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.
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.
There are a few times during your life when you feel like a grown up.
Antler New Zero cabin and medium sizes
You know, even at the age of forty-something-let’s-not-go-there, inside I still feel 17…okay maybe 22, are you the same?
And when I look in the mirror or catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window of the train sometimes I get a little unpleasant shock.
But there have been times in my life when I’ve suddenly thought… shit. I’m a grown up.
Owning a mortgage on a house with a linen cupboard and larder – felt like a grown up then!
When I walked out of the hospital with my newborn.
The first time I travelled on my own.
Wearing matching underwear for the first time.
And today when I picked up my first ever set of matching luggage.
Grown. Up.
I wanted matching cases, with the small one able to be used as hand luggage on domestic flights.
They had to have spinners – four wheels.
And they had to have those in-built groovy combination locking mechanisms.
I really wanted red luggage.
But.
This stuff was 41% off so it was practically free right?
I could live with bronze.
Happiness.
You know, I don’t know.
I mean the times I will actually use both at the same time will be few and far between.
And it’s not as if there are luggage police – well not ones that are interested in whether they match or not.
“Excuse me madam, we see you don’t have matching luggage… please come this way…”
Or.
“Last month you were spotted with a black suitcase, today yours is bronze… please explain!”
Bronze. A fancy pants way of saying beige.
Matched luggage is just… nice.
Smart.
Grown up.
So ‘fess up.
What makes you feel grown up?
And how old are you inside?
Warning: Rant alert
Perth Train Station at 8 in the morning
A foggy morning.
The rain splattered against the skylight in my bathroom so I knew it was raining.
Raining!
Deep happiness.
I walk into my bedroom to get changed and I can hear this weird rushing sound.
I check to see if the overhead fan is on… or maybe the reverse cycle air-conditioning.
No.
What is that weird sound?
It’s coming from outside.
I check through the blind.
Oh.
It’s the rain.
The pouring rain.
I’d forgotten what pouring rain sounded like.
Later…
The train was packed at a quarter to eight.
Standing room only.
And when we got to Perth Station the train disgorged its damp and steaming passengers into a mass of humanity.
It swelled at the bottleneck of the escalator.
Does this happen anywhere else in the world?
I have only seen it in Perth.
In London, in Washington DC, in New York, in Paris – much larger populations – the commuters flow like a river, a babbling brook.
But in Perth no – every morning – a huge swell of people trying to get on the escalator.
And here’s why.
No-one stands to the left.
There is no fast moving lane to the right.
Crazy town.
It’s the same on the roads, but don’t get me started.
I would love it if someone could stand there – some official in a high viz vest and just educate my fellow commuters.
Stand to left, walk to the right.
It’s a simple message.
And couldn’t we have some posters in the trains or something?
We have posters for everything else.
C’mon Perth – it’s not that hard.
You can do it.
Seriously.
You CAN do it.
Please?
Photo thanks to M Munns
I’ve been known to slag off Perth Airport from time to time but on arrival last Monday I felt so welcomed that I have only praise.
I know.
I can’t quite believe it either.
I only took carry-on – which in itself is quite impressive for a four day weekend, plus conference, plus dinner dance - so I was able to waltz straight past the baggage retrieval thingys – what is the proper term for them anyway? – past the growing taxi rank – which is always ridiculous – and out to the general vicinity of where the shuttle collects you for the long term parking.
Except the shuttle was just leaving.
I made eye-contact with the driver and did that little moue of disappointment crossed with hopeful smile and gestures of where I need to stand to get a ride – you’ve seen me do it before I’m sure…it’s similar to the look I give at the bar when I finally get enough of your attention to order a crisp Sav Blanc or cheeky Pinot Noir… that look.
Anyway, instead of driving past me and off to the long term carpark, instead of pointing behind him, instead of ignoring me, the driver smiles… I kid you not… smiles, and pulls across the lane into the drop off zone and opens the door.
Off to the long term carpark love?
Thank you so much, I gush.
I turn on my phone to tweet my appreciation – still having a post-conference lovefest with twitter - and before I know it we are pulling into carpark A and I get out to pay the $62 bucks I owe for four days parking (short term would have cost $140 – which is outrageous) and I don’t have a credit card because I’ve had to cancel it again due to the number being on my daughters’ mobile that got lost over the weekend so I have to pay with wads of cash which fortunately I remember to get out of the bank while I was in Sydney.
Thank you I say sweetly to the kind driver and I make my way to the pay machine where a young girl in a high viz vest is smiling at me.
Hello, can I help you?
I’m struggling to find the ticket which I’m sure I’ve put somewhere safe in my wallet/mini-bag but of course it’s been four days and anything could have happened to it but eventually I find it and she puts it in the machine for me, and even though I’m perfectly capable of managing a pay machine as I am a grown up and tall enough to reach, it’s nice to be looked after.
Then she points to the bit where the money goes, and that’s good because I’m used to paying with credit cards which are SO much easier, and I only have a $100 bill because that’s what the bank gave me, but she assures me that the machine will accept such a big note and that I will get notes in change, which is also nice.
I get a cheery farewell and I’m off to my car patiently waiting in S row.
Now I didn’t really need a person helping me with the pay machine but I walked off feeling a bit special – it doesn’t take much.
I felt looked after.
And I’m sure it must be a pretty boring job but the girl was so cheery and sweet and made you feel as if it was her pleasure to be standing around a pay machine at 7.30 on a Monday night, as if there was nothing better she would want to be doing.
And that’s a skill.
So, Perth Airport people, please go and give the driver and the pay-machine girl at carpark A a pat on the back from me, they were great, and you can feel good about yourself too for employing them.
Well done.
It's iconic
Gotta love Sydney.
Well I do.
I guess it’s because I spent a couple of months at a critical age in this fair town… and because I consider Sydney to be to Perth’s somewhat brash teenage self an…
Older, gay uncle?
Worldly, confident spinster aunt?
Or is that Melbourne?
Whatever… I love Sydney.
I love the water, the casual confidence of its inhabitants, the fact you can find scrambled eggs and toast for $7 on a Sunday morning.
I know that Perth people are weeping into their $4.50 coffees right now.
Seven bucks.
Perth prices are outrageous.
But I digress.
What was I saying?
Oh yes, Sydney.
City crush.
Loved this
Gotta love a city with grafitti like this
Loved this memorial to women who came out because of the Irish famine
She looks determined doesn't she... the new St Mary...
So I’m completely in love with Sydney again and I stay with my friend who I lived with way back in the day when I lived and partied in Sydney.
She lived in Greenwich and she still does so I figured I’d catch the ferry over for old times sake.
Those following me on twitter would have seen how the story unfolded:
Cellobella At circular quay waiting for the greenwich ferry. Life is good. 
Cellobella Forgot how much I love the ferry service in sydney. #wanttoliveinsydney
Cellobella @deeleea totes. It’s such a nice way to get around. Feels like a treat not public transport.
Cellobella Lol just discovered I’m on completely the wrong ferry. It’s back to circular quay for me. #whatanidiot
Cellobella Bored of being on ferry now #navigationfail
My friend had texted me and when I said oh I was just at Watson’s Bay, rang me to tell me I’d caught a ferry going in completely the opposite direction.
It’s been twenty years since I lived in Sydney.
So I changed ferries…
Me on the RIGHT ferry
And I spent the night in Greenwich and we reminisced about old times…
Going to Rogues…
On our way out to Rogues back in 1991...
OMG yes… check out those clip-on earrings… oh dear me… such glamour.
We drank wine and discussed how we met the drummer of Air Supply and he told us that Mariah Carey was the next big thing.
We talked more about Rogues… well it was our favourite nightclub.
Hey that was a designer dress... stop laughing!
Thought you might like to see the full look.
We haven’t changed a bit!
Okay maybe a bit.
Don’t you love the tassles?
Not enough dresses these days have tassles IMHO.
This was my outfit of choice for going to the casino back in Perth – but I wore it with a waist length wig.
And then it started raining.
And I fell asleep to the sound of rain on the roof and actually I didn’t sleep well because it was soooo noisy.
Such a novelty to hear rain though.
*slaps self* This is not going to be a weather post.
Next morning I waited patiently for the rain to stop.
But it was torrential.
And, with a coffee date in the city I had to get going.
‘sif a Perth person is going to have an umbrella!
Monday morning was... wet.
I could feel the rain slide off the back of my jacket, through my top and slip down the back of my jeans.
Cl-assy.
I was wet wet wet.
But still happy to be in Sydney.
Even though I was a little over the rain.
I dried out about 3pm.
Ahhh my dear Uncle Syd.
See ya next time.
Peeps… Gay uncle? Worldly older cousin? What do you think?
So the conference is over and a better organised conference I don’t think I’ve been to.
This btw is really a holding post.
Written from my phone.
Today my plan is to catch a ferry to greenwich to stay with a friend.
Then tomorrow catching up with a few work friends before heading back to perth in time for the first night of the women’s teams.
Bridge of course.
And it’s raining in sydney town!
Remember rain perthites?
I love not being hot so much I am not even going to take a taxi to circular quay.
I certainly won’t look hot after that.
More on the bloggers conference when I get to a computer but for now love to my new bloggy friends.
You are amazing.
xxx
How does that saying go… It’s as pretty as an airport?
Well I made it.
Packed this morning so probably forgot something important.
Certainly concerned that haven’t brought “right” clothes for the event. What does one wear to a bloggers conference anyway?
Too late to worry about that now.
Should board shortly. Do I have time for a quick wee?
Not if I keep blogging.
Exciting club!
Sydney here I come!
Ah. Ten minute delay. Excuse me while I powder my nose.
The Cathedral
I don’t go into churches often, except on holiday where churches are part of the tourism circuit or, you know, for weddings or funerals, but today I popped into the Bunbury Cathedral.
The new Bunbury Cathedral.
The old one was rendered unsafe by a mini-tornado in 2005 and had to be demolished.
You don’t see brand new cathedrals all that often and as I was in Bunbury I thought I’d check it out.
Juniper art
Rather than traditional stained glass, the Bishop has gone for more modern techniques.
The art is courtesy of Robert Juniper, I say courtesy but I’m sure he was paid handsomely, and his signature is clearly on the artwork.
They were originally paintings which were photographed, blown up and the image inserted between panes of glass.
Much more cost effective – both initially and in terms of maintenance.
If a panel breaks you simply order another.
Alter
The alter piece is another Juniper piece depicting the resurrection.
This time the painting was transformed into a tapestry (made in some third world country).
Not a tyre
No signature evident here.
I did have to ask why there was a tyre in the bottom right corner didn’t I?
I guess I’ve seen too many tyres abandoned in the Australian outback.
It’s not a tyre of course, but the opening of the tomb.
My bad.
I thought it was rather a modern touch.
Ah well.
Impressive from the inside
Meantime that’s Juniper in the red shirt.
It must be quite an honour to have your work chosen.
I loved the Australian-ness of it.
Inside, the Cathedral feels quite modern.
The font looks a bit like a plunge bath for the disabled and the entry isn’t as awe-inspiring as the cathedrals of Italy because you don’t go directly into the hall churchy bit.
Going past the gift shop just doesn’t feel the same.
In summary I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Or even, if I’m allowed to have an opinion.
Well it’s my blog.
So.
Some bits I liked.
I liked the alter piece (despite the tyre tomb).
I quite liked the artwork – though I didn’t like the fact that Juniper’s signature was so obvious – it just seemed a bit wrong in a church – not sure why. (unless of course it was donated then… maybe?)
I didn’t like the font or the brickwork.
Both more Uniting Church than Catholic I thought.
I did like the view – very impressive from up on the hill.
As I write this I’m wondering if I’m more fuddy duddy than I thought.
Is it my experience of old churches that is dampening my reaction.
It’s just…
It’s just I wanted to be inspired and I wasn’t.
And it left me feeling a bit disappointed.
Sigh.
Maybe if I was Catholic I’d feel differently.
After all it was made for the congregation, not me.
From the old Cathedral maybe?
This is what happens if the door is left ever so slightly open
Oh I know darlings!
Enough said right?
I mean I don’t even defrost my OWN fridge so what the hell am I doing, the floors strewn with towels, trying to dislodge the wedged in drawers of my parents’ fridge?
Good daughter things.
That’s what I’m doing.
Luckily it is quite warm so the fridge is defrosting quickly, I am after all only here in Dunsborough one night before heading back to Perth to catch my plane to Sydney on Friday - exciting club!
It’s very quiet.
Weird being here on my own.
I bought Indian takeaway (too much) and a few beers, although I’ve only drunk one (they were on special).
(Sure I hear you say… well they were $18 for 6, which is better than $6.50 for one – so what’s a girl to do)
And life feels pretty mellow.
A beer and a view of Geographe Bay
