Meus Parem Locus

jingjing-je-jingjing-je-jing AAGH!

This morning I went into work a little late and got caught up in a swell of pilgrims at St Peter's station.  It was quiet when I got there first, but the distant, ominous sound of clapping, yelling and tambourines could only mean there were some nearby.  As the sound got closer the first flashes of colour began to appear at the top of the platform steps.  Colour from flags, crosses draped in flags, those little yellow and red backpacks they all wear, and their official badges.  I stood back and watched the stream of young (and all rather beset with acne it has to be said) folk make their way down the platform.   Myself and the other ordinary people all seemed to clump together around the middle, all earnestly wishing the train would hurry up so we could all get the hell out of there.   Then the train arrived.  It was worse....

*Jingjing-ji-jing-ji-ji-jingjing-ji-jing* "Oh praise him YEAH! oh yes the lord..." *jingjing-ji-jing*

I don't object to the whole thing per se - as a self styled democrat I must accept everyone's right of speech and religious expression - but add a bit of fervour in there and I start to get antsy.   So do I get this way at the Mardi Gras parade, which could fall under the same banner?  No I don't, but then I am not saying I am not biased.  

"Halleluia!  Praise him for he be(?) the one to save the children and lead to salvation....  AMEN!!"

Organised religion of any format gives me the willies.  By it's nature it is artificial - the interpretation by a human(s) of the intangible, the elusive and the invisible.  History tends not to lend it any assistance - I am sure there were many 2000 years ago that thought Christianity was as looney as we think Scientology is today.   They all stem from some central charismatic character and groups of people seeking some kind of spiritual direction (whether they know it or not).   And they all have rules (not a bad thing in general) but the rules then proceed to exclusion of people either by social status, sex, wealth, marriage, sexuality, lifestyle, expression.... The rules become the measure by which one can exist within the religion - the whole supposedly spiritual reason it exists becomes lost within them.  And who creates the rules...  well it's the humans surprise surprise...

You can fine me $5,500… But I still won’t believe in God

I have been invited to attend a rally as a part of the PopeGoHome (or something like that) Coalition.  The organisation and rally was started (it seems to me) not so much to protest against the Pope (although there are many reasons why it could) but more of a protest against the stupid, ridiculous and indefensible laws brought in by the state government that stated it would be an offence (with a fine of up to $5,500) to "cause annoyance or inconvenience to a pilgrim" during the month of July.    I was appalled at this gross breach of my rights as a citizen and wanted to protest as much as any conscious objector, but felt the PopeGoHome rally and it's message was not the right forum for me.   As I say, I have no problem with him being here (although by the end of the week I''m sure I'll have some problems with the noisy happyclappers).   I sent a strenuous email to my local state MP.... who is.... I have no idea, I realised after I had composed the thing.  It sat in my drafts until today, when the Federal Court overturned the laughable laws anyway.  Sanity prevails at last....

WYD08: We close 300 roads so 300,000 can close their minds

They might have closed their minds to me a long time ago, but I refuse to stoop so low with them.

Go on-have a bit of Bonka Ars!

A few too many beers on Friday night saw me outside on Oxford Street about 2:30am hailing a cab.  I had been to 7Eleven for my signature sandwich and Pringles to take home with me, and it was cold and I was tired.  So when a cab stopped, I gratefully got in and gave him my destination.   I then proceeded to catch up on text messages from the evening.  

Sometime later I look up and and think "where the hell am I" and realise I'm at Broadway - a VERY poor way to go home.  Too tired and drunk to make argument with the overly friendly (and deceitful) cab driver I sit tight and decide to let it be.  He goes around the f*cking world and eventually gets to my home.  What is normally about $15 is now $22.   I just want to get out - seething with anger that I was not paying attention and he took advantage of this. 

"I've only got $20. This is normally only $15" I mumble, giving him the note and getting out of the cab without saying anything else or looking back.  He sensibly takes it and drives off.   Lesson learned for me.

THEN, last night I was coming out of another pub (this time not on Oxford Street - no no - a far more reputable establishment in Petersham) and jumped into another cab (a bit earlier and more sober this time I'll have you know) and headed off home.   WHY do a "certain type of cab drivers" drive with their foot either ON the accelerator or OFF - continuously.  It makes anyone seasick in about 30seconds and certainly did that for me last night.  I just wanted to yell at him to drive f*cking smoothly, but I doubt he would have understood.   I had to point out my destination on a filthy map when I got in. 

So, we pull up outside and the meter shows $16.  I grab my wallet and start fumbling for change.  The meter shows  $16.10.   I get my money together and hand it to him.  The meter shows $16.20.  He waits for the extra 20c by pointing to the meter (which now shows $16.30). "Driver you should have stopped the meter when we stopped"  "No no no" he says to me as I go to get out, pointing furiously at $16.40 on the dial.  I tell him to get f*cked and get out.  He seesaw accelerates away, not having the command of English to be able to direct an appropriate response.  

I know there are some good ones out there but I am so sick of getting into skanky, creaky cabs where the driver either has no idea where they are going or cannot communicate with you or drives at 40km/h and purposely misses lights etc. Last month I had a driver who fell asleep at the traffic lights. It used to be that you could trust a cab to get you home - now it's only that you can trust you'll be ripped off and sitting in an atmosphere of stale smoke and body odour.
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Went to see Sex and the City movie on Thursday night with Jason.   To be honest, yes, it was a bit disappointing but did have some funny and memorable moments worth viewing.   If you haven't seen the tv series, do not go to watch this movie - it will be lost on you.  It's kind of like going to watch the Neighbours movie - you ain't going to get it.   The George St movie complete in Sydney has been renovated and has great seats, great popcorn and a fabulous new digital screen with amazing clarity and definition.  Most impressive.
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I'm going to sit back a little this month.  July is usually a quieter time for me, and after the big holiday, the expense and nasty head cold from London that I cannot seem to shake I am going to take it easy.  It's the only time of year in Sydney when you can credibly soak in a nice hot bath.   Sit back, relax, have a coffee -ooh - I'd like a bit of Bonka Ars too!

Undercooked and Overrated

"$70 please"

"I'm sorry? How much?"

"$70" she says with just the slightest hint of menace starting to creep into her tone.

I shuffle my hand into my wallet and withdraw two $50's and reluctantly hand it over.

"How was everything for yooooooo" chirps the other waitress behind the counter, in that nasal-smiling-aussiechick kind of voice with a big insincere smile.

"Lovely, thanks" I gush, as if eternally grateful for some soggy hash browns with wilted smoked salmon and some tired old spinach dreeped over the underpoached eggs.    I look at the tip jar - empty.  It's not that the service is bad, it's just that no-one can afford a tip after they call up the bill.    With a painted on smile I take my $30 change.   "See you again soon!"   Unlikely.

This morning myself and Jason were awake early after having flown into Sydney yesterday about 6am.  Such a beautiful sunny morning, and both awake about 7am, we decided to walk down to a local cafe (let's just call it B*tt*n) and treat ourselves to some brekkie.   I should have brought my leftover Sterling as back up....

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So back in Sydney and much to discuss for future plans.   I vary between intense excitement and abject terror at the thought of what we plan to do (move to London sometime in the next 12 months) but all the while I keep the view of it as an adventure, and I would regret not doing it.   There is so much to organise and discover, so many arrangements to be made, so many "things to get out of the way" that it's a bit overwhelming at present.  But maybe that's a combination of jet lag and rip-off breakfast prices.

London (contd.)

"That's not a local/Australian accent!  Where are you from?"

"Ireland"

"Yes I thought that.  Whereabouts?

"Dublin"

"Ah.  Been here/there in Australia long?"

"9 years now"

"So you like it here/there then?"

"Yes"

From this point forward the conversation can veer in any number of directions.  This is probably the most common conversation I have had in my life.  It may vary slightly with beer intake and familiarity, but essential features remain.   It's a well rehearsed banter for me these days.  

I had so many of these last night as I FINALLY got to go to XXL Club in London - only took about 8 years and about 100 visits to London in that time.   It was a fantastic night and am very pleased to say it lived up to it's reputation (and name :-)   After many solid nights of drinking I think me and Jase will be having a quiet one tonight in the flat.   I am looking forward to chillin with some Marks & Spencers dinner special!

Kx

Holiday awe

Sitting in a rather skanky internet cafe in Earls Court in London, being forced to listen to yo-yo hiphop shite (something about she hitting the floor) in the background, but at least it's cheap.   We arrived in London yesterday to our little one bed serviced apartment - which is absolutely fantastic and soooo much better than we could have thought.   It actually works out a lot cheaper (in the long run) than a hotel and gives so much more flexibility.   Loving it.

I am still getting over the two weeks in Dublin - the fun was constant and apart from having to drive back and forth across the city everyday with tight deadlines (oh how I love tight deadlines and traffic snarls :-) the whole experience was wonderful.  It's going to take me a long time to get over it.   And last night we caught the tube into Soho and met a load of people in the Duke of Wellington - more pints and laughs.  I think we're definately locked in to coming over here next year to live :-)

Tonight is Paul Bolger's "leaving drinks" (he goes to Chicago for 3 months) big deal!  But great excuse to get to the pub from about 5pm onwards...  Haven't really taken any photos in Ireland or here in London yet - a couple on my phone which will be uploaded when back home. 

Airport update - off to London!

Sitting in our bedroom in the airport hotel in Dublin and me trying to type this on my phone. Flight to London at 11 or so. Have spent the best time I have ever had on a holiday to home, and although I am excited about the next phase of our holiday, I am sorry to leave Ireland for the first time in a long long time. I don't think I've ever felt how strongly I could live back here. Dublin has put on such a great show for everyone - its nothing like the city I gladly left in 1999. But its London next- perhaps our future adopted home for a while - so next chapter please :-)

Grand craic in Dublin!

Barcelona - what a magic place!  Seeing my brother, his wife and, for the first time, their son & my first nephew was fantastic.  Taking myself out around the city with bag, map and camera on a sunny day - I love the place and would happily spend more time there.  Who knows? 

How wonderful it is to be here in Dublin with all (well most) of my friends from Australia!  And to make or reconnect with so many more.   I may only be a (registered) supporter of the Sydney Convicts but I really feel part of something that I have never really been in before. And it's quite an honour to have them all in my home town.  I must admit to being a bit apprehensive that things would not go well, that I might be embarrassed by some shortfall in expectations or that the weather would (literally) put a dampener on proceedings, but so far nothing has emerged as an issue.   My trips back to the home country are always good fun, but this is a blast. I am having a ball.  Tonight I have elected to take myself down to my parents house for a little detox after a week of consistent (and wonderful) partying.   Another big night will happen tomorrow at the Helix venue (let's hope they have more than 3 barmen and a handful of beer kegs this time) then on into the city, to haunts like Dragon (a favourite of everyone), The Front Lounge (always groovy) and maybe somewhere new, like Pantibar (yet to go there, but sounds good).   My my my, how Dublin and Ireland has changed...

Poor Jason injured himself on the first day of training and has had to use a crutch for a few days and get regular physio and exercises.   I know he is pissed off about it but as usual he puts on a brave face, a big smile and helps out the rest of the team at the games.   He's been given a provisional approval to get on the pitch and play a little tomorrow which would be fantastic.  Although I get "anxiously protective" (as I like to call it)  when he is out on the pitch getting rucked, mauled and other such physical abuses, it is thrilling to watch him take part.  I will have my camera with me for sure.

Right now though, I am tired and going to take myself off to bed for an early night (the first in a long time).  Hopefully my writing content & style will be a little more compelling when I next put finger to keyboard, but I'm not having good "blogflow" tonight.. :-)

mess

Why is it - I don't know - but it is impossible for me to arrive in Europe from Australia looking anyhting other than a diabolical mess. I smell, I've got offer stains abd congealed crumbs all over my tshirt and my socks feel like a kind of warm gel around my feet. Don't even start on my hair, which turns to straw at the mere thought of air travel. My facial hair doubles its growth velocity and designer stubble seems possible upon arrival. Except, that is not how it grows. No, it prefers to clump in special areas, meaning my already hydration challenged face looks like I started shaving in random places but then couldn't be bothered following through to the end. Anyhoo, I think I will endeavour to find a shower (here in heathrow terminal 1) and pull myself together for collection by my annoyingly stylish Spanish brother and wife. Here's hoping ...

last minute panics

36 hours to go, and preparations are falling into place.  Last minute panics are being addressed (anxious checks of bookings online just incase I was mad when I made the arrangements), laundry is being done to ensure fresh clothing is available (socks and knickers on boil wash), lists are being made to ensure I don't forget anything (I will anyway) and work is being wrapped up (work being abandoned). 

As the weather in Sydney pelts down water from the sky, I check the web for long term forecasts for Dublin, somewhat hoping that weather for the Bingham Cup weekend won't shame me when I'm there....

So anyway - too distracted now to focus on this properly so will sign off.  Watch out for updates from the holiday (and hopefully a few pics and stories too :-)

"I didn't look at them - honestly"

About a week ago I found an old disposable camera in a drawer in my desk at work.  I knew it was there - I just didn't bother with it for ages.  Believing it to be a camera from an old sales conference a few years back, I asked my assistant to bring it to the camera shop for development while she was going there for other things (you know where this is going I'm sure)....  Anyhoo, I forgot all about it until I was rushing out the door on Thursday evening to catch a flight to Melbourne that night.  As the lift door opened and I dashed out, there she was with boxes of her printing coming back in.

"I picked up your photos - erm - I don't think they are from a conference - I think they're personal - I just had a quick glance - I didn't look at them!!!" she blurts out as she hastily stuffs them into my hands and gets into the lift. 
"Sorry - honestly I didn't look at them" she says with a red face and pushing the button the close the door.  "See you next week" I hear as the door closes. 

With a sense of impending doom I open the photo wallet to see what horrors lay within.  Photo's of myself and Jason in various places - I think on a weekend trip to Coffs Harbour some years ago - in various "states of undress" greeted me.  My face must have looked like a hydroponic tomato as I realised that even if she had not looked at every one of them, she certainly would have got the concepts from the stupid thumbnail index photo at the very front...  I sheepishly left the building post haste cursing my stupidity. 
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The gluten-free diet continues to produce results (or not produce migraines anyway) and I am now on day 7 without a flinch.   I can still eat wheat (like the pizza I had last night after I cam home from a hectic day of meetings in Melbourne) but just not in any great quantities.   Happy days for me indeed...
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Yes it's Eurovision weekend and whilst sitting and eating my pizza last night, I had a look a the first semi-final which was only screened in Australia last night (though it took place on Tuesday).   I was appalled at the Irish entry (Dustin the Turkey) when it was chosen for our national entry, and delighted to see the nonsense did not get through to the final.   The humour was lost on everyone except the Irish, half of the lyrics were unintelligible and the whole thing was rubbish.  The best thing you could say about it was that the set was impressive - but that was thanks to the Serbian TV production team.  I can face the final (Sunday night SBS)  with relief I won't be seeing that again...
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13 days to go before I am on that plane back to Europe...
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I love this - the new Irish PM looks like setting an interesting precedent for the future...Irish Times Thursday May 22, 2008

THE TAOISEACH (PM), Brian Cowen, has expressed regret for any offence caused by his use of an expletive that was inadvertently picked up by broadcast microphones in the Dáil (Irish Parliament).

A spokesman for the Taoiseach strongly denied the comments referring to "those f*ckers" were directed at Fine Gael or at any other members of the Opposition.