I loved the books and I enjoyed the first two episodes which felt like an Aussie 30s style Midsomer Murders.
What’s not to like about that?
I must say that the fashion of the day wasn’t all that flattering.
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Cloche me baby.
So my big question:
Should I get my hair cut like Phryne Fisher?
Seriously thinking about it… your opinion may just be the one that tips the balance.
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.
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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?
There are a few times during your life when you feel like a grown up.
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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.
The luggage
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.
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I could live with bronze.
Happiness.
So why does it have to be matched luggage?
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!”
Now you might think that having seen the series already I’d be more controlled in my watching habits.
But no.
It’s back to back – I am addicted.
So what’s this got to do with the skirt?
As I pressed play on the third episode in a row I started to feel guilty.
And I’m not sure it’s such a good look in front of my screen obsessed teenagers.
And Groover was starting to growl.
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Anyway I figured that if I was making something, then watching the next three episodes would be okay.
So I got out my pile of material, and perhaps I was influenced by the fact I had been sitting on the living room sofas for hours, but the leftover cushion cover material fairly jumped into my hands.
And I wore the skirt to work the next day.
Should the same thing happen to you – here’s how I made the skirt.
I wrapped it around my waist.
I pinned up the back seam.
I then tucked in the top making darts around the waist to fit the skirt to my body.
I then measured out the darts so that they were equidistant around the top of the skirt.
I sewed the darts, then the back seam.
I sewed in a zip.
I left the selvedge of the material because it kind of looked funky and meant I didn’t have to hem the bottom of the skirt.
Then I turned over the top centimetre and hemmed the waist.
Job done.
And why am I writing about this post now?
Well I’m on the fifth West Wing episode of the day and I figured I needed to look busy.
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To not feel hot.
To wear boots to work.
Boots that have waited patiently in the bottom of my cupboard ready to jump out the first time the mercury dropped below thirty degrees.
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 thisGotta love a city with grafitti like thisLoved this memorial to women who came out because of the Irish famineShe 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…
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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.
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! The lacking of blood in the tadalafil 30mg genitals gets the organ inability to perform well. The chip cost of viagra canada includes viagra, Kamagra etc. that contain Sildenafil Citrate 100mg. Your doctor will be able to determine whether any medication you are taking for hair loss or other acute or discount cialis canada chronic diseases.If any intolerable symptoms are notices, such as bone pain, joint ache or muscle pain it is wise to expose and take the treatment for JRAon time thereby the young one will not face difficulties more in his or her future. Compared to the benzophenones, these new line of medications for anxiety and depression pose less glacialridgebyway.com buy cialis in canada serious side effects and could be easily remedied by altering the dose.
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)
Not from excessive partying… We went out to the new state theatre last night and a civilised affair it was too.
And even though yes, I did indulge in a mojito in the late afternoon with Ali… She of the sculpture, I stopped at one.
(In fact we walked out without paying… Realised on the train going to Northbridge… Rang and apologised… Because hey, the guy made a great cocktail and we want to go back again. Havana has become our regular. He was very nice about it btw.)
So, not feeling tired because of the cocktail…
I hate having my hair done when I look crap.
Hours of staring in the mirror looking at the bags under my eyes.
At least they serve decent coffee.
It is the western suburbs darling.
Sitting next to me is a rather dishy fellow. Whose conversation I eavesdrop on while I’m waiting for the dye to process.
Very cute.
Shame I’m not looking my best.
He has a lovely deep voice which is hard to hear over the hair dryers.
He makes eye contact with me as we listen to our cute blonde stylist chatting. Yes we share a stylist. He is getting his hair cut while my hair dye does it’s funky wild grey covering thing.
He is very cute actually.
Business has something to do with South Africa.
Ah well.
Do you read the magazines at the hairdressers?
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Today’s selection is Madison and Vogue.
I don’t bother opening them.
The stylist goes to get the clippers and he says… Must be boring waiting…
Yes.
He has a cute smile and knows it.
We chat for about two minutes as she tidies up his sideburns and then he takes off his gown and goes.
Hmmm tats.
But looking pretty pumped in his thin white tee.
…
Not my type.
Ah time for the hair wash.
My favourite bit is when they massage your scalp.
Niiiiice.
Cutting time.
The worst bit is after she dries it off she chops into it to thin it out a bit. Apparently I have very thick hair.
Ouch ouch ouch.
Still at least that means it’s nearly over for another six weeks.
So what’s left for the day… Grocery shopping, dress sale, and the writers festival.
Eight sessions and at the end we will have a polished story.
Each session we have homework.
The first assignment – “do something outside your comfort zone”.
This required some deep thought.
Then I remembered the time Groover and I – in our 20s when we had hot (ish) bods – stripped off and drove naked down West Coast Highway – at least until the adreniline wore off and we thought about all the what ifs… what if we broke down? What if we get pulled over by a cop? And we quickly scuttled back home.
So I thought okay, let’s up the ante and go for a swim at Perth’s favourite nude beach – luckily not far away – Swanborne – public nudity.
First question… what does one wear to Swanborne because clearly you can’t rock up nude – does one wear bathers?
I decided to wear my bikini, as it seemed appropriate, and with towel and sunblock in hand casually strolled down the beach.
OMG! There are naked people there!!
First thing I saw from a distance was the silhouette of a man and let me tell you he was hung.
Second question… where do I sit?
I don’t want to sit too close to anyone else but I do want to get the Swanborne experience so I don’t want to sit completely on my own and I don’t want to sit up by the dunes as I figure the creepy guys hang out there perving, so I plonk my stuff down in the middle and undress.
Well that feels a bit weird and as I slide my bikini bottoms off I’m thinking some trimming might have been in order but it’s too late now.
Lying on the beach I’m conscious of what everyone is doing.
People are moving between groups chatting, there’s a very tanned girl to my right doing a job interview on her iPhone, and there are people – clothed people – walking by all the time.
But I can’t lie on the beach forever – for one thing I can’t stay out in the sun too long and for another – well a swim is part of the challenge.
So choosing my moment I stand up and walk into the surf.
The water is cool, the surf a bit dumpy but this is no time to get into the water gingerly.
Before long I am enjoying my swim and getting chatted up by a tanned fellow in his mid forties who turns out to be the pilot of our flight home last Sunday – I kid you not.
Anyway I go back to my towel and air dry.
I notice that I’m possibly one of the younger women on the beach – hard to tell as all the women have VERY dark tans – and also, I’m not that uncomfortable.
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One guy I swear has more metalwork “down there” than the Bunnings tool section.
Another guy has tats all over his body – except “down there” and frankly who can blame him.
There are men of all sizes – and that’s when I realise that actually there are way more men than women.
Why did that surprise me?
I get dressed and get up to go and as I’m leaving the pilot starts chatting to me.
Now that feels a bit weird… chatting to a completely naked man while fully dressed on the beach.
Anyway we chat for a bit and I’m thinking well this will make a great addition to my story when…
Groover walks by!
OMG and I’m chatting to a naked man!
Anyway it takes me a while to catch up with the groovy one because by the time I noticed him he was about 20 metres away and the wind is whipping away my voice and hey, I’m not that fit so running in sand isn’t very fast but eventually I catch up with him and we walk back and I tell him about my experience and he remembers the pilot’s name and I suggest that he might like to go in for a quick dip.
He (surprisingly) agrees and we have a little swim and then start to get dressed.
Do you want to meet the pilot I ask?
The pilot is now under his umbrella – still nuded up of course – but Groover says no.
I guess meeting a naked man on the beach is outside his comfort zone.
So this is the story I tell at my storytelling class and it goes down quite well.
The next day I decide to go back to the beach – because it was fun, there was quite a nice community feel to it and I was still on a high from the day before but it’s different.
For one thing it is much windier so there are fewer people and there are only two other women.
That friendly community atmosphere has blown away with the wind and what is left feels somewhat seedy.
The pilot is there and comes over to chat but it all feels a bit wrong.
I go home after about 20 minutes and shower.
If I go back – I won’t go alone.
Besides – I had my next assignment to do – ” to stray from my routine”.
