City return - time for the photos.

I love Melbourne, but having over a month away has been a tonic. It's as if the dust that had settled on everything has been blown away and there's a new light on everything. I'm feeling reinvigorated and ambitious for the year ahead.

Cowgirl
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My time away was spent outside Toowoomba in Queensland, in country NSW, Tamworth and Lennox Head. Some of the time was spent hanging out with various family members, some of it was spent at Summersong music camp and some of it overlapped with the Tamworth Country Music Festival. When I've attended a gig there before I couldn't see for the hats, so this year I wore one too!


On my flight home yesterday, I was reading a physical book called Difficult Men. It's about television covering both the characters (Tony Soprano) and the creators (David Chase). It is absorbing reading and I barely noticed anyone else around me. After we'd landed and everyone was standing quietly in the aisle waiting to deplane, the bloke who had been sitting next to me said in a booming voice: "That book you're reading...Do you have one? Do you want one? Did you get rid of one?"

I laughed and responded: "Well, this morning I finished a book about psychopaths*, so draw your own conclusions!"

That hit the mark. I'd never thought about the potential for stand-up comedy in this context. I'd also forgotten about the privacy afforded by reading e-books.

While away, I took some photos that I really like and will share them from time to time. Hope you like them.

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This little wallaby is a regular visitor.
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In the shadow of the windmill.
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* The Psychopath Test by Jon Ronson - another absorbing read.

Summer holidays - end of part one.

The first leg of my holiday finishes tomorrow.  I arrived at my brother's house five days before Christmas and have had a lovely time.  In between Christmas and family visits, I've been working for my brother catching up on his accounts, cooking, knitting, reading, enjoying having animals around the house.  I have also been to see a couple of movies in Tamworth since Boxing Day.

Family portrait - mother and foal.
Some of my brother's patients.
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Tomorrow I head over to spend a week with my folks before I head off to music camp.  The house is empty except for me and three cats. The other humans have gone out with my brother for a day of veterinary work.  The chickens are wandering around (I just thanked them for the two eggs they had layed). I occasionally hear the horses talk to each other.  I've put my ipod on shuffle and have just put a large quantity of oven baked bolognese sauce in the oven.  It will be turned into lasagne for this evening's dinner (good for when you're not sure what time everyone will be home for dinner).  It smells divine!  (Wish I could link to a smell for you...)

I'm in a very pretty spot here and the only other sounds are the drone of tractors cutting the lucerne for hay.

On the film front, I went and saw "Les Miserables" by myself a couple of days after Christmas.  I had been so looking forward to it, but I was a little underwhelmed.  I love Hugh Jackman and Russell Crowe and thought they were excellent choices to play Jean Valjean and Javert respectively, but something was wrong.  Hugh's singing was a bit overblown and nasal at times and I know he can do better.  Russell did a fair job of Javert.  His singing was better than I expected.  It was tuneful but a bit wooden and plodding.  Still, I cried my eyes out several times!

The two stand outs for me were Eddie Redmayne playing Marius and Samantha Barks playing Eponine.  Eddie is my favourite actor of the moment.  I loved his work in "My week with Marilyn" and also in "Pillars of the Earth" which was screened recently on ABC television here in Australia.  (Shhh, don't tell me the end! I haven't seen the last two episodes.)

The other film I saw was "The Hobbit".  My brother and his wife chose this when I offered to shout them tickets as a thank you for having me to stay.  I had enjoyed The Lord of the Rings films so was happy to go along.  It's spectacular in parts, but is a fairly endless journey that the dwarves, Gandalf the wizard and hobbit Bilbo Baggins are on.  I was a little bored by the whole thing and was annoyed to discover we're only a third of the way there at the end of the movie!  I felt the same way about the book.  (I was supposed to study it for a speech and drama exam.  I couldn't get past the first chapter and still received an Honours grade!)

Yesterday I went to the creek with my brother and found two yabbies in the yabby trap.  They are now living in one of the horse troughs for the time being.

Up close and personal with a yabby
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Watch those claws! Love the spectacular shade of blue.
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The oysters we had on Christmas Day were also very good - even if they weren't plucked
from the water immediately before eating.
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When I took my four year old nephew to collect eggs during his visit, he was so excited to find two waiting for him, he clapped his hands together when he was holding them!  I noticed quickly and swooped before too much damage was done.  He looked a bit surprised and disappointed that they had cracked.

When I said goodbye to the same four year old I asked him who his favourite Aunty is.  Usually I'm on a winner, but today the answer was "No" as he pointed at my sister-in-law.  I'm okay with that.

The full moon rising over the hills was spectacular the other night.  Trying to photograph it with my iphone reminded me why taking possession of a proper camera again is on my list for 2013.

See that speck? It's the full moon peering over the hill.
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Sunset.
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The first email I received in 2013 was about how to insert a zip into a knitted article.
The first text message which wasn't about wishing me all the best for 2013 was from Metro Trains telling me that the 4:32pm Williamstown train from Southern Cross Station is cancelled.  Looks like some things won't change in 2013.

Reflections on my summer holiday

I know I only arrived home yesterday, but I've been thinking....

Seeing the indentation of paws and a big, flat, warm spot where Alfie had snuck in to nap on my bed.  I only ever saw the evidence, not the actual dog.

A koala balanced up the top of a telephone pole...still as a statue and still there on our way back hours later.

Take: one sheet of black builder's plastic, some fence posts, a garden hose, two strong fathers and some willing kids.  You get: hours of squealing children hurtling down a very mild slope, laughing their heads off as they beg, "faster! higher! more!"

The joy of finding a baby willie wagtail and holding it.  The tears later, when the dogs got it.  Explaining to the sobbing niece that the dogs aren't bad, they're just doing what comes naturally.

The discovery of what happens when a large puppy sees a large three year old running away...plaything!  The further discovery of how hard it is to get a three year old (boy) to stand still.

Seeing a huge orange moon slowly rise on the horizon.

Being able to see the stars at night.

The image of tiny children sitting on very big horses.  Hearing a tiny five year old's voice issuing the command "BACK" and seeing the horse step backwards.  Seeing the look of satisfaction on her face when that one step is taken.

Sleeping past 9am nearly every day.  I haven't done that since I was a teenager.

Finishing a book every couple of days.

Having family around.

Having Alfie around.

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Trying to get Alfie to look at the camera.

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Never going to happen.

The cricket's on! Everywhere.

Seemingly endless test cricket matches monopolising the television during summer is a fixture of Australian life.  The languid pace and drone of the commentators hypnotises and harmonises with the hum of the air conditioner or mosquitoes.

The only thing worse than cricket on the television is cricket on the radio.  Trapped in a car on a long, straight highway to nowhere with only the sound of  "clock" as the bat hits the ball, it seemed that the trip would not be over before the cricket was, so we all just had to stick at it in the hope that either the road or the match would finish.

Sometimes interesting guests join the commentary box.  Their purpose seems to be to distract from the mysterious monotony of trying to understand cricket on the radio.  I do remember a pleasant encounter with Hugh Jackman when he took in a chocolate cake his Mum made to share with the commentary team.

Occasionally though, the cricket will suck me in.  Like today.  I've been glued to the television cheering Captain Michael Clark to reach his triple century.  He seemed interminably stuck on 299 runs and I fervently hoped he wouldn't get out before he made 300.  (In case you're wondering, he made it and declared the innings with 329 runs and when his batting partner Michael Hussey reached 150 runs.)

To the non-enthusiast, cricket seems to have more laws than the nation itself.  There are no fewer than ten ways for a batsman to get out and sometimes it's very, very subtle.  Trying to understand LBW (leg before wicket) is enough to make my head spin and I'm not a stupid person.  I've also just discovered, today, that "tea" is not the same as "drinks".

Growing up with male members in the family who are obsessed with cricket meant that when there wasn't cricket on the television or the radio there was negotiation over backyard cricket.  With my brother it went something like "if you bowl me ten overs, I'll play dolls with you for 5 minutes".  Talks would continue until a middle ground of "I'll bowl four overs if you play dolls and let me dress you up for 20 minutes.  The deal is off if you get out and you have to convince Mum to be the wicket keeper."

Implementation of the deal required further discussion.  Would the Hill's Hoist clothesline be the wicket for the batsman and the tank stand hit on the full be a 6?  Or was it better to set up a cardboard box as wicket and include the dog in the fielding line up?  Was over the fence to be counted as out or as a 6? Once these details were settled, play would commence.  Before long I would be accused of being half-hearted in my bowling. My brother would try to convince me that if he failed to hit the ball it didn't count.  Further negotiations would occur and my determination to bowl a decent ball waned even more.

The whole game would either finish in tears or when the dog wouldn't give the ball back.

Then the board game "Test Match" came on the scene.  The game consists of a grass coloured mat representing the cricket ground and tiny plastic figures for the players.  The ball is a ball bearing.  Given that the plastic figures can't run to chase the ball, the chances of taking a wicket are remote and an innings could go on for longer than a game of Monopoly.  Initially I was enthusiastic, dreaming about release from the requirement to bowl in the backyard.  Pretty soon though I was putting dozens of overs on the negotiating table in an effort to release me from the requirement to play "Test Match".

The obsession with cricket extends to adulthood.  I've been in meetings where men have called a break so they can check the cricket score.  I've been in workplaces where the television in the tea room is on all day and people drink more cups of tea and coffee than they ever have in their life so that they can check the score.  Now they probably don't even do that.  An app. on their smartphone probably means they can keep track without anyone knowing.

My five year old niece turned to me over Christmas and said solemnly: "There's cricket on the television in the other room too."  Then she sighed.

"Get used to it. Cricket is everywhere."

She looked sad.

I could have added, "resistance is futile" but I didn't want to break her heart.