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of carparks and kings
Feb. 13th, 2013 08:18 pmIt'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 )
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 )
the perfect mean
Feb. 4th, 2013 07:25 pmI'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 )
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 )
popcorn and prejudice
Jan. 28th, 2013 11:48 amThe 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 )
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 )
WHITE COLLAR ARCHIVE
Jan. 19th, 2013 01:09 pmA collection of links and scans featuring White Collar, Tim Dekay and more Matt Bomer than you could poke a stick at. ( Read on... )
what a swell party this is
Dec. 21st, 2012 03:05 pmThe 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 )
( more: well I never )
when the bough breaks
Dec. 17th, 2012 07:29 pmWhat 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 )
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 )
november movember
Nov. 30th, 2012 10:12 pmPrecious 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 )
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 )
pink flamingos
Nov. 9th, 2012 09:14 pmYou 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 )
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 )
blow, blow, thou winter wind
Nov. 4th, 2012 05:32 amMonday: 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 )
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 )
