Not the barracks, the loo

by Cellobella on Friday, January 29, 2010

Here I am at work with M, who is about to do her honours degree in Canberra at ANU.

We’ve just sieved a bucket of dirt and M is handing me the three bits of glass we found in the bottom.

I’ve been excavating Context 059 of Trench 6 which we thought might have been the Depot.

The barracks where the convicts and the ticket-of-leave men slept.

(note the technical archeaolgical terms!)

Today it was at least 40 degrees and hardly a breeze.

It was hot.

And I felt every degree.

Fewer finds today.

I found a button, which may or may not be convict era.

S found a whole bulb of a clay pipe.

About lunchtime Sean decided that we probably weren’t looking at the foundations of the barracks after all.

The walls are too close together.

We think we’re in the privy.

Privies are good.

People chuck stuff in the loo.

Maybe not manacles which would really place this stuff in the convict era, but certainly other artefacts.

Only one day to go and then we fill all the holes in.

And it’s 38 degrees tomorrow.

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My clay pipe

by Cellobella on Thursday, January 28, 2010 · 2 comments

Isn’t it beautiful?

The letters you can see are V-I-S so we think it’s a Ben Nevis pipe made somewhere in Glasgow.

Ben Nevis is the highest mountain in the UK and a lot of clay pipes came from Scotland.

Clay pipes were the disposable cigarette of the 1800s.

The thin hole in the stem is to cool the smoke from the bowl.

Everyone had found a pipe and I was feeling left out frankly at dig central in York.

Yes, I’m on my dig and LOVING it.

Yes, it’s hot, dusty, dirty work but it’s such fun.

You scrape the soil with your tiny trowel and then you hit something interesting.

So you find a brush – a paintbrush maybe – and sweep of the soil until you reveal your artifact.

Sometimes – yawn – it’s a bit of glass or a bone – sometimes it’s a clay pipe, or a whole bottle.

I was very excited with a blue bottle that I found on Australia Day.

But then I found foundation stones!

Bottles… meh.

We found the corner of the barracks where the convicts would have been housed between 1851 and 1875.

It was very very cool.

I know what you are thinking.

That I’m sounding more like a geek than ever.

Ah well… live with it.

It’s now day four of my first ever Archeological dig and I’m in love with digging and all things buried.

So yes… now I’m a dirt geek.

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David Sedaris

by Cellobella on Wednesday, January 20, 2010 · 1 comment

I went to An Evening with David Sedaris to see and hear David Sedaris.

I’m never sure what to expect at author evenings… do they read… what do they read… how do they incorporate questions…

In this case, David read a few short stories, and included some new material, threw in a few choice diary entries and answered questions.

I was sitting on my own and by that of course I mean I didn’t sit next to anyone I knew – clearly I wasn’t on my own.

His Majesty’s was full and I was in the last row of the Dress Circle which was irritating because my colleague – a big Sedaris fan only got his ticket that night and ended up with a much better seat.

I am never booking through BOCS again.

You agree with me right?  That’s annoying.

But maybe they sensed his deep passion for the work, I don’t know.

I knew “the work” through This American Life – a podcast I adore.

His short stories occasionally feature and they are always pithy and amusing.

He looks just as he sounds.

Short of stature.

Balding.

Older than me.

My favourite martian ish.

He wore a white shirt, dark trousers and brown shoes (at least I think they were brown… I was a long way back), and stood behind a heavy wooden podium.

Can someone have a short voice?

We-ll it’s kind of Woody Allen ish.

So maybe yes.

He described doing book signings and how he likes to ask people random questions so that they can have a conversation rather than the “rehearsed in the line” stilted comments and adoration, for lets face it, you are hardly likely to wait in a queue for a book to be signed if you didn’t really like the work… or the author.

Anyway I went to get a drink before the show and I was behind this girl who was holding a hotel bottle of shampoo.

She was telling her boyfriend that David gave it to her after she told him her story.

I guess being bald, the shampoo was rather redundant and she did have long hair… but after hearing David’s comments about book signings I’m guessing it was payment for the story she told him.

A story that he liked.

A story that he might write down in his diary and read out at another evening somewhere around the world.

A great story.

What did you tell him, I nearly asked, but then the bartender asked for their order and the moment slipped away.

Now THAT’s irritating.

Good show though.

I enjoyed watching him writing notes on his work as he read… I imagined ticks where the audience laughed…

If you’ve seen it – I’d love to know what you think of the single celled organism story – because of all of them I think that will be the one that stays with me.

The story is about single celled organisms who are ignored by all the other cancer cells and germs and they think it is to do with their name so they try unique cells and all sorts of other permutations but nothing works.

And a cancer cell sees them arguing over their name and says that noone will talk to them if they don’t speak the language, but the single celled organisms don’t understand what he’s saying and so don’t pay any attention.

It seemed a rather conservative stance.

But as another colleague who was there (very smart person) said she thought it was an observation rather than a moral tale…

Which of course made me think of petri dishes and conclude that it was very clever indeed.

On the way home I plugged in my ipod and listened to This American Life where David Sedaris wasn’t featured.

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A wee trowel

by Cellobella on Tuesday, January 19, 2010 · 1 comment

Hasn’t it been hot?!

43 degrees on Sunday – and Groover and I in an non air-conditioned hall doing a Theatresports workshop – great fun but you know… hot.

Afterwards we sank gratefully into our pool which, in the nearly 12 years since we’ve lived in this house, has never been used so much.

No.  Not even when the kids were little.

Yesterday it was 44 degrees.

Commuting isn’t quite so much fun when it is that hot, and me, wearing in my new boots (see photo above).

Attractive?

Not.

My red sweaty face panting up the hill with my clumpy boots stomping along the pavement.

And of course the train was delayed.

Today is hot… and humid.

38 degrees.

Too hot to feel hungry, but I’m worried.

Next week I head to York for my archeological dig. Remember that?

I have my boots (as discussed), the tiniest of trowels – isn’t it cute – and The Archeologist’s Field Handbook which is now my constant companion.

Already I’ve learned some useful stuff like:

How to work out where north is from an analogue watch

  1. Point the number 12 on your watch towards the sun
  2. North will always lie mid-way between the hour hand and the number 12
  3. Obviously this isn’t going to work when the sun is directly overhead or during the night

See – you knew it was worth reading this post today didn’t you?

Next time you’re lost in the bush without a compass – think of me.

Well… think of me when you make it to safety using the analogue watch method.

If you have a digital watch… I can’t help you – you eighties retro you!

Anyway as I was saying, I’m worried.

Worried that it will be unbearably hot.

40 degrees I can handle for a day or two, 44 is getting ridiculous.

Fingers crossed for a cool change.

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How to fix a sliding door

by Cellobella on Tuesday, January 12, 2010 · 1 comment

Our well used sliding doors into the granny flat and out of the back doors have been bumpy and sticky for a while now.

The door to the cabana (our granny flat) so bumpy as to actually bump out of the track which is why we had banned the kids from hanging out in there.

Over the holidays I had tried to get a man in to fix them little realising that I slept with such a man every night.

To be fair, Groover didn’t know he was that man either until a recent trip to the hardware shop to buy a new toilet seat (cracked for at least six months).

There he saw roller thingys…

So this weekend we set about fixing our sliding doors which really should be called rolling doors as they roll along on these little wheels.

You know, I’d never even thought about how sliding doors worked. I guess I imagined ball bearings if anything.

Anyway they don’t “slide” if the little wheels look like this:

It took us a while to get them out and we undid screws that didn’t need undoing and were tricky to get back in.

Basically with this roller all you need to do is loosen the little screw at the top of the unit… this is the one that adjusts the height of the rollers – there is only one screw. Don’t take it all the way out!

Then it’s just a matter of tapping in the new unit, adjusting the rollers to the minimum height, replacing the door and then raising the roller until the door “slides” smoothly.

Piece of piss really.

And it only took us about ALL DAY to do the three doors that needed their rollers replacing.

Of course they had different rollers so a second trip to the hardware store was required!

The rollwes were between $12-$16 each and with a number of screwdrivers and two people to remove the doors and encourage one another the job was easily accomplished by two handy-noobs.

And it was a lot more satisfying than writing an outrageous cheque to a fellow who might do it in five minutes.

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Signs the holidays are over

by Cellobella on Monday, January 11, 2010

A queue at the coffee shop across the road.

And I couldn’t get a seat on the train to work this morning.

Note to self: try getting on at Mosman Park Station.

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My commute

by Cellobella on Saturday, January 9, 2010 · 3 comments

I thought I should report in after a week commuting.

My destination is Claisebrook and while I wait for my train every afternoon I sit and watch the cars whizz by heading for the “Polly Pipe” (the Graeme Farmer Freeway tunnel), a journey I used to drive for the last few years.

At this time of the year the traffic flows well but I look forward to the summer holidays being over and me alighting a train while the cars crawl by.

So far I must say, so painless.

I love being able to read on the way to work, something very tricky to do when you are driving your car.

I can call people without risking a $250 fine.

And apart from all that there’s a feeling of “being pious” and “doing good”.

I walk to the station in the morning – a five to ten minute affair – often stopping off at the deli for a piece of fruit for lunch or some such.

In the winter that might be a bit meh but at the moment it’s lovely to walk through the ‘burb.

Walking back is a little warmer, still with my runners on, not too bad and hey it’s more exercise than I’d get from driving.

It also makes you feel part of the world, commuting.

Seeing everyone else on their way to work, school or play.

Sort of a “we’re all in this together” kind of feeling.

So commuting gets a thumbs up from me after one week, the only question remaining is why I haven’t always commuted.

I guess it’s simply because I had a cheap parking space.

For those of you interested, I made a little video of my journey home last night.

Not the most riveting of films, I won’t tell a lie, but possibly of interest if you’re from Perth as you might recognise some of the landmarks.

You’ll see some of the Claremont redevelopment for example.

Anyway here ’tis:

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Old books and old friends

by Cellobella on Tuesday, January 5, 2010 · 2 comments

If you see me commuting by train this week – oh yes, I’m a train commuter now – you’ll spot me reading an ancient book my mother owned.

Billabong’s Daughter by Mary Grant Bruce.

I love the Billabong books but these days they are a bit politically incorrect.

Make that very non PC and I think the newer editions have been… sanitised.

It’s about a station in northern Victoria (I think) just after the First World War and the story is about the squatter Jim Linton and his family.

They act like the upper class might in England, dispensing largess to the lesser well off or should that be ‘orf’.

Far different to squatters of today who (for the most part) are the lesser well off.

There’s lots of cattle mustering and you do get a feel for the country back at the turn of the last century.

They are… quaint… I guess and part of the attraction to me is the fact that my mum used to love them when she was a gel.

Commuting with Billabong has been great so far, although the walk home can be a bit warm.

The five day liquid only diet has come to an end.

I’m not sure I’ll willingly do it again.

It hasn’t been too hard in terms of keeping to the apple juice/ginger root three hourly drinks (bleah) but it is boring drinking liquids all the time.

And I don’t think I’ve lost any weight which I’m disappointed in. I rather hoped I might kick off my new year a bit slimmer. Sigh.

Work has been busy but I must confess sitting the heat out in office air-conditioning has been pleasant.

On the last Sunday before I had to go back to work I went out for drinks at Salt, down at Port Beach with some friends.

The liquid-only diet doesn’t preclude alcohol but I did limit myself to just the one beer. :)

We met this couple nearly ten years ago in Bali – we scabbed a lift to Club Med with them – and since then we’ve become close friends.

Salt is great on a sunny Sunday afternoon. They have someone singing… the food is (looks) great and the beer is cold.

They style themselves as a nano-brewery and I tried the wheat beer – the Heifweisen (or something like that).

I enjoyed it.

Next time I want to try the pizza.

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A new year

by Cellobella on Sunday, January 3, 2010 · 5 comments

I can’t say I’m sorry to be saying goodbye to the naughties.

Last year in particular was a bit grim and if I’m honest I’m quite looking forward to putting it behind me.

I’ve started the year off by “doing” the colon cleansing kit Mum gave me for Christmas last year.

Yes, it’s taken me a year to work myself up to it, and I possibly wouldn’t have gone there had I not felt really sick last Tuesday.

So sick I cancelled bridge.

That sick.

You see on this regime you have to cut back your food gradually for three days before embarking on a five day liquid only diet, and I could never seem to cut back!

But because I felt too ill to eat I naturally ate less – it just seemed that I should continue on.

Now it is day three of the liquid diet thing and I find it is not too bad.

I’m not hungry, I am however always thirsty which is odd because I am always drinking water.

On this regime you have five packets of toxin absorber a day mixed with apple juice.

The absorber is a fine clay like powder tasting mainly of dried ginger root. :P

It bulks up in your stomach to make you feel full.

They also recommend enemas and colonics but I am not going there.

I feel as if I’m not just cleansing my colon but my life, getting rid of the shit and the negativity of last year ready for the new.

2010 is going to be shit free.

Well not literally but you know what I mean.

Tomorrow I go back to work.

This year I’ve given up my carpark and will commute by train.

I’ve made a vegie patch to grow some of our own produce.

In fact perhaps the virgin soil of my garden bed is 2010 waiting for me to plant some seedlings…

(or maybe it’s just a big box of dirt)

I’m planning to join a gym.

And I have my archeological field trip to look forward to at the end of the month.

But right now… excuse me.

The water closet calls.

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Christmas photo album

by Cellobella on Sunday, January 3, 2010

Before we get into 2010, here are a few of my favourite Christmas pics:

This is Groover and Dippity on Christmas Eve at Groover’s brother’s house.

This is my nephew. I love the way he is so into the cracker. :)

This is Groover’s mum on Christmas night. This photo is taken by Dippity who has turned into a handy photographer as the rest of these images will show.

We’ve been having Christmas with this lady and her family for over 35 years.

This is her lovely new Grand-daughter (who you’ve met in earlier posts).

But these three are my favourite shots.

This is my niece on Christmas eve and the photographer (again… dammit!) is Dippity.

Cute.

The best moment for me this Christmas was playing Kris Kringle* on Christmas night.

One of the later presents to be opened was a set of hot rollers. Opened mind you, by a 14 year old boy.

Now it’s true he has dead straight hair so, you never know, they might have come in handy, but instead he looked around the table and realised that the OBVIOUS person to swap with was Groover.

I’m sure he didn’t want what Groover had (a promotional tie from an organisation based in China), but he saw the bald head and went there.

I’m sure we disturbed the neighbours with our extended and loud laughter.

Nice one Jez.

*Kris Kringle
Everyone brings one gift and puts it on a table.
Names are drawn out of a hat.
When your name is called you choose a present from the table and open it.
If you like it, keep it.
If you don’t, you can swap with any other already opened present.
Result: hilarity

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