ianbee: this is instead of getting a dog

Flying just below the cloud

Eggs

Eggs in Australia are really little. I don't know why this is, but an extra-large Aussie egg is about equivalent to a medium UK egg. If they saw an extra-large UK egg I reckon I could convince them a dinosaur had laid it.

Still, they do come in nice colours ...

Ninja Tuna

There's a new Mr Scruff album out, called Ninja Tuna. This Manchester based hip hop/jazz/soul DJ sits squarely in the 'quirky' niche, but sits so comfortably that you end up asking him if he'll budge up on the sofa so you can join him. His new video features fruit bouncing around the streets of Manchester. The city is grey and damp and the fruit is slightly bruised, but it's a great antidote to the sun-soaked beach promos that many bands feel the need to provide. Check out the grapes on the mixing desk too ...

If you enjoyed that, check out some of his older videos, in particular Sweet Smoke and Honeydew. The cartoons ('potato style') are all drawn by the man himself. I really appreciate the attention to detail - the bus that goes past with the advert "remember to insulate your loft" in particular!

Which other DJ do you know that has his own brand of tea?

Planes, trams and trains

I went to Melbourne the other week, as I mentioned before. Melbourne has trams, which are great for getting from A to B, but you take your life in your hands when you get off them. This is because the trams run down the middle of the road, there is no real 'tram stop' as such, and the cars whizz up and down between where you stand, completely unprotected, and the pavement. My local friend claimed that she'd had her life saved three times by total strangers who pulled her back from the path of traffic when getting of trams. It seems to be a good city for heroes.

I went to see Tim Fynn from Crowded House (below). He was really grumpy. He was supported by Katie Steele, who's like an Australian KT Tunstall and was a breath of fresh air. She was performing solo but played new material destined for her band. This meant that there were long strummy bits where she'd lean into the mike and explain that the backing singers would come in there, or a guitar solo would unltimately fill that gap. Cute!

I decided to get the train back to Sydney, partly as an opportunity to see a bit of countryside, and party to alleviate my carbon guilt. The twelve hour journey seemed like a long time when I booked the ticket, but it went pretty quickly although it was long enough to have a little tidy half way through, sweep my seat of crumbs and make a trip to the bin. It certainly wasn't a time saving trip, although I got a lot done on the train I spent the whole of the previous day wondering around Melbourne worried about what I was going to eat. If you are curious about who gets the train from Melbourne to Sydney it tends to be people who aren't able to fly - usually heavily pregnant women, families with more than four kids, old ladies with more than four bags and pretty much anyone with a dog. Ironically I got back to Sydney and went into work the next day only to be sent immediately back to Melbourne by plane.

I've got a great story to tell about the journey to Melbourne but it's just too long to write down, and you really need all the arm movements and exagerated facial expressions that go with it. It starts in Sydney with an editor from the Guardian and ends with me almost accidentally abducting a child in Melbourne airport. If you want to hear it you'd better just ask.

Groovy glasses

A friend at work was heading to India for a well earned holiday. He asked me if there was anything he could bring back for me. I asked him to bring me back a pair of glasses. This was a good idea, because glasses in India are really really cheap when compared to Australia or the UK. I could get several pairs of glasses for the price of one British pair. I could have a work pair, a party pair, a serious pair and a frivolous pair. I could have a pair for going to the shops and a pair for coming back from the shops. I could have a pair especially for taking off when i have a serious point to make.

So I gave him my prescription and my trust. Actually, I gave him the prescription and his wife the trust. I also sent out an email to some select friends hunting for some potential glasses ideas, asking them to trawl the internet and the high street and send me photos of the most suitable. Please understand, I didn't make it a global blog appeal as I didn't want to end up swamped under a flood of "Dame Edna" specs. As it happened, within twenty-four hours I was swamped under a flood of "Dame Edna" specs. Thanks guys.

So he's back, and has done his shopping - two pairs no less! And here are the results ... both pretty cool! I think the top pair is for work and the bottom pair is for taking off and leaving places by accident.

Gored by a giraffe

I went to the zoo last week. The plan was to only look at animals that were "bigger than a person". We felt that time spent looking at shrews and bats would be time wasted. There were, however, many moments where we found ourselves starring at a muddy puddle wondering if there was anything in it.

The giraffes were great, and as you can see, they had the best views. I saw a comedian in Melbourne who said that giraffes are one of the only animals to have furry horns. If you ever get gored by a giraffe, your instinctive reaction is to say, "Oooh, lovely, a little bit lower ... ah, that's the spot."

The lions were the sadest creatures in the zoo. One lioness stood in her enclosure, defiant and beautiful, as the chimps (me included) flashed their cameras at her. We wanted her to roar and prowl, but I feel that she rose above the circus and was the only animal in the room to leave with her dignity intact.

Locked out

A friend from Edinburgh came to visit at the weekend. Since I was going to be at work I removed my spare set of keys from their clever outdoor hiding place and let him borrow them so he could let himself in. There was a jovial discussion about what would happen if I locked myself out on the one day I didn't have my emergency keys. Don't worry, it could never happen, I'll be extra careful. Ho ho ho.

Sunday morning dawned, bright and sunny. I made a cup of tea and took it outside to sit in the warmth. I locked the door behind me. Clunk. After my tea, I went back up the stairs and had that kind of sick, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was locked out. With no emergency keys.

Being locked out is a great way to meet your neighbours. I spent the next hour procuring ladders (too short), ringing letting agents (no answer), shoving credit cards down the door seal (wishful thinking) and drinking more tea. I even had an invitation for lunch. Trouble was, I was meant to be at work soon. There was no real need to break the door down as there was no starving baby or pregnant dog inside and my guest would be arriving in the evening, with keys. So I went to work, dressed in tracky bottoms and flip-flops.

Someone at work managed to rustle up what passed for a uniform - I had to wear new boots and shiny trousers that were designed for size comparisons (no pockets!). One of the doctors brought me in socks, a nurse lent me a calculator. It was okay, disaster avoided. Everyone laughed. My friend arrived and let me in. Phew.

Two days later I was sitting on the step outside my flat in my uniform looking harassed (another story) and making a few phone calls. (I didn't want to wake up my guest who was still sleeping). A neighbour appeared and hovered around. When I hung up she said "Look, if you're still locked out you can come and stay with us if you want".

Thumped by the canal

I finished the new Ian Rankin novel the other day. Doors Open is his first non-Rebus book but he continues to portray the grimy criminal underside of Edinburgh with relish. I was enjoying it right up to the bit where someone gets mugged outside my flat at the end of the canal. But it was a targeted hit, so I'm probably safe.

Aaargh I'm so far behind!

Here's a couple of pictures my friend took during my Tasmania trip.

She's an artist and it shows.

Compare them to my most arty photo ...

 

Obamabag - Election (3)

I am writing this whilst sitting in Federation Square, Melbourne. There is a big screen on the side of a building showing CNN and a small but keen crowd are watching the American presidential election results unfold. It's a sunny afternoon and we are all excited.

Earlier I went to the Custom Crumpler store in Fitzroy to pick up my new bag. It was designed by Ellise (pictured) and stiched by Clea and Linda. It is great, it's got little planes and a cloud on the front - it's going to be my transport nurse bag. And it's my birthday present from my parents - thank you very much Mum and Dad! I am so pleased with it.

I am listening to President Obama give his acceptance speech. I am holding my bag. The bag symbolises a new start, an exciting adventure and a historic victory.

I shall call it my Obamabag.