On being a grown-up
I frequently feel old – when I have to go to sleep early, or I worry about cleaning and shopping, or I get cranky at my students. Feeling grown-up, though, is something different – something delightful. For me, it’s a feeling of inclusion in the adult world – where I don’t always feel like I fit! – of being privy to adult secrets and rituals. The other night, I went to a lecture at Melbourne Uni (which I will blog about soon). And I got to feel like a grown-up, courtesy of two dear (and very different) men. One was my history method tutor during my Dip Ed: an enthusiastic, vibrant, history-loving inspiration. The other was my Honours supervisor, with whom I had also done a number of subjects during undergrad. Despite some, let us say, philosophical differences (he’s very anti-Christian), we always got on well, and he kept on pushing and pushing me (in a good way). At any rate, both were there (and they know each other – my supervisor was my tutor’s PhD supervisor…), and both were pleased to see me. The delight when I mentioned that I would be joining the Classics Association was ridiculous! (Until I looked around and realised what I would do to the median age of the members….) And… well, it was just really nice to feel like I was accepted into their group: I wasn’t an undergrad, nor a precocious child, but an equal.
It really made my day. Week, even.
Tennis tennis tennis!
We didn’t go this year, but the few years before that the Ma and I have attended the Aus Open for a couple of days… and wondered why we didn’t start doing it much earlier. We’re going this coming January – very exciting! Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday of the first week, couple of days at Vodafone and one at Rod Laver. Very cool!!
My question, though, is this: I opted for the email option, where they send you a PDF and you print out your ticket. And… on top of the price of the ticket… you still have to pay an extra $4.95! for the privilege of using your own paper and ink! Grrr.
Birthdays
Today I am 28. Not a particularly remarkable age, and I know it’s not really that old. Still, it has made me a little reflective.
I have been:
a teacher for nearly 4 years
a home owner for almost exactly 4 years
married for 5.5 years
fatherless for 7 years
in Melbourne, and therefore out of home (Darwin at the time) for nearly 11 years
out of high school for 11 years
a Christian for 11.5 years
a sister to my sister for 21 years
a sister to my brother for 26 years
a daughter for 28 years (well, ex utero anyway…)
There are also numerous friendships thrown in there, too, naturally… the longest standing continuous one is with the wonderful Bianca: we date back to when our sisters were in creche, so maybe 18 years? Something like that. She’s the one who sent me a birthday present back in August. Ha bloody ha, I said, and promptly hung the darn thing from the rafters so I wouldn’t forget it.
The list isn’t that long compared to some, but still a fairly good tally I think.
I know how they make Flakes
… and it’s one of my more momentous discoveries of recent times.
So it seems that chocolate that reaches its expiry date gets sent back to the manufacturer. Fine. It gets melted down. OK….
And then it gets re-used.
The highest cocoa-percentage dark chocolate has not had this treatment. But milk chocolate is, at least partly, dark chocolate that has been melted down, the other bits sieved out, and then… turned into different chocolate.
This process gets repeated a few times. Eventually, the chocolate gets to the point where it loses elasticity, it won’t stick together very well, and it’s not even good enough for Easter eggs because it won’t work that thin.
You got it. That’s what gets turned into Flakes. Pretty clever propaganda, and use of resources, eh?
Historical hoarding
I wonder if my adoration of history is related to my incorrigible hoarding. Oh yes, it is incorrigible: those of you at school in Australia in 1988 may remember receiving a dinky commemorative coin for the Bicentennary. I’ve still got mine (primary school, thanks very much). I used it, for some reason, to collect the signatures from some has-been cricketers at an exhibition match in Darwin the same year. I kept my cinema tickets for ages. As if anyone would ever be interested in my ephemera! But then, there are are historians who examine the minutae of everyday life, so – you know …. I, though, am not one of them.
At the same time, I am also a tragic nostalgic: I wish my college friends were all still talking, because I’d love to have a ten-year reunion next year – but it ain’t gonna happen. I love my family history, partly for bragging rights and partly for interest.
I think this might be a bit of a chicken/egg issue. But it is an interesting thing to consider.
Birthday present
I got one last week.
My birthday is in October.
This present is from the same lovely friend who once told me in April that she knew what she was getting me for my birthday. So that I don’t forget, it’s currently strung up – literally – and hanging from a rafter in the kitchen.
My favourite part of this whole story is that she’s originally written “warning – birthday present – if opened before Oct 5 will self-destruct.” She’s then reconsidered, realised the Australia we live in, and changed ‘self-destruct’ to ‘be null and void’.
And yes, I have copped a feel of the thing. It’s a book of some sort; has a hard cover; but also has something else in there, which could be part of the front cover – it feels oddly like pipe cleaners. Whatever it is, I know it will be fantastic. B doesn’t give bad presents ever.
Rosbif
Or, without the atrocious French accent, roast beef.
Until Saturday night, I did not like it in the slightest. I think this is because we basically never had it at home, so my few experiences with it have been at average buffets and worse wedding receptions.
But then there was Saturday.
Saturday, we had a party. It was a bit of a fizzer in the afternoon – only a couple of people came by because the weather was icky – but we ended up with 14 for dinner. And J had this brilliant idea that wouldn’t a roast be fun?
3.8kg of beef later, a kilo or more of beans, plus potato and carrot for the mob… I was impressed. And very full, of course. It was fantastic! And there were two pieces left… hello, lunch. So I’m a convert, at home anyway.
Sleeping Beauty
My friend Kate (read her short stories here) told me about this production of Sleeping Beauty at the Malthouse: “it’s got Renee Geyer in it! It’ll be great!” We went along on Tuesday.
It wasn’t at all what I was expecting. It was all music, no dialogue – and all of it was pop songs (some of which, to my shame, I didn’t recognise). Things like “Little Ray of Sunshine,” “Oh Happy Day,” and “Dreamer.” And “All the boys in town,” by the Divinyls, which I heard on the radio a couple of days later and had to turn off… because I am still a bit too traumatised by the performance to be able to hear that song, in particular, without having flashbacks. Because Beauty (played by Alison Bell, brilliant) sang it as a lament, almost (which is entirely appropriate to the words), and it was so sad.
So the performance starts with a mum and dad wanting a daughter… getting one… doting on her and her getting annoyed at the attention.* Then… something happens, and she either goes back in time or to another world. Weird things happen there. Like Geyer singing a song that is either Eminem or 50 Cent, which was perhaps the weirdest thing of a weird night. That, and the anime section in the middle. I don’t know whether it was anime produced for the performance or not – I would guess not, that it was sections from at least one if not multiple pre-existing films, spliced together for this.
The set was sparse, and they used light to brilliant effect. The performances were all magnificent. And the music was great – apparently one of the people involved was from Boom Crash Opera which, you know, just makes it all good from my point of view. It was a breath-taking performance… and I am still not sure what happened at the end.
*This is my interpretation of it. I am perfectly willing to admit that there are aspects that I simply didn’t get, so my putting it together may be faulty.
UK beer… and food
I have been promising myself since, oh, February that I would blog more about my UK trip. I’ve mentioned very little so far… in fact, it feels a little surreal…. Anyway, I thought I’d do a short quirky one: the beer we drank! Since we drank a fair bit – and before you start making quips about being alcoholic, much of the beer there is lower in the alcohol than the beer here in Aus, so it doesn’t compare! Since we stayed mostly in smaller towns, we tried very hard to drink local beers; I went for those with unusual names, as you will see… and I decided that just the beer was really quite boring, so I’ve added in the best food we et too.
Sheffield: Tetley’s for J; Carling for me; an ambrosial Samian dessert wine. Christmas dinner with J’s relatives was totally unforgettable. The turkey!!
Windemere: Boddingtons (and a brilliant Chilean sauv blanc at a Mexican place). Tapas – brilliant. And a nice steak and Guinness pie at the pub.
Dumfries: Deuchars Pale Ale; Stowford Cider (not a fan); Timothy Taylor’s Landlord. Alex discovers that fish and chips and beans means baked beans. Not a lesson to forget. Also smoked haddock and spring onion cakes – very tasty.
York: Copper Dragon. Poached salmon and asparagus; J had venison and cranberry stew! Great Italian.
Llanberis: Bass Ale; Unicorn Best Bitter. A truly heroic Indian banquet at “Spice of Llanberis”.
Abergavenny: Reverend James; Brains’ Smooth; Rhenmeny
Crosley Heath (weirdest place we stayed!!): Henry’s IPA; Doombar Bitter
Oxford: Harp and Caffreys – both not cask, very sad; some Cypriot version of ouzo that tasted like it was mixed with metaxa… whoosh! and something random at The Eagle and Child, famous for bring frequented by Tolkien, Lewis, and other literary types. Magnificent Lebanese; brilliant tapas again.
Cambridge: Abbot’s Ale; mulled wine (from a machine! J will never, ever forgive me for making him order it for me…). Dinner at King’s College, thanks very much Bridget! Tapas, again, and noodles at Dojo’s.
Canterbury: some Kentish beer; Archers’ A Good Tern (truly!). Manoli’s Taverna – stupendous Greek food (apparently, in a building that used to be a stable, at which Ben Jonson apparently stopped!).
London: boring beers I didn’t bother to record. Take-away Indian for a colossal price.
So there you go. More random bits and pieces to follow… that’s a threat…
Are you thinking what I’m thinking, B1?
There’s a new Boeing just been released, the 787.
Airbus released the A380s not that long ago.
Is anyone else out there thinking “it’s time to play chicken!” ?
Randomly Yours, Alex 