ianbee: this is instead of getting a dog

Just another nursing course ...

  

Australia Day

This is a photo of Australia's finest retrieval team watching the Australia Day fireworks in the pouring rain from our helipad. Don't ask me to explain what Australia Day is; it seems to consist of ferry races, barbecues and flip-flop throwing competitions.

Crowd Violence and Crunchie Nut Cornflakes

There's a lot of tennis going on in Australia at the moment. I thought I might have misheard the news when the radio told me about crowd violence at the Australian Open. No, it's true, Australia has tennis hooligans. It's not isolated either, this is the third year in a row there has been crowd trouble! Apparently the fight last week started when a tennis ball was thrown between the groups of supporters ...

Since this is a bits n'pieces post, I should take the opportunity to show you my new cheese grater! I have been trying not to buy things in Australia which I already own in Scotland out of a sense of economy and unnecessary duplication. But after several months of grating cheese with a potato peeler (good for Parmesan, bad for Cheddar) I succumbed to the temptation to upgrade to the World's Best Grater.

 

It has got a big grippy handle (like a spade), a plastic clip-on base so you don't need a bowl, and one transparent side so you can see how much cheese you have grated! It's wonderful :o)

I was genuinely sad to hear that Tony Hart died this week. The gallery music has been stuck in my head for the best part of thirty years. And thank you for Morph.

On a lighter note the temperature hit 41 degrees in Sydney yesterday and my Crunchie Nut Cornflakes fused together into one big solid brick of Crunchie Nut goodness. Mmmmm ...

Not Daniel Craig

I woke up yesterday in the muggy heat to find a text message from a friend who owns a boat. They were anchored at the end of my road (in the sea) and wondered if wanted to swim out and join them for breakfast. I packed some food and my sunglasses into a plastic bag, made it as waterproof as i could and headed out.

After a chilled morning on the harbour they dropped me off near my home. I swam ashore and emerged onto the beach with my T-shirt tan and clutching my supermarket carrier bag sealed with a plastic clip, looking almost completely unlike Daniel Craig in Casino Royale.

Really humid

It was really humid today. I got home and just ran straight into the sea to try and cool off. The last three months have been pretty social with several visitors from home passing through on their holidays. The final friend of the season departed this evening and has left me a bottle of lime shower gel; using it feels just like washing with Opal Fruits. In the evening the temperature in my flat remained stubbornly around 30 degrees. I sat in front of my big fan and watched a DVD about Antarctica to try and keep cool.

The End of the Day

Dawn Chorus

I had a very early start the other day, I got up at 0530 (actually just before) to hear a choir singing on my beach. That's numbingly early.

As it happened I missed the start and had to stand at the back of the crowd, clutching my coffee. I couldn't hear much because they were only singing quiet songs. I don't think the choir expected as many people to turn up. After a while the bobbing kayakers were joined by some swimmers who trod water in the front row.

As the sun rose, the choir worked their way along the beach to entertain the folks at the back. By seven am it was all over and as the promenade thronged with earlybirds wondering where to get breakfast, I headed back home to bed. For another three hours sleep.

Swim Lola Swim

Run Lola Run is one of my favourite films, although I had forgotten how many times people are almost/completely hit by cars in it. It's basically 80 minutes of 15-rated road safety, a 'Tufty Club' for the 1990s.

If you haven't yet seen this film, you should, and I recommend watching it projected onto a screen which is floating in Sydney harbour. Ideally there would be a live improvised soundtrack by The Bays who are standing in a little tent in front of the screen, on a pontoon. As the rain intensifies you are forced to huddle under a shared umbrella with complete strangers. Some of whom are dressed up to look like Lola. That's the way to see it.

If my photoshopped snap (looks good though doesn't it?) is not enough, there are more, drier photos here.

Sydney Festival

The Sydney Festival has begun. It's a bit like the Edinburgh Festival except with more pianos. And it's in actual summer, not pretend Scottish summer.

On Saturday I went along to the opening free outdoor concert. The person who had said they would save the picnic spot with a rug had failed to turn up, and I turned out to be the first one there out of our group. So I had to save a spot for eight people for an hour without a picnic rug. I ended up sitting in the centre of a circle defiantly marked out with tupperware, a cap, a hoodie, my water bottle and a couple of biscuits. It worked okay, although I got strange looks as people stepped awkwardly around my collection of unrelated objects.

The first act was The Cat Empire. I had only discovered them recently; my work secret santa present was their excellent debut albumn. They are a kind-of latin fusion funk spanish but still very Australian band. Most of us had not seen them live, and didn't know what they looked like. When the lead singer walked on Anne Marie thought he looked every inch the rock star. I thought he looked like an architect who had just popped briefly out of the office to do a large open air concert.

Mr Scruff was up next. I didn't pay him much attention as i knew I'd be seeing him again on Monday (as it turned out, in the most refreshing warm evening rain!). His set was accompanied by big video screen projections encouraging us to drink more tea.

Grace Jones was on last. She was bonkers. I only hung around to see just how bonkers. Very. So I left early and caught the third-last ferry home. Which was the perfect choice becuase I got to see the start-of-festival fireworks from the middle of the harbour!

All West Winged Out

Over in Washington, President Barack Obama will be sworn in next week. But President Matt Santos was inaugurated in my living room today. It marked the end of a long and winding television journey and testament as to how long I can spin out watching a whole show for.

Thanks to Kate for introducing me to the series back in London in 2001. Thanks to Craig for drip-feeding me the DVDs up in Edinburgh. So, here in Sydney, eight years later, I watched the final credits roll with misty eyes and a certain sense of loss.

I will miss having to watch the episodes with the subtitles on because they talk too fast. I will miss watching people running down corridors. I will miss the huge quantities of coffee they drank. I will miss Gail the goldfish. I will miss the way Martin Sheen puts on his jacket when he is on a mission. I will miss not knowing who is Larry and who is Ed. I will miss those dramatic secret service moments when they push people out of the way. I will miss going "boo!" when a Republican enters the room (unless it's Vinick or the blond Southern one from series, um, 4ish). I will miss Margaret aligning her pencils. I will miss the buzz when someone says "you're needed in the situation room". I will miss the British ambassador. I will miss the inspiring flashbacks. I will miss everything about Annabeth.

So, what is next? There is room in my life for a major television-watching project. Something to invest in and nurture. Are there any recommendations out there? How do I move on from this long-term relationship?