Having taken repossession of the girl child, we left Melbourne and flew to Sydney. We had booked our accommodation, a small cottage in Bondi Junction, via Air B&B, the first time we had used the service. It seemed to work reasonably well, though once again we were slightly stunned by the prices being charged for fairly modest lodgings. However, having realised what property costs in that city, we realised that though expensive, it was unlikely that we were being ripped off. Continue reading “Down Under Part 2: Splendid Sydney”
It’s a marvellous day in England. I’m drinking Kenya Blue Mountain coffee — hand-roasted in Dorset. The weather is grey and breezy, but I have a pot of jambalaya simmering in the kitchen.
Part 1 – Marvellous Melbourne
We arrived at about 06.00, some 30 hours after having left home but without proper sleep for about 42 hours. Harare, Lusaka, Dubai, Melbourne. To say we were shattered would be an understatement. What was worse, we had a whole day to kill before we deemed it wise to get some shut eye. Air crew generally claim that in order to acclimatise, it is best to stay awake during the day, regardless of when you arrive or what time your body is telling you it is and only sleep at night time. Easier said than done. Continue reading “The Land Down Under . . .”
New Muse. New music. Wonder what the dinosaurs think of it?
Lost a fiver today.
It’s alright, don’t feel sorry for me. It was my own fault. Fell out my pocket. Not got a Clouseau where it went. Like Cato the Younger I took this hit with a resigned Hardy look at the fourth wall and remembered the famous Roman quote by Marcus Porcius Cato Uticensis “What’s for you will never go by you.” Though I’m sure it was originally in Latin,
Quid Leatherus testamus numquam Cheerioyou.
I read Sheona’s comment about grammatical errors and opened the linked page. I scanned it once, twice, a third time – but nowhere could I find a grammatically distorted cupboard. Then I stopped and turned my thinking brain on. Oh dear, silly me.
Because the subject was French, my past-its-use-by-date subconscious had translated placard to cupboard rather than retaining it in English. Totally illogical. There was the placard right in front of me in the photo with a glaring grammatical error, as bad as or even worse than a misplaced apostrophe in English. I felt suitably stupid, although relieved that clarity had eventually been restored.
Recounting this gives me the opportunity to tell you all about an article I read yesterday in an Australian newspaper, which was on the subject of the Catholic Church’s response to a long list of recommendations on changes to make to deal with the large number of cases of child abuse which have been uncovered in Australia, as they have in several other Western countries. The article suggested that changes would be needed to cannon law.
The subeditor definitely needs shooting for that one! 😎
What we need to know is whether you’re going to meet our African correspondent in the flesh. And if you do, will you reveal anything to help us guess how real his Chariot persona really is? Intriguing stuff, eh?
. . . sworn in and raring to go.
Over the last decade, we’ve had more Prime Ministers than clean knickers. Kevin Rudd, Julia Gillard, Kevin again, Tony Abbott, Malcolm Turnbull, and now Scott Morrison.
On Monday, Malcolm himself called for a spill in an attempt to defeat an imminent challenge from Peter Dutton. He won, but only by a small margin, so a demand for a second spill was anticipated. Our doughty Malcolm was not going to give in gracefully, so he set a couple of difficult conditions on Peter D, for a meeting to be held today (the last day such a meeting could be called for a couple of weeks – don’t worry about why).
To his surprise, and chagrin, the conditions were met, and the meeting held. A second spill was approved by vote, but only just, 44 to 40 I think, and lo and behold there were three candidates on the ticket. They were Peter D (pushy, right wing, youngish ex policeman), Scott Morrison (“ScoMo”, middle-of-the-road, 50 years young) and Julie Bishop (62, vastly experienced Foreign Minister, known and respected by many colleagues around the world, Deputy Party Leader and in both positions for many years, middle-of-the road, described by some as “Turnbull in a skirt”). The pundits mostly said JB should win, but that PD probably would, because she was another pesky woman.
So whaddyaknow? ScoMo walked it, and another lad won the deputy leader job (JB didn’t stand for that, this time).
So Malcolm has resigned his commission to the G-G, and as soon as ScoMo gets sworn in (by the G-G), he’ll be head honcho. Talk about revolving doors. 😎