A blue day in the mountains

I was reminded by Firehorse's posting that it had been a long time since I last travelled the couple of hours west from where I live in Sydney to visit the Blue Mountains.

These are not mountains in the sense of the Himalayas or the Alps but they certainly are an easily accessible scenic location. Having nothing else organised for today and the weather forecast being promising I drove up to Katoomba, one of the main towns in the vicinity, this morning and then on to nearby Echo Point where the main lookout is located.

Although the day was clear with a cloudless blue sky a haze surrounded the mountains giving them the promised blue hue.


The adjacent three outcrops known as the Three Sisters were in much clearer light and quite a few people were making their way down the track to view them close up. If you click on the photograph you can just make out the walking bridge from the track to the first of the 'sisters' on the left.


I was happy to view from afar. After soaking up the sun and the view I drove on around to Scenic World to see the Cable Car close up...


...and then the Scenic Railway. Being a little whoozy with heights I didn't use either although I probably would have if I had a friend accompanying me to give me courage (and a soothing hug).


As it was I was happy to view the 'sights' beyond the sights such as these two standing on the right...


...and these two on the left...


...not to forget these three...


...and best of all to my taste, this sexy soul who I would happily have stalked all the way around the mountains.

Connected

The new television was connected this morning.

Now...how does it work?

Today I am One

This is the first anniversary of the birth of my blog. I think I will have a slice of cake.

Lunch at Palmie

Hn hosted lunch yesterday at Palm Beach for Bt visiting from England and Sn who was down from Queensland.


Hn's place is not one of these water frontage Pittwater properties but a comfortable home two blocks back with just as pleasurable a holiday feel as the more upmarket properties.

There were twelve of us at lunch, each of us contributing something for the feast. Apart from barbecued chicken and sausages and chicken schnitzels there were green salads galore mostly with fruit features; mangoes being the most common. Two tarts, one fruit the other Strawberry, were dessert accompanying coffee and tea afterwards.

The overcast and cool weather evident in the photograph I took above gave way during lunch to sunny moments with the temperature rising to the comfortable low 20s Centigrade.


We lunched out the back looking across at Pittwater (above photograph) and it was the most enjoyable of the lunches I have attended there in some time.

As is our usual practice after lunches at Palm Beach we walked back down to Pittwater for a stroll along the beach. We love checking out the waterfront homes, seeing which is occupied that day and imagining the glamorous lifestyle being pursued in them. Every now and then we are lucky to see Speedo wearing groups of Adonis like men but there were none of those on display yesterday. There was a sole fit looking youngish man swimming long laps parallel to the beach for a while but otherwise the beach was eerily quiet by the time we got down to it. Not so surprising, I suppose, for a Friday afternoon, already after 5pm and rapidly cooling down in the face of fresh breezes.


We spent quite a long time discussing a huge new four level property at the southern end of the beach which is nearing completion. Our 'informed' and unanimous view was that the new building was a monstrosity that none of us would consider purchasing. The fact that none of us is within cooee of being wealthy enough to purchase such a home was left unspoken.

When we returned to Hn's six or seven Lorikeets had arrived in anticipation of being fed. They fluttered around a lot and I had difficulty getting a good picture of them. This photograph was the best of a poor lot. Unfortunately my camera's zoom facility is not the greatest so this picture is grainier than the others.


After another a coffee, it was time for the fifty minutes drive home.

Dump those Blogs

My stomach has been a little...um...unsettled this morning. It could have been the pepperoni pizza I ate last night.

So there I was browsing some of my regular blogs this morning feeling that any moment I will need to pay the bathroom another visit when in succession I read this followed by this.

You can guess what happened next.

The ups and downs of my day so far...

I arrived at bridge for my occasional Thursday lunchtime game. We play on the third floor of a building at Bondi Junction where I use the stairs as a token gesture to exercise and fitness raising. The many older players in the club gladly use the only elevator.

Today, however, that elevator was out of order and many of the players struggled up the stairs. My bridge partner usually arrives early for the game and I suspected something was up when she was not in the club when I arrived. I called her mobile and she was at the movies. We had mixed up our days.

Not a problem, I thought. There was plenty for me to do at home but when I returned and got into the elevator to go to my fifth floor apartment it wouldn't budge. There I was having avoided an out of order elevator at bridge only to be stuck in the elevator in my own building. After ten minutes the elevator door opened with me still on the ground floor. I changed over to the other elevator which thankfully was operating.

I think I shall walk down the stairs rather than risk more elevator hi jinks when I have to go back out again this afternoon.

Your next patient is here, Doctor

What seems to be the problem?



(Excerpt from forthcoming episode of Nip/Tuck)

My expensive resolution

I don't tend to make New Year's resolutions probably because I can't discipline myself to keep to them.

However, I decided last year that sometime in 2009 I would buy myself a flat screen television. I suppose that amounts to a sort of resolution and it is amazing given my lack of discipline in other areas that I seem to be able to meet commitments that cost me money. And so it has proven yet again.

It only took me to the afternoon of 2 January to purchase the television after spending the afternoon of 1 January and the morning of 2 January researching outlets and comparing prices. My new baby is to be delivered this afternoon and I am spending today at home awaiting its arrival.

I hope I am not jinxing myself posting this before the television's safe delivery. Each of my last three large household goods purchases has gone awry at some point through retailer's incompetence. I must write about this sometime.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Based on a short story by F Scott Fitzgerald, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button spans close to ninety years, multiple continents and is very long. Presumably the film's makers have elaborated somewhat on Fitzgerald's story.

It is an atmospheric film focusing on the visual and its images are often beautiful. I found the softly delivered accented dialogue a bit difficult to follow at times but the story moved so slowly I rarely felt that I was missing anything.

Both Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett have plenty of opportunity to dazzle with their beauty, he as he grows younger and she as she ages. Without giving too much away, Cate also appears in aged form from the outset to enable the story to be told in flashback. Tilda Swinton is delicious in a small but significant role.

I thought that the best sequence in the film was a montage in Paris reflecting on the role of fate in our lives. Tellingly this scene is the fastest paced in what otherwise is a leisurely paced film.

An interesting and, yes, curious film.

Meanwhile...at the cricket...

(Sydney Morning Herald, 2 January 2009)

"Bare facts . . . a streaker runs onto the pitch during the Test between Australia and the ICC World XI at the SCG in 2005 and inset, Michael O'Brien and that police helmet remain famous."

Must be time for new balls.

At the wedding

I have survived the wedding.

The predicted showers did not eventuate nor did a threatened storm late in the day when dark clouds covered the sky for a while as the reception got into full swing.

The ceremony started 35 minutes late after Ry, the bride's father, held back her arrival insisting she should arrive fashionably late but forgetting that once at the Cathedral steps the photographer would insist in another quarter hour of photograph taking.

The ceremony was at St Mary's, Sydney's principal Catholic Cathedral, for no other reason than it was the only Church the bride and groom found that could fit their wedding in at their preferred day and time and then only because of the cancellation of another booking.

As a consequence, the 150 invited guests were boosted by a similar number of tourists who happened to be touring the Cathedral at the time and who happily observed proceedings from the rear.


The reception was held at Watersedge which if nothing else has a terrific location on the edge of the Harbour adjacent to the bridge. This photo taken from the venue's website gives an indication of the setup and venue location.

Our table was in the corner at the bottom right of the photo giving us a splendid view of happenings in the reception as well as on the harbour.


The setting became more spectacular as day merged into evening and the city skyline, including the Luna Park across the harbour, became transformed by night lights.

The nibblies on arrival at Watersedge were sufficient in quantity and diversity to constitute a meal of their own almost making the subsequent dinner irrelevant although the white chocolate mousse dessert proved a rich and satisfying finale. The toffee topping reminded me of a scene from Priscilla Queen of the Desert.


Thankfully the friends at the table I was placed with were congenial company and my fears of being odd man out did not eventuate. They were virtually the only people I knew at the wedding apart from the parents of the bride and two other couples elsewhere in the room.

There was plenty of man candy at the wedding, pretty well all of it far too young for me. Once again I had that odd experience of setting eyes upon one attractive man early on in proceedings and then finding him popping into my view time and again in the following hours.

This time it was a good looking, late twenties, blondish type sitting across the aisle from us in the Cathedral. I noticed him from the outset and cast occasional glances his way. As it turns out he was to deliver the first reading so I had the pleasure of hearing him speak in the fine acoustics of the Cathedral early on.

Later on as the reception got into swing I became aware that one of the guests had taken over the microphone and was singing impromptu to us. It was the same blondish man and he was doing a very professional imitation of a Frank Sinatra type.

Then once the dancing got underway, there he was again easily the sexiest male dancer on the floor moving sinuously around and, to my delight, dancing closely and sexily with both men and women, obviously completely confident and comfortable with either gender.

It would be thrilling to imagine that he was gay and even more so that he might be available but my intuition strongly pointed to him being a straight man totally at ease.

The Day The Earth Stood Still

I quite like disaster movies. Generally they follow a well tried formula.

A calm opening is followed by a sense of unease before disaster descends and then a hopeless situation is rescued at the last moment by a miraculous escape topped off by a happy ending. It all works so well. Your favourite heroes survive and the dastardly villains drop by the wayside. Occasionally a hero also is lost which can be quite annoying when it involves a blue eyed, blond haired cute male although even that is excusable if the loss occurs near the end so that you still get full perving value from the Adonis.

The Day The Earth Stood Still is a disaster film set in science fiction mode and is a remake of the 1951 film of the same name. This remake uses the same premise and even some of the artistic concepts of the original film updated with 2008 technology.

The unintentional star of this remake is Jaden Smith, son of Will, who gives the nominal star, Keanu Reeves, a lesson in screen acting. Admittedly, Jaden is playing a human whereas Keanu is not and I have to concede that Keanu's robotic acting style makes him a competent alien. Furthermore, Keanu's previously unrevealed capacity to speak Mandarin comes as a surprise.

As with most disaster films, TDTESS is best viewed with a blank mind. Any use of brains is a decided disadvantage as it simply highlights the implausible and inconsistent aspects of the plot. The film does contain plenty of technical mumbo jumbo to add weight to proceedings and the special effects are impressive without going too far over the top.

This remake makes do without the typical calm opening opting for unease from the outset and the ending is sufficiently vague as to leave plenty of scope for sequels. TDTESS is a message film that should interest Greens Senator Bob Brown although I doubt he will be adding the DVD to his personal collection.

All in all, quite a reasonable way to spend a mindless two hours but don't waste a beautifully sunny afternoon on it like I did.

Get me coupled to the church sublime

In early November I received the invitation to this Saturday's wedding of the second daughter of my longtime friend Ry. The invitation posed an immediate uncertainty for my straight challenged mind. (My apologies Steven for adapting your clever appellation for my own purposes.)

I have known Ry for forty years and for about thirty of those years we, together with Tm, Tp and Jm played squash and/or tennis together. All five of us are now in sensible retirement from such exertions. The other four, all straight, have married, produced children and grandchildren leaving me the one partnerless and childless member of the group. I'm sure this has presented the others with the occasional dilemma of 'what to do with Victor' when straight rites of passage arise.

Tm chose not tell me about the wedding of his second daughter two years ago to which the others were invited, a ploy which backfired for him when Ry innocently discussed the nuptials with me on the day preceding the event. In fact, I was quite happy not to be invited, not to have dress up, not to have think of a wedding present etc but Tm was mightily embarrassed (and I suspect not a little pissed at Ry's disclosure).

When Ry's invitation arrived I checked it carefully noting that it only mentioned my name and did not call for a partner or friend to participate. I was quite happy with that, although already starting to feel anxiety at once more being the odd man out at a table of coupled wedding revellers. I sent in my solo acceptance.

Then, two weeks ago I received a call from Ry asking whether I had wanted to bring a partner to the wedding and apologising profusely for the omission from the invitation. I should have said no but I didn't. I had in mind inviting Da to accompany me. Da is known to the group and well liked and she hasn't visited me in Sydney for sometime and I thought it a good opportunity for us to catch up.

I phoned Da who readily accepted the invitation and then passed the news on to Ry. He informed me it was too late for the printers to do a name card for her and he hoped Da wouldn't mind being identified as 'Victor's friend'. I thought it odd that in this day and age a printer couldn't produce one card with two weeks to go to the wedding but I didn't pursue the point.

In the meantime Da booked the return bus trip Canberra/Sydney and all was set for our coupled participation. Other movie and dining arrangements were made to fill out the weekend.

Then yesterday, disaster. Da called distressed by an illness that has befallen her and will prevent her travelling to Sydney tomorrow and that she won't be able to attend the wedding that she was now really looking forward to.

What to do? I could ask either Hn or Ae to accompany me but they are both involved in hosting Sn, visiting from Queensland, for lunch at Palm Beach on Saturday so I can't really expect either of them to drop that arrangement to help me out. If I had someone special in my life I should simply bring him along and let us be the odd couple at the table but there is no special man in my life at present.

So it is back to being what I have been for much of my adult life, the odd man out.

Happy New Year

to all my readers.

New Years Eve

Have a happy and safe one, everyone!

Who would think it?

The previous post was my 500th in just under a year of blogging.

I could never imagine, when I embarked tentatively into the world of blogging last January, that I would achieve 500 posts, let alone blog for almost a year.

I'm enjoying the blogging world immensely.

A mug

This morning I have christened my Country Road mug, a Christmas present, with my morning orange juice. In deference to my age and body condition, the juice was laced with Metamucil.

Christmas in Brisbane

The flight to Brisbane on Christmas Eve was uneventful, if forty-five minutes late. For the first time in my memory of many flights into Brisbane we landed from the south-west rather than from the east. This photo was taken as the plane banked to the right swinging over the Gateway Bridge and aiming towards the runway which can be seen upper left.

(Click all photos to enlarge)


Rather than stay at Ll and Fd's home, where Mt had already made arrangements to stay, I was booked into Brisbane's Hilton Hotel where I had also stayed for Christmas last year. The rooms are comfortable and the hotel's CBD location places it in easy walking distance for many of the attractions and activities. This photo was taken in the hotel's atrium. My room was on the eighteenth floor.


Predictably the days were set around food and eating. Even more predictably I indulged heartily in every meal and now face a new year with the usual intention of eating more sensibly in the future.

For Christmas Eve, Fd prepared a seafood meal continuing the tradition of his native Austria.

On Christmas Day, we had morning drinks at Ml's place, followed by light lunch at Ll and Fd's and later a full Christmas Night buffet and get together at Rs and Gg's.

Boxing Day was a casual dinner and DVD night at Ll and Fd's clearing up what food remained from Christmas Eve and Day.

On Saturday Mt and I had lunch by the bay at Scarborough and at night we joined the others and Mg and family for a birthday dinner at a bustling Indian restaurant in Toowong followed by coffee and delicious cake at Mg's home.

Then on Sunday it was lunch at the Paddington Tavern with a fish and chips dinner in the open at Wynnum.

That was a whole heap of dining.

I did manage to fit in some touristy activities between all those meals. I visited Brisbane's Gallery of Modern Art to see its Contemporary Australia: Optimism exhibition. It was a quite a diverse exhibition and I especially enjoyed the various video items. A sign of modern times, I suppose.


Brisbane is no longer the big town almost city of my visits in my youth. It is thriving and growing at a bewildering rate. There are four high rise buildings well advanced in construction just in the space of this photograph.


I did quite a bit of walking, perhaps not enough to balance the heavy food intake, but some activity nonetheless. This photo was taken as I walked riverside on Boxing Day. I must try out the ferry service, seen here dropping off passengers at Eagle Street, on my next visit.


The flight home yesterday was smooth and on time and within half an hour of returning to my apartment I was into the mundane task of doing my laundry.

Life goes on.

Home...sweet home

I'm home.

Will post about my stay in Brisbane later but in the meantime thanks to those who left comments on my blog whilst I was away, especially those who left their Christmas and seasonal wishes.

Merry Christmas...

to those who observe this festival...and compliments of the season to all.

Left...on a jet plane

If departure was on time then I just took off on a Qantas flight to Brisbane. All being well, I'll be back in Sydney and online (live) again next Monday.

Happy times with your loved ones, everyone.

At the lounge (again)

Have checked in for my flight and am now in the Qantas Club Lounge again. As usual, checked in very early and have just over two hours before departure. Will try to discipline myself and keep clear of the free lounge food. With so many Christmasy type meals coming up in the next few days my ballooning weight really will take off.

Now to wander around the lounge and check out the eye candy in attendance.

Meanwhile...at the North Pole...

(The New Yorker)

Slumdog Millionaire

In Slumdog Millionaire, Dev Patel from the television series Skins plays the Call Centre Chai Wallah (Tea server) who appears on Indian television in Who Wants To Be a Millionaire and causes a sensation with his run of correct answers. The police interrogate him believing that he must have cheated and in a series of flashbacks we learn about his tough upbringing in the slums of Mumbai.

This is a terrific movie. The sights and sounds of India are presented so vividly that I felt I could smell the country as well.

The film has a terrific soundtrack and as a bonus concludes with a taste of Bollywood over the closing credits.

Chrissie Brissie holiday

I'm flying to Brisbane from Sydney tomorrow for a six days stay. It is a repeat of last year when I took advantage of the hospitality of friends (to misquote Blanch DuBois) and freeloaded into all their Christmas lunches and the like. And I did like, so I am doing it again this year armed with a backpack full of Gift Cards for a certain major Department Store chain for those who treat me best.

Coogee lunch

Had lunch (Monday) at the Coogee Legion Club with Rt visiting from Queensland, his cousin Jf, Ae and Hn.

We were not greatly inventive in our ordering. Apart from Jf who ordered a smoked salmon salad we remaining four all ordered a veal and prawn dish in a mustard sauce. The veal was a bit overcooked according to Ae but I enjoyed it anyway.

It was a lovely summer's day if a bit breezy and our balcony table provided a delightful view of the ocean and Coogee Beach and especially of the bathers crossing the road from the beach in their speedos.

Unfortunately I left my camera in the boot of the car and therefore failed to take any photos over lunch which was a bit unfortunate with so much eye candy on display. In the absence of my own photograph, I have illustrated this posting with the above pic taken from the web. The pic is perfectly relevant as it is taken from the Aussie Bum collection and is called Club Coogee.

Dear Dorothy Dix #2

This is the second in an occasional series where I ask readers to answer questions about matters that have puzzled me.

In case any readers are in doubt, I am a gay man. I have always been a gay man, except for when I was a gay boy. I always knew I was gay even before I knew what being gay meant.

I am an only child and lived in a household where there was only me and my mother and my father. For my first twenty years the only things I knew about living in a household with a female were what I observed about my mother. Everyone knows that mothers don't count as far as lessons about living with females are concerned.

So it is only in my adult years that I have observed a phenomenon about living with females (for however short a period) that has me puzzled.


Why do females use so much toilet paper?

Whenever males stay with me I notice no change in my household toilet paper usage. Now I'm sure it can't be that no male who has ever stayed/lived with me has ever used toilet paper and yet household usage when one has stayed/lived with me doesn't seem to change from when I am alone.

But let a female in my home, even for a five minutes visit, and the toilet paper usage is not only noticeable but extraordinary. Reams of paper disappear in the wink of an eye. Telltale toilet paper leaves remain in the bowl after every flush and what is left on the roll trails across the bathroom floor almost to the door; a quite different sight from the neat untrailing roll evident when only males are present in the home.

Now I know that there are certain biological explanations to account for female toilet paper usage but, still, why do females use so much toilet paper? What do they do with it?

This is movement...

(Pablo Picasso, Guernica 1937)

Yesterday I watched This Is Civilisation, a history of Western modern art presented by Matthew Collings.

It was an interesting program except for the fact that it made me feel sea sick. Not because it was set on water nor that much, if any, water was featured. Collings seemed unable to stand still. He paced backwards and forwards across works of art and when not criss-crossing art he strode purposefully through gallery after gallery or down long colonnaded walkways. He was like the Duracell battery.

I thought that with all this ceaseless walking he should have the build of a marathon runner. Yet he appeared to have a stocky, almost heavy, build. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, he was constantly short of breath.

Next time I watch a program with Collings in it, I must insist that an oxygen tank is on standby.

What a sales act...

I rarely watch mid-morning weekday television.

You know the sort of program they screen then. Jolly human interest stories about celebrities, fashion and gossip filling in the gaps between commercials dressed up as conversations between a presenter and the spokesperson for whatever is being spruiked at the time. These can be anything from lotions that magically remove hair from unmentionable parts of the body to pills that extend your and your partner's...er...pleasure to home computers that will turn your child into a genius at the age of three.

So it came as a surprise to me when I did watch twenty minutes of Channel 7's version of this 'entertainment' during the week when the spokesperson spruiking women's makeup was none other than Courtney Act.


There she was in full drag, with the most beguiling of sexy feminine voices, extolling the virtue of some brand or other.

The conversation was supported by a series of before and after photographs of a number of women concluded hilariously by a before and after view of Courtney herself.


The before view was, of course, a photograph of Courtney's alter ego, Shane Jenek, looking - in my opinion - extremely handsome and far prettier than Courtney. The conversation/commercial concluded with Courtney landing a lipstick smudging kiss on the cheek of the male presenter.

The commercial was a rare example of wit in the pantheon of mid-morning television.

Brandon Stoughton

(Pic from ethansays.com - click to enlarge.)

Brandon Stoughton is the man 'savaged' by Britney Spears in her Womanizer video.

Anyone who looks like he does in his underwear is hard to resist.

Security bells, security bells...security all the way

I'm feeling weary this evening.

I stopped by Country Road at Bondi Junction shortly after 9.00 this morning where they were holding the first day of a three days sale offering 30% and then a further 10% off that price on all purchases. The men's wear section was packed with people (mostly women) rifling through the men's clothing. I quickly selected a few T shirts and joined what was a pretty long queue for the cash register so early in the morning. There appeared to be plenty of staff accepting payments but the queue still moved at less than snail's pace.

I joined the queue at a point adjacent to the store's doors and my ears were assailed by the constant screech of the security alarms. I assumed the alarms were being set off by the security tags attached to our intended purchases as we stood in close proximity to the security readers.

But I couldn't work out why the queue was moving so slowly. Then I noticed that the staff were writing out credit card purchases by hand and using that old swipe machine system I haven't seen in years. It seems the computerised link to the Card Authorisers was down.

This was not the only difficulty. More than half the purchasers ahead of me had to return to the registers after their purchases had been completed because rogue tags still attached to some of their purchases were setting the alarms off as they attempted to leave the store. These people were buying so many items that the staff were failing to identify all the tags on their purchases.

To say I was having fun in that queue would be an overstatement. To add to my discomfort, half the women in the queue were pushing prams. These prams were proving unwieldy in the crowds and adding to the general sense of chaos.

I spent closer to half an hour than fifteen minutes in that queue and was glad to be out of the store (without further setting off any alarms) once my purchase was finalised.

Having survived that ordeal I ventured into Borders to look for a couple of books. Thankfully it was much quieter there and I was able to select and pay for two books without the noise and ado I had experienced at Country Road. Even so, whilst waiting for service at Borders I noticed the aftermath of a serious accident right outside the store. A bus had knocked down a woman in the street and she was being treated on the roadway with two ambulances and a hoard of spectators in attendance.

I made a comment about the accident scene to the young man processing my purchase. I had to repeat myself three times because he was wearing headphones (apparently listening to music) and could not hear me. He was totally unaware of the accident until I mentioned it even though it was right alongside where he was positioned.

From Bondi Junction I drove across to Broadway Centre to meet up with Kn for lunch. We tend to have our lunches there or at a small centre across the road during his lunch break from his job at nearby Sydney University.


(Broadway Centre today.)

The crowds were building at Broadway too and we had our lunch across from the centre where three 'hole in the wall' type Asian food outlets are located. We could choose from Vietnamese, Chinese or Thai and today we both selected from the Vietnamese outlet. In truth, the three outlets have similar menus despite their cuisine differences and my selection (Singapore Noodles with Chicken) was available at all three.

I enjoy lunching with Kn. I can be completely open with him about what is happening in my life and my mind. We usually update each other on our respective love lives, a report which rarely requires much time on my part. Kn, in his mid forties, is more active than I am but I was interested to realise that he too now is slowing down.

Rabbit

Mk and I went to the Wharf Theatre Monday night to see Rabbit.

I saw a new notice at the bar stating that patrons were welcome to take their drinks into the auditorium. I wondered whether this was one of the fresh directions taken by the Sydney Theatre Company's new creative directors, Cate Blanchett and Andrew Upton. I'll come back to this point later.

The play has two threads running through it. The main thread being a birthday gathering in a bar by five late twentysomethings who, over plentiful drinks, discuss love, relationships and careers. The other thread, most of it in flashbacks, focuses on the birthday girl and her dying father.

The five party goers are well lubricated as the evening progresses and their conversation becomes increasingly raucous and argumentative. This was effectively portrayed by an attractive cast. There were plenty of laughs and my impression was that the largely young audience recognised the situation as one they had been in themselves and they enjoyed the work.

Mk, who is not averse to an evening of wining and dining himself, loved the play and its cast and thought the work had been well directed. I thought the cast had performed well but I was less enamoured of the play. As a non drinker the play reminded me of situations I had experienced when joining a sea of drinkers deep in conversations hilarious to them which remained coldly unfunny to me in my sober state.

Perhaps the notice inviting the audience to take their drinks into the auditorium was a hint that drinking along with the cast is the best way to appreciate this play?

In any event it occurred to me that the play is not one for teetotallers.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona

Rebecca Hall and Scarlett Johansson are best friends from the USA spending two months holiday in Spain. They are like chalk and cheese in their attitudes to life and when befriended by Javier Bardem, a painter with few inhibitions and divorced from Penelope Cruz, they predictably react in quite different ways.

This is a Woody Allen film without the oppressive New York angst (Spanish angst replaces it). The screenplay contains Allen's trademark quips and dense conversational style. Thankfully Allen does not appear nor is he heard and I enjoyed watching the attractive cast as they struggled, each in their own way, to come to grips with their relationships, loves and passion.

I think I could watch Javier Bardem read the telephone directory. He is an effortlessly sexy man which makes his scary, sexless performance last year in No Country for Old Men so remarkable.

The Spanish settings (apartments, cafe, street and rural scenes) are gorgeous. Allen is back in form.

Circus with a twist

This young man has his own take on Britney Spears' Circus.

Watch the ending for a giggle.

A heady night was had by all...

Friday night was supposed to be my adventure trip to Kings Langley for dinner with 'the boys'. Against my better judgement I had agreed, rather than driving myself from home, to travel by train with some of the others and then be collected at Blacktown station to be driven to the restaurant. I would have preferred to have control of my own travel, especially for the return journey, rather than to have to rely on the others but I couldn't be bothered arguing the point.

On the Thursday, I started to develop a head cold with a runny nose and sore throat. I was worried that I would have problems attending Priscilla that evening but somehow managed to get through the performance on lozenges without disturbing others sitting around me.

I worked at the Hospital as usual on Friday although my symptoms steadily worsened during the morning. If any of the admitting patients that morning had procedures cancelled because of sudden cold symptoms then I offer my silent apologies. By the time I returned home at 2.30pm I was feeling pretty shitty.

I still intended to go to the Kings Langley dinner but I was worried that the weather (heavy rain, cold and wind) would only make my condition worse having agreed to travel there by public transport and therefore exposing myself far more to the elements than if I were in my car. I telephoned Ne half hoping the dinner might have been postponed but it was going ahead. After some discussion I decided against attending the dinner and asked Ne to pass on my apologies.

That night I drank copious quantities of tea with honey and lemon and then it was off to bed. I usually sleep naked summer or winter preferring to let my bits and pieces dangle unencumbered as I toss and turn through the night but this night I wore a warm sweat top to counter any draughts and hoped to sweat the cold out overnight.

I had an interrupted night. I felt hot all night long and also had to get out of bed a number of times to piss all the tea I had drunk earlier. When I rose Saturday morning I was still symptomatic but clearly feeling better.

Staying home was the better option.

Bottom gear in the USA

Priscilla Queen of the Desert: The Musical

Finally saw this stage musical last night just prior to the end of its second Sydney season. Derived from the movie Priscilla Queen of the Desert the musical relates the journey by three Drag Queens from Sydney into the outback, a journey of rediscovery.

Bouncing with a seemingly endless array of gay icon music and hilariously embellished by the most extraordinary costume design this is three hours of fun for the broadminded. Whilst there were many gay men in attendance, the majority of the large audience was clearly straight and it was heartening to experience their enjoyment and acceptance of the subject matter. The standing ovation at the end of last night's performance apparently occurs at every performance.

(Fellow Blogger) Steven, you said you would "die" if you had seen a certain commercial depicting a same sex parental couple on American television. You better steer clear of this show should it come to Chicago or else make sure you are accompanied by a (cute) medical professional for support!

Mind you, there are other dangers at this show. Sitting five rows from the stage I was hit on the head by a ping pong ball expelled by a female character in one of the show's many raunchy moments. Those who have seen the film might remember this particularly exotic aspect of the storyline. Just my luck to be attacked by vagina droppings!

Swedish meatballs?

I wonder if James watched this show whilst he was in Sweden? Apparently these are straight men competing in some type of game show kissing competition.

Telstra magic...pulling bills out of a hat

This is a photograph of Telstra's CEO in the act of conjuring up my latest bill.

How I love Telstra! All those memories of dialling their service centres, choosing from those exciting automated telephone options and being disconnected from their queues. I'm so pleased I'm one of their valued customers. Imagine how boring it would be not to be valued by Telstra and just in receipt of their standard rather than their valued service?

Some years ago I 'bundled' my Telstra services to take advantage of the discounts they offered under those arrangements. Apparently they could afford to offer the discounts in part because of administrative savings through 'bundling' my accounts and bills. I eagerly awaited the first of these 'bundled' bills, waiting expectantly for one jumbo bill to replace the separate bills I had been receiving for years.

A lot of time passed before the first of those bills arrived. Actually years passed by without such a bill. Well, let me speak plainly, no such bill arrived.

I thought I would telephone Telstra to enquire just when I could expect my first 'bundled' bill. I know that I really just wanted an excuse to try out their telephone service centres again. After all it had been a while since I had experienced the excitement of choosing which enquiry option I wanted and of course I really wanted to spend countless hours listening to thrilling music, interspersed with Telstra messages until it was time for my place in the queue to be disconnected. As it happens, I had one of those rare chance opportunities and was connected to a service operator who informed me that whilst my services were 'bundled' Telstra had not yet found a way to actually 'bundle' my bill. Thus I was reassured that I was in receipt of the best service that Telstra could offer.

Then a few weeks ago I received correspondence from Telstra informing me that I would soon receive an exciting new bill with an even more exciting new account number to cover my 'bundled' services. Sure enough, a few weeks later a new bill arrived by email and as promised it did contain a new account number. I could scarcely contain my excitement as I logged on to the Internet to pay this 'bundled' bill through BPay and what a little surprise Telstra had in store for me. My 'bundled' bill was linked to separate customer reference numbers covering sub parts of the account. How convenient! I made separate BPay entries for each customer reference number to pay the 'bundled' bill. Effectively nothing had changed.

And Telstra had still another little surprise. In the mail yesterday was a paper bill from Telstra duplicating the email bill it had sent me earlier. My 'bundled' email bill had given birth to an identical 'bundled' paper bill.

As I said...how I love Telstra.

Who would have guessed?

This report was just read on a radio news bulletin.

"Sydney's traffic is slower now than four years ago, and we're being warned it's only going to get worse.

The latest Auditor's report has found congestion isn't getting any better.

Morning peak hour motorists on Victoria Road are only reaching an average speed of 23 kilometres an hour."

Did we need an Auditor's report to know that Sydney's traffic is getting worse?

Ghost Riders in the Sky

The Ghost Riders in the Sky by Vaughn Monroe was the Number 1 hit on the day I was born according to this site.