mockturle06: (mr flibble)
Even cranky one eyed parrots get the blues. Or maybe he was all sooky and wanting to snuggle because I had the blues. Big time. It's work. I know I'm not meant to talk about it, but to end up with the stuff I was trained at and liked to do given to others, and back with the deadening filing and errand running I used to do when I was 17, it's just destroying. Utterly destroying.

That said, wasn't Ripper Street a treat last night?
more: enterprises that were service for all mankind )
mockturle06: (White Collar kiss)
So I saw someone rocking the full Chrissie Hynde this morning, and I did think for a minute, in my bleary, sleep deprived state, that maybe that dvd boxset had hit me harder than I thought last night and I'd ended up in 1978.

No such luck. Just another dreary weekday. Oh well.
more: epic fail )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
Went off to another philosophy lecture on Saturday. I love those. I love the ideas I discover, the wild and wide ranging discussion, the aha! moments. I like the way philosophy tries to apply scientific methodology to the esoteric, ethereal, emotional and spiritual. Whether it works or not depends on your own personal philodophy, but for someone like me, completely clueless and born without the manual everyone else seems to have, reading someone elses's observations is invaluable. Also, one nod from the Prof counters almost a week's worth of snips, snarks and red penned rejection at work.

It makes me happy, in a proper Socratic sense of happiness, so why not, eh?

And it keeps me off the streets. Very useful.
more: somewhere over the rainbow )
mockturle06: (DeKay)
Found a window in this crazy 70s building that pointed east, and, with my hastily constructed diy projector, obeerved the eclipse. Managed to attract a small crowd of curious onlookers - should have charged a penny a peep - grin.
more: on the rack of adjustments )
mockturle06: (Avengers)
Okay, so the holiday is now officially over. One last wish, before I settle down to the daily misery that is my new office. You see, I was watching the Hobbit on the plane on the way back (or one of the planes, anyway) and I wished that I could see Richard Armitage.

Wish granted. I did see him, on Wednesday night, at the Popcorn Taxi Q&A.
more: the cat's meow, apples and oranges, and the big bunny )
mockturle06: (Dean sad)
It's not often, but not as uncommon as one might suspect, to find old Dirty Dick, Richard III, in the news. I must admit, I've been following the posthumous adventures of the fellow with a keen interest, ever since my visit to the Richard III museum in York, where keen but interesting folk regaled me on all matters RIII, but they were kind, I was lonely, they wanted to talk, I was happy to listen, and so, ever since, every mention has attracted my attention, and well, the return of the king - who would have expected that!

History, live. Archaelogists, Richard apologists, rejoicing. Arguments over where to re-bury him, the war of the roses stirring up again. Fabulous stuff. My history buffy self has been well satisfied.
more: men with tennis rackets, hats, rubber ducks, mountains and car parks )
mockturle06: (Dean)
I'm having Russian caravan tea again because I had a craving. The Twinings version is my least fave but the easiest to get, and I'm having it with honey, instead of jam like you're supposed to, 'cause I have honey in my desk drawer, but no jam (dreadful oversight, I know, but I do have to keep the odd paperclip and pen in there beside all my teas - grin).

At least, I was told that one should properly have it with jam down at that cafe in Canberra, the one I like, and I figure they'd know, Canberra being much more of a cold war hotspot than I was ever led to believe, the official version as I was taught being that it is a remote rural backater were nothing ever happens, but I feel local prejudices may be at play. Certainly recently declassified files point to a far more entertaining level of spy vs spy shenanigans going on, so, I figure I'll accept Canberra cafes as an authority on things Russian.
more: law and disorder )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
The big yellow rubby ducky has gone from Darling Harbour. Weep. I'm quite and surprisingly verklempt about it, the vanishing of a rather large and foolish yellow duck, but the sight of its big round yellow head every morning gave me a smile, especially this week, when I've had little to smile about.

Monday was a disaster from start to finish, especially when I realised, several hours into my morning commute, that I'd hadn't zipped the back of my dress all the way up. I've finally failed dressing myself in the morning. In my defence, it was cracking early and I was desperately unwell, but still, as I've learnt from bitter experience, there's no excuse.
more: ducks and demons )
mockturle06: (Neal)
A collection of links and scans featuring White Collar, Tim Dekay and more Matt Bomer than you could poke a stick at. Read on... )
mockturle06: (Neal)
Oh, the alarm really hurt this morning. I knew I shouldm't have stayed up watching Hell on Wheels, but I had to. I really wanted to see it, but when it screened on FX I only saw the first few episodes of series one and the last couple of series two because in the middle there were my months without Foxtel, while it kept on screening merrily away. It took four visits of cable guys before the figured out the cable itself was at fault (and not the box, the tv, or me).

So they finally fixed it, after I'd bought a digital aerial and had settled down with that, and watching shows online, at painfully slow and stuttering non-speeds. For a while there the cable worked great, and we even had proper internet, not something that behaves like some feeble and doddering old family retainer on an ITV murder show. For a while. It playing up again now, to my dismay, and it's not like I can say, hey, it's the cable. No, I'll have to go through every painful step again, to the dearth of my few remaining slender shreds of sanity.

But never mind that, because Hell on Wheels is now screening on the ABC, for free, sans cables, sans ads, and, weirdly not British, the ABC being a bastion of British telly for my lifetime, at least. Maybe because it's filmed in Canada, which used to be a pink bit, that's good enough?

I do like it, and it's even better without ads. Free and without ads. How wonderful. Anyway, you know me, I love a western, and this is better than most, with an enigmatic anti-hero with a Tragic Past (tm) and that good old need for revenge that has powered many, many a western. We've got properly vicious injuns, hookers, ex-slaves, traumatised vets, plucky Oirishmen and Colm Meany as a particularly moustache twirling villian, if he had a moustache to twirl, that is. I fully expect to find him tying young ladies to the tracks in one of the episodes I missed.
more: does anyone know where fanny hall is? )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
The other night, while I sat down to lukewarm tinned soup, Himself was off at a soirée in the celebrated company of no less than Bryan Brown, Gillian Armstrong, Bruce Beresford and Richard Neville, amongst others. Oh, how the other half live.
more: well I never )
mockturle06: (Dean sad)
What have I been up to? Not much. There was the Cary Grant course at Sydney Uni that I thought, as it was being given by Mr David Stratton, would be a critical examination of the man and his motives, but no, it was just sitting there watching clips and the odd film. As I'm a big time fan, it's hard to be churlish, I enjoyed the opportunity to watch Cary Grant films uninterrupted under the cover of academic study, but still. Some discussion would have been nice. I fear the, um, vigourous discourse, in my philosophy classes has perhaps spoiled me a bit, expectations wise.

So that was a touch on the meh side, as if watching North By Northwest could ever be meh. Come on, you know I'm a fan, did you see what I got up to on my last trip (still can't get out to Mt Rushmore, though)?


more: music, with a side of bacon )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
Precious little to report as theatre was cancelled and I bunked off my usual philosophy course. I was tired, it was wettish, and decided to wallow with my box set of The Hour instead. Good choice, imho. I love The Hour. Think State of Play in meticulous 50s drag. Except it's grim London 50s, not sparkling LA 50s. Makes it better, as far as I'm concerned. Also, crushing big time on Mr Whishaw.

It was all about the rain. Stood in the rain for about forty minutes or so outside the old State Theatre just to catch the most fleeting of glimpses of James Bond. Well, it was the dismal end of a miserable week and it was on the way to the bus stop, anyway, which is on the other side of town (scruffy reprobates from my zone need not bother coming into the city proper, they are neither welcome nor required, apparently those photocopiers fill themselves).

Anyway, I stood, I got soaked, I did but see him passing by. For a second, under an umbrella. Still, it wasn't that bad. The crowd where I was standing seemed to be made up almost entirely of British ladies of a certain age, and their withering comments, be it the weather or the fashions of minor soapie stars, was entertainment itself (British moaning does get on one's tits in the long term, but in short term exposures it's hilarious).



The monorail also provided a unique bonding experience, as we were standing right under the track in the rain and I tried to warn the tourists what would happen, but they pshawed (I wasn't wearing the grey cardigan of trustworthiness), until it did come around the corner and swept all the water from the track before it down onto our heads. After that their were cries of 'monorail!' every time it hoved into view. Well, I did try to warn 'em.

Never mind, good crowd of the very damp and the very faithful, and very British, and therefore very vocal. It was kind of fun. Reminds me of why I do the stage door thing there, but never here.
more: the mad, the bad and the dangerous )
mockturle06: (matt and tim)
You could just about ski down the side of the mountainous washing basket, resembling as it does the logo for Paramount Pictures right now. Oh dear. At least, for the sake of my sanity, it wasn't particulary adequate washing weather on the weekend while I was out and about, getting a bit of kulcha down the old gullet.

I could prove the inclementness of the weather if my camera, blighted beast that it is, didn't keep on insisting on turning the blackest boiling skies into little white puffy clouds, and the roughest of seas into the most placid of lakes.

I think I'll call it the Monet filter, as it turns every damn thing I try to take into lily ponds, and if anyone can tell me how to turn the damn thing off there will be some squeezy hugging involved. I want grim and black and dire. Thank you.

Not that old Monet was all lily ponds. One of my favourites of his resides at the NGV, and I love it for the little chap down in the corner, desperately clutching his hat. Not only does this give the picture a feel for the robust hat imperiling weather depicted, but also a touch of comedy, as Monsieur is about to lose his chapeau at any moment.

But the point is, when I went round the cliffs at Bondi on Saturday, it was a lot more dangerous to hats than the camera makes it seem, damn its eyes.
more: the devil is in the detail )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
Monday: It's an ill wind and all that, and there is one good thing to have come from the McCarthy witch hunts, albeit indirectly, and that is Shakespeare's Globe theatre, dream project of Sam Wanamaker, father of Zoe, who ended up in London as a result of being blacklisted.

I couldn't make the screening of Much Ado About Nothing, which I had been squeeing about in anticipation for weeks, and I was, and remain, completely gutted, but, bless 'em, the Globe just got back to my hastily thumbed email to say that they would certainly think about venues closer to my locale (which is kind, as Sydney transport is nowhere near London transport) and that Much Ado would be out on dvd from The Globe shop by years's end. So yay. Not as much fun as being there, or seeing it on the big screen, but still very much yay because I thought I'd missed out.
more: in the air tonight )
mockturle06: (matt)
Up at the crack of dawn, or rather, well before it, on Sunday due to various verminous stirrings in the house, but whatever, because I could at least watch Doctor Who, not too long after the UK screening, and that's always fun, even though it crashed on me three times, that's pretty much SOP, given the connection.

Not a great episode like the last three, but they can't all be gems (I mean, take Colin Baker, please). And there was bonus Prof. Brian Cox in a silly very RTD cameo. In fact the whole episode smacked of an RTD episode that had been shoved down the back of the sofa, found, uncrumpled and filmed. Some things are probably best left lurking under the left cushion, but there you go. Goodness is relative and at least there was no Adric in it.
more: it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters )
mockturle06: (Neal)
So I ran away from home. Well, just for a little bit. Just for the weekend, really. Work, as always, made the leaving fraught and far more difficult than it should have been, and the exhibition I actually went down there for was complete pants, and my favourite hotel has declined so suddenly it is now a scary chair against the door bedbug ridden dive, but aside from that, it was completely marvellous and wonderful. I love Melbourne so much. I'd move there if I didn't think I'd break the magic.

So, onto the good things. Trams. I love trams. Trams are good. Everyone should have trams. Trams take you up hills so you don't arrive at your museum of choice already footsore and blistered. Trams have old world charm. Trams run frequently and go where you want to go. Not sure about the Myki though. It didn't boop on and off like the old Oyster. Turns out, you have to hold it in place for about 15 minutes before it boops, which is bad news if you're only going four blocks uphill cause you're a lazy sod with sore feet. So, trams for free, then. Even better.



Cafes. Melbourne has cafes. I was going to wander and take some photos, but there were several impediments to that. One, even though my Olympus has decided to play ball and take the odd photo rather than being chucked in the bin, I still don't trust it. Two, the weather, though it never actually rained, kept on with the threatening opening the Lost Ark of the Covenant type clouds that disiclined one to striking out across open country and third, I'm just lazy and I really was coming down with a spot of plane flu* and had a bit of the wobbles. So cafes it was.
more: trams and cafes, sage and chocolate, bones and Bondi )
mockturle06: (mr flibble)
What I've been up to. Well, I've been yelled at a lot, that's fer sure. I wish I was invisible. I wish I wasn't such a screw up. I wish I had a gentle and supportive life coach at my elbow telling me the right things to do and say so I don't get yelled at so much. I mean, I try, but clearly falling well short of the mark.

It's depressing. If trying my best isn't good enough, then what good am I? No good, screams back the answer, loudly. Sigh.

Anyway, despite being an apparent walking human tornado of horribleness, I did go out to see Bill Bailey at the State and that was fun.
more: Snakes. Why'd it have to be snakes? )
mockturle06: merlin in a hat (Default)
Friday: That storm I saw coming in yesterday looked very impressive in the weather radar, so I popped off early (there is no more loyalty or duty left in the tank, it has all been spent on arid soils) figuring if I was at least halfway home when it hit, I'd be halfway home at least. Funnily enough, ended up sharing a bus seat with Himself, so we kept an anxious look on the clouds that moved from CCC to 333 in the colour chart, while he showed my pictures of toy Daleks in shop windows and girls with Beatles balloons (quite the archive he has rescued, not unlike Oswald in Shooting the Past).

Anyway, it was dark and blowy when we got off the bus and there was much activity in recovering blown away recycling bins (and not small ones, either), stacking fallen branches (and not small ones, either) and battening down of hatches a good few seconds before the storm hit with a WHUMPF! and sent rain smashing into the back windows and lightning spearing down. Huddle, huddle.

Himself was out of the room when a mighty column of lightning smacked down, sucking the air of of the room in an instant and filling it with ozone, making the sky go white and the windows shake so hard I'd though they'd break. That was the end of it as it moved off with a pitiful drizzle and half an hour later there were clear bands of sky and sunset, but I was a little spent and there was no getting on the webs for me that night.
more: the beat goes on )

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