ianbee: this is instead of getting a dog

Best choir in the continent

According to the trophy we took home after the the grand final of the Sydney Eisteddfod last night, apparently I sing in the best choir in Australasia. (A dictionary definition says that includes New Zealand and Papua New Guinea!) We beat all the church choirs and chamber choirs and school choirs and male-voice choirs and sparkly-lady choirs by singing a Stevie Wonder song and a Dusty Springfield song. The judges said we were the choir they would most like to hear a whole concert of. So what are you doing on friday ...?

Stage invasion

I went to see Ladysmith Black Mambazo last night. They were wonderful, a beautiful blend of sound that starts in the chest and ends up in the head and makes you think that everything will be alright.

I cynically thought their might be some sort of South African LMB franchise system, but no, it was the original guy who worked with Paul Simon twenty-four years ago and founded the group forty-eight years ago. That's a long career!

At the interval (chocolate cornetto, mmm) the friends I was with said that if they called people onto the stage they would definitely go. There's no way they'll call people onto the stage, I thought. I was more dreading the bit in gigs when the band get the audience to sing. It usually starts with them announcing that it's "your turn now!" No it's not, I think. We're paying you. I get to listen, you get to play.

Sure enough, after the interval LMB made us sing in a 'competition' with their choir. 'You won', one of them said. 'That's not fair', another said, 'they have women'. 'Well maybe we should have some of their women come and join us?'

Bad mistake.

Two of my friends jumped up like they'd had an electric shock and started running towards the stage. From the very last row in the stalls. Running, and waving their arms in the air. (In the post incident debrief they were not able to explain adequately why they were waving their arms.) LMB remained frozen on stage as two tall Australian women bore down on them and lept up alongside. It must have been terrifying.

It became obvious that LMB had only intented the statement as a hypothetical 'what-if?' and never expected anyone to see it as an actual invitation. After a whispered word in their ear from one of Africa's most famous musical heros they made their way back to their seats, simultaneously deflated and triumphant.

Toughen Up, Princess

I was just wondering if anyone knew what the Latin translation of "Toughen Up, Princess" might be.

No reason.

Carry on...

Lagoon Opening Prohibited

I went for a short walk earlier this week along the cliffs not far from home. I was with a friend who was able to point out several small scuff marks in the dirt and confidently proclaim that they were "surely the work of bandicoots". I wish I knew things like that.

At several points along the way I was reminded of the Australian's love of obscure signage.

This 'man falling off cliff' sign is brilliant! Although am I the only one whose suspicious mind tries to interpret the smudge to his left as someone giving him a shove?

And the blue sign below makes this walk a great location for nervous romantic encounters; "Well the sign does say we should hold hands ..."

Context is important for the following sign. Whilst the picture shows a man with a spade confidently digging away, anyone actually standing in front of the sign would see that opening the lagoon would take a weeks hard work with a mechanical excavator. Someone would probably notice before then.

Brian Eno

Brian Eno's in town. He brought with him some paintings to project onto the Opera House. He also brought Jon Hopkins with him, who put on a good show, lots of deep bass, although the accompanying visuals were like watching an hour-long Itchy and Scratchy cartoon. But the man certainly knows how to make computery music, although the consequences are that he looks as if he could do with a good feed and some sunlight.

Just round the corner, someone set fire to a boat. Three times a night, all weekend. It was pretty cool; it rose out of the harbour, almost three stories high, caught fire and then sank again out of sight. I think there might have been a story, or a message, but it was lost on me. I just liked the catching-fire bit.

More about the ducks ...

Dear Sydney Aquarium,
I was interested in the ducks in the southern rivers tank. How do they get in and out, or do they live in the tank all the time? Do they ever get to fly?

ian (34)*

Dear  Ian,

Thankyou for your feedback regarding our displays.

The ducks which you refer to are Chestnut Teals (Anas castanea). Like most waterbirds, in the wild they suffer from a vast array of threats: wetland modifications, increased salinity, grazing, clearing and burning. In coastal areas, their preferred estuary and inlet habitats are threatened by increased development. In areas where hunting is permitted, they are widely hunted and the introduced Fox is also a major problem as they predate on adults, young and eggs alike.

At the Sydney Aquarium we have provided our 2 specimens with a climate controlled mixed species display that mimics their natural environment. A specialized lighting control system gradually ramps the light intensity up and then back down over the course of a day. Additional ultraviolet light is also provided to cater for their needs and that of the reptiles with which they share their exhibit. In terms of diet, they are provided with a premium array of seed mix, insects and vegetation.

The 2 ducks which we selected were chosen owing to their suitability for display to the public. They were transferred from another institution where they were raised in captivity and are anatomically incapable of flight. The standards for exhibiting animals in NSW are regulated by the Director General, NSW Department of Primary Industries ... [blah. blah, edited for length]

Thankyou again for your feedback

Kind Regards,

____ - Curatorial Manager

*I wrote my age because I filled in a form on their website designed for children to ask questions and I didn't want to appear creepy by pretending to be a child!

The Queen and the Soldier

Hey, I need your help. I have been sucked into an argument regarding the 80s pop/country classic "The Queen and the Soldier" by Suzanne Vega (she lives on the second floor).

Read the lyrics, or better still listen to the song, and come back to me.

Ready? Good song isn't it? Well the way I've been interpreting the second to last verse is that the soldier popped out for a minute and the Queen arranged for someone to sneak up behind him and whack him on the head. Wow! What a twist! This is the version that male friends seem to connect with. The women tend to prefer a scenario where the soldier wonders off stage and dies in battle, and the Queen is gutted. You may accuse me of pandering to stereotypes but I have honestly found opinion to be exactly split amongst the sexes.

The men point to the "doorstep" bit, and remind everyone that he was standing just outside. The women counter with "in the distance", although the men say that it was the assassin that was far off, not the soldier. I guess the men are used to women saying, "hang on, i'll only be a minute" when they call round. Although admittedly they don't expect it to be the last thing they'll ever hear. We don't know how long that soldier waited on the doorstep, probably ages. Long enough for the assassin to get close enough to hit him anyway. I'm imagining that the women think he got bored and wondered off, back to the very battle he'd just said he wouldn't fight in. So when her hair was ready she opened the door and found he'd gone. I imagine.

What do you think?

Sharks, ducks and dugongs

I had a tourist day and went to Sydney Aquarium recently. My first aquarium visit since I was eight. One of the displays I saw was a big long tank holding fish from one of the Australian river habitats. There was even a weird sort of tortoise with a really long neck. The thing which caught my attention was the two ducks bobbing on the surface. Real mallard-type ducks, not duck-billed-platypuses, just duck-ducks. They just swam around, and occasionally looked underwater at all the fish. You could see their little webbed feet kicking. I put my face as close to the glass as possible, there was a lid on the tank, and lots of lights. I could not see any sort of duck-flap or little duck door. Surely you can't keep a duck in a tank? Surely they need to fly around a bit, or waddle? This bothered me the whole trip, but unlike a zoo you never see an aquarium keeper to ask any questions.

 

Thankfully the ducks were not in the shark tank. They would not have lasted long. Although a bitey death would possibly have been preferable to being forced to listen to the perpetual menacing shark mood-music. They would have been better off in a tank with the Dugongs - huge underwater sea cows who just eat lettuce, 120 heads of lettuce each every day. There was a big commercial kitchen just to chop and prepare lettuce and arrange it into racks so it could be lowered to the bottom for nibbling.

 

Running up a hill

On Sunday I ran in the "Balmoral Burn", a charity race up a hill. It's not a long race, but it is a very steep hill. I entered because it's only round the corner from me and some of the money goes to the place where I work. And because there was a dog race.

It was a proper race! You had a number on your chest, and an electronic tag on your ankle so they could work out your exact time. In training I always had to stop for a breather half way up because just when you are running out of puff, it gets a little bit steeper and this can be the end of even the most hardened athlete (apparently). I figured that adrenaline and cheering crowds would get me through this troublesome bump on the day. It turned out that there wasn't much adrenaline, it was over so quick! I did it in just under two and-a-half minutes. The last thirty seconds of which were very sore. I'm a bit disappointed with my time; I started off too slow, at the back. If I did it again I'd also consider warming up, and not eating an apple shortly before.

Watching the wheelchair athletes climb was humbling. They had to zig-zag back and forth across the road. Their arms must have been burning. One guy used his electric wheelchair which, call me cynical, seemed to be more a factor of battery-charge and tire-grip.

Anyway, we're here for the dogs so lets see some photos.