Blogging once more..........

Well, lets see how THIS goes, shall we? I am planning on a weekly blog (because, lets face it, who wants to hear my rubbish on a daily basis??) - but we're all in the Lord's hands.........


Australia is a wonderful, and yet - still - incredibly provincial place. Out here, you still feel as if you are indeed living at the ends of the earth; and that the rest of humanity is merely a theoretical construct.

The earthiness of North America?? Derided!

The cultural brilliance of Europe? Meh.

The passion of South America? Huh?

I am delighted to be married to a wonderful man who I love and adore; and yet, it hasn't quite sunk in that he is actually married to anyone but a "recent Australian". He has no concept of where I come from, or what it is to be Canadian, or even that "Canada" is anything more than a vague idea. He has no interest in any place other than Australia, and cultures outside of Australia are "nice", but not quite.......... real. He hasn't the slightest interest in Canada, or Canadian culture (except that his son really likes maple candy); and my identity as a Canadian is a matter of supreme indifference here in Oz.

I may as well come from the moon.

But that's fairly typical of Australians, as I have found (or perhaps it is typical of "Queenslanders" alone?).

I am not sure what to make of it.

I know that Australians like to think of themselves as "more Canadian than American"; but that's rubbish. Australians are incredibly American, in that (Like Americans) anything not "Australian" (read: American) doesn't count.

You're welcome as long as you don't rock the boat. You're welcome as long as you leave whoever you were "back in the old country" behind. Nothing you do overseas will count in Australia. It truly is "Terra Nullius" (Nobody's Land).

But they are a warm and happy people. They have a strong sense of self - and if you're not Australian, well....... you'd better be.

Fast.

If you're a Frenchman that's just won the Nobel Prize in Physics and decided to settle in Brisbane - well, nobody cares. You'd better learn to speak English, and if you want to teach Physics at Griffiths University - you'd better tender a good resume. Your Nobel Prize will be seen as some foreign thingie; and you'll have to PROVE yourself as Australian.

Its exciting, and depressing all at the same time: if you are a failure, you will get a clean start in Australia - which is wonderful. But if you were successful elsewhere, you won't get any credit for it here. You will be starting (yet again) from ground zero.

Again - I am not sure what to make of that.

At last!!

http://aughwriterscramp.blogspot.com/

Jeff Healy's dead?????????

My goodness - and I almost killed him mysef over 15 years ago!!

Wow.

Jeff Healy, seminal Toronto rock god and blind guitar great, apparently died in March of this year.

Nobody told me.

I was young, gorgeous, talented (ahhh... the delusions of youth!) and had just written the core songs for my debut album "Open Heart and Cautionary Tales". Of all of them, "Jericho" was my favourite musically, "Shine" lyrically; "By the Sea" harmonically and I just really liked "My name is Jack" because it was a complete Sinead O'Connor rip off, and while I could sing it, I was no Sinead O'Connor.

No, I was sane.

But I digress.

I took the album (recorded at GREAT expense at 3am at the studio used by Toronto's famous-ish "Pardon Beggars") to David Bendeth, then the A&R rep at BMG Music. His father had been our family doctor and friend since I was born, and his sister sold fancy perfume, as I recall.

Well, Dave had wonderful feedback for me, and gave me advice I will never forget: "You suck" was the essential nature of his criticism, and he was right; yet, oddly I left his office tears.

Go figger.

BMG was located in Toronto right at the corner of Queen St. and Much Music (who knows, or cares, what the intersection was, except for the fact that there's a rather nice crepe shop on the opposite corner now.)

Furious with David's lack of vision (hell, he was only the discoverer of the Cowboy Junkies) I ran headlong across the street in the rain into the donut shop to call my then lover, musical collaborator and friend, Patrick, to blame him for my existence, among other things. But there was someone in the way at the intersection. I shoved him brutally aside in my haste to make my phonecall and purchase a double sprinkle Maple Wonder glazed donut; and lo and behold, the b@stard I had shoved into traffic was none other than Jeff Healy - no doubt on his way to see David "You Don't Get It" Bendeth.

Wow.

Small world, huh????

:-D

They are just made of sugar, aren't they??

In a place as "rural" as Samford, wildlife abounds.

We have possums sleeping in the balconies, crows and noisy miner birds handling the lunch morning tea clean-up, wild dogs hunting down and mangling local sheep and horses, and feral cats living in the school drains.

Anyone who knows cats knows they don't like being wet; and today we had a flash thunderstorm. The drains began to overflow, and that brought out the feral kittens in force. They huddled miserably in the drains, hiding in the barely concealed pipes, whingeing and moaning about the wet; and attracting hordes of our young students, eager to know what was making that pathetic mewling sound under the storm grate.

When I first started at Samford, we had a bit of an adventure with our fera cat population: a kitten became trapped under the building housing the infirmary, and eventually the wainscotting had to be ripped off to gain access to the wee thing. The story does, of course, have a happy ending as the kitten was adopted by a specialist teacher; but the wilderness adventure at our school goes on...

As a cat lover, and one who has lived with over 4 kitties at a time, I am at once concerned about the feral cat population at school, and reassured that they are doing just fine. But today, during the sudden and violent rainstorm, the local cats rebelled and attracted quite a bit of attention to themselves.

The kids at school, particularly our grade 5 class (the one outside which the drain in question is located) adopted a whining, well-concealed kitten as their "cause celebre".

In fact, they even lowered a TOY into the drain, stuffed with ham and cheese:






I have to say, these kids at school are a loving, caring bunch of monsters........

Safety First!

Signage is so important at a school the size of Samford....


...and the Frankensteins are particularly vocal, as they walk everywhere..........

Ahhh, the country life!

Last weekend was "the Samford Show". Its what in New Zealand (I am told) is called a "P&A" show (a pastoral and agricultural show). Despite the fact that having a Chaplaincy presence there meant that I have been working every day since school resumed a week ago last Monday, the show was great fun.

Some of the highlights for me were the entertainment (naturally):

There's almost nothing a woman enjoys more than the delicate strains of a massed pipe and drum tattoo at 8:30 on a Saturday morning is there? Well, maybe sparkly nailpolish, but don't quote me on that....

Then there were the competitions. I don't know about you, but I have never seen a prize winning zucchini before. And, if, like me, you too are new to the world of competitive vegetabulary, allow me to share....


How awesome. How rare! So THIS is what a gold-medal zucchini looks like!!


Then there were the champion citrus fruits:




And of course, Mrs.Robertson's prize-winning ginger cookies:




I have to admit, I have no idea why the judges were so hard on these custard apples, but I can only share the pain they must feel at having been damned with the faint praise of an "honourable mention"


Did they say something wrong? Were they the underdog - training in secret and praying for glory but falling short at the last moment? And yet were the judges moved to support them in their quest for the gold anyway?

Did they fail to slip the commitee a fiver???

We may never know.

Still, Bruce managed to put his marksmanship skills to the test:




I was lucky to escape with my life. I suppose our game of "Lenin and the Bolshevik Maiden" might have ended badly, but I digress...

Fortunately, Bruce's attempts to teach his son to drive were someting of a success....


.... they both lived.

How I look forward to next year..............

Oh how I've missed blogging!

Its been busy, I'll admit, but life is full and rich and spicy, so I am not complaining.

But where were we?? Oh yes, a rich, busy and spicy life....

Over the school holidays, Bruce took me away for a romantic getaway to the Gold Coast. He was lavish and oh so romantic.....

We stayed a the Crowne Plaza Hotel (and you simply have not lived until you have had a bath in a room with a panoramic view of the Gold Coast at night. I rather liked the way the lights from Jupiter's Casino glittered on my toenail polish)

Bruce and I took in all the sights. We did some shopping in the finest of shoppes; and delightfully, I discovered that secret little nook where the residents of the Gold Coast get their Medieval Daggers:
What a find!

And we found the most charming little "discount" shop with toys for the most discerning of grown-ups (titter)!




I probably shouldn't share the intimate details of Bruce and my...intimate life... but there's almost nothing we enjoy more than a rousing marital game of "Lenin and the Bolshevik Maiden" (delicate giggle). Thank goodness we know where to go on the Gold Coast to make that happen!

Then we took some time to sample the local cuisine:

Mmmmm...



No wonder I can't lose weight!

My poor husband. He took one bite of these and immediately grew breasts and became surly and uncommunicative. When I asked him what was wrong he said "nothing............."

Well, I suppose that puts an endo to our Gold Coast adventures............