the world too much, because they are miles and miles away. We have that in NZ, and they have it in WA too. I think they always have. I'm reading Henry Lawson's short stories, and he spent a lot of time wandering about NSW and NZ, and he often refers to blokes "heading for Maoriland or Western Australia", as if it was the last resort. Your last chance to find somewhere to make your way in the world. Also the last place anyone would ever look for you.
When a nation, or a state, is built by people with such direction, it must always retain some of that feeling. The tyranny of distance is no tyranny at all. It's the reason we are here. We came for the distance. We love it.
In Perth they start looking at their watches at about 3.30, 4pmish, look around and say "Hey, they've all gone home in Sydney" .. and they head for the bar.
Great people. Smart people. People just getting on with it. Show ponies need not visit.
Spent four days in Perth last week, which yes .. is in Western Australia .. but given the size of Western Australia, spending four days in Perth means you've seen, well, bugger all of the state really. It's like saying you've been to New Zealand after spending two hours in the transit lounge at Auckland airport.
You can buy a tea towel that has a map of WA on it, with the countries of Japan, Germany and the UK all sitting within its borders, with room to spare. You know Australia is big, right ? Well, WA takes up a third of the Australian continent - with less than a 10th of the population. The population of the state is about two million, and just over half of those people live in Perth.
It feels big. Everything is big. Perth has a big river running through it, called the Swan ... looks like the ocean, or at least Lake Taupo. It's a wide, wide river, miles from one side to the other in some places. It takes an hour to get down the Swan from Perth to the ocean at Fremantle ('Freo'). But only 25 minutes to drive there. The river winds in and out on itself, and is flanked on all sides by marinas and wharves and jetties, with some very tidy real estate sitting up on the banks.
Australia's most expensive home is here ... owned by the family who have the most shares in mining company Rio Tinto. The home is valued at A$60 million. It has a bowling alley and a movie theatre soundproofed with water.
I loved it. It's not like Sydney at all. Perth spreads far and wide because there's plenty of room for everyone ... a little like the way Auckland just spreads in all directions, except Perth has tended to stick to the coast. It goes for miles and miles, along beach after beach.
There's plenty of money here, but it's not flashy like Sydney. A long time ago someone told me "In Australia, when they need more money, they just dig another hole." Western Australia is where they dig the holes.
Businesses do well because the money flows round and round. Everybody earns, buys, earns, buys ... round and round the money goes. But every second car is not a convertible (like Sydney), people travel and have holiday homes, but they drink beer and eat pies.
I've checked and the state's GDP is about US$30 billion. Probably quite a bit more now since the "commodities boom" they all talk about over here. That's the kind of figure that would bring tears to the eyes of Treasury officials in NZ. People in Perth supposedly also earn about the same on average as people in NSW. This makes sense to me, as I see people in NSW struggling on average money to pay enormous mortgages. In Perth they get the same average money, without the enormous mortgage. Sounds like a good deal.
The Perth CBD is surprisingly restrained, the corporate blocks are simple and efficient. The old and historic buildings scattered around are delightful, the old 1830s courthouse still sits in its original gardens.
There are trendy shops, but they are new-looking and confined to small streets and malls. Some of the trendier food places looked really good and the handful of coffees I had were .. actually not too bad.
Perth is often criticised by those from the three larger Australian cities for its lack of nightlife and its tendency to close up shop early. The reason this happens is because everyone is off doing stuff. These people surf, and cycle, and run, and drive, and fish, and garden and build holiday homes and ... when you do all that there's only so much time left for standing around in bars.
It does have a bit of that 'small town' thing going on, which you would just have to do your best to ignore if you lived there. I noticed the "West Australian Club" having a gathering one night - no one got in without a bow tie. No blokes anyway. It's not often you see women wearing what can only be described as "a gown". Not a frock. Not a dress. Not an outfit. A gown.
I have a friend in South Africa who has been talking about moving to Australia for years. Up until last week I'd been recommending Brisbane as the spot she should settle in first. I told her Sydney was too expensive, and just too hard to live in, Melbourne too cold - and that Brisbane would remind her more of Cape Town, her home town. Of course that's all changed now. Now I think Perth is the place to be - although it gets stinking hot in the summer and I think most Kiwis would struggle with that. There are plenty of South Africans and Kiwis already there, so if you are looking for a new home, it would be a place to seriously consider, as long as you don't mind aircon.
You'll see a lot of references to its "Mediterranean climate" and although I haven't actually been to the Mediterranean, somehow it just doesn't feel like the right description. Does the Mediterranean have strong coastal sea breezes? Perth gets a good strong sea breeze blowing in off the Indian ocean, and Fremantle is well and truly exposed to some very blustery conditions - the day I was there reminded me of Wellington. That ain't Mediterranean.
The really interesting thing about Perth, and WA, is its distance from everywhere else. Perth is closer to Singapore and Jakarta than it is to Canberra - the nation's capital. That's weird.
This reminded me of home too. That feeling that you should just get on and do what needs doing, and not worry about the rest of the world too much, because they are miles and miles away. We have that in NZ, and they have it in WA too. I think they always have. I'm reading Henry Lawson's short stories, and he spent a lot of time wandering about NSW and NZ, and he often refers to blokes "heading for Maoriland or Western Australia", as if it was the last resort. Your last chance to find somewhere to make your way in the world. Also the last place anyone would ever look for you.
When a nation, or a state, is built by people with such direction, it must always retain some of that feeling. The tyranny of distance is no tyranny at all. It's the reason we are here. We came for the distance. We love it.
In Perth they start looking at their watches at about 3.30, 4pmish, look around and say "Hey, they've all gone home in Sydney" .. and they head for the bar.
Great people. Smart people. People just getting on with it. Show ponies need not visit.
Monday, July 10, 2006
More Favourites
I should have also mentioned in my last post that Stephen Larkham's nickname in rugby circles is 'Bernie', which is a little weird considering the name of this blog. I didn't know that when I named the cat, or the blog.
Poor Steve had a tough day at the office on Saturday night, the All Blacks winning fairly convincingly and they didn't give 'Bernie' much of a chance to shine. In fact they worked pretty hard to keep him out of the play and out of the game. A sensible tactic.
My favourite Kiwi player, Jerry Collins, also had a difficult night as he got caught on camera taking a pee on the field just seconds before the game started. Apparently it was nerves .. when you gotta go, you gotta go ... The camera caught Jerry kneeling down, trying to be discreet! In front of 40,000 people and millions of tv viewers!! Poor Jerry.
We got to the pub early to get a good spot, and I was very surprised at how long it took for the place to fill up. I don't know whether the Australians are all 'sported out' after the World Cup soccer, or whether they just knew this game wasn't going to go their way ... but relatively few of them turned out to watch on the big screens at the Oaks. I've certainly been in much more enthusiastic, larger crowds in that hotel.
We got there early enough to have mussels and 'frites', sitting outside in the courtyard under the big Oak tree, in the warm winter sun. Lovely.
The cat, by the way, was named after Carl Bernstein, of Watergate fame. I got the idea from an episode of Murphy Brown, in which Murphy is trying to decide what to call her new child. She's trying out different names and in this episode, was experimenting with 'Woodward' - obviously referring to Bernstein's colleague Bob Woodward. I didn't think 'Woody' would suit the cat, so went for 'Bernie' instead. Given our household was concerned with journalism, and filled with journalists, most of the time, it seemed appropriate.
It was also not too far away from the dreadful 'Bertie' the woman at the pound had been using, so I figured the cat would not notice or mind too much. The pound lady was a very nice woman but she had an unexplainable fondness for Engelbert Humperdink. Hence Bertie.
Over the years Bernie got a few variations on his name, mostly 'Fat Bern' from my brother and 'Barney' from another friend who just likes to wind me up. It was my brother who took the photo that goes with this blog, and doctored it to include the FALSE measurements.
The speech bubble tho is probably fairly accurate.
Poor Steve had a tough day at the office on Saturday night, the All Blacks winning fairly convincingly and they didn't give 'Bernie' much of a chance to shine. In fact they worked pretty hard to keep him out of the play and out of the game. A sensible tactic.
My favourite Kiwi player, Jerry Collins, also had a difficult night as he got caught on camera taking a pee on the field just seconds before the game started. Apparently it was nerves .. when you gotta go, you gotta go ... The camera caught Jerry kneeling down, trying to be discreet! In front of 40,000 people and millions of tv viewers!! Poor Jerry.
We got to the pub early to get a good spot, and I was very surprised at how long it took for the place to fill up. I don't know whether the Australians are all 'sported out' after the World Cup soccer, or whether they just knew this game wasn't going to go their way ... but relatively few of them turned out to watch on the big screens at the Oaks. I've certainly been in much more enthusiastic, larger crowds in that hotel.
We got there early enough to have mussels and 'frites', sitting outside in the courtyard under the big Oak tree, in the warm winter sun. Lovely.
The cat, by the way, was named after Carl Bernstein, of Watergate fame. I got the idea from an episode of Murphy Brown, in which Murphy is trying to decide what to call her new child. She's trying out different names and in this episode, was experimenting with 'Woodward' - obviously referring to Bernstein's colleague Bob Woodward. I didn't think 'Woody' would suit the cat, so went for 'Bernie' instead. Given our household was concerned with journalism, and filled with journalists, most of the time, it seemed appropriate.
It was also not too far away from the dreadful 'Bertie' the woman at the pound had been using, so I figured the cat would not notice or mind too much. The pound lady was a very nice woman but she had an unexplainable fondness for Engelbert Humperdink. Hence Bertie.
Over the years Bernie got a few variations on his name, mostly 'Fat Bern' from my brother and 'Barney' from another friend who just likes to wind me up. It was my brother who took the photo that goes with this blog, and doctored it to include the FALSE measurements.
The speech bubble tho is probably fairly accurate.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
My Favourite Australians
Today is the day they play the first game of the Tri-Nations series. All Blacks v Wallabies. Rugby union. South Africa make up the rest of the 'tri'. It's going to be great.
As usual, I am wildly confident about the ABs and I know we will win.
This despite the Wallabies having the world's best rugby player in their team, and my favourite Australian, Stephen Larkham. The game changes when he gets the ball. Anything can happen. Kiwis have a grudging respect for this guy, the same way we used to feel about David Campese. Drives us crazy that someone so good should be in another team.
We are going to my favourite Australian pub to watch the game this afternoon. The Oaks in Neutral Bay, northern Sydney, is just a great pub. It's big and it loves sports occasions. It also does very good mussels.
The northern side of Sydney is known as rugby union country, where the rest of the city embraces rugby league. I like that game too, but union is my birthright. Of course, being a girl I can't talk about it much, and even Kiwi blokes think they like it when a girl knows about rugby, but when you start saying things like "we need to concentrate more on getting height in the lineout" ... well, that tends to freak them out a little. My husband challenges the comments I make all the time, but it's only because he doesn't want me going around sounding like an idiot.
I really stirred up trouble the other night by saying I'd learnt a lot about rugby scrums and rules here, because the tv rugby shows we watch here actually take the time to explain some of this stuff. I don't think they do that in NZ - you are expected to be born knowing how a scrum works. To explain it would be belittling your audience. I've been working on writing a Girl's Guide to Test Rugby for years .. so maybe I need to do a section on scrummaging. Fantastic!
The other good thing about northern Sydney is the large numbers of Kiwis living there ... meaning when we go into this pub today (and I'm wearing my ABs shirt already) we will be heavily outnumbered .. but we won't be alone!
The other challenge at The Oaks today will be to get there early enough to get a decent table with a good view of a screen. This will require about three hours of sitting there before the game starts. I'm up for it, just have to go off and motivate a few others now.
Go the ABs.
As usual, I am wildly confident about the ABs and I know we will win.
This despite the Wallabies having the world's best rugby player in their team, and my favourite Australian, Stephen Larkham. The game changes when he gets the ball. Anything can happen. Kiwis have a grudging respect for this guy, the same way we used to feel about David Campese. Drives us crazy that someone so good should be in another team.
We are going to my favourite Australian pub to watch the game this afternoon. The Oaks in Neutral Bay, northern Sydney, is just a great pub. It's big and it loves sports occasions. It also does very good mussels.
The northern side of Sydney is known as rugby union country, where the rest of the city embraces rugby league. I like that game too, but union is my birthright. Of course, being a girl I can't talk about it much, and even Kiwi blokes think they like it when a girl knows about rugby, but when you start saying things like "we need to concentrate more on getting height in the lineout" ... well, that tends to freak them out a little. My husband challenges the comments I make all the time, but it's only because he doesn't want me going around sounding like an idiot.
I really stirred up trouble the other night by saying I'd learnt a lot about rugby scrums and rules here, because the tv rugby shows we watch here actually take the time to explain some of this stuff. I don't think they do that in NZ - you are expected to be born knowing how a scrum works. To explain it would be belittling your audience. I've been working on writing a Girl's Guide to Test Rugby for years .. so maybe I need to do a section on scrummaging. Fantastic!
The other good thing about northern Sydney is the large numbers of Kiwis living there ... meaning when we go into this pub today (and I'm wearing my ABs shirt already) we will be heavily outnumbered .. but we won't be alone!
The other challenge at The Oaks today will be to get there early enough to get a decent table with a good view of a screen. This will require about three hours of sitting there before the game starts. I'm up for it, just have to go off and motivate a few others now.
Go the ABs.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Sydney's Ugly Mugs
Friends from home have just arrived here in Sydney, found a nice apartment, in a nice building, in a nice part of town.
Moved in their stuff (after of course the standard losing of freight in transit delay) and began the process of settling in. Figured out how the front door buzzer works, set up the clothes rack on the balcony, bought the IKEA sofa and ... cleared out all the former tenant's mail from the mail box.
It is probably relevant to point out these two people are journalists. They have curious minds. So when they found the big yellow folder hanging, half open, out of their letterbox .. well, it was an interest raiser.
It wasn't even specifically addressed to anyone .. so they opened it. As you would.
Well now they are the proud owners of a copy of Sydney's Prostitute Collective's "Ugly Mug List" ... a who's who of the scumbags who are low enough to cause pain, rip off and otherwise abuse Sydney's 'women of the night'.
It's a helluva read.
Obviously this very useful publication is circulated on a regular basis to the women who need to be on the lookout for guys like; "calls himself 'Jacko', 35, of middle Eastern appearance, told worker to get out of the car after the job was done and left her on the side of the highway".
The descriptions are short and .. well .. some are graphic, but at the same time only designed to inform, to help a girl spot a trouble-maker before she gets too badly hurt or .. um .. screwed.
The "UML" also comes with a copy of the PC's latest magazine and that's full of interesting bits and news and advice. What to do when a client leaves a condom in. Where to go to get tax advice. Keep your nailpolish in the fridge.
It has of course crossed the minds of my friends that they might get some late night 'buzzing' on the doorbell that now they can at least explain. But so far it seems the previous tenant has made sure her clients have her forwarding address, shame she forgot about the mail.
Moved in their stuff (after of course the standard losing of freight in transit delay) and began the process of settling in. Figured out how the front door buzzer works, set up the clothes rack on the balcony, bought the IKEA sofa and ... cleared out all the former tenant's mail from the mail box.
It is probably relevant to point out these two people are journalists. They have curious minds. So when they found the big yellow folder hanging, half open, out of their letterbox .. well, it was an interest raiser.
It wasn't even specifically addressed to anyone .. so they opened it. As you would.
Well now they are the proud owners of a copy of Sydney's Prostitute Collective's "Ugly Mug List" ... a who's who of the scumbags who are low enough to cause pain, rip off and otherwise abuse Sydney's 'women of the night'.
It's a helluva read.
Obviously this very useful publication is circulated on a regular basis to the women who need to be on the lookout for guys like; "calls himself 'Jacko', 35, of middle Eastern appearance, told worker to get out of the car after the job was done and left her on the side of the highway".
The descriptions are short and .. well .. some are graphic, but at the same time only designed to inform, to help a girl spot a trouble-maker before she gets too badly hurt or .. um .. screwed.
The "UML" also comes with a copy of the PC's latest magazine and that's full of interesting bits and news and advice. What to do when a client leaves a condom in. Where to go to get tax advice. Keep your nailpolish in the fridge.
It has of course crossed the minds of my friends that they might get some late night 'buzzing' on the doorbell that now they can at least explain. But so far it seems the previous tenant has made sure her clients have her forwarding address, shame she forgot about the mail.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Sydney's Worst Kept Secret
Marquee under construction at the International College of Management, Sydney, on North Head overlooking Manly Beach. Guess who is getting married here this weekend?
The tent has been constructed right up close to the old sandstone building, so the bride and groom can walk undercover from the St Patrick's chapel at the city end of the building through to the reception in the marquee. The tent has been built over the stone entrance steps to the building - something not done on this site before despite the hundreds of weddings they've had here. This means the bride and groom will walk in to the tent at the top of the stone steps, giving a very grand entrance effect! The tent has a balcony built into the end so the guests can appreciate the view.
I wonder how many photographers will spend the night in the bushes, scrambling up the cliff face, in the hope of getting a pricey pic?! I don't think they should bother. There's only one road up the hill to the College and there's plenty of room for a helicopter landing. Have a great day Nic and Keith!
The tent has been constructed right up close to the old sandstone building, so the bride and groom can walk undercover from the St Patrick's chapel at the city end of the building through to the reception in the marquee. The tent has been built over the stone entrance steps to the building - something not done on this site before despite the hundreds of weddings they've had here. This means the bride and groom will walk in to the tent at the top of the stone steps, giving a very grand entrance effect! The tent has a balcony built into the end so the guests can appreciate the view.
I wonder how many photographers will spend the night in the bushes, scrambling up the cliff face, in the hope of getting a pricey pic?! I don't think they should bother. There's only one road up the hill to the College and there's plenty of room for a helicopter landing. Have a great day Nic and Keith!
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
So You Think You Want To Live In Sydney?
A Kiwi friend of mine got back to Sydney last week after a three week trip around NZ's South Island.
She and her Sydneysider-but-born-in-Liverpool-and-will-never-forget-it boyfriend borrowed her parents' motorhome and went for a spin. Apart from dodging other motorhomes, it was a restful, uneventful trip.
At least until they got to Christchurch. In Christchurch my friend 'J' took her man to visit an old school buddy and her bloke. This is a woman who in true Kiwi fashion, doesn't hold back, if she's got something to say, she'll say it.
She started off by asking my friend "so are you guys going to have children here or in Australia?' and the evening just careered along from there, like a motorhome going over the Crown Range.
The bit that really made me laugh out loud was when this woman made a comment assuming my friend J was "rolling in it" in terms of cash. Poor (in more ways than one) J had to try and convince this woman that just because she was living in Sydney, she wasn't fabulously wealthy. J has a respectable job with a respectable large corporate, but she ain't breaking any records for attracting big money, just like 99% of the other people living in this town.
J tried valiantly to tell her friend that Sydneysiders shell out heaps of cash from the moment they swing their legs out of bed in the morning, until the blissful moment usually (unfortunately) much later in the day when they can swing them back in bed again.
This is not a cheap place to live. You don't come here to earn big money, you don't come here to save money. If you want to find somewhere to spend a large amount of cash in a short time, this is the place for you. Even my wealthier friends and family members can have the breath stolen out of their mouths by a bill in a CBD restaurant, or the price of a round of drinks at Darling Harbour.
Of course it all looks fabulous, hip, trendy, everything you could want at your fingertips. Trouble is, you can't have it! More friends arrived last week, these ones are staying for awhile.
Their little eyes were wide and round as we pushed our way on to a bus in George St and struggled down to BBQ King in Haymarket for Sydney's most famous BBQ duck. It's great food. But the service, also famously, is lousy. I think these words had only just left my mouth when one waiter in his haste to throw sizzling prawns on to our table, knocked over a cup and my friend K found herself doused in Chinese tea. This seemed unfortunate, but when it happened AGAIN, to her boyfriend sitting next to her, courtesy of yet another dumping of food .. well as Oscar Wilde would say, once is unfortunate, twice is just plain careless.
At least Chinese tea doesn't stain denim. Of course, this is Sydney, so there was no apology, no discount, no drycleaning, no extra ice cream for dessert. They didn't even bring more tea! That meal, for four of us, cost A$150. No wine, just three beers, a Coke, a couple of entrees and four servings of Chinese food.
Welcome to Sydney! Oh yeah, it's a goldmine!
Speaking of goldmines, everybody's favourite miners, "Todd and Brant" were back on the tele last night. This time at a big flash afternoon tea in Canberra for practically the entire town of Beaconsfield. John H and the boys in Parliament thought they should show their appreciation to the little town that could. It all went horribly wrong for John H and his people when Todd and Brant stood up and said the new industrial relations laws make mines even more dangerous and the laws should be changed. Hmmm, seems John H couldn't have put quite enough effort into getting the boys on side before he let them get in front of a microphone.
Todd and Brant seem to have a real way about them, these two must have spent the entire two weeks they were one kilometre under, sorting out their lines for when they saw sunlight again. They haven't put a foot wrong so far, even when it came out they will get about a million each from the Channel Nine tv deal.
Right now they are off doing tv interviews around the globe and I hope we get to see those interviews here in Australia. These guys are great characters, and the spirit and resolve in their faces harks back to a time most Australians have little or no memory of.
Two honest, straight up guys with an amazing story to tell can do more for the image of a country than any multi-million dollar ad campaign with a slick slogan and a girl in a bikini.
She and her Sydneysider-but-born-in-Liverpool-and-will-never-forget-it boyfriend borrowed her parents' motorhome and went for a spin. Apart from dodging other motorhomes, it was a restful, uneventful trip.
At least until they got to Christchurch. In Christchurch my friend 'J' took her man to visit an old school buddy and her bloke. This is a woman who in true Kiwi fashion, doesn't hold back, if she's got something to say, she'll say it.
She started off by asking my friend "so are you guys going to have children here or in Australia?' and the evening just careered along from there, like a motorhome going over the Crown Range.
The bit that really made me laugh out loud was when this woman made a comment assuming my friend J was "rolling in it" in terms of cash. Poor (in more ways than one) J had to try and convince this woman that just because she was living in Sydney, she wasn't fabulously wealthy. J has a respectable job with a respectable large corporate, but she ain't breaking any records for attracting big money, just like 99% of the other people living in this town.
J tried valiantly to tell her friend that Sydneysiders shell out heaps of cash from the moment they swing their legs out of bed in the morning, until the blissful moment usually (unfortunately) much later in the day when they can swing them back in bed again.
This is not a cheap place to live. You don't come here to earn big money, you don't come here to save money. If you want to find somewhere to spend a large amount of cash in a short time, this is the place for you. Even my wealthier friends and family members can have the breath stolen out of their mouths by a bill in a CBD restaurant, or the price of a round of drinks at Darling Harbour.
Of course it all looks fabulous, hip, trendy, everything you could want at your fingertips. Trouble is, you can't have it! More friends arrived last week, these ones are staying for awhile.
Their little eyes were wide and round as we pushed our way on to a bus in George St and struggled down to BBQ King in Haymarket for Sydney's most famous BBQ duck. It's great food. But the service, also famously, is lousy. I think these words had only just left my mouth when one waiter in his haste to throw sizzling prawns on to our table, knocked over a cup and my friend K found herself doused in Chinese tea. This seemed unfortunate, but when it happened AGAIN, to her boyfriend sitting next to her, courtesy of yet another dumping of food .. well as Oscar Wilde would say, once is unfortunate, twice is just plain careless.
At least Chinese tea doesn't stain denim. Of course, this is Sydney, so there was no apology, no discount, no drycleaning, no extra ice cream for dessert. They didn't even bring more tea! That meal, for four of us, cost A$150. No wine, just three beers, a Coke, a couple of entrees and four servings of Chinese food.
Welcome to Sydney! Oh yeah, it's a goldmine!
Speaking of goldmines, everybody's favourite miners, "Todd and Brant" were back on the tele last night. This time at a big flash afternoon tea in Canberra for practically the entire town of Beaconsfield. John H and the boys in Parliament thought they should show their appreciation to the little town that could. It all went horribly wrong for John H and his people when Todd and Brant stood up and said the new industrial relations laws make mines even more dangerous and the laws should be changed. Hmmm, seems John H couldn't have put quite enough effort into getting the boys on side before he let them get in front of a microphone.
Todd and Brant seem to have a real way about them, these two must have spent the entire two weeks they were one kilometre under, sorting out their lines for when they saw sunlight again. They haven't put a foot wrong so far, even when it came out they will get about a million each from the Channel Nine tv deal.
Right now they are off doing tv interviews around the globe and I hope we get to see those interviews here in Australia. These guys are great characters, and the spirit and resolve in their faces harks back to a time most Australians have little or no memory of.
Two honest, straight up guys with an amazing story to tell can do more for the image of a country than any multi-million dollar ad campaign with a slick slogan and a girl in a bikini.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Teddy bear Collector - Bear No 236
I bought a new bear for my 'sports bear' collection yesterday.
It's the Socceroos World Cup bear, and when you "press here" he waves his arms and sings "ole, ole, ole, ole."
You can tell its an Australian bear cos you have to pull his pants down to switch him on.
It's the Socceroos World Cup bear, and when you "press here" he waves his arms and sings "ole, ole, ole, ole."
You can tell its an Australian bear cos you have to pull his pants down to switch him on.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
It's Not Cold Is It?
I think I'm losing it. I'm losing my cold tolerance. My body thinks 17 degs is a bit chilly.
It's not. I'm going soft here in Sydney where the Asian students wear t-shirts with a scarf as their winter outfit.
Women wear long boots all year round because ... they're not for winter are they? That's not enough time to wear your lovely expensive boots.
And you see people with gloves on. I still don't really get that. Once again, it's just a case of wearing gloves for the sake of it. Gloves are nice.
This winter does already seem to be colder than the ones we've had in the last couple of years. There's a lot less rain too. I'm back recycling water out of the shower to get my struggling new grass to grow. Real grass. It's green and fluffy and needs plenty of water. That's probably why it died out from chunks of space on our small back lawn. For some reason I've assumed I'm the right person to rectify the lack of grass. It's turned out to be a bit of a struggle. New Zealanders aren't used to struggling to get grass to grow!
To make matters even more confusing this house we live in now, out in the deep dark suburbs, seems to be very good at keeping cool. Too cool. It was warmer outside yesterday then it was in the house, I have to figure out a way to let the warm air in. Opening the windows when the house is already cold seems a total contradiction. But that's the way it works here.
I fear the only way I'll preserve this grass patch is by taking a photo of it and putting it up here on this blog.
It's not. I'm going soft here in Sydney where the Asian students wear t-shirts with a scarf as their winter outfit.
Women wear long boots all year round because ... they're not for winter are they? That's not enough time to wear your lovely expensive boots.
And you see people with gloves on. I still don't really get that. Once again, it's just a case of wearing gloves for the sake of it. Gloves are nice.
This winter does already seem to be colder than the ones we've had in the last couple of years. There's a lot less rain too. I'm back recycling water out of the shower to get my struggling new grass to grow. Real grass. It's green and fluffy and needs plenty of water. That's probably why it died out from chunks of space on our small back lawn. For some reason I've assumed I'm the right person to rectify the lack of grass. It's turned out to be a bit of a struggle. New Zealanders aren't used to struggling to get grass to grow!
To make matters even more confusing this house we live in now, out in the deep dark suburbs, seems to be very good at keeping cool. Too cool. It was warmer outside yesterday then it was in the house, I have to figure out a way to let the warm air in. Opening the windows when the house is already cold seems a total contradiction. But that's the way it works here.
I fear the only way I'll preserve this grass patch is by taking a photo of it and putting it up here on this blog.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Little Pigs Have Flown
I haven't even got to the Show yet and I'm already disappointed - there's no pig diving this year. I missed it last year because of the huge crowds and the year before because it was raining. Pigs don't dive in the rain. The diving board gets too slippery. Truly!
I even called the Show Infoline to double-check on their mysterious absence from this year's show attractions line-up, and was told by a very good natured young man that "the pigs have flown". Ha ha ha. He went on to say maybe they've ended up on a table somewhere!!!! Surely not, such talent shouldn't be ... um .. eaten. They will be missed.
I even called the Show Infoline to double-check on their mysterious absence from this year's show attractions line-up, and was told by a very good natured young man that "the pigs have flown". Ha ha ha. He went on to say maybe they've ended up on a table somewhere!!!! Surely not, such talent shouldn't be ... um .. eaten. They will be missed.
Monday, March 20, 2006
On The Road To Woy Woy
Got in the car, took a mate and went out and discovered the NSW Central Coast at the weekend.
It's great. Beautiful beaches without highrise apartments blocking the sun and carloads of cruisers blocking the streets.
I wanted to get to Woy Woy because it's the little town Spike Milligan's folks fell in love with when they arrived from the UK. It's not hard to see why. They must have truly believed they were in paradise, or at least you could see it from there.
We motored in and around Gosford, Erina, Terrigal, The Entrance and ended up in a pub in Wyong for the night. Then toured back via WW to Sydney. We were really not more than two hours from home the whole time, but it felt much further, because it was so completely different.
Mostly these are beachside towns. There are cute cafes, board shops and homeware stores selling beach toys. Lots of retirement villages. Nice organic honey. We found a fruit winery, and I was thinking 'oh this is going to be bad' but I was proved wrong. So wrong I even bought some. The winemaker was planning a trip to NZ so she ended up with one of my 'Guide Rangi' tour maps written on her desk calendar. I can't help myself. She seemed grateful. Didn't get me a discount tho. I hope there are whales at Kaikoura in May?
Getting in and out of Sydney is a bit of a drag. It's at least an hour from where we are, and would be a whole lot longer from the east of the city. If you time it right, leave really early and come back mid-morning, the traffic's not too bad. Although it helps that it's a) not summer and b) not school holidays and c) the price of petrol is still rising.
If you like self-drive holidays - now is the time to get out there!
Even though you are on the coast, it's easy to turn towards the inland and you'll find yourself in rolling green farmland within minutes of leaving the highway. Fruit stalls, reptile parks and art galleries. There's not much sign of drought here. So different to the NSW central west countryside I saw two weeks ago. It's so dry out there ... they don't talk about it anymore.
We came away saying we will have to go back - always a good sign for any holiday/trip/minibreak. Apparently there is a ferry boat restaurant at WW that takes you out on the estuary, feeds you, gets you pissed and brings you home. Next time we will find it.
Milligan would approve.
It's great. Beautiful beaches without highrise apartments blocking the sun and carloads of cruisers blocking the streets.
I wanted to get to Woy Woy because it's the little town Spike Milligan's folks fell in love with when they arrived from the UK. It's not hard to see why. They must have truly believed they were in paradise, or at least you could see it from there.
We motored in and around Gosford, Erina, Terrigal, The Entrance and ended up in a pub in Wyong for the night. Then toured back via WW to Sydney. We were really not more than two hours from home the whole time, but it felt much further, because it was so completely different.
Mostly these are beachside towns. There are cute cafes, board shops and homeware stores selling beach toys. Lots of retirement villages. Nice organic honey. We found a fruit winery, and I was thinking 'oh this is going to be bad' but I was proved wrong. So wrong I even bought some. The winemaker was planning a trip to NZ so she ended up with one of my 'Guide Rangi' tour maps written on her desk calendar. I can't help myself. She seemed grateful. Didn't get me a discount tho. I hope there are whales at Kaikoura in May?
Getting in and out of Sydney is a bit of a drag. It's at least an hour from where we are, and would be a whole lot longer from the east of the city. If you time it right, leave really early and come back mid-morning, the traffic's not too bad. Although it helps that it's a) not summer and b) not school holidays and c) the price of petrol is still rising.
If you like self-drive holidays - now is the time to get out there!
Even though you are on the coast, it's easy to turn towards the inland and you'll find yourself in rolling green farmland within minutes of leaving the highway. Fruit stalls, reptile parks and art galleries. There's not much sign of drought here. So different to the NSW central west countryside I saw two weeks ago. It's so dry out there ... they don't talk about it anymore.
We came away saying we will have to go back - always a good sign for any holiday/trip/minibreak. Apparently there is a ferry boat restaurant at WW that takes you out on the estuary, feeds you, gets you pissed and brings you home. Next time we will find it.
Milligan would approve.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Car
I bought a car on eBay yesterday.
Turns out that was the easy part. I live in New South Wales, so the whole car-owning thing is taken to heights not even dreamt of by car drivers in NZ, or even car driving regulators.
First there is the "rego". Then the forms. Then the pretty colour-coded 'slips' of various shades. And the insurance.
And of course, the money!
It appears, after only being a car owner for just under 24 hours, that car ownership in NSW is the ultimate blend of scam-encouraging, red tape binding, totally over-regulated, over-priced and over-paperworked inefficiency.
I've often bleated on about Australia's over regulation, and willingness to tax and tax until you can't feel the pain anymore, but this is the worst yet. I must have had some idea in the back of my mind that it would be this bad. That's probably why I've walked, and walked and walked and never taken the car owning step - for three years. That's a lot of walking, on some very warm days. Some very warm train rides and some very long bus rides.
And I was right. Car ownership here is a nightmare. A complex, expensive nightmare and I'm not even going to start on the all the environmental stuff. And the time wasting of sitting in traffic etc. I haven't even experienced that yet, although I did only narrowly avoid a toll road while managing to get lost while driving home from the car seller's place last night.
In the process of transferring ownership from the very nice bloke I've bought the car from, I have to have him sign his original registration document, and I sign it too. Then I take that, and another "change of ownership" form to the Road Transport people. With ID, which has to be a NSW driver licence. I have one of those. So that's three pieces of paper. Then because the car is already registered to June - although I am "re-registering" it in my name, the original rego the previous owner paid is still valid til June. And so is the "green slip" compulsory third party insurance. This is the first of three 'slips' they talk about here.
Don't forget the visit to the RTA involves taking a number like a Chinese restaurant and watching for half an hour while half the people ahead of you give up waiting and leave.
The others are a 'pink' slip which is like the warrant of fitness back home. The previous owner had one of these so I don't need to do that til June either. Then there's another colour, I can't remember which, for any modifications done to the car.
Starting to get confused yet?
As for the money, when I go to transfer the ownership, I have to pay a "stamp duty" which will be 3% of the value of the car. The previous owner told me it is standard practice to lower the agreed price, just for the form, so the new owner pays less stamp duty. Typical, I thought. But I went along with it. I will also have to pay a transfer fee. Of course. So that's at least $200. Just to change the ownership.
Then in June when it is registration time, I will have to get a pink slip from a garage, and a green slip from my insurance company. The green slip is considered to be just your average government cash-grab scam. It's also about $200 and is some kind of government funded insurance for when I run over a pedestrian. It pays the pedestrian's hospital bills. Not mine. Nice.
Finally - I think - there's ordinary old insurance. I went with comprehensive insurance and that's $850 for the year. The area we live in is considered safe so that's helped bring the price down. Usually it's $1000 or more. I also got a slight 10% discount - cos I'm a girl. Don't go thinking they went tough on me because I was a new owner/insurer - they told me they took my NZ driving and insurance history into account.
Everybody knows it's expensive to have a car. I'm not complaining about that. It's just the mind-boggling complicatedness of it all.
I can't help thinking - there must be LOTS of people who just don't bother. The more complicated and expensive the system, the more people who bail out of it altogether.
I used to work with a girl who used to say (in NZ) "your warrant of fitness is due 30 days from the day the cop stops you". And she was right. I hate to think how many people have an attitude like that here, and who could blame them!?
Turns out that was the easy part. I live in New South Wales, so the whole car-owning thing is taken to heights not even dreamt of by car drivers in NZ, or even car driving regulators.
First there is the "rego". Then the forms. Then the pretty colour-coded 'slips' of various shades. And the insurance.
And of course, the money!
It appears, after only being a car owner for just under 24 hours, that car ownership in NSW is the ultimate blend of scam-encouraging, red tape binding, totally over-regulated, over-priced and over-paperworked inefficiency.
I've often bleated on about Australia's over regulation, and willingness to tax and tax until you can't feel the pain anymore, but this is the worst yet. I must have had some idea in the back of my mind that it would be this bad. That's probably why I've walked, and walked and walked and never taken the car owning step - for three years. That's a lot of walking, on some very warm days. Some very warm train rides and some very long bus rides.
And I was right. Car ownership here is a nightmare. A complex, expensive nightmare and I'm not even going to start on the all the environmental stuff. And the time wasting of sitting in traffic etc. I haven't even experienced that yet, although I did only narrowly avoid a toll road while managing to get lost while driving home from the car seller's place last night.
In the process of transferring ownership from the very nice bloke I've bought the car from, I have to have him sign his original registration document, and I sign it too. Then I take that, and another "change of ownership" form to the Road Transport people. With ID, which has to be a NSW driver licence. I have one of those. So that's three pieces of paper. Then because the car is already registered to June - although I am "re-registering" it in my name, the original rego the previous owner paid is still valid til June. And so is the "green slip" compulsory third party insurance. This is the first of three 'slips' they talk about here.
Don't forget the visit to the RTA involves taking a number like a Chinese restaurant and watching for half an hour while half the people ahead of you give up waiting and leave.
The others are a 'pink' slip which is like the warrant of fitness back home. The previous owner had one of these so I don't need to do that til June either. Then there's another colour, I can't remember which, for any modifications done to the car.
Starting to get confused yet?
As for the money, when I go to transfer the ownership, I have to pay a "stamp duty" which will be 3% of the value of the car. The previous owner told me it is standard practice to lower the agreed price, just for the form, so the new owner pays less stamp duty. Typical, I thought. But I went along with it. I will also have to pay a transfer fee. Of course. So that's at least $200. Just to change the ownership.
Then in June when it is registration time, I will have to get a pink slip from a garage, and a green slip from my insurance company. The green slip is considered to be just your average government cash-grab scam. It's also about $200 and is some kind of government funded insurance for when I run over a pedestrian. It pays the pedestrian's hospital bills. Not mine. Nice.
Finally - I think - there's ordinary old insurance. I went with comprehensive insurance and that's $850 for the year. The area we live in is considered safe so that's helped bring the price down. Usually it's $1000 or more. I also got a slight 10% discount - cos I'm a girl. Don't go thinking they went tough on me because I was a new owner/insurer - they told me they took my NZ driving and insurance history into account.
Everybody knows it's expensive to have a car. I'm not complaining about that. It's just the mind-boggling complicatedness of it all.
I can't help thinking - there must be LOTS of people who just don't bother. The more complicated and expensive the system, the more people who bail out of it altogether.
I used to work with a girl who used to say (in NZ) "your warrant of fitness is due 30 days from the day the cop stops you". And she was right. I hate to think how many people have an attitude like that here, and who could blame them!?
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Mozzie Magnet
Okay so I'm not someone who likes bugs.
It's only a couple of blogs back that I went on - at length - about my total dislike of the moth, especially the big brown Sydney variety.
Now I'm on about mozzies. Mosquitos. I've come up against them before, but never like this. In NZ we have sandflies, and they can be pretty sizeable and can slow you down with a decent sized lumpy, itchy bite. But they just don't compare to the Aussie mozzie. These things have staying power, attention to detail and determination that makes the Kiwi sandfly appear only slightly more troubling than a baby lamb. The Sydney mozzies are out to get me. They love me.
I'm scratching right now as I write this. I've suggested to friends I could hire myself out for outdoor parties, to ensure no one else gets bitten. The Mozzie Magnet Girl. A mozzie will fly past six people to get to me. I've seen them do it.
I must be tasty. I've read that scientists know some people are more appealing to mozzies than others, but they don't know why. Where the hell are they wasting medical research money when they could be figuring that one out?! Baldness? The mental health effects of soap operas? People like me are out here really suffering! I have at last count six bites on one leg and four on the other, in various stages of aging. I have four on my back, two on my feet and one on my bum. Don't ask.
Last weekend I'm out in the garden planting a shrub that was a gift, so I had to make an effort, even in the blazing heat. When I get back inside I realise I've been bitten by a mozzie down my back FOUR times. I was wearing a tee-shirt at the time. How did it get me? Did it fly up the sleeve or bite me through the shirt? A couple of weeks back I arrive home, stop at the front door to put the key in the lock, and while I'm standing there for one minute fumbling for my key, I'm bitten twice - once on each ankle. How did they do that?! Do they attack in tandem?
Another time - this week while cooking on the barbeque - I'm bitten on my feet, once on each foot. Not remarkable - except that I was wearing socks! Little bastards.
Thanks to the wonders of the internet I have been able to do a bit of research on this, driven by my husband saying 'do something about it' when I start bleating AGAIN about another bite.
So I found a couple of sites, one that had some really good tips for using natural remedies to either protect against bites, treat bites or even keep the damn things away from your house altogether. It's got a great name: http://www.mosquito-kill-net.com/ and the tagline is "The Buzz Stops Here". In my case I'd prefer 'the itching and scratching stops here' but I suppose that might have given the wrong impression through a search engine.
Anyway this very good US site has some handy hints and makes the useful point that not all treatments and remedies work for everyone the same. A good point to make, as I've been covering myself with commercial DEET type products and it simply doesn't work. Believe it or not I've been using Vicks VapoRub, which I have traumatic childhood memories of, but it works a treat on mozzies. They won't bite you if you smell like a tub of Vicks. Nothing will.
Of course there are places where you just can't go smelling like a tub of Vicks, anywhere outside your own home for example, so I'm going to have to try a few other remedies as a back-up. This site suggests vanilla, rosemary and tea tree oil. Also an essential oils mixture of clove, eucalyptus, geranium, orange, palma rosa, rosemary and sage, which sounds lovely!
The one thing I don't want to do is resort back to using the mosquito coils - the incense-like slow burning chemical pollutant which unfortunately works very very well outside. They are also apparently full of lethal carcinogens and should never be used indoors - which I have done in a night of desperation. Sigh.
I'm also trying to improve my own reflexes - so I can tell when I'm being bitten and I can slap the little bastard flat before he can do any more damage. Trouble with this is I find I'm tending to over-react to any little skin twinge, and that coupled with my bad eyesight, finds me standing outside cooking on the barbeque, slapping away at my own freckles. Needs work.
I'm going to plant rosemary, catnip amd marigolds in my garden and I'll try not to get bitten four times through my shirt this time. I might wear a jersey and a coat. And boots.
The fight goes on.
It's only a couple of blogs back that I went on - at length - about my total dislike of the moth, especially the big brown Sydney variety.
Now I'm on about mozzies. Mosquitos. I've come up against them before, but never like this. In NZ we have sandflies, and they can be pretty sizeable and can slow you down with a decent sized lumpy, itchy bite. But they just don't compare to the Aussie mozzie. These things have staying power, attention to detail and determination that makes the Kiwi sandfly appear only slightly more troubling than a baby lamb. The Sydney mozzies are out to get me. They love me.
I'm scratching right now as I write this. I've suggested to friends I could hire myself out for outdoor parties, to ensure no one else gets bitten. The Mozzie Magnet Girl. A mozzie will fly past six people to get to me. I've seen them do it.
I must be tasty. I've read that scientists know some people are more appealing to mozzies than others, but they don't know why. Where the hell are they wasting medical research money when they could be figuring that one out?! Baldness? The mental health effects of soap operas? People like me are out here really suffering! I have at last count six bites on one leg and four on the other, in various stages of aging. I have four on my back, two on my feet and one on my bum. Don't ask.
Last weekend I'm out in the garden planting a shrub that was a gift, so I had to make an effort, even in the blazing heat. When I get back inside I realise I've been bitten by a mozzie down my back FOUR times. I was wearing a tee-shirt at the time. How did it get me? Did it fly up the sleeve or bite me through the shirt? A couple of weeks back I arrive home, stop at the front door to put the key in the lock, and while I'm standing there for one minute fumbling for my key, I'm bitten twice - once on each ankle. How did they do that?! Do they attack in tandem?
Another time - this week while cooking on the barbeque - I'm bitten on my feet, once on each foot. Not remarkable - except that I was wearing socks! Little bastards.
Thanks to the wonders of the internet I have been able to do a bit of research on this, driven by my husband saying 'do something about it' when I start bleating AGAIN about another bite.
So I found a couple of sites, one that had some really good tips for using natural remedies to either protect against bites, treat bites or even keep the damn things away from your house altogether. It's got a great name: http://www.mosquito-kill-net.com/ and the tagline is "The Buzz Stops Here". In my case I'd prefer 'the itching and scratching stops here' but I suppose that might have given the wrong impression through a search engine.
Anyway this very good US site has some handy hints and makes the useful point that not all treatments and remedies work for everyone the same. A good point to make, as I've been covering myself with commercial DEET type products and it simply doesn't work. Believe it or not I've been using Vicks VapoRub, which I have traumatic childhood memories of, but it works a treat on mozzies. They won't bite you if you smell like a tub of Vicks. Nothing will.
Of course there are places where you just can't go smelling like a tub of Vicks, anywhere outside your own home for example, so I'm going to have to try a few other remedies as a back-up. This site suggests vanilla, rosemary and tea tree oil. Also an essential oils mixture of clove, eucalyptus, geranium, orange, palma rosa, rosemary and sage, which sounds lovely!
The one thing I don't want to do is resort back to using the mosquito coils - the incense-like slow burning chemical pollutant which unfortunately works very very well outside. They are also apparently full of lethal carcinogens and should never be used indoors - which I have done in a night of desperation. Sigh.
I'm also trying to improve my own reflexes - so I can tell when I'm being bitten and I can slap the little bastard flat before he can do any more damage. Trouble with this is I find I'm tending to over-react to any little skin twinge, and that coupled with my bad eyesight, finds me standing outside cooking on the barbeque, slapping away at my own freckles. Needs work.
I'm going to plant rosemary, catnip amd marigolds in my garden and I'll try not to get bitten four times through my shirt this time. I might wear a jersey and a coat. And boots.
The fight goes on.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Mainstream
I popped up in the mainstream media this week - albeit with my name spelt incorrectly. Journos are good like that.
The Sydney Morning Herald has this light-hearted section called "Column 8" which is intended to be for little bits and pieces of general discussion about life, all generated by readers.
I found myself leaping to the keyboard this week to respond to this item:
Column 8, Sydney Morning Herald Tuesday Jan 3"I was browsing through my new 2006 diary," writes Fiona Choy, of Castlecrag, "and noticed that Tuesday, January 3 is marked as 'Day after New Year's Day' in New Zealand. I found it puzzling to say the least." Could it be that the day after the designated New Year's Day holiday, which would have been yesterday, is also a holiday in New Zealand, and thus falls today?"
So they printed my reply in the paper today and here it is online ...
Column 8January 5, 2006
URL: http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2006/01/04/1136050494936.html
And if that doesn't work:
"The Day after New Year's Day (Column 8, Tuesday) is indeed a public holiday in NZ - a much needed and sensible one it is too," writes Kiwi Leigh Catkey, now of Concord West. "Your head's only starting to come right by January 3. I bet I'm not the only Kiwi who arrived in this country, didn't know it wasn't a holiday here, and happily failed to show up for work. Nobody cared, so I reckon it should be a day off here too." This is the most astute thing we've heard a New Zealander say since "Piggy" Muldoon described the exodus of Kiwis to Bondi as having raised the IQ of both countries."
Well - I don't know if being compared to Rob Muldoon is a compliment or not (my Uncle Bill says it is but he's a nice chap) and my husband Greg says it's just as well they spelt my name wrong cos otherwise the company I used to work for would want to be paid back for the day off they paid me for, back in 2004. Now I can say it wasn't me. Obviously they will have to remain unaware of this blog. Which I'm sure they are, as nobody knows about it except that park ranger guy (see previous blog).
They used a bit of literary licence to shorten it ... this is what I sent them:
Yes Fiona, (Column 8 03/01),
"The Day after New Year's Day" is indeed a public holiday in NZ - a much-needed and sensible one it is too. (Yes I am a Kiwi). Your head's only just starting to come right by Jan 3 and another day off means two really decent short weeks if you have to work in between the 'stats' - not just one.
I bet I'm not the only Kiwi who arrived in this country a few years ago, didn't know it WASN'T a holiday here, and happily failed to show up for work on this particular day. Nobody cared. So I reckon it should be a day off here too ..."
This is the second time the SMH has printed something I've written. They are so discerning! It is interesting I get a much bigger kick out of seeing 'opinion' I've written printed than I used to get from seeing news stories I'd written printed. I guess the opinion is me. The 'facts' in a news story were not.
The Sydney Morning Herald has this light-hearted section called "Column 8" which is intended to be for little bits and pieces of general discussion about life, all generated by readers.
I found myself leaping to the keyboard this week to respond to this item:
Column 8, Sydney Morning Herald Tuesday Jan 3"I was browsing through my new 2006 diary," writes Fiona Choy, of Castlecrag, "and noticed that Tuesday, January 3 is marked as 'Day after New Year's Day' in New Zealand. I found it puzzling to say the least." Could it be that the day after the designated New Year's Day holiday, which would have been yesterday, is also a holiday in New Zealand, and thus falls today?"
So they printed my reply in the paper today and here it is online ...
Column 8January 5, 2006
URL: http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2006/01/04/1136050494936.html
And if that doesn't work:
"The Day after New Year's Day (Column 8, Tuesday) is indeed a public holiday in NZ - a much needed and sensible one it is too," writes Kiwi Leigh Catkey, now of Concord West. "Your head's only starting to come right by January 3. I bet I'm not the only Kiwi who arrived in this country, didn't know it wasn't a holiday here, and happily failed to show up for work. Nobody cared, so I reckon it should be a day off here too." This is the most astute thing we've heard a New Zealander say since "Piggy" Muldoon described the exodus of Kiwis to Bondi as having raised the IQ of both countries."
Well - I don't know if being compared to Rob Muldoon is a compliment or not (my Uncle Bill says it is but he's a nice chap) and my husband Greg says it's just as well they spelt my name wrong cos otherwise the company I used to work for would want to be paid back for the day off they paid me for, back in 2004. Now I can say it wasn't me. Obviously they will have to remain unaware of this blog. Which I'm sure they are, as nobody knows about it except that park ranger guy (see previous blog).
They used a bit of literary licence to shorten it ... this is what I sent them:
Yes Fiona, (Column 8 03/01),
"The Day after New Year's Day" is indeed a public holiday in NZ - a much-needed and sensible one it is too. (Yes I am a Kiwi). Your head's only just starting to come right by Jan 3 and another day off means two really decent short weeks if you have to work in between the 'stats' - not just one.
I bet I'm not the only Kiwi who arrived in this country a few years ago, didn't know it WASN'T a holiday here, and happily failed to show up for work on this particular day. Nobody cared. So I reckon it should be a day off here too ..."
This is the second time the SMH has printed something I've written. They are so discerning! It is interesting I get a much bigger kick out of seeing 'opinion' I've written printed than I used to get from seeing news stories I'd written printed. I guess the opinion is me. The 'facts' in a news story were not.
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