The Guest Book

On the way out of the gallery I added my habitual comment:

What a life, What a life. Thanks be to God. Thanks be to God.

I can never think what else to write in guest books and no-one has ever complained. There are some great comments above, all of which, on one level or another, are also taking the piss (you can click to make big).

Dog In Rock

At this art gallery I went to they had this amazing, naturally formed piece of rock which looked remarkably like a dog wearing spectacles. The artist had relieved the mountain of the dog shaped miracle and put it in a frame. Then, lest we, the viewer, be in any doubt whatsoever about the doggyness of the piece he put some glass in front and drew a dog shape on it.

It's called "Dog In Rock". Fucking brilliant!

Union Jacks

I'll admit that I struggled a bit with the number of union jacks on display in Australia. They're mad for them. Very, very proud to be English they are.

But they don't mean any harm by it. It's honestly not a symbol of hatred like it is the UK.

See, even the chairs are made of union jacks.

Pesky Abo's

Some "pesky abo's" hanging about in a children's playground.

Coopers Ale

I started on Toohey's New which is a more than decent beer. This gave me precisely the hangover I deserved every time. That's really all I ask.

The Old (pictured above) is a different kettle of fish entirely and, frankly, after a promising start at the 19th hole one day, I fear I must report that I found it virtually unpotable. (I'd had similar problems at the previous 18 to tell you the truth).

But on the second week I got down to business and settled into the mighty, mighty Coopaz. Original Pale Ale is pictured but massive respect also to the Sparkling Ale which would certainly have featured more heavily were it not for its strength and the fact that I was drinking a dozen bottles a day.

Which, of course, to most male Aussies is, quite literally, small beer.

Gentleman Cheesemaker

Did I mention how much I enjoyed Sebastian Barry's towering Secret Scripture on holiday?

Muster's Australian Experience

Under the circumstances, and in the spirit of international relations, I was able to forgive them the missing 'S'.

cHeeky love

Another vineyard, another nutter being controlled by the moon.

I wenta this away with all haste.

-> -> -> -> ->

Winter Solstace

In a vineyard in the Hunter Valley on the shortest day of the year. Some mentalist pagans were offering "Smudge & Psychic Aura Readings" for a mere $10.

I mooched up and took this photo. I was trying to ignore the crazy-eyed moon people who wanted to steal my money. They, on the other hand, were trying not to ignore me. They were doing this by speaking to me.

It's okay I told them. I'm only taking pictures.

Below the minimum allowed

"The amount you have requested is below the minimum allowed"

This from an ATM somewhere in the Blue Mountains. I'd asked for $500. This was "below the minimum allowed". So I asked for $1000. I didn't care. Also "below the minimum allowed".

Next I tried $50,000. By some distance more than I had in my account. Same story. Still not enough for them.

Is it just possible that some numbnuts programmer really meant "above the maximum allowed"?

Blue Cattle Dog

Presumably one or the other be cool?

Cold Soup

At the museum today we got some soup. This was in the canteen and played no part of the exhibit.

I tasted it and it was lukewarm. I took it back and told the guy it was cold.

He said, "Is it stone cold".

I looked at him. I got up really close like Larry David does in Curb. I looked at him right in the eyes. He held my stare.

"It's cold enough that I would mention it", I told him.

No More I Love Youse

Like the Scots, the Aussies use the term "youse" as the plural of "you".

"What did youse get at the last hole?".

I always used to think that song by Annie Lennox "No More I Love You's" was about her telling a group of men that she didn't love them any more. I always used to think that until I thought about it the other day and decided not to think that any more.

Cricketer's Arms

Just about to head out to the famous Cricketer's Arms for the hair of the dog that bit me.

After that we will head out to a piercing 'studio' wherein I will have a sleeper inserted into the top part of my ear. I don't know what it's called. If I get very drunk I may even choose to get the gay (right) ear pierced. All very exciting.

My cousin's mate is called Bolt 'cos he got a bolt inserted into his penis. It must be a sex thing. He's got a son called Nut, I'm given to believe.

Nick Cave

I've travelled all over his big country. Well from Sydney up to Cairns anyway.

I've seen sea turtles, dugongs, sharks and some types of fish that looked so weird they must have been alcohol induced. Today I saw old man who lived in a cave above the remarkable Bondi beach and smelled of shit. I saw a whale today spouting enormously whilst drinking Coopers Sparkling Ale at the famous Iceberg club.

It's been an amazing trip and sadly it's coming to end. So far though, I've never met an Australian who has heard of Nick Cave. That's my ambition.

Dugongs

In the Aquarium yesterday watching some damnable dugongs.

I was idly stroking the head of my eldest daughter who was staring in wonderment at those mental looking beasts. I was about to lean down and drop a paternalistic kiss onto her forehead when, to my abject horror, I noticed that, in the words of young Michael Jackson, "The kid is not my son".

I don't have a son. I only have daughters. So quite why this boy would happily be accepting head strokes from a complete stranger is a question as strange and unfathomable as these lumbering sea cows.

With that I moved over towards some seahorses and hid in a crowd of Japanese tourists.

The Blue Mountains

On the way back from The Blue Mountains today, listening to the wonderful Grand Prix by Teenage Fanclub.

Great tunes and, quite literally, awesome views. More than a hundred kilometres from Sydney but we could see the city anyway through the cool blue twilight.

I love the Fannies but I've never really forgiven them for calling an album Songs From Northern Britain.

Unless they were being ironic. Which they probably were. So nothing to forgive.

Small Change

Not much has changed during my current hiatus. There are a couple of things however.

1. I always forget to say thanks when people give me something. I can only assume this is related to the moon which is different in this hemisphere. It makes the toilets flush anti-clockwise so I don't think it's too much of a stretch to suggest that it also makes me a bit rude. I do say thanks eventually but by then the person is gone. Or they've stayed where they are and I've gone.
2. I always leave the house without a handkerchief. This would have been heretofore unthinkable. Unthinkable.

Closed on account of Rabies

Or, suspended on account of slow or non-existant intanet access.

To be furthered...

Musters, pig farmer

Arrived into Sydney after two sweltering days in Hong Kong, China. It was hotter than Billy-be-Darned.

Everyone wearing surgical masks on the plane for fear of swine flu. But they have to take them off to eat. A little pepper around the nose allowed me to sneeze in the general vicinity. Widespread panic. The idea of going around the plane and introducing myself with a hearty "Musters, pig farmer" seemed a step too far.