Ah those university days

by Cellobella on Wednesday, January 18, 2012 · 1 comment

I went back to my old college – St George’s – today.

Partly to beg, plead and plunder for my son who would dearly love to follow the family tradition (I think)  and go to the college himself this year as he studies his science degree at UWA, but also just to walk the halls and remember those “good old days”.

I don’t think I’m alone in this.

I’m pretty sure my dad, who also went to St George’s and indeed was Senior Student, also pops by to feel that red brick memory soak right in.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s no coincidence that the house I grew up in and the house I have now lived in for 13 years is also red brick…

Just sayin’.

“It’s hard to tell how much the student actually wants to come here… and how much of it is the parent wanting the student to live here.” says the acting warden – a charming man – when I visited today.

I’m sure, I murmur politely as my eyes tear up looking out his window to the old sub-warden’s cottage.

The cottage where I and a young Groover sat listening to our priest deliver pre-marriage lessons.

“I hate weddings”, was the line I remember best.

And.

“In-laws and children.  You need to agree on what you want to do about those and you’ll be alright.”

Well I want my children to go to residential college.  And if at UWA that means St George’s.

But does my son?

I’m so excited for him, accepting his offer of a place today, the prospect of studying at UWA with his friends is brilliant.

In fact he has many more friends going to uni than I did back in the day, it must be like going on a giant road trip.

I confess I am jealous.

And yes, living somewhat vicariously.

Maybe that’s why I’m so keen on this idea of doing a post-grad degree in Archeaology….

So I had a tour of the college, and noted the changes.

Not sure I like the modern tables in that lovely old library but maybe I need to get over that…

I’m sure I didn’t help my son’s chances of getting in one iota.

But I hope.

I REALLY hope.

They offer him a place.

(And that’s if he wants to go.  Not that I’ll love him any less if he doesn’t. )

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Pictionary pwnage

by Cellobella on Saturday, January 14, 2012 · 5 comments

Oh yeah baby.

I confess.

I do enjoy Pictionary.

Groover bought “the family” (I think it was  really for me) Pictionary for Christmas.

Tonight we played.

And.

YOU can play along too.

What’s this?

Drawn by me... easy right?

So you’ve got that one? Answer here: flamingo

Now try this one from Groover:

Another easy one... two from two right?

Answer here: dalek

So feeling confident??

This one had number one son stumped…

Ouch... tricky?

Not so easy? Answer here: spank

But this one from my daughter I thought was BRILLIANT.

Just highlight over the space next to the answer here bit.

I guessed this in about 20 seconds.

Very clever girlie girl.

Answer here: Michael Jackson – a black guy who thinks he’s white.

Yeah yeah.

I love Pictionary.

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My new outdoor office

by Cellobella on Friday, January 13, 2012 · 1 comment

A water view and decking beneath my feet

You find me this afternoon, dear reader, writing from my new outdoor office.

I’m mid holiday, we’ve finished the pergola and the decking.

It’s 35 degrees and hot so I’m in my wet bikini (imagine me slim please) with a large glass of icy water which I hope will be replaced by a St Clair Savignon Blanc within the hour.

I am a third of the way through my reading list for this year’s writers’ festival.

I’m chairing the bloggers’ forum and for once feel a tiny bit qualified to be amongst the literati.

Of course all the bloggers on my panel have also written books.  Show offs.

Apart from appearing as an extra in my very own version of The Renovators, this week I’ve been going along to the “advanced” storytelling course led by Brian Finkelstein from The Moth.

It’s the advanced course because I did another course this time last year with Margot Leitman, not that I consider myself advanced at all.

I was a bit nervous this year.

Last year, well I was a n00b wasn’t I so it didn’t really matter if I was rubbish… but now… I’m “advanced”.

There are expectations.

And everyone else is so good, including my partner in crime when it comes to storytelling – Feline.

Still, four more lessons to go before we begin the show at The Blue Room.  There’s hope.

In fact I’m hoping to get inspired by the fabulous Ira Glass who is in town tonight.  I bought my tickets MONTHS ago and they’ve been pinned to my noticeboard winking at me ever since.

Ira is the host of This American Life, my favourite podcast, in fact I’m listening to it as I type.

He is another fabulous storyteller.

I wonder if I’ll get to meet him?

Should I take my radio to get him to sign it?  My ipod?

A sad little groupie, that’s what I am.

Still it could be worse.

I could be a fan of Justin Beiber. (is that how you spell his name?)

 

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The lesson from lasagne

by Cellobella on Thursday, January 12, 2012 · 4 comments

Apart from reconstructing our backyard, this summer holiday seems to be all about lasagne.

Now I love lasagne but I haven’t made it in ages – me being on a high protein diet and all – and I’m good at making it.

My bechemel sauce is thick, smooth and creamy goodness.

The bolognaise is bolognaisy.

The lasagne sheets are well… flat.

It’s not hard to make let’s be honest.

But it is comfort food and I was inspired to make one recently for friends who have been going through a tough couple of weeks.

My daughter was keen to do the cooking, so supervising from my position of on all fours nailing down decking, we got to it.

I’d forgotten how messy lasagne is to make but the end result looked like a bought one and the friend was very happy not to cook for a night.

We left feeling comforted ourselves, in the pious afterglow of a good deed done, and made a second lasagne for ourselves on return, the kitchen being already a tip site.

It tasted yummy – I hadn’t lost my lasagne mojo.

So last night we had some friends over visiting from Adelaide.

It was a hot day and we decided rather than going out for a cheap meal at our local favourite Vietnamese restaurant we’d entertain at home on our nearly completed decking.

The temperature was perfect outside as a light seabreeze wafted through under the newly installed pergola, and we admired the soft feel of old boards under our feet, and the gently swinging paper lanterns.

I cooked lasagne.

Now it’s been a while since I’ve had a dinner party – if you don’t count Christmas which lets face it, has a pretty set menu.

And I didn’t ask if there were any dietary considerations…

So boring to have to ask really but these days… well most people are intolerant to something.

I should have asked.

3/4 guests had a dairy intolerance – and my lasagne is half cheese.

Problem.

But what do you do?

I cooked up the three small kebabs I had in the fridge and let them serve themselves.

The younger son, bless him, reckoned he could handle some cheesy goodness, but was dissuaded sensibly by his mother.

It turned out to be a pretty meagre spread it must be said, especially if you weren’t keen on salad.

I felt bad, but what could I do?

It has made me ponder this morning what the etiquette is when going to someone’s house for dinner.

Is it up to the host to inquire after your eating issues?

Maybe I need to consider having a “standby” meal somewhere, just in case?  And more than three kebabs.

Or on receipt of an invitation, is it incumbent upon you to say “Thank you, why that would be lovely, just to let you know I’m (lactose, peanut, seafood, meat etc) intolerant…”

Seems a bit rude.

A bit presumptuous…. “Well I wasn’t going to serve you prawns anyway!”

A bit looking at the horse’s teeth.

A gift horse? Photo by McD22

I’m leaning towards saying nothing and hoping for the best (while packing my fridge with optional extras)  - but that’s just little non confrontational me.

Oh and last night’s guests?  They filled up on the chocolate cake they brought and we all played Singstar.

A happy ending.

 

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Summer jobs

by Cellobella on Wednesday, December 21, 2011 · 1 comment

He's graduated

Finished school

School is finished.

And wow.  I am now the parent of a nearly at university student.

But before that happy day – hopefully – of a decent ATAR result and an offer to the preferred course – Science at UWA – the pocket money has been cut off.

Now you might scream “Fair crack of the sauce bottle!  Give the guy a break, he’s just finished 12 grueling years of school…”

Stop it.

A summer job is good for him.

Independence.

A bit of money, certainly more than I’m prepared to give him.

Respect.

Something to do.

And he’s not alone.

Joining him in the workforce is Miss 14, who has been busy handing out resumes to local businesses and prospective babysitting clients.

My daughter

Babysitter and Waitress

Since being on holidays she’s continued her Saturday morning waitressing job and done some work for a friend assisting at a holiday program for 4-7 year olds.

She’s good with kids.

(must get it from her paternal grandmother… sorry mum)

And how much does she like spending the money she’s earning?!!!

The only downside?

I don’t get a say in how she spends it.

A small price to pay.

So summer jobs.

They can be crap.

I spent a couple of summers photocopying in an engineering library…

But the pay packet is delicious.

And anyone who stays at home… well.

I have chores that need doing.

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How to dial an old-style telephone

by Cellobella on Thursday, November 10, 2011 · 3 comments

See I didn’t think you would need a lesson but then, probably, you’re not 14.

It has taken nearly two years but finally we have got cable which means we can now use my old bakelite phone as the house phone.

Ahhh I am quite excited but the rest of the family, less so.

Groover: It’s useless! I tried to call a 1300 number today and I had to “press 1″ but you can’t on that phone.

Dippity: So does that mean I can’t take the phone into my bedroom??!

Hugamuga: Meh. I don’t use the phone anyway.

It’s not as if we don’t already have a surfeit of phones in this house – five active mobiles at last count, and one spare.

I quite like not having an answering machine too. After all, if you really want to speak to me you’ll ring me on one of my mobiles right?

And who uses caller ID anyway.

So for those of you who want to go retro communicado – here’s a little how-to video from my girl.

In other news – which you might also get if you rang us on our home phone – my boy finished his last exam today. It was Geography and he reckons it went well.

Interview for St George’s tomorrow. Good luck!

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A jack of all trades, master of none

by Cellobella on Wednesday, November 2, 2011 · 1 comment

Me getting into the whole archeology thing

So you know I’ve recently bought a ukulele – “oh I so admire how you throw yourself at things” a friend observed.

Hmmm.

Well I do try things… but do I stick to them… not so much.

(well apart from the organisation I work for… 22 years!)

Here’s the list of short courses/hobbies that I can remember starting in the last say 17 years:

  • Ukulele - started this week – have sore fingertips through practice!
  • Cello – started when son was 3.  No formal lessons. I can’t play it
  • Italian – did lessons back in 1989, then CDs in 2005.  Can’t speak Italian except for swear words.
  • French – went to Alliance Francais once or twice.  Still crap at French.
  • Horseriding – did this for about 6 months at Claremont Showgrounds.  Still have jodphurs.  Lost my helmet.
  • Teddy bear making – have made two teddy bears.
  • Sewing - have a big pile of fabric that I will one day make into something… maybe.
  • Knitting – made jumpers and hats for kids when they were tiny. 
  • Belly dancing – have still got the jangly outfits.
  • Ballet – needed to work on my pelvic floor post children for this to continue.
  • Ballroom dancing – Mr Cha Cha’s ballroom at Perth Festival back in 2005.
  • Shorthand – thought it would be useful – managed 2 weeks of course
  • Religious studies (through Open University) – thought it would be interesting – didn’t hand any assignments in
  • Archeology- went on a dig - thought about doing a post grad.
  • Theatresports – great fun last year with Spontaneous Insanity
  • Zumba – oh yeah I went a few times – I was going every week.  And then they closed the hall.
  • Storytelling - started in January with Barefaced  - love it.
  • Guitar – I was six months pregnant – it was hard to reach
  • Script writing – a short course I did in Bunbury a long time ago
  • Painting with pastels – did this a few summers ago with UWA summer school
  • Bridge.  Started in 1992 and still going (with a 10 year hiatus for kids) – good to see I stick at something.

Hmmm maybe I’ve just worked out why I don’t stick at going to the gym and dieting…

This wasn’t supposed to be a meme but what about you?

What’s your list of things you’ve tried/are trying?

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Ukulele bella – why this girl bought herself a uke

by Cellobella on Sunday, October 30, 2011 · 3 comments

This is my new ukulele

So I bought myself a ukulele for my birthday.

I guess it all started with coming across this group on my morning walk.

That was back in 2008.

And then I saw you could buy ukes for about $30 and I thought, well why not.

But I never got round to it.

Then a few weeks ago, after taking my cello in to get restrung, I had a chat to the fellow at the local music store who told me about how he had recently taken his ukulele on a camping trip and how everyone had wanted to have a go.

He convinced me that noob that I am, I would soon pick it up.

And then convinced me that a $30 ukulele sounds crap and I may as well spend a little bit more and enjoy the sound that I made… the cheap ones really sound tinny and thin.

So yesterday.  The day I went to see the Queen.  I bought a ukulele.

It’s a Cordoba.

I don’t know anything about anything musical but I did feel good when the other shop assistant said “whoh – where did you find that?” to my shop assistant.

Now of course they might have a hundred out the back and this might be ‘the line’ to help reinforce the purchase decision, whatever, it worked. I bought it.

And it even has a cute little case and a tuning pipe. (which I will never use because my ear isn’t that good and also I downloaded an app and just in case that doesn’t work I have an electronic tuner for my cello)

So I’ve been practicing my chords.

I’m learning about chord progressions and tabs and strumming rhythms.

The tips of my fingers on my left hand are sore and the nails are now cut short.

I’ve been searching the internet for good tutorials to try.

Let me know if you come across any.

:)
In the meantime you’ll find me at Chez Cellobella strumming tunelessly  all afternoon.

 

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It’s my birthday and I’ll whinge if I want to

by Cellobella on Thursday, October 27, 2011 · 4 comments

image

Okay I’m not really whinging.

I like Melbourne.

I could live here. No. Really.

(Anyone want to offer me a job?)

But the thing with the tram lines does my head in.

I feel like a bird in an aviary.

Or Truman in The Truman Show.

Does anyone else feel like that?

Oh.

Just me?

Damn.

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Meet me at the cactus

by Cellobella on Monday, September 5, 2011 · 1 comment

Close up cactus

Saw the million dollar artwork for Perth yesterday.

Perth train station

Do I love it?

Am I supposed to?

Is that the point of public art?

I’ll give it this much… it stands out.

And I kind of like that about public art.

It can’t always be tasteful and classic… a statue of the great and good… usually a white male.

Oh yes the statue of Sir Charles Court is due to be unveiled soon…

Not that I’ve got anything against Sir Charles.

I danced with him once at the Shinju Matsuri ball in Broome, and I must say he was quite light on his feet.

But we need more than a statue in Forrest Place.

We need a statement.

Does it make a difference that the artist – James Angus – has an impressive resume.

Has his art in several state galleries and collections.

Holds a masters from Yale.

It shouldn’t.

We should take each artwork on its own merits.

We should respond to it, or not, and gauge its value by the strength of the reaction it evokes.

And on that basis, well, this has to be a triumph.

If nothing else, it is certainly a landmark.

Meet you at the cactus next time we’re in Perth.

Your shout.

 

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