~ picks of the week ~ 31/10

Beautiful cushions from $30 ~ Bedspeads from $95

Stunning Yellow 1930s yellow jug / vase $125

Royal Doulton coffee set with sugar bowl and creamer $125


Every Wednesday I'll show you 3 more picks!

Thanks to Leigh from Found, now home for her fabulous idea.

Writers Island #7 - "Haunted"

Are other islanders haunted by people who miss the point?

You know the ones ...

When you tell a story they only see it as an opportunity to one up you, to tell you something that’s usually not relevant … Ooops sorry, how dare I, their mind is racing to blurt their thoughts … the ones that prattle on without one iota of what you’ve said, what you need or what you’re about?

By people who instead of handing out praise, can’t wait to regale you with something they believe is of a similar consequence?

By people who make everything about them – see previous two paragraphs!

By people who don’t see the funny side, who see the majority of life shrouded by doom and gloom?

By people who “don’t get it”… whether a trend, a tradition, anything unique, kooky, eccentric, with a smidge of individuality, or the bizarre … stuff that zooms, whooooshes over the top of their selfish noggins.

So … who we gonna call … Ghostbusters?

Martha Stewart ... custard powder.

One of the most annoying things about cable TV is the repetition of the shows! However they redeem themselves by repeating Martha Stewart three time a day making it possible to catch the show in serial mode!

I'm flabbergasted having just heard Martha didn't know about custard powder! Delicious Tangerine Pie, baked by Pichet Ong has it in the recipe ... here.

Good grief, Martha do you know what you've been missing???

Custard powder has been the sweet / dessert staple of every Aussie pantry for generations. The instant dessert, a treat for the kids, always there when ice cream ran out or when money was short. When unexpected visitors stayed for dinner, warm custard and tinned peaches was the stand bydessert! What about when we sliced day old sponge dowsed with slurps of cooking sherry, topped with chopped jelly and custard poured over the top - Ohhhhhhhhhh Yummo ... Trifle ... sweet memories!

A Halloween Treat.

The gorgeous Gill sent me a surprise Halloween Treat.

The point of these is to pass them on to new random visitors to your blog to make new friends.

So in the spirit of the tradition I'm sending it to Jo, Robin, and Tumblewords.

Happy Halloween everyone!

Life is just a bowl of cherries ...

Life is just a bowl of cherries ... till someone gives you the pip.

Rudy Valee first recorded it in 1931 - then many more singers after ...

Sunday Scribblings #82 - Hospital

Hospital memories abound, emotions unravelled by this prompt.

Top teeth removed at twelve, baby removed at seventeen, visiting mother year after year, over and over again. From mid 1960s memories became happier. Not ovulating didn’t deter. Twelve months on, the cherished arrival of a beautiful baby. Mother kept the hospital system going for over forty years as she envisioned cancer, sadly it arrived.

A laminectomy, hemithyroidectomy, appendix, frozen shoulder, father crying wolf, lessons learnt; treat medico’s as real people, they’ll treat you that way in return!

The very best hospital memories will always be :

During the 60s & 70s Vince Edwards as Dr Ben Casey what about Dr Zorba ?
Richard Chamberlain as Dr. Kildare.
Robert Young as Marcus Welby M.D. with James Brolin as Dr Steven Kiley.
Medical Center with James Daly as Dr. Paul Lochner and Chad Everett as Dr. Joe Gannon.

1970 – 1983 M*A*S*H.

Doogie Howser, M.D. from 1989- 1993
Chicago Hope
General Hospital that's run forever ...

ER began 1994 … is it still running?

In Australia in the 70s The Young Doctors, in the 80s A Country Practice, in 2000 RPA.

Now TV brings us Hugh Laurie as House or the team from Scrubs … there’s enough hospital in both of those sitcoms to last a lifetime!

p.s. Thanks to Gill for the Greys Anatomy reminder ... how did I miss that one after Izzy's heartbreaking performance? Thanks too to Paisley - I don't remember getting St. Elsewhere in Australia ... but then I was elsewhere in those days!!

What's that noise ... thunder roared, lightning flashed!

A whopper storm here tonight ... Blossom before she fled!

Stairway to health ...

Allow me to introduce the stairway to health.

Joining was overridden by undiscipline along with the prospect of climbing those steep stairs!

A comment from MJ did it!

Stairs conquered, committment, membership signed, exercise regimen in place, the stairs are being done three times a week ... it's on!

Goodbye fatness ... Hello fabularity!!!

Writers Island - The Stranger ...

Originally it was a bombastic, belligerent, white haired, middle aged oaf, whose double dose of psoriasis left a cloud of skin in his wake, his voice, if used in the correct environment would have made elderly ladies swoon, he had an unmatchable bad temper, a white Holden ute, that he’d periodically try to set on fire to claim insurance as well as girlfriend over 20 years younger, diagnosed legally blind, yet could make it up the road, across a main busy street to the bus stop without the aid of a white stick or a Labrador dog and manage to hail and get on the right bus. He lauded over the building, hoarded white goods and building material and specifically intended to intimidate. One night there was a thunderous thud, the clanking of falling saucepans, then not a sound. Next day he was found dead with his head in the saucepan rack. His name came out of the freezer.

Next was a very tall, quietly spoken, gentle, grey haired man, a large pimple protruding on the left side of his nose. He arrived in an old ford Fairlane, his possessions rolled in a blanket, a very fat black and white cat under his arm. During the day he pounded a typewriter and only took a break to carry the timid, fat cat down the stairs for a loo break. Bowls of cat food littered the building. Consequently the fat cat died probably just prior to exploding – one more morsel of dry cat food would have done it. The local vet decided he’d be a good father to a rescued three-legged kitty. They became as father and son. One night father fell asleep on the lounge, rescued during a council clean up. His snoring droned through the building. Next morning there was silence, no sound, or sighting of him, no one bothered, it was a long weekend he must have gone away. Three days later he was found dead, his head embellishing the cheap carpet. Three months on he’s still in the morgue as police endeavour to locate next of kin.

Hopes rose when a little, middle-aged woman moved in. A tiny thing, four feet eleven with a story she’d had to relocate due to parties and drug use. The stories grew. The first one was a box of her possessions were stolen from the building vestibule as she moved in. The next day she invited a another neighbour in, she left to hang out washing, leaving him there. She claimed her library books and a twenty-dollar note went missing. Next day she was bashed and robbed walking through a local park. She was drunk when she told the tale, saying she didn’t usually drink and had taken up smoking again after eight years. She confabulates. The following day she was still blotto. That night she entertained a bloke who’s begged from the local bus seat every day for the past five years. He has schizophrenia, severely crippled and uses two arm canes to drag his callipered legs behind him. The local shopkeeper’s and publican change the coins he collects as he spends up on booze and poker machines. His eye-sight must be deteriorating as he knocked on the wrong door seeking “a young lady who moved in a couple of weeks ago.” No doubt the promise of more than a roast dinner inspired him to drag his crumpled body up the thirty stairs to the lair. Bumping and humping echoed through the building till the wee small hours as flailing bones and callipers collided.

Neighbours … the stranger they are the more writer’s fodder they provide!

The Osbourne's garage sale to end all garage sales ...

Ozzy and Sharon Osbourne are holding the garage sale to end all garage sales on November 30.

More than 600 lots of memorabilia, jewellery, costumes, paintings and furniture from their Gothic-style house in Beverly Hills, their Malibu home and their British mansion in Buckinghamshire will be auctioned on November 30 and December 1.

The sale will raise funds for the Sharon Osbourne Colon Cancer Foundation.

A garagesaler's dream!

A Ewan McGregor weekend ...

It's been a Ewan McGregor weekend here after my Moulin Rouge find yesterday.

I found Ewan and Charlie well into their Long Way Round journey on the Lifetsyle channel last night. The episode showed they're over the hump, with only 15 days to go. Ewan was adorable as he pined to see "his Ev and his wee gels" after one hundred days on the road.

They were on Andrew Denton's Enough Rope a couple of weeks ago where viewers led to believe the journey to be a recent venture - it was in 2004. I could feel ripped off, but Ewan's charm, personality, good looks and genuine -osity make it all worth while!

It's a brilliant, gutsy travelogue if your butt can stand it!

Moulin Rouge prop - a garage sale find.

The movie Moulin Rouge is on my list of favourites, as are all things French.

At a garage sale today I spied this large, heavy, framed board covered with old French papers. Imagine my surprise when the owner told me it was a prop from the movie Moulin Rouge and I could have it for $5. I couldn't get the cash out fast enough.

OK, all you cynics ... I know it's only a piece of MDF painted to look old, that the majority of the papers are mostly copies, but I adore it ... and look at the white piece in the centre.

It's the "order of acts" performing at the Moulin Rouge in the movie.
Scene 4 : Madmoiselle Satine : the character played by Nicole Kidman ... provenance ?

I adore a little touch of 1890s gay Paree, it's going on a wall here ... if I can find a spot!

Ahhh ... if only the gorgeous Ewan McGregor had been holding the board ... Ooooo La La!

Sunday Scribblings #81 - My first act as Queen of the World will be ...

My first act as Queen of the World will be to put red headed women in charge ... of everything!

They'll get three months to sort out the world wide mess and then ... if successful the world will be a better place ... if unsuccessful it'll be either off with their heads or I'll abdicate.

I'll get back to you about plan B.

As you were!

p.s ... 12 hours later, in the light of day, I renegue, there's not enough redheads or hair dye in the world to fix the global schmozzle - sorry!

Writers Island "Message in a Bottle"

In 1979 UK band The Police released their second album Regatta de Blance and the track “Message in a Bottle” was a huge hit in Australia, #1 in the United Kingdom only reached #74 in the US. The song was about an island castaway, who sends off a help message in a bottle. Later he finds a hundred million bottles washed up on the shore line indicating there are many people out there like him. The metaphors of the island, the bottle and the discovery he is not alone were the theme of the song …

The words are …

Just a castaway,
an island lost at sea, oh
Another lonely day, with no one here but me, oh
More loneliness than any man could bear
Rescue me before I fall into despair, oh

Ill send an s.o.s. to the world
Ill send an s.o.s. to the world
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah

A year has passed since I wrote my note
But I should have known this right from the start
Only hope can keep me together
Love can mend your life but
Love can break your heart
Ill send an s.o.s. to the world
Ill send an s.o.s. to the world
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah

Walked out this morning, dont believe what I saw
Hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore
Seems Im not alone at being alone
Hundred billion castaways, looking for a home
Ill send an s.o.s. to the world
Ill send an s.o.s. to the world
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets my
I hope that someone gets myMessage in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah
Message in a bottle, yeah
Sending out at an s.o.s.
Sending out at an s.o.s.
Sending out at an s.o.s.
Sending out at an s.o.s.
Sending out at an s.o.s.
Sending out at an s.o.s...

The message in the bottle prompt reminds me of life, of past imbibing seeking the answers to life. The resemblances of writing, of savouring the flavour, a beginning, a middle, an end signify that the message in the bottle need not necessarily be a note, a written message but that the message might be contained in, or the consequence of, the liquid contents.

Symbolizing a beginning a full bottle could represent anticpation: a new adventure, an experience, of a tantalising aroma, as bubbles tingle your nose plus the prospect of what the contents might unleash.

The middle of the bottle heightens the senses. Calming, aggravating or relaxing sensations begin to appear. Devouring the contents alters feelings, perceptions, sometimes heading towards a danger zone – is the bottle half full or half empty?

The end as you drain the the final dregs climaxes in either sadness or elation! The message is consumed. What you’re left with is the prospect of the next chapter, of the next bottle, of the next message … or no relevance, everything out of perspective, plus a mighty hangover looming!

Do you want ice with that?

The 700 Habits of Highly Ineffective People by Jonathon Biggins.

Here it is people - forget The Secret, the DVD of which I bought at an op shop for two bucks this week, here's the self-help answer!

Jonathon Biggins latest book The 700 Habits of Highly Ineffective People delivers highly ineffective keys to unlock your true potential 'by studying the 700 habits of losers who are even further down the food chain than you are, your own sense of self-worth can be elevated to a higher plane.'

Now you're talking !!!

In a recent article in the always informative Good Weekend magazine cortesy of Sydney Morning Herald Biggins penned a marvellous dissertation about his new book including tips on how to help yourself outside the self-help movement! This gem is chockers with good old commonsense that shows the wasteful and niggling habits that success-challenged people fall into in their personal, business and creative lives.

Biggins asserts that the self help and acutalisation movement in the US alone is worth $US8.56 billion a year ... also that Professor John Norcross of Pennsylvania's University of Scranton as saying "Ten percent of self-help books are rated by mental health professionals as damaging, The Secret is probably one of them"

Ironically the greatest triumph of the self-help movement is to reinforce our feelings of inadequacy. It offers a dubious solution when in fact it's a large part of the problem. It's relentless cry of improve is a skilfully marketed echo of politicans and captains of industry as they exhort us, usually from the relative comfort of a waterfront address, to increase productivity. WHY? So we can consume more of the product ...

So Biggins has penned his own contribution to the genre - a self help manual for the completely helpless, for those who think proactive is some kind of dietry fibre supplement. It's a system called Passive Improvement (TM), a revolutionary concept that precludes any effort of emulating the habits of winners when you can simply lose the habits of losers ... just by reading 700 Habits and not forming any of them you will immediately become a better person!!! If you're a procrastinator, buy it tomorrow ...

This is it - the self-help book that makes you a better person by telling you what not to do!

Sunday Scribblings #80 - First Job, Worst Job, Dream Job

First Job :
The first thing that came to mind was the hardest first job anyone could imagine - getting to where I am now - hurdling over a sad mother, sad kid, absent father = survivor! But nah, don't want to go there this time!

When I left school, there was no vocational guidance, no guidance at all! Girls were groomed to catch a husband and breed. Workwise the choices were limited ... secretary, teacher, nurse, hairdresser, shop girl, no girls I knew went to University. I wanted any occupation that would get me out of home. I wanted to join the Army, the Navy, the Police Force or be a Nanny, but was told I was not clever enough. I went round in a circle with the first paid job being a telephonist, a switch bitch, for the Postmaster Generals Dept which to mother's delight got me back living with Grandmother. I was on a downhill run again!

Worst Job :
You know I can't think of one. I've done a myriad of jobs ... telephonist, bars, waitress, office, sales, Wife, Mother, cleaned toilets, cleaned hotels, store detective, kitchen hand, market stalls, lover, retailer, baby sitter, cook, hotel manager, counsellor, seamstress, stick picker, cotton chipper, trainer, workplace assessor, community representative, advocate, demonstrator, chef, operations manager, chef manager, catering contractor, scribe, sociologist, collector, volunteer, trouble maker, problem solver, drama queen, stirrer, party guest. There's a zillion more ... both paid and unpaid, all led somewhere, all met the need of keeping a roof over my head - no job worse than any other other, the motto was always work to live not live to work!

Dream Job :
That's easy ... I'm doing it now! Went through all the other BS to get to where I am now! The wages are shite, the conditions are brilliant, the uniform is flanellette, the hours are flexible, the possibilities are endless and the Boss is Moi!!

Alan Wadell - Walking Sydney streets at 93.

Aged 93, the gorgeous, Alan Wadell, has been walking Sydney streets since his Doctor encouraged him to take up walking in 2002. After walking the streets of his own suburbs he decided to trek Sydney. So far he's walked 252 suburbs, is a media star and a source of motivation to people worldwide.

On the 'Surprises' section the photo's and captions of Alans's discoveries along the way are clever, amazing and quirky.

As my girth widens, I contemplate removing my butt from this chair and start walking ... tomorrow!

Talking about VODKA ...

Talking about Vodka ... read this!

While trying to do himself harm, an Italian tourist ingested a dangerous amount of ethylene glycol. In country Queensland, where like most of Australia the hospital system is severely under supplied, they ran out of the anti-dote, pharmaceutical grade alcohol.

Someone must have done a runner to the local bottlo and they got the patient onto a Vodka drip ... no kidding ... read on ...
http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/story/0,22049,22562288-5012895,00.html

Mmmmm ... Vodka for medicinal purposes ... the only way to get blotto!

Schapelle Corby wants a baby ... WOT THA!!!

Good grief ... the Daily Telegraph reports that Schapelle Corby, serving 20 years in a Bali jail for being found with a boogie board load of marijuana wants to have a baby ..............WOT???

How????

She's a single woman!

What ... are they going to draw names out of a hat for likely contenders for fatherhood from within the Bali prison system or is her mother or sister going to visit with a turkey baster.

How outrageous ... is an innocent child expected to spend it's life doing her time!!!

If you've read this far then please click on the link below and go to the poll where hopefully people power might prevail on this stupid report ... if it's fact, that is???

http://www.news.com.au/dailytelegraph/story/0,22049,22556503-5001021,00.html

Will the next headline be 'immaculate conception in Bali jail' ... spare me!!!

Writers Island "RENEWAL."

The passionately written prologue at Writers Island ‘Renewal’ certainly prompted a new interpretation … A time of transition has come. We are passing into another cycle. a prompt that reflects this period of transition. It may appear as a time of change, a new cycle, a second chance, fresh start, rejuvenation… maybe you feel it happening around you… perhaps within you — however you see it or feel it, that’s how you should share it … with an eye to new possibility. It should be very exciting to discover each of our interpretations.

Initially ‘Renewal’ was mundane and seemed to represent the renewal of something old … a licence, an insurance policy, a friendship, a romance. Pondering this new interpretation became enlightening, bursting with all things I adore ... change, new cycle, second chance, fresh start and rejuventaion ... all integral parts of life?

WOW … metamorphosis had been second nature! Renewal had frequently and unknowingly provided opportunities to honestly re-asses, re-think, to realise. After more than a few physical and emotional disasters had commonsense, intuition, or survival, prevailed? Often something kicked in, licences weren’t renewed, friendships either, destructive choices were abolished, blame, trends, traditions and so called passions all got the I'm over it, out the door, NEXT! Life saving transitions were easy and numerous!

Disasters, frequently the fuel for renewals were many too. Two decades ago, after drinking a bottle of Smirnoff on a warm Sunday, spurred on by a claim there were less calories with soda and a slice of lemon, invinciblity kicked in around 2am and while trying to drive home through deserted back streets slamming into fifteen parked cars, not once, but twice! Escaping unscathed provided the jolt that NOT renewing that drivers licence was imperative!

Renewal has rarely been part of my MO. A been there done that attitude, saved the day over and over, always going forward, rarely going back. Moving to another state to escape the old crowd, the old haunts, the party go-ers was another stroke of; was it genius or was my guardian angel giving me a nudge? Expired renewals, long past their use by date were replaced with picking up the threads, revelling in chaos and drama wasn't renewed.

Endless possibilities, endless opportunities lurk, all simply waiting for acknowledgment from within. All it takes is the guts and the gall to be real. Renewal is the honest resonsibility of taking ownership … go for it ... go on I dare you!

Happiness is ...

Newmans - the best dark chocolate bar in Australia!

Often thought I might like a title ...

Mmmmm, decisions, decisions ???

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Venerable Lady Redness the Incomplete of Withering Glance Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

OR

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Venerable Lady Red the Corpulent of Piddletrenthide on the Carpet Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ... ;~)

Sunday Scribbling - sorry -- no scribble this week!

sorry -- no scribble this week!
Sorry, folks. Meg and I are both out of town this weekend and will not be able to put up links -- I think this is the first time in 80 weeks that we've both been traveling on the same weekend! We will be back next week with a great prompt. Hope you all have a fabulous weekend and we'll see you soon!


Ohhh Nooooo ... shock horror, no prompt for the week, I can hear the groaning from writers around the globe.

The apology, away this week, don’t the keepers of SS realise what a bunch of devotees we are who wait patiently, with a hint of desperation for a few meagre words to be thrown at us? Lined up like old roosters, chooks and spring chickens at the door of the hen house salivating for a mere morsel … don't they realise their impact ?

Are we so desperate for inspiration, motivation or is this a game, a hobby a pastime that allows us the ability to have words lunging out of our grey matter onto the screens in front of us and then the fulfilling a scribes curiosity as we peek into the thoughts of others – aren’t these girls aware of the impact they have on our lives?

Nah obviously not!

Not to worry here’s to them, relishing their time, eighty weeks sounds like AWOL is permitted. For me I’m carrying on regardless, pounding the keyboard, posting to the blog in the hope that someone joins me and we show the gals how much they’re sorely missed!

Ahhh .... that's better!!!

TURNBULL & GETUP

Ohhh No I hear you say she's not about that Turnbull again - yep ya betcha I am! Interesting that this week I mention him for the first time here and bugger me if he hasn't reared his ugly head again in what can only be one of the strangest announcements with the looming Federal election - his constituents are getting the message too!

A couple of years ago MJ shouted me a gorgeous sojourn to Tasmania as a birthday present - shocked (it was the last thing I ever expected) and ectstatic as I'd always wanted to go there. In the days before I had a digi camera I took roles and roles of film Ooooing and Aaaaaing at the glorious scenery - that was until we got inland and were devastated at the rape, at the squillions of acres of tree stumps, all in the name of logging that had left so much of the land bleak and barren.

Now this flip Turnbull has announced government approval for a pulp mill in the gorgeous Tamar Valley ... good grief what is he on??

The fantastic guys at GetUp have got the Turnbull story plus the opinion of shadow opposition Peter Garratt but more importantly that of Christine Milne the Greens senator for Tasmania at GetUp.

To quote Christine Milne~~
Mr Turnbull claimed today that this mill would be world's best practice. But how can a mill which will destroy 200,000ha of magnificent forest, 500 times whats being protected, be worlds best practice? How can a mill that pumps effluent, albeit less than it might, into a pristine environment be worlds best practice? How can a mill that adds 10 million tonnes of greenhouse gases to the atmosphere every year be worlds best practice?

I ask you???

For anyone who's interested in contributing their voice to stopping this outrageousness go to GetUp and please join up and sign the petition!

People power, people ... do it NOW!

A Tortie Meerkat ...

The things a gal has to do for a morsel of chicken ... Awwwww So CUuute (^..^)

Bondi Beach Heritage update ...

Maclom Turnbull is, as usual, endeavouring to make himself look good when he's actually big noting an idea that's already been bandied by the ex Mayor!
Read on ...

BONDI BEACH for National Heritage List ?

This photo was taken in June 2007 showing the amount of sand deposited on the promenade after massive king tides.

The small single story, white building smack bang in the centre of the photo ... my Grandma lived there for forty years ...

The Sydney Morning Herald reports that by the end of the year it is expected than Bondi Beach will be included on the National Heritage List. I dunno whether to laugh or cry.

Born and bred in Bondi I was there before it became a state of New Zealand when the K1W1's took over the then Astra Hotel, when Johnny Dixon owned the Caltex Service Station that is now James Packer's apartment, when I cried on my first day of school at Bondi Beach Public School before anyone thought of it becoming a trendy weekend market and Bondi Baths was where my Mum took me to be taught to learn to swim by Sep Prosser where no kiosk nor trendy eatery existed.

The trams rattled down the centre of the wide road, that eventually became parking but is now widened to hold the massive amount of traffic. My Grandma used to watch me down on the beach through binoculars (that's scarey isn't it?). Before me My Mum grew up in the same flat, swam in the bogey hole at Ben Buckler and strolled "the prom" on a Sunday afternoon.

I spent three years - that's another story - living there with my Grandma, a more well known Bondi identity than I realised at the time. For years she worked in the tiny kiosk, as big as a cupboard, where she flogged cigarettes, tobacco and lottery tickets on the corner of Campbell Parade and Hall Street where access was only possible when she lifted up the hutch to let me clamber in! I thought I was so special being allowed into that inner sanctum as her cronies lent on the ledge smoking and gossiping while the wind whipped round the corner.

I was there when the Ravesi's worked in their milk bar. Mr Ravesi with his comb over and Mrs Ravesi all red hair and style and when Bob Barrett was butchering in Hall. Street I knew of the rivalry as the Greek Bates Brothers ran their Milk Bar opposite Ravesi's, when the Gelato Bar opened, everyone said it wouldn't last and how we couldn't believe out eyes at the luscious, lavish cakes in the window. Remembering the treat when I used to take a saucepan down to the Chinese Restaurant at 152 Campbell Parade and struggle back up the stairs grasping the lid of the hot saucepan tightly so the sweet and sour pork didn't spill, how cospmopolitan that was!

Now the way too wealthy and often too arrogant Malcolm Turbull, is promoting for this National Heritage gig and one can only wonder what's in it for him. This character doesn't usually do much unless there's ... well, let's wait and see.

I'll take another stroll down memory lane again soon!

Writers Island - THE JOURNEY.

THE JOURNEY ...

Dahling,
Having a swellegent time. Wish you were here. Please send more money.
LOVE,
R. xxxx
p.s. don't forget to feed the cat (^..^)~~~