Ah those university days

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.


“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. )

Update:  They did and he did!  Now ensconced at St Georges.

Pictionary pwnage

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.


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.

Summer jobs

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.


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


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.

How to dial an old-style telephone

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!

On not inviting girls

Bloody hell - can I go now?

This is my boy, pre-ball.

My creation.

Well mostly mine.

Okay okay he had a bit to do with it.

Oh and Groover.

But for tonight?

That’s mostly me.

With my boy’s agreement.

Y’know a lot has been said about how expensive girls can be when it comes to the Year 12 ball but I found myself forking over huge wads of cash.

Suit, shirt, shoes, tie… haircut.

Okay admittedly the haircut was a bargain.

I don’t know.

I didn’t think I’d care so much.

How hard is it being a boy – turn up in any old suit and you’ll look good right?

Probably right.

But I wanted him to feel good and look good.

I wanted him to feel special, coz you know… he is.

And besides…

The lads

How gorgeous do they look?

And he’ll wear that suit again.


Travelling in style

Interestingly lots of the boys didn’t invite girls to the ball.

They go to a co-ed school and I guess they figured girls would be there anyway.

Still I was a bit disappointed.

I think a lot of the girls would have liked to have been asked.

And I bet there were a few who wished one of these lads had asked them.

But maybe not.

Maybe I’m just old-fashioned.

Or maybe…

Maybe these boys are lucky they don’t go to an all-boys school.


Then they’d have had to ask someone!

Improvising in the kitchen

Essential oil burner

I came home from work today, opened the door and was transported to the outer suburbs olfactorally speaking.

To the tip to be precise… which may or may not be in the outer suburbs… I haven’t been there… that’s what rates are for.

The kitchen bin REALLY needed emptying.

But not onto the floor which is what happened when Groover pulled the plastic bag out of the shiny stainless steel bin and trying to stop the small drips from a hole in said bag managed to tip it over the floor.

Then the house really started to reek.

A shame as we’d done quite a good job in cleaning the house over the weekend.

Apart, obviously, from actually emptying all the bins.

Anyhoo we needed DRASTIC odour manipulation but an essential oil atomiser was not to be found.

Fear not, says Groover, and he quickly rigged up the above home atomising kit.

Now our house smells of lavender.


Later it was Dippity’s turn to do the washing up.

She likes to dress for the occasion.

My little maid

Aw.  Cute.

(she did a good job too)

Global domination

Hmmmm Asia or Europe... who shall I pwn...?

We spent much of the afternoon and evening (and night) playing Risk.

The battle was joined.

Groover is red, Dippity is blue, Hugamuga yellow and I’m blue.

He looks like a nice chap... but looks can be deceiving...

His advice to his daughter… was killer… and Hugo and I were the victims.

I scored Asia!

At the time of this post,my sweet daughter holds the Americas, my darling husband holds Asia and Australia, Hugo is out and I am holed up in Africa with the red menace on my doorstep.

Update at 10.15pm

later in the game...
A strong postion
Winners are grinners

At 10.35 we conceded to the small one.

Gloat much?

Why I don’t have any more teacups

Just a video today.

This is one of my favourites from my daughter’s early days.

Here she’s about 14 months old.

A determined wee lassie.

Many people can’t watch this film without wincing.

I’m not sure what it says about my parenting style but I can assure you that no children – or for that matter teacups – were hurt in the making of this video.

I hope you love it.

Blonde ambition

Waiting for the blonding agent to work

So this summer my baby wants to be blonder.

We went down the supermarket to get one of those streaking kits with one of those caps that you pull through bits of hair but of course who wants to follow instructions!?

I’ve been to the hairdresser.

I’ve seen them do foils.

Piece of cake.

I can do that.

So we cut up strips of foil (a bit thin… thicker foil would be easier to work with), got out my comb with the sticky bit at the end.

And by sticky I mean stick-like not covered in goo.

And away we went.

As you’ll see in the video, Miss Dippity was a little worried.

“Can you book me into the proper hairdresser tomorrow Mum?”


Just wait and see I said calmly.

(OMG I’m a bit worried I said inside)

But the result was…

Not bad for a beginner...


And probably not blonde enough for my daughter.


Still I reckon I passed my apprenticeship:

Wife, mother, radio presenter, manager, actress, cardplayer, zumba dancer, cook, nurse, seamstress and now hairdresser.


(I don’t claim to do any of them particularly well)

A cool tattoo?

I don’t normally take photos of hunky blokes down the beach.

Surfee dude types

Especially not ones who – lets face it – could be my sons.

I’m not the cougar type.

But when I spied that tattoo on his back… well!

Smiley face tattoo

My first thought was… are you kidding me?!

Who gets a smiley face tattoo.

My next thought was… have I missed a “cool” lesson somewhere?

So tell me internets – cool or uncool?

And then we went for a walk.

It had been a hot day.  Bushfires.  Windy.

So I thought an evening stoll en famile would be nice.

Cottesloe Beach
Fishing from the groin

When we got to the beach it was COLD!

Really windy.

A little… unpleasant.

So rather than a longer walk towards Swanborne – we headed for the groin.

A bit pathetic really.

The pylon with the smog of the fires on the horizon

Of course you can’t keep a teenage boy out of the water no matter how much you talk about shark weather…

Fun in the surf keeping an eye out for sharks