ex-hubby takes on the main caregiver role, cooks, walks dog, plays guitar, gives harmonica lessons amongst others to our child etc. while i gad about ..they are leaving together for the democratic republic of brunswick on thursday, and i’ll have another week on my pat - no responsibilities except canine.

saturday:
(no actual footy talk i promise)
old friends and their 2 daughters drive up from the northern ‘gong on sat morn to
watch the AFL Grand Final - i usually try to watch away games with my MATES at the PUB - away from kids and caring (they come to the home games of course) but GF is a family day…. my comments on both games are on the footy thread - but i did think of you Dr Cat….but not much. the 3 girls hang out and do tweeny stuff. nintendo ds games, club penguin, but more ‘old fashioned’ play than not.

indian at the local diner for dinner, the only cheap and decent food in bronte. i kinda like how naff and crap our local shops still are. long may we have naff shops just to keep some trad. surf side culture alive in the east. missed nipper registration day.

sunday:
cemetery, yet more angels, must def. put some work into blog - next logical step stuff..not now

then a very long phone call with deputy principal with whom i’m undertaking a backyard blitz of entire school grounds during these school holidays, with Fed Grant we submitted together, yet more talk about asphalt and rubber softfall and hypar sail shade structures and contractors and council permits and timelines and ……. an unpaid P&C gig.

then off to PUB with MATES to watch the hard-core spectacle that is nrl rugby league . the light heavy-weight division of the football codes - but didnt enjoy the game - hard-core is one thing, violence is another.

i finally left home yesterday arvo (phew - you v. quickly remember why you dont live together) and am staying at a girlfriend’s…….with mummies ‘big helpers’ in both hands : ) and a stunning inner west view of anzac bridge with the harbour bridge directly behind, as i type (on a mac badly)…trying to breathe in between a hundred hastily smoked cigarettes.

nabs,

marriage, you old softy! after cultivating yourself as LP’s resident international playboy and man about town, bon vivant, rake, louche, lover, sex-machine.

and now you tell us, you are trading it all in for a cut-price natasha with 5 burly brothers and grandparents in vladivostok…

it was only a few short weeks ago, that the hive was working on inserting things into your one of your favourite places…..

I’m still waiting for the pictures of Nabakov in leather.

We’ll have to secrete some sort of Emma Peel invented minicam in his bottle of Laphroaig.

sorry darl, but you’re needed here, at least until after election night…. cooling us down in the middle of the night, by hotting the place up. tomcats do their work in the dead of the night…meow.

the campaign is about to take off, the angel donkey’s flight crew are adjusting seat belts, stroke, we all want and need more than a wet washer from a long haul hostie in the real world, stroke….. taxiing to our runway.

permission to fly yet, captain bahnisch?

thank god, someone is reading the manual.

While I was there I discovered the wonder that is Tilley’s Devine Cafe.

Oz, that’s a great joint with a long history. It wasn’t that long ago that males weren’t allowed to go to Tilley’s without female accompaniment. Sadly, they don’t do as much live music as they once did, but it’s still got a lovely relaxed atmosphere.

I spent the weekend watching my footy team get slaughtered and having a migraine (no connection between these two things) so Idol and Fallen Angel were quite good by comparison with the rest of the weekend.

Drove down Beaconsfield Parade and said hi to my favourite yacht on the way back to drive son to work again. Did the ironing. Got fairly upset when the only decent thing on teev in the evening was Oz Idol (the end of Fallen Angel was simply ridiculous, as well as boring). But that’s dieting for you.

Well fuck the lot of you then. Well then I’m off now to Russian military technology chat sites to talk about the Sukhoi Su-35. Piloted by nude women from the Ukraine who want to marry me.

Unsolicted testimonial time.

And flying Emirates for the first time. I heartly recommend them. Fuck Qantas, BA, Air Prance and all those godawful yankee airlines. SIA, Thai Air, Swissair, Lufthansa and Air NZ are good, sometimes very good but Emirates is the best I’ve ever flown since the glory days of Pan Am and UTA.

Particularly liked the nosecam feed to the seat screen during takeoff. Dialed up Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground” through the inflight entertainment system as the A340 started rolling and then sat back making vroom vroom sounds and pretending to shove the throttles forward while watching the runway spool away on the screen in front.

Then once we reached 37,000 feet, a very nice cabin attendent who looked and sounded like Emma Thompson’s cuter younger sister found me a berocca to go with my glass of ok Moet and a very nice lamb ragout while I blearily watched Shrek The Third. In a metal tube travelling at 700 kph in -20C temperatures around sevem miles up, kept aloft only by superheated air generated and manipulated by precision pieces of engineering - all the work of superheated engineers

Yes, I know the whole airport hoo ha is a long, boring, desultory and occasionally humilating experience and long haul in economy is truly dire but I never fail to be exhilarated when a hundred and fifty tons of metal, carbon fibre, copper wiring, silicon, rubber, plastic trim, assorted baggage, several hundred meatbags or so and even more heated trays of one meat and two veg revs up and trundles, rolls, charges down the runway like for bloody minutes, then suddenly lifts its nose and climbs steadily and sturdily like an angel’s donkey. An everyday miracle to quote Clive James.

Anyway, Emirates were damn good. The only airline I’ve ever flown that offered on the inflight entertainment system, “Sunset Boulevard” and “Some Like It Hot.”

I will now return this thread to its upright position.

Oz, Tilley’s is indeed a joy - but make sure you head south of the lake now and then.

Failed, just like the last 1000 nights and 150 weekends, to get any reading or marking done due to rugrat induced exhaustion.

We have a little leftish choir called the Sydney Trade Union Choir. The usual union choir stuff, plus some reincarnations from the 60’s like Teach Your Children ( the Nash from Crosby, Stills & Nash) and another favourite, Nkosi Sikeleli Africa - the ANC’s anthem.
Other Choirs were very good. A really gentle way to start the long weekend.
Of course most of Saturday and Sunday was engaged on blogsites, so must be addicted…now have to help partner in garden…

This was a return to good food, wine and friendship. Had a interstate visitor and went out for beautiful middle eastern food (Zum Zums) followed by a laid back post prandial drink at Geralds Bar. Had an intriguing day on Sunday seeing my city from a different angle. Perhaps it’s time I stopped reading Stella Rimington novels - as I’d swear I saw a spook on every corner!

Also watched the second half of the NRL Grand Final and was amused by the crowd booing John Howard.

Only half way through, but Im starting to think he might be the best novelist Ive ever read. And its not meant to be his best work either. So, I hoarded a few translated works in the Lisbon bookshops, along with an english language anthology of Fernando Pessoa’s writing.

Then again, I just dig Portugal all round. Lusophile from way back, you know.

‘ta baingggg!