I’ve got half an hour or so to spare so it’s a good time to polish off the last of the 3 extra things.

Kartoo

Kartoo is rather fun but I did get some weird and wacky results looking for images to insert into a presentation I have coming up soon. Then, egotist that I am, I tried to find a picture of moi but it offered me August Strindberg instead. Hmm… must be because he wrote ‘Miss Julie’. Still, it’s good to try something other than Google Images.

Voyage RSS feed reader

I became rather wary of feed readers after the 23 things when I found them to be a distraction when I least needed it. On my first attempt at Voyage my screen froze, on my second I retrieved an article called ‘Spider forces family out of home’ which led me to a treasure trove of man bites dog stories. More distractions! Very entertaining though.

Semantic Web

I’ve been hearing about this for a while but the case studies linked to our Wiki helped make it clearer. The concept-based search is a great advantage especially when it can manage multiple languages. The diagrams illustrating the technology look horrendously complex so I am glad I’m an end-user rather than a developer in this instance.

Now I have done all my things. I hope there won’t be too many more encores. I just want to go to the cinema for free, thank-you.

23 things plus 5

I've just linkedin to 4 colleagues who I'm trusting to advance my illustrious career shortly. Get on with it gals! I've been looking at VuFind for quite a while as well as a couple of other similar products such as AquaBrowser http://www.aquabrowser.com

They make resources look attractive but obviously don't impact on the quality of what is retrieved.

23 Things - Gallop to the finish line

OK. It’s time to make a belated lurch to the finish line on the 23 things. I still have 4 to go officially although I’ve done 3 of them without realising they were on the list.

The countdown:-

Thing 18

The aspect of Library 2.0 that most interests me is user involvement in the creation and maintenance of products and services. Libraries are the natural habitat of technological innovation and the willingness to share ideas and applications discussed by Eric von Hippel in ‘Democratising innovation’ is part of our professional ethic. Library 2.0 is also progress towards really putting customers first that we talk a lot about but actually do in a fairly limited way.

Thing 20

I found two clips on Youtube when I searched for ‘Swinburne Library’ though one was recognizably set in ‘Mr Tulk’, the café around the corner from the State Library in LaTrobe Street. The other involved dressed-up library users racing up and down the aisles between the book stacks.

Next I watched 4 students wreaking havoc in the Monash University Library and spoofing a library tour at the same time. Then ontoanother group of students surreptitiously devouring Big Macs in the Matheson. Hmmm, time to find something more edifying but what search terms to use?

I attempted to watch a tour of the beautiful Library of Congress having been on one myself several years ago but unfortunately the camera operator had so many technical problems it was unwatchable.

The best thing I found was a video on a children’s interactive library which synergised with Thing 18 above. Nice!

Thing 21

Onto the Sirsi Dynix Institute to listen to a Podcast. This is a site I’ve used a bit with students so no worries here. Another Thing accomplished and the end’s in sight.

Thing 23

The Wash Up. Although the Things hung over my head like the Sword of Damocles for months I’m glad to have done them and am already using several to good effect. We librarians are guns at adopting and adapting new technology and proof positive that one is never too old too learn.

Will I keep blogging? Of course. Blogging is vanity publishing at its best. You can see your name in lights and no-one is obliged to read it if they don’t want to. What could be better than that? Finishing the 23 things that’s what.

Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!

Yesterday was the fifth and final celebration for my special birthday. Entering a new decade is a fearful experience and it’s good to have lots of people around to see you over the hump. We had lunch at “The Point” on Albert Park Lake – very pretty, very pleasant, great company and conversation and some amazing gifts. I feel very spoilt but I still want one more thing – a change of government on Saturday, topped off with a win in the seat of Bennelong. Then I can die happy.

Today is my birthday. It’s one of those Big Birthdays that end in zero and get you thinking about the meaning of life and the state of your superannuation fund.

A number of luminaries share my birthday:
1. The late great miss Veronica Lake who taught me that it was OK to have long lank straight hair;
2. The loathsome Prince Charles who gives me a focus for all my negative energy;
3. Condoleezza Rice – great to see a woman in power but some of her political ideas are a worry;
4. Senator Joseph McCarthy - now we’re in really dangerous territory; and
5. Claude Monet – any one of his paintings would be an acceptable gift should you be wondering.

Google Docs

Set up my Google docs and started sharing the writing of the ANZIIL report with Mary, Zarina and Sue, inviting Tom as a visitor so he’d know we were really doing it. But the next day some intruder with a Gmail address had joined the group and our document had disappeared! So it’s back to sharing on G drive I guess.

Hurray! At last I have my star for Week 4 and my cinema tickets are on the way. Bake up the popcorn! Freeze up the choc tops!

The original four family members (now we have seven) Left Foot, Right Foot, Grumpy Girl and Petite Soeur

Information Literacy and Mango Tarts

The ANZIIL symposium in Hobart last week was a great success judging by the comments on delegates’ evaluation sheets. This was good news for the organising committee as we had a few difficulties along the way, most notably our man on the spot moving from Tassie to Brisbane just before the symposium and our Chair also changing jobs and being unable to attend.

It appears though that the glory days of Information Literacy are over. The feeling is that there’s less support from senior management confronting issues of accountability and effectiveness. It’s difficult to demonstrate the lasting benefits of many of our interventions.

On the plus side, the lovely lovely unmatchable, unmissable CRIG information literacy forum is coming up soon. The forum is timed to coincide with the mango season and, apart from the presentations, the highlights of these gatherings has always been the socialising and networking over a mango tart. The mango tarts were legendary but I’ve been told that for the second year in a row there will be none.

It’s a portent of doom. The thin end of the wedge. How long before no mango tarts equals no information literacy? I fear the worst.

A quiet Friday arvo so I've knocked over a few more of the 23 things. I've used Google Booksearch many times but have had another look. There's still not many full books I want to read on it. I've set up an iGoogle homepage but found it did not transport from one computer to another. I've del.icio.used and posted photos of four late great pets.

There's lots of websites about Second Life and some articles in the databases too. It was reading one of these that alerted me to the existence of Web 3.0. And we're just coming to grips with Web 2.0! Enuff already!

I'm off to the ANZIIL symposium on Sunday so probably won't be blogging until the end of next week. See ya!

Star Quest

There is a black hole in the galaxy of stars alongside my blog. Week 4. I SWEAR TO GOD I have done all of the 23 things up to and a little beyond that point. So, Big Brother, I eagerly await the arrival of my Village cinema tickets any day now.

SWINBURNE LIVING LIBRARY TOURS THE ANCIENT WORLD

There's nothing like a night shift to get you romping through the 23 things. I've Flickrd and Googled and now have a few doz more passwords to remember. What have I learnt? According to Google Maps I could be getting home in one hour and 3 minutes instead of the hour and 20 it takes me now. I don't believe it.

I've sussed out Facebook and Myspace and know that they are not for me.

Now that I've arrived at the rest week I'm going to indulge myself by blogging about Living Library's tour through the Ancient World. LL visited the Topaki Palace in Istanbul to interview Suleyman the Magnificent; Delphi to consult the oracle; Olympia to win gold for Australia; Pompeii to ask for a ‘please explain’ from the vulcanologist; Rome to ask Romulus and Remus about establishing an empire; etc.

Pictures and details are on Flickr at http://www.flickr.com/photos/15224574@N08/

Here’s a few to go on with.

OK, I've just polished off the Week 5 stuff, including subscribing to some feeds and blogs on health issues. I expect to be a complete hypochondriac within a week.

I've just done the Library Thing (23 things week 4) and now I know that 87 other people also enjoy the novels of Barbara Trapido. That'll come in handy.

After zillions of attempts and frustrations and much advice from peers, I have finally managed to Simpsonise myself. And it looks just like me!!!

23 Things

Just back from leave, I'm very late to the party on the 23 things. Have got as far as Flickr but have resisted putting up my holiday snaps. Didn't think you'd be interested.

Here are the 23 things I wish I were still doing:
munching a light and crispy pizza in Rome
savouring a chocolate gelati in Sorrento
browsing the market in Amalfi
sipping a limoncello
admiring the view from the ferry on the way to Capri
inspecting the ruins at Pompeii and running in to a former student)
visiting Santa's grave in Bari
touring the colosseum
sneaking into a bar in the Piazza Venezia for a free pee
dining right on the beach at Tolo with the waves lapping around my feet
consulting the oracle at Delphi
running down the track at Olympia
singing my heart out in the theatre at Epidaurus
having a picnic lunch in the grounds of the public library at Nafplion
baking in the Athens heat
climbing halfway to Heaven at Meteora
picking up the great vibe on the streets of Istanbul
admiring the homes of the rich and famous from the middle of the Bosphorus
rapping with Suleyman the Magnificent at the Topkapi Palace
shopping for cushions in the Grand Bazaar
steering clear of the Istanbul carpet salesmen
getting high on the aroma in the Spice Bazaar
choosing among a dozen different breads to have with my kebab.

Sigh!

In his book ‘Microtrends’ Mark J. Penn identifies 75 consumer groups which are growing in importance for marketers. I seem to belong to several of them: Wordy Women (gotta admit to this), Southpaws Unbound (militant lefthanders), Powerful Petites (women tired of buying their clothes in children’s boutiques) but most of all, I am an Extreme Commuter.

Driving from St Kilda to Lilydale every day I have tried most of the time-passing activities Penn discusses. I have decimated the audiobook collections of every library in the south-eastern suburbs and can claim to have read all sorts of weighty tomes I would never have struggled through if I’d had to read them myself instead of having a professional actor read them to me. Being stuck in the middle of the Glen Iris level crossing while some fruity-voiced actor reads Proust to you is a unique experience.

Language tapes are another option. Penn claims you can learn Spanish in 16 hours and get a job as a UN translator. I haven't achieved those dizzy heights but, on and off for 10 years I have practiced my parley vous and can now place an order at a restaurant or book a hotel in Paris while simultaneously negotiating my way around the number 6 tram at the corner of high Street and Glenferrie Road.

Penn is right about the marketing opportunities. Extreme Commuters are a captive audience eager for anything to make the drive more pleasant. Libraries should be targeting us. Just be careful with the relaxation tapes - ZZZZZ.

The Frontier Librarians, Left and Right are off to explore some very ancient frontiers in Turkey, Greece and Italy. I've got lots of questions ready for the Oracle at Delphi:
1. Will I ever have another grandchild?
2. Will Cee ever reach her goal weight? (She really wants to know)
3. Will I fall so far behind with my 23 things (this is only the 2nd) that Derek will let me off?
4. Will that beagle at Melbourne airport bail me up again?

I hope I'll be able to tell you the answer to some of these questions when I return. I'm not sure how many goes at the Oracle you're allowed to have.

Imagine this. The best information literacy session you've ever had. All the participants have chosen to be there and all seem eager to learn. They speak the lingo, they are all PLU, they are on your side. If you've had this experience you must be a teacher of library technicians too.

Clearly retrospective travel blogs are too boring even for those on the trip. Never mind, the frontier librarians have another adventure coming up soon. Stand by for the first installment

Novgorod. Did I say Novgorod? After four months I can still remember it but my intention of writing a retrospective travel blog obviously didn’t happen. I came back from Eastern Europe and walked into the busiest semester I have had in ten years. There are still two weeks to go and i am crawling to the finish line.

While I have been going up and down on the spot for four months Right Foot has completed his PhD and is no longer known as Mister Shed around the neighbourhood. He is now Doctor Shed. And officially An Historian. I am going to insist on his correct title appearing on every piece of mail that comes into the house: Telstra bills, Australian heritage magazine, parking and speeding fines and all sorts of junk mail.

His career as a jazz banjoist has blossomed as well and he is now playing in four groups, a couple of them for money. So now I am not only married to a doctor but a popular musician as well!

RETROSPECTIVE TRAVEL BLOG

Sunday, 11th June
Right Foot and I, along with my sister, Middle Sized Bear and my brother in law, set off on our “Not too young & not too old” tour of Russia, the Baltic countries, Poland and the Czech Republic. Middle Sized Bear and Brother-in-Law (BIL) had not travelled overseas since their honeymoon in New Zealand in 1969 so were diving in the deep end.

After numerous adventures involving Singapore Airlines, Luftansa, incorrect boarding passes, wrong gate numbers, etc we arrived in Moscow 27 hours after leaving Melbourne. By this time we had gathered up 9 other not too young, not too old companions so we arrived en masse at our hotel in Moscow where the staff denied all knowledge of our bookings. This turned out to be the pattern for all our dealings with Russian bureaucracy. Processes are very unwieldy, time-consuming and mysterious.

Moscow itself is absolutely wonderful - fabulous streetscapes and buildings such as St Basil’s Cathedral, http://www.moscow-taxi.com/churches/st-basils-cathedral.html
the amazing Metro stations http://www.moscow-taxi.com/sightseeing/metro.html
wonderful scenery (seeing Swan Lake which inspired Tchaikovsky’s ballet, at night was absolutely magical).

Russians became accustomed to queueing for staple items in Soviet times. Now they queue in their thousands for many hours outside the Cathedral of Christ the Saviour to view an extraordinary relic: John the Baptist’s right hand, the very hand that baptised Jesus Christ. We saw many such demonstrations of unquestioning faith throughout Russia. It seems there is nothing like years of oppression to strengthen the hold of religion. http://www.moscow-taxi.com/sightseeing/savior.html

Right Foot led me to a park and tried to convince me that it was Gorky Park. It wasn't, but was interesting all the same. The old-fashioned, run down amusements reminded me of Vietnam. My favourite was a ride for young children, similar to a little train but featuring toy tanks instead of railway carriages.

Contrary to expectations we ate well. Petite had predicted ‘meat stuffed with meat with a side serving of meat’ but we found lots of fresh fruit and vegetables including bananas, bananas, bananas! The beer was not bad and the wine was not good.
As an accompaniment to our dinner we were treated to the first of several corny, hokey folkloric performances, got up for the tourists. No local would be seen dead attending.

The yuckiest thing was the lat night entertainment, the horrible Moscow Circus with its outdated performing animal acts. It was surprising and depressing to see that this old hat style of circus is still around.

NEXT: Novgorod

Oh the joy!
The Frontier Librarians have a grand-daughter. Madeleine Pearl Wallace was born on 17th October at 7.50 pm in St Vincent’s Private Hospital. She is the most beautiful, intelligent and finest human being the world has ever known.
Thank-you Grumpy Girl and Matt.

People have been chiding me for my prolonged non-blogging. No excuses really except that Winter saps my strength to such an extent that I usually lose the will to live between June and October and who would want to read about that?

Feeling has returned to my fingertips so now I can record the excitement of contemplating the arrival of Our First Grandaughter who is expected to put in an appearance in about three weeks.

Grumpy Girl is blooming: she looks healthy, relaxed and ready for anything which is just as well of course.

The only worry Right Foot and I have at all is the baby’s name. Grumpy is steadfastly non-committal and I fear the worst. One of those stern First World War names like Bertha, Dorothy, Mildred or Gladys. Could I love a child called Beryl even though she has a quarter of my genes residing inside?
Or the baby may be given a relative’s name in honour of a family member blessed with a winsome personality but cursed with an unattractive moniker.
I feel safe from all the cutely spelt names with their superfluity of Es and Is and the unfortunate inventions of a mother determined to be original but fear there is no hope of any of my current favourites making the cut. However, for what it’s worth here are my suggestions: Miranda, Alicia, Saskia.

Fat chance.

I have seen the face of my grandchild on video and on a 3D scan. It is like a miracle. I keep thinking how Leonardo da Vinci would have loved this technology. To see a 19 week foetus, looking a lot like Grumpy Girl and a bit like Matthew but mostly like Golum is a wondrous thing.

Eighty percent of a granddaughter
Grumpy Girl emails: “Just came back from the 19 week ultrasound. Baby's heartbeat a very impressive 158 beats per minute, four chambers in heart, two hemispheres in brain, thigh bones slightly longer than expected for this age and an 80% possibility that it's a girl!”

Grumpy is going to show us the video, a twenty-minute art-house classic in the making, featuring the inside of the baby's brain, with a supporting cast which includes its spine and a brief cameo performance by the kidneys. Pass the popcorn!

Nobs versus Hoi Polloi
On Saturday I gathered up my Hawthorn and Collingwood supporting colleagues and took them to the Members Reserve at the ‘G’. It was the first time I had ever been to the footy in a mixed marriage situation. I sat between two maggies, L and R who enthusiastically applauded each Collingwood goal and smirked gleefully across me as they got further and further in front.

When I used to watch footy with my sister on a regular basis we tried to steer the ball through the goals by stiffening our bodies and bending in unison in a sort of ritualistic dance. On Saturday I was dancing with R but we weren’t swaying harmoniously, willing the same result. Instead we moved in opposite directions, one of us horribly out of step, and in danger of clashing our heads together. Bizarre.

All I managed to win was an argument about the meaning of ‘hoi polloi’. The consolation prize but no consolation at all.

Full frontal fridge

Well the big old fridge is gone from the hallway at last and we no longer have to squeeze past it dozens of times a day. I had become quite good at this: although I had to turn sideways I didn’t slow down or drop even a morsel of anyone’s dinner.
Now, the simple pleasure of an unobstructed pathway feels like luxury.

The new fridge has a device called a bottle snuggler. It looks like a mould from a knight-in armour’s-codpiece and is supposed to stop your drinks from toppling over. Right Foot and I tried in vain to install it but just could not figure out how it was meant to go.

With the new fridge in situ it was time to stock up on a few favourite tipples. I should have taken the bottle snuggler with me. After a spend up in Dan Murphy’s I called in to Priceline to pick up a prescription. Plastic bags these days biodegrade within minutes and while I waited for my medication a bottle of James Boag fell on the floor and cracked. Soon the unmistakable aroma of bitter beer wafted outwards and upwards from my feet towards the very soignée female pharmacist. How embarrassment! Oh well, at least it wasn’t a VB.

Renovation Bum
There is a book by Kingsley Amis in which he lists the horrors of arriving at an airport:
Disembarkation bum
Customs queue bum
Luggage collection bum
Taxi negotiating bum, etc. etc.

Over the years Right Foot and I have adapted the Bum Recital to suit a range of unpleasant situations, most recently Kitchen Renovation Bum. Carpenters who put up a cupboard, leave the other six in a pile and don’t come back for weeks, incompetent plumbers who charge a fortune, and the biggest Bum of all, the painter who works for an hour, then announces cheerily that he is going into hospital for heart surgery the next day but hopes to be back soon! I may need some heart surgery myself.

Due Recognition
It had been a couple of years since we’d won a Trivia Night and I’d had to forgo the Mary Owen Dinner to attend this one but it was in aid of a very, very good cause and I do so love proper general knowledge questions rather than MTV videos and the other crapola that feature at many triv nights now. The downside of Friday night at the Hawthorn Town Hall was the appalling food but I’ll get over that. What’s really bothering me is the lack of acknowledgement for our performance. Oh sure the MC announced that Table 9 had won but we wanted the world to know that we were representing our University and stuff like that. So just in case anyone’s interested let it be known that Table 9 was occupied by seven librarians from Swinburne, one from La Trobe and one from Holmesglen TAFE. So there.

Grand Footling Update
Week 15 and Grumpy Girl’s grumpalino is developing finger nails and prints. Wow.

Eurothrash

For 11 years we have lived in an apartment building with communal laundries. For me, this has meant saving every dollar coin that came my way to use in the washers and dryers. It has meant going down two flights of stairs to look for a vacant machine, load the washer, unload the washer, load the dryer, unload the dryer, engage in barneys with my neighbours and stave off passing snowdroppers. It has meant engraving my name on four dozen pegs.

So the piece-de-resistance of our renovation was to be the installation of a washer dryer in the new Bunnings kitchen, Pommie style.
Such things are common in Europe and we finished up with an Italian number with the brand name Thor. For weeks we have been amusing each other with Thor jokes: “I’m thaw but I’m not thorry” and “I’m thaw too but I’m thatisfied”.

But the Thor has had the last laugh. The first plumber we contracted to install it took one look and fled the scene. The second did a bodgy job and when we attempted our first wash the kitchen cupboard filled up with water. The Thor’s next trick was to dance boisterously around the kitchen to its own bump and grind musical accompaniment.

At our next laundering attempt we both stood peering nervously at the Thor which sneered back, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

We were right to be afraid. Euro washing machines have very long cycles. The German one we had in Kuching took days to agitate, rinse and spin. The Thor wash cycle lasts 90 minutes. Our difficulty was figuring out how to get it to move on to the drying cycle and our efforts only succeeded in putting our clothes through the wash three times. That’s three times 90 minutes. At 1.30 a.m. the Thor was still boogeying around the room, the clothes were turning into mulch and Right Foot and I, bleary-eyed and anxious, were huddled in the bedroom awaiting the knock of the angry upstairs neighbour.

We were thaw all right but definitely not thatisfied.

The best news I have ever received in my whole life
After years and years of hoping and despairing, a miracle has occurred and Right Foot and I find that by the end of October, all going well, we will be Grand Feet! Yes it’s true – Grumpy Girl and Thieu (Guess what that’s short for) are having a baby (actually a Capuchin monkey if the photo is anything to go by).

We have been concealing this secret for five weeks now waiting for various genetic tests to be completed but Grumpy has finally given us the go-ahead to broadcast it far and wide.
So to the tune of “My baby just cares for me” please sing along with me:
Our baby’s got arms and legs
That’s what Dr. Skinner says
Our baby’s got eyebrows too
They’re all there on the ultrasound scan
Grumpy Girl is going to make me a gran!

Now at last Right Foot can make a start on all those wooden toys he has collected dozens of books about: Noah’s Ark, The Little Red Engine, A Victorian Dolls’ House and, above all, a stable full of rocking horses. Standby for ‘Rocking Horse Rampant with Flared Nostrils and Ears Erect’, Rocking Horse Couchant with Sable Bridle, Ermine-spotted Saddle and Tail Argent, and Rocking Horse a Little Wobbly, with Dodgy Paint Job but it’s only a Prototype.

My handcraft skills are at a much more rudimentary level so I have sought help from the ABC’s Play School website which has a long list of things to make that are within my capabilities, i.e. that of a preschool child. I think I’ll start with 'Toy Wok' (put a doll and a teddy bear into a wok and pretend it’s a space craft). Easy peasey.

Two weddings and a funeral (with another one to come)

Who WAS that insufferable American with the Kermit voice who presumed to translate the Latin mass and talked over the inspirational music at the Pope's funeral? How crass, rude and arrogant!
We couldn't get a descent picture on SBS so ended up listening to Ray Martin's inanities for a couple of hours. When Ray is the best thing going times are tough.

The rottweiler didn't look too bad in that first outfit but how about her teeth? Why wouldn't you get them fixed when you had the heir to the throne to foot the bill?

On the subject of 'The Bill' spunky June Acland married boring old Jim Carver on Saturday night in the latest episode of the ridiculous soap opera this once great show has become. Will we ever see real policing again? Bring back the scrotes and toe-rags PLEASE.

Bunnings men have taken over my place completely now. Roy Replacement for Peter who spat the dummy Plumber is, I hope, doing his best to make water come out of the tap at this very moment.
I have to keep escaping to nearby cinemas and have seen three movies in five days. On Sunday, all movied out and with Joe Carpenter firmly ensconced in the kitchen, I took Right Foot to the G to see the Hawks robbed of their only likely victory for the year. Right Foot does not know much about footy and asked a number of very elementary questions to the bemusement of the young woman sitting in front of us. "Which one is Spider?" "Who are the guys in orange?"
The high point was late in the third quarter when he asked, "Who is the one in the lime fluoro pixie shoes?" It was, of course, the great, high profile, former captain, Shane Crawford. General merriment for all within earshot.

On the other hand, the Richmond supporters were still wearing their bloody idiot tee-shirts. Ha!

Part two of the Great Renovation of 05 is underway - the installation of a Bunnings kitchen - which means a constant succession of tradesmen:
Andrew Apprentice Electrician
Peter Plumber
Joe Installer
Frank Tiler
Aldo Not Sure What He Does But Seems To Be Indispensible And Will Have To Be Paid.

None of these guys much likes working on 50 year-old appartments. Peter Plumber was the first to spit the dummy. It was all too hard so he packed up his tools and went home, throwing the schedule into disarray and forcing Right Foot and me to camp in the dining room, boiling kettles and cooking toast on the floor. It's going to be another fun weekend. Grrrr.

Floored by a flawless floor.
The delays and cost blow-outs are over. We now have an ice-rink gleaming, ballet rehearsal room sheening, Tassie Oak MAGNIFICENT floor. It looks a million dollars which is roughly what it cost. You could eat your dinner off it and we may have to.

Desperate Housewife

There is no furniture in our appartment and the carpet has been torn up revealing the concrete beneath. And not your smooth grey, parking lot, could-draw-a-hoppy-on-it, kind of concrete. Instead there's a vulcanic, granitey Martian landscape, sulphuric and acne-pitted.

We have rented a neighbouring flat which, despite having no power or hot water and all our stuff piled high, is Ritz-like by comparison. We need so many candles to be able to read in bed that it looks like a black mass and I choke on the smoke when I blow them out. We do the dash between Number 22 and Number 24 in our PJs each morning to take a shower and forage for food.

But amidst the Hell that is renovation I think we finally turned the corner when Right Foot painted the Feature Wall in brilliant yellow. A glimmer of hope is flickering in my heart.

Twelfth day of Christmas yesterday so I took the tree down. It is a melancholy task.

We have only room for a small tree which does its best to showcase our gargantuan collection of gorgeous, gawdy, and oh-my-Gawd! decorations which include a few home madeys and many we have picked up on our travels. My favourite overseas decoration is the cross-eyed Vietnamese Santa and the most intriguing home made one is a glowy white ball with a Christmas wish in red glitter pen from Julianna and Glenn. Nobody knows who Julianna and Glenn are, why they are wishing us 'Merry Christmas' or, more likely, how we have managed to pilfer someone else's Christmas decoration. Just one of the many mysteries to ponder at Christmas time.

Christmas positives
(1) Trying on a skirt in Myer. They don't have my size so the sales assistant goes down to David Jones to get it for me. By the time she gets back I have settled on something else. She smiles.
(2) Buying a set of bowls and the young casual has no idea how to wrap them. She makes two or three attempts while I make helpful suggestions and the queue behind me grows and grows. I turn and offer a general apology. The woman immediately behind me says, 'Don't worry, it's fine.'and leans forward to massage my shoulders.

Christmas negatives
(1)'Bad Santa'. Very bad movie.
(2)Living on shortbread and champagne. Longing for tofu and beans.

Ah, the bliss of living in a post-ANZIIL symposium world. There is nothing more to mop up except accolades. The international students were brilliant. Joy to the world.

On Saturday night we cooked Chicken Kiev to empathise with Petite Soeur who is currently shooting a Dulux commercial in the Ukraine. Oi! Garlic! Butter! More Garlic! More Butter! No vampires came near us all evening. Yesterday Petite rang to wish me happy birthday and told us that the hotel, the weather and, above all, the food in the Ukraine are excruciatingly bad. No Chicken Kiev to be had anywhere.

We have started feeding the possums again after neglecting them for weeks while we travelled. I gave them strawberries last night to assuage my guilt. Paris has no possums but our appartment was in Rue d'Esquirol - Squirrel Street. We didn't see any squirrels but we did see beautiful beautiful Paris and all its wonders. And tasted the best ice-cream in the world, excellent crepes, leaden croque madame, tolerable wine and vastly inferior fruit and vegetables. I bought two jumpers in Gap and lots and lots of books, all written in French so requiring concentration.

We went to a revue at the Lido which looked a lot less sleezy than the Moulin Rouge from the outside. The show itself was colourful but rather lame: I think it had been toned down for the more conservative tourists. I have seen far racier things in Melbourne.

One Saturday we went to a marche aux puces (flea market) where Right Foot was in his element. He even found an aeroplane ashtray, at a price no Aussie could consider. Much of the stuff there would have been in an antique shop in Australia. When I could finally drag Right Foot away we went to Pere Lachaise Cemetery which was cold, wet and pretty miserable. We struggled with our map in the wind and rain, trying to find Abelard and Heloise, the original residents. Several people asked us for directions to Jim Morrison's grave. We eventually caught up with them all - Spaniards, Italians, Japanese, all way to young to remember Jim Morrison but making the pilgrimage all the same. The young Italian was quietly singing 'Light my fire'. Right Foot had only one question - 'who was Jim Morrison?'

Snapshots from Shanghai.
The photos are back and show us cavorting along the Bund on China's National Day(s) holiday, mixing with the locals all of us wearing party hats. Coming from 'Audalia' seemed to be acceptable. We didn't get the negative reaction we often did in Malaysia.

We visited the museum which was beautiful, restful and very interesting.Museums in Asia are unpredictable: this is one of the best.

I had no trouble fulfilling my desire of purchasing a hot pink cable-knit jumper - gorgeous! But our quest to buy coffee was a major undertaking, requiring a lot of miming and head-shaking. We eventually found a small, hard-to-open jar of bitter instant coffee in a locked cabinet in a supermarket. Everything else on offer was self service but the coffee was obviously too precious a commodity for that.

It was a shame to leave the wonderfully comfortable Broadway Mansions hotel, especially for an overnight flight with the capricious and, dare I say it, inscrutable China Eastern Airways. Never mind - at the other end was Paris and our first-ever landing on continental Europe. So very exciting.

Arriving at Charles de Gaulle airport in the early hours of next morning took the edge off the excitement. We had to wait for the Bureau de Change to open before we could buy a rail ticket to the Gare du Nord and on to our accommodation in Place d'Italie. Our early attempts at communicating in French were disappointing but at least we could read the signage.

Meanwhile back in the real world.
Last night on SBS a program on ancient Greece explained that the word 'symposium' originally only meant a 'drinking session'. WHY did they change it? Helping to organise the ANZIIL symposium is quite a responsibility. I don't think I'll ever be nervous again about writing and delivering a paper. That's for babies.

Today is that horrible first day back at work after a holiday when you are deluged by emails, questions, gossip and backlogs of urgent stuff as you grimly fight to rise above residual jetlag and depression.

Two weeks in France left me cursing my English and Irish forebears for emigrating and depriving me of my European birthright. How could they leave? How COULD they? Wonderful Paris: the culture, the architecture, the sophistication. Amazing Avignon with a view of the Papal Palace from our hotel window and where I danced along the 'pont' of song and story. Although Right Foot loved it all too he did not share my sense of loss, becoming more and more Aussie every day. And there ARE negatives. Here are some: the high carb diet of croissants for breakfast, baguettes for lunch and crepes for dinner makes you feel sluggy and spong. The fruit and vegetables are essentially compost and good coffee is hard to find. And as for tofu. Quand?
In Avignon we stayed at the Ibis which is pronounced 'Abyss' in French and the breakfasts were exactly that, abyssmal.
Worst of all, smoking is public places is still permitted and prevalent. As an American girl we met at the Arc de Triomphe said, "Like, didn't they get the memo?"

They smoke all over you in China too but the food is much better - beautiful vegetables, plenty of tofu and magnificent brekkies at the Novotel in Beijing and the Broadway mansions in Shanghai. It was National Day celebrations in Shanghai and life was one long street party. They have lovely museums and nice shops. The Bund was everything I hoped.
Beijing has nice places too but the museums are badly curated, poorly lit, dusty and dingy. It is also scam city and the harassment on the street is fierce. Our best day was a trip out to Simatai where you can walk on the only remaining authentic section of the Great Wall. It was exhilarating and hugely satisfying.

And now we're back in little old Melbourne which is OK I suppose. At least the smokers have to stay outside in the cold, tee hee hee.

This morning Right Foot and I withdrew all our money from our running away account. We have done quite a bit of running away over the last few years and there was only $164 left but we hope this is enough for a Supreme de Volaille and a Crepe Suzette which we have been hanging for since 1968.
We have also voted in the federal election, packed the vegemite and a selection of native flora which I suspect will not get past the first customs officer who sees it and certainly no where near its intended destination, the Australian memorial at Villers Bretonneux. A lady in the tourist office in Peterborough, South Australia has sent over several Glad resealable sandwich bags containing sprays from indigenous shrubs so Right Foot can leave them in memory of his great uncle, a 19 year-old Peterborough local who was killed at the Somme in 1915. I hope these tributes don't end up in a bin along with a collection of putrid salamis, raw cheeses and ostriche feathers. The kind lady deserves more, so does Right Foot and so, especially, does great uncle David.

Two more sleeps and Right Foot and I are off to Shanghai, France and Beijing in that order. I am very excited, never having been to Continental Europe before. But before we get there I'll see Shanghai in all its Last Emperor glory (I hope). We are flying with Dodgy Air and they are even more obsessive about reconfirming flights than I am. We arrive on National Day, a major public holiday, so are expecting chaos. My Mandarin teacher has written down the address of the hotel in Chinese characters for me so that's gotta help doesn't it?

My last civic duty before I go is attending tonight's graduation ceremony, wearing my highest heels so I don't trip over my trailing gown, and with my mortar board rammed down over my eyebrows to prevent its slipping off. I don't do costuming-up well.

After months of "Yes I will, no I won't" I posted my cheque for Membership of the MCC and am now awaiting the arrival of a shiny medallion or something. I wrote the cheque out weeks ago and twice walked to the postbox and came home with it still in my hand. After 20 years on the waiting list I couldn't decide whether I really wanted to join up but now the deed is done. It was the Commonwealth Games Opening Ceremony that made me decide.
Soon I can start dining with the nobs and frocking up for the footy. I wonder if I ever will.

Matt is back so Grumpy Girl has moved out leaving a very small footprint and a beautiful box of Belgian chocolates (and I don't mean those overly sweet shell numbers). She was an exemplary guest and we miss her company.

It is only six weeks before we are scheduled to make another attempt to see Shanghai and I am wondering what could go wrong this time. Not 'til I am strolling along the Bund will I really believe I'm going.

Petite Soeur is off to Bora Bora early next week to film a glam advertisement. I never get sent to places like that for work. Only places like Glasgow.

Grumpy Girl has been back from Europe for a week now and is staying with us. She's great company: so interesting to talk to and so helpful too. She cooks for me, vacuum cleans for me, wears my clothes for me.
GG sets a fine example for anyone trying to live a healthy life. She walks to work, St Kilda to Collingwood, every day and never a morceau of unhealthy tucker crosses her lips. Last night she had dinner with a friend so we took the oppportunity to get meated up. Roast beef. Very good. A bod can only take so much tofu.

One of my dad's favourite sayings was, "There's no prizes for second". Only winning was good enough. He was a keen tennis player and when he moved his young family to the outer eastern suburbs in 1953 the first thing he did was establish a tennis club. He was president for eight years and became the club's first life member. In 2003, a year after Dad died, the club celebrated its 50th anniversary. At the anniversary dinner someone suggested selling the naming rights to each of the six courts. Family members were slack and it was an anonymous donor who paid for one of the courts to be named after Dad. We were touched but wondered how he would feel about having his name on court number 2. No prizes for second. But at the ceremony on Sunday the numbers were taken off and the names unveiled. Dad's court is in the middle of the three at the front - Centre Court. He would have loved it.

We got a call from Grumpy Girl in Rome last night - so wonderful to hear her voice. I hope I get to Italy one day - and all the other places. I've bought a French phrase book in preparation for our trip in October and have found it very different form the phrase books I remember. There is nothing at all to help me should my postillion be struck by lightening: instead there are phrases for purchasing le morning-after pill and dealing with other modern dilemmas faced by travellers.

I started Mandarin classes yesterday and hope that I will be able to ask the taxi driver in Shanghai to take me to the Novotel which should impress him mightily.

..................................................................

After 20 and a half years on the waiting list at the Melbourne Cricket Club I have been offered full membership. But now I am wondering if I will take it up. I am able to take up to four guests along. I always went to sporting events with my dad and my eldest sister but Dad is now dead and Maureen lives in the country.

..................................................................

Two of the medications I take are not on the PBS so I have to pay heaps for a private prescription. The woman in the pharmacy is always very sympathetic. Her mum had been taking one of them too but she died recently and I inherited them. At the handover the pharmacy assistant and I both got rather teary in the middle of the shop. The next time I saw her she piled me up with another batch of supplements she found at her mum's. We teared up again. Now I am hesitant to go in again - what else will have emerged from mum's effects?

It has been a royal wedding weekend. Two staunch republicans, Right Foot and I, stayed up until 1.00 a.m. to watch Our Mary become a princess. Right Foot hadn't been up so late since he was 19. His main concern was that the Danes would get their carriage etiquette right. They did. Thank God. He goes ballistic in movies if someone is sitting in the wrong seat or the wrong person has his back to the horses.
It was clearly a love match, in contrast to the appalling farce of the Charles and Di fiasco. Good luck Fred and Mary.

Grumpy Girl and Petite Soeur are both overseas, Grumpy in Europe and Petite in Vietnam. It is very strange for us knowing neither of them will suddenly appear at the front door. We are still looking after their Stuff of course so there is no chance of them not being thought of constantly.

The Jazz festival finished yesterday: we went to the Jellyroll Morton concert, all Right Foot's favourites were played and the group finished with the legendary Dr. Jazz. Magnificent.

It is now Week 12 of semester but I am as busy as I was in Week 3. I wonder why? When will it stop?

Dayus Horribulus

At the third attempt to collect my car I succeeded. That was the only thing that went right today. I had to pay the excess of $450 but the mechanic inadvertently charged me $4500. We spent about an hour talking to various people in Mombai but without much luck.

My parking permit has gone west with the old windscreen so now I can't park outside my own appartment. My rego sticker is hanging by a thread.

I had to go to Hawthorn Campus and couldn't find a parking spot this side of Ayer's Rock.

I arrived at Lilydale and couldn't find a parking spot this side of the Great Divide.

My PC was plastered with urgent post-its so I couldn't even play Alchemy over lunch.

I left my banana at home.

I need alcohol - straight into the vein if possible.

It's now a week and I still don't have my car back. The worry is that I am starting to bond with the automatic courtesy car although it broke down on me the other night. It does have drawbacks - no power steering, electronic windows or central locking. Its radio doesn't work and I am driving around with my trannie on the dash like we did in the sixties listening to the Beach Boys or commentator postmortems on the way home from the footy.

Grumpy Girl and Matt finally got away on their several-times-postponed trip and should be in Barcelona by now, keeping out of the way of terroristas I hope.
Now we are concentrating on moving Petite Soeur to her new pad so it's been back to Dan Murphy's for more boxes. Altogether, we must have removed 100 or so plonk cartons from the Prahran store but their supply never seems to diminish. It should give Grump's and Petite's new neighbours a good scare when they see all that stuff being carried in.

Spent Saturday afternoon helping Grumpy Girl shift her stuff into the spare room at an obliging friend's place. he lived in a court where one of the neighbours has made name-boards for everyone. Each house was clearly identified in flowing pastels: Sheridan, Cartwright, Smith etc - very pretty and neighbourly it was.

The Affordable Art Show was a great success. The Exhibition Buildings were crammed with art, "art", artists and buyers scurrying around with their prizes under their arms looking for more. So now Right Foot has enough framing to keep him happy for quite a while. After the Affordable Art we had drinks to farewell Grumpy and Matt. All their twenty- and thirty- something friends were there: so interesting to talk to.

Today the hailstones are finally being beaten out of my car and I am now driving around in an automatic - my first experience of one and right toey I was coming to work today. Still, only four more days to go

Last night I cooked the rest of the fish that had been in the freezer since Good Friday. This was not nearly as pleasant as having a fish dinner served up to me at the Orrong on a Friday night. I kept thinking about witnessing their deaths at the hands of a four-year-old fisherperson and watching them suffocate. Not nice. They were also a gamey, strong-tasting lot. From now on it's fish from the fish shop for me.

I saw four films over Easter: a double bill of Tati films at the Astor (weird but fascinating); Starsky and Hutch at the Jam Factory, sitting on a pile of someone else's popcorn (mildy amusing) and Mystic River at the Como (gor blimey).

Today I am doing a tutorial by telephone from Singapore. Should be interesting.

Good Friday - no loaves but lots of fishes.
After our failed attempt at swimming with the seals in New Zealand we were keen for another try. The other party who had booked the boat with us cancelled and, rather than take out the Maureen M with just Right Flipper and me, the captain called his wife who turned up a few minutes later with the entire extended family. And so we went snorkelling. It was freezing in Port Phillip Bay but this time the seals cooperated, sliding off their new version of Chinamen's Hat and joined us in the water. Fantastic. There was also boomnetting, diving off Maureen M's roof and a sort of keelhauling trick which I decided wasn't for me. Then it was time for some fishing. The fish leapt into the boat on the lines of four-year olds. We were given a huge bag of fish and another of mussels to take home so we abandoned our plan of dining in Queenscliff and drove home for a fish-feast.

Eventually the RACV turned nasty. If I didn't get my hailstone damage fixed they would cancel my car insurance policy. But what was I going to do while the car was being repaired? Travel to Lilydale by train? I'd rather have my finger nails pulled out. So I rang auto repairers until I found one that would loan me a courtesy car. Bless you, bless you, John of the Toorak Accident Repair Centre. May every good thing befall you and your heirs even until the 10th generation.

Problem - the car is an automatic and I have never driven an automatic before. I drove around Kuching for three months in an appalling old rattletrap rather than learn how to drive the shiny new automatic they had for me. What to do? I considered going into a dealer and pretending to be a serious buyer and asking for a test drive but then they would have rung em up every day until I did buy one. Right Foot had a better idea. He rang a driving school (not the RACV) and arranged a lesson for me. The lesson was for 45 minutes but after the first 3 the somewhat mystified instructor announced there was nothing more he could teach me. I had it nailed. So we spent the next 40 minutes cruising around St Kilda and South Yarra while he pointed out all the red-light and speed cameras to me. He'd formed the idea that knowing that would be more help to me in the long run. Percipient.

M.R.I.
Friday afternoon I had an M.R.I. X-ray. They roll you into a thing like an iron lung but first you are blindfolded and strapped in. You get to choose a CD to listen to through headphones. There were three lists to choose from: classical, headbanger and daggy old buggers. I selected Van Morrison and heard a few bars of "Have I told you lately that I love you?" before the racket kicked in. MRIs are accompanied by an amazing cachophany of sounds - jackhammers, ghostly rappings and dentists' drills. So for the next 25 minutes what I heard was:
'Fill my heart with gladness'
Jackhammer, jackhammer!
'Ease my troubles' jackhammer, dentist's drill!
'And you fill my life with laughter'
Jackhammer, dentist's drill, ghostly rapping!
'We should give thanks' ghostly rapping!
Dentist's drill, dentist's drill, dentist's drill!

Saturday we re-booked our postponed tripped to Shanghai and Beijing with a side trip to Paris thrown in. This was an act of defiance against gammy legs, vile terrorists and a strange superstitious feeling that I am not meant to see Shanghai. I intend to.

We survived another Grand Prix and the almost as horrendous Moomba celebrations. As I attempted to read in my living room on Saturday afternoon a hornet flew over so low and loud that I ducked. Right Foot was on a tram and said EVERBODY ducked. I took refuge in Stonningtom library, curled up in an armchair reading 'The number 1 ladies detective agency'. Bliss.
On Sunday we escaped to Werribee Park to commune with the lions, hippos etc. - roars of a different kind and much more entertaining. By the time we got home all the parties were in full swing - other apartment dwellers were raging on all sides while we sulked inside watching a man answering questions about penguins on "The Einstein factor". Why didn't they ask us to their parties?
Yesterday was the shabby old Moomba, so tired so sad so pathetic.
Quelle lost weekend. Next year we definitely go away.

I went to the sawbones this morning with my x-ray collection and he tried various means of inflicting pain upon my dodgy knee but the damn thing wouldn't cooperate so I have to have another photo session next week to look for hot spots or cold spots which I have just Googled to find a bit more info on. It appears I will be radioactive for a few days after the procedure. I'm trying to think of a way to turn this to my advantage - there must be SOME extra power attached to being radioactive surely.

I went to a conference yesterday and heard some interesting papers but much of the program was rather dull. The lunch was not up to the usual standards and the trade exhibitions were just plain boring.
The venue is totally a maze and I had to offer Lou a lift home just so that she'd have to help me find my car. This was very a effective strategy and saved me hours of misery.
All day meetings tomorrow and Saturday - busy, busy, busy.

We've had a great day today in Christchurch, riding the city circle tram and seeing all the sights. We found all the arty shops that were conspicuously absent in Nelson. Right Foot has been buying up all the weird and whacky things (as he does) and I have made one or two purchases myself. We've just had a fantastic, and very cheap Chinese dinner preceded buy a rich, bitter local draft beer which pubs sell in takeaway bottles. What an excellent idea. Tomorrow, we have a few more touristy things lined up for our last full day, then home on Friday afternoon. See you!

Spent the morning taking the cure at the thermal pools in Hanmer Springs. Beautiful hot water amid mountain scenery accompanied by a drizzling rain. There were lots of European tourists of stupendous proportions also easing their aching bodies and souls. Right Foot was inspired to break into song,
" I'm a big fat momma with meat shakin' on the bone,
And every time I shakes it Poppa,
A skinny woman leaves her home."
Truly, he has a song for every occasion.
We have now handed the van back to Maui with great relief. Never, ever again.
A taxi to the Centra where we have a large and very comfortable room on the 9th floor - bliss, bliss. Now we're doing our first reccy of Christchurch, scoping out the eateries, shops and a bit of culture as well. This is much more like it.

Our last night in the motorhome and we are in Hanmer Springs, a quaint spar town where we are planning to take the waters tomorrow morning. Then it will be on to the luxury of three nights in the Centra hotel in ChristChurch. Hello Centra! Give me Doctor Jazz! He's got what it takes, I'll say he has!

Happy Birthday to all Australians - have a good one.
Lots to catch up on blogwise. We visited the glaciers, Fox and Franz Josef. They are interesting but receding rapidly and we wondered what will become of the tourist industry that has grown up around them when there is nothing left to see.
Feeling all scenic wondered out, we headed to Nelson which was said to have a thriving arts community but this was a lie. Nelson is a dud - don't go there.
So it was back to the scenic wonders and we are currently in Kaikora where we have just been on a snorkelling trip to swim with the seals. We have seen hundreds of seals up close and personal in the last twelve hours and they were all lolling around on ther rocks when we swam out to the reef but unfortunately they weren't in a mood for frollicking with the humans. There we were, six freezing crazies floating around while the seals looked back at us and said, "Nah. Too cold in there for us." Still it was a great trip.
Now my personal Grey Nomad is all ready to take off to Hanmer Springs so gotta go,folks

Up very early this morning to beat a hasty retreat from one-horse -town. We had a spectacular day's drive yesterday and will continue on to the glaciers today. After that I think I'm ready for some more big city action, such as it is, and maybe we'll go to Hamilton where there is said to be a thriving arts community. Anything thriving would do me right now

Te Anau
First a message for Petite Soeur - we've been trying to email you but cannot remember your address. If you send to my groupwise address I can reply to that.
We've had the best day today. Milford Sound is everything they say, just spectacular. Stunning scenery all the way on the drive in and seals, birds and more gorgeous stuff to look at during the two-and-a-half hour cruise. Lunch was a bit miserable but that won't show in our photos.
Tonight we will make our first attempt to cook in the van. Four days in and we haven't used anything much, not even the shower or lav. The van is OK and camp parks are much better than I remember from the eighties but we have decided that we won't be doing the twelve month around Australia thing beloved of other Grey Nomads. I think I prefer the three weeks in Europe or Asia.
Tomorrow we head vaguely in the direction of Franz Joseph.

Te Anau
We just found out about David Hookes this morning. It is a shock and very upsetting. Who could forget his performance in the Centenary Test in 1977? - one of the cricket highlights of my life. Vale Hookesy.

We had a great time in Dunedin and finished off our stay there with a tour through the Cadbury factory and now have enough chocolate to last through several Easters, but no cute chicken-or bunny-shaped ones that we don't have the heart to eat.

We are now in Te Anau waiting for our trip to Milford Sound tomorrow. We're camped right on the lake in a beautiful spot and are now cruising the main drag seeking out a funky spot for dinner tonight.

NZ has been badly affected by drought and we have driven for days through landscape as dry as outback South Australia but have finally arrived in a lusher, greener, very picturesque area. Magnificent.

Internet Cafe, Dunedin
This entry will self destruct in 10 minutes.
Our third day of Grey Nomading in our 'Winnebago', which looked alarmingly big when we first saw it but not nearly big enough when you're actually living in it. Maui have provided the bare minimum of equipment, two spoons, two glasses etc.
Dunedin is beautiful and the experience is enhanced by having been in Edinburgh recently - there are lots of resonances.
We indulged in some industrial tourism today by visiting the Cadbury factory. Tomorow it's off to Milford Sound, a must-do but I'm dreading the cold.

Extreme Librarianship
Tomorrow Right Foot and I are off to the South Island of New Zealand, where I shall avoid Queenstown for fear of being persuaded to jump off a cliff, go white-water rafting, or endure looping loops in a light aircraft. We are Winnebagoing our way around like a couple of Grey Nomads in training, taking it easy. But before I do that I have to finish another submission about why the university will come to a sticky end if our unit on Information Literacy is not found a new home in another core compulsory subject, the previous one having been voted off the campus. Everyone else is jostling for position as well, trying to ensure their special interest makes the cut. I rather enjoy a bit of a barney.

Yesterday was the 12th day of Christmas so we took down the tree after we'd watched Murder Investigation Team, the Pseudo Bill program that is more like the real Bill used to be before it turned into a soap opera. Pseudo Bill has an interesting female lead character. She is small and fiesty and has a ferocious interviewing technique which invariably brings even the most hardened toe-rag or scrote to his knees. I like her style.

I had a call last night from an old friend living in Queensland - let's call her Ofliq - loving life and full of plans for the future: career goals, academic aspirations, personal development. That's what I like to hear from my contempories, none of this retirement plan stuff, thanks all the same.

Extreme Painting
And the saga of the bathroom continues and expands. Poor Right Foot has lost his entire week's holiday and I'm struggling to keep up his morale with endless iced coffees and exaggerated compliments. When it all gets too much for me I escape to the cinema or the shops, hoping vainly for improvement when I return. And, as we only have one bathroom, I have now been holding on for a very long time.

Christmas: beautiful presents, food and drink with beautiful people around the pool at Grumpy and Petite's.
Boxing Day: snapping up bargains in the city.
Saturday: cricket at the G with Liz
Yesterday: more bargains, this time at Chadstone
Today: escape the heat with the Lord of the Rings.
And all interspersed with tasty left-overs and the sounds of poor Right Foot groaning and moaning as he paints the bathroom. It has taken days to scrape back 50 years of unwise colour choices and at leat one attempt to cover up the whole sorry mess with pink and yellow floral wallpaper.
And now, the new Barbara Trapido is ready for me to pick up at Stonnington library.Bliss

Yesterday the RACV finally squeezed me in to their sixty-cars-a-day hailstone damage assessment program. I got off with relatively minor damage, about $2000 worth. I said that as I was paying the excess anyway I wanted my scratches from various pole-wrapping episodes fixed as well. The assessor was a bit dubious at first but suggested I use my 'wiles' on the repairer and tell him that "the boys at the RACV van said you'd look after me." I wonder.

My favourite Christmas sight so far was the elderly woman, embarassed but determined, scalping tickets to Handel's Messiah outside the Melbourne Town Hall on Sunday afternoon.

Another lost weekend but the shopping is done.

Everytime I go into Border's I head for the T section of Fiction hoping to find a new Barbara Trapido and on Saturday I did! Joy to the world but mainly me.
After a couple more bookshops on Sunday I realised how many books I haven't read and am wondering if I'll get through them all before Alzheimer's kicks in. Probably not.

We ran into Petite Soeur at the Cinema on Saturday night, surprisingly dressed in leather. It seems New Boyfriend has a motorbike. Oh hell!!! I remember my mother's dismay at my courtship on the back of Right Foot's motorbike, but I also remember the exhilaration of taking those corners with my face buried in Foot's broad back and the nuisance of wondering what to do with the ruddy helmet when we arrived at our destination ready for a glamorous night out. I bet Petite will think of something.

Stress City. After a week of making merry interspersed with fruitless shopping trips I am now convinced that Christmas is a very very bad idea.

Thursday and Friday I spent at a research writing retreat for our academic staff, helping them with their database searching. It was very successful and S and I were extremely busy. The academics were mightily impressed. A few more brownie points for the library and a couple of excellent bottles of Yarra Valley vino for us. All good.

My renewed enthusiasm for Christmas has waned. I spent several hours on Saturday at Chadstone and a couple more on Sunday in Brunswick Street looking for gifts, excitement and the meaning of life. Didn't find anything.

Our tree does look wonderful though. All the decorations we have bought on our overseas visits are out of their wrappings for their annual airing. This year there are two new ones: the kiwi Petite Soeur bought and the Cheshire cat which has a grin that's much more than a smile. It is a classic, textbook example of a lear.

The main problem with Christmas is the monotonous regularity with which it comes around. It should be tied to some irregular astronomical event. Every few years the astronomers would announce,"Hey! There's going to be a Christmas!" THEN, I'd get excited. Maybe. Briefly.

Yesterday afternoon we had a spectacular hail storm here at Lilydale. It was weather like we used to have in the 50s but which I thought had gone away for ever. In the library rain pored in through various apertures in the ceiling and the noise was deafening. Now all our cars have dints in them and my mirrors were flattened against the side of the car. The question is: can I be bothered dealing with the insurance company to have it fixed? Boring.

We had a wonderful night at Mecca, out on the balcony watching the sun setting on the Yarra and celebrating Grumpy Girl's birthday. I feel a little seedy this morning however. Next time definitely only an entree and a shared dessert.
The waiter was very efficient and attentive but managed to offend me nevertheless. When I said I didn't need to see the dessert menu because I had already checked it out on the Internet, he made a patronising remark about how good it was that I was up with the technology. So I informed him (in the style of the heroine of "The Mummy") that I was a librarian and we had, as a profession, invented the Internet. That fixed him. And so for the benefit of the waiter at Mecca and any other doubters here is a quote from an article in Educause Review (Thanks to JP for sending it to me)

From the article, "Why IT Has Not Paid Off As We Hoped (Yet)"
(Educause Review, vol. 38, no. 6 (November/December 2003): 40-51.)

"The real heroes of the digital revolution in higher education are librarians; they are the people who have seen the farthest, done the most, accepted the hardest challenges, and demonstrated most clearly the benefits of digital information. In the process, they have turned their own field upside down and have revolutionized their own professional training. It is a testimony to their success that we take
their achievement for granted".

It's Grumpy Girl's birthday today and what a joy she has been to her nearest and dearest all these years. The Grump gives parenting a good name. Tonight we are going to Mecca where we went for Petite and Right Foot's birthdays too. It has spectacular views and wonderful food. Check out the menu at http://www.mecca.net.au/menu.htm

On Saturday we went to see Blithe Spirit - so corny, so predictable and so much fun.

Yesterday, I marked the remaining Marketing Communications exam papers then tried in vain to get Right Foot interested in the Davis Cup. The Aussie fans were decked out in gold and green but were waving red, white and blue flags or had them painted on their faces. Other countries wear colours that match their flags. I love this about Australia - patriotism will never topple over into Chauvinism while we can't make up our minds what our national colurs are.

Something surprising has just happened. For the first time ever I have been given a Kris Kringle present that I really like. Not merely do I like it but I was planning to buy one for myself. It is one of those spiral serving plates that will be a valuable contributor to my entertaining portfolio. Even though the presents were given out randomly S and I ended up exchanging plates. She was not the recipient I had it mind but seems happy. We had our staff Christmas lunch in a rusticky place in Healesville, warm sunny and nice.
Yesterday was our seminar at Hawthorn where I did my three presentations so now there is just one more big academic occasion this year and then it's time to party.
My weekend will be dominated by a pile of Marketing Communications exam papers to mark relieved by a visit to the Playhouse to see Blithe Spirit.

Yesterday was the annual Information Literacy Seminar with Grumpy Girl's graphic featuring prominently on all the promotional media. Apparently a couple of regular attendees declined to come this year because they thought the theme was too risque. So the venue was filled with just the saucier, racier type of librarian who all had good fun with the notion of librarians "embedded'' with the academics. The graphic was on the showbag given to delegates and on the way home on the tram I was accosted by a Customer Services Officer wanting to know where he could get one. Was it a shop? What did he have to buy? I was beginning to glow with maternal pride but then he said, "You see, I know someone called Gale Thomson." What? It was only then that I noticed the name of the seminar's sponsor, Thomson Gale was emblazoned accross the top of the bag. Maternal love is the blindest of all.
The seminar was, as usual, a great day - so social, such yummy food, so many old buddies, such comfort and style at VU's city campus.
At lunch time I walked up to the Charities Card Shop at the cathedral. I hadn't been there for three or four years and something had changed. They now have security checks before you can go in - to the crypt in St. Paul's Cathedral! Once inside however, it was the same lovely place. Lots of elderly ladies to fuss around you, anxious to help. This is the only place in Melbourne that comes close to the feel of a Country Women's Association function - except no pikelets. I was careful not to buy any cards that would support a charity run by the treacherous Protestants: this would have caused my mum to spin in her grave. I stuck to secular organisations like the Royal Flying Doctor Service, Amnesty International and the East Timor Association. I bought some from the Mercy Hospital for Mothers for Mum's sake: the IRA did not have their cards out. I bought two from the Alzheimer's Association which had pictures painted by dementia patients. They were both way better than I could do even now with most of my marbles still in place. Grumpy Girl did not inherit her talent from me.

I seem to have porked up a bit over winter and last year's summer clothes are uncomfortably tight. Dieting's a bore so I've been shopping for some fat clothes. I bought two very practical, style-free, go-with-everything skirts in the hope that my bod will gradually return to normal while I'm wearing them out. This may be a little optimistic over the party season which is already in full swing here. Actually, I'm getting into Christmas this year, having had a year off it while living in a Muslim country last year - a new zest for Christmas is not something I ever expected to experience.

Tim Winton's 'Cloudstreet' has been voted Most Popular Australian Book in a poll run by the ABC while my pick, 'The harp in the south' came in 14th, behind even Bryce Courtney. Good God.

Wednesday is the CRIG seminar where Grumpy Girl's caricature of me gets another airing. This time I am 'in bed with the academics'. Thursday we are having our own Information Literacy forum and I am giving three short presentations which may or may not fascinate and amaze all who hear them . Friday is the first of many a Christmas knees-up, the exams will be over and half our staff are banished to live off their husbands for two months. Such is the fate of academic librarians.

Last night was the National IQ Test. Right Foot and I were both off to a flying start, getting the first fourteen questions right but it was downhill from then on. Arithmetic and rotating shapes in mid-air (why would I ever want to do that?) are not what we're good at. We both did well on the memory tasks which was reassuring. Why is it that when I see a column of figures my eyes glaze over and my brain goes into reverse? I have a Masters degree in Business after all. But the compulsory accounting subject in that course took years off my life. I had to get a tutor, an Indian girl half my age to get me through it. She always talked about rupees in her examples as I tried painfully to understand. Maybe if Eddie had talked rupees I would have done better, but I doubt it.

Yesterday was the funeral of the second of my colleagues to die of cancer in the last couple of months. Younger than me, this one. It is very scary and very sad.

Friday was my birthday. After the usual cakefest at work Right Foot and I went to a knees-up for TAFE librarians where I found myself at a table with my current boss and three of my former bosses. Sounds like an uncomfortable situation but we had fun. The venue was a student hospitality restaurant and the service was the usual off-the-wall stuff that you get in those places. On Saturday I had my real party with Grumpy Girl and Petite Soeur who gave me a most bodacious blouse which I love. There's nothing like a well-chosen gift to make you feel cared for. Right Foot gave me a camera to replace my recently deceased Minolta which had consistently produced surprisingly good photos considering the approach and attitude of the photographer. It was a very different birthday than last year's which I celebrated at Denis', a tourist trap restaurant in Sarawak with only Right Foot to celebrate with me.

On Sunday, RF, Petite and I went to see 'In the cut', very gripping, very gritty New York edgy crime thriller. Best performances I had ever seen from any of the cast.

Z has sent me some photos of her recent trip to Melbourne including those taken at the NTEU rally. There she is, carry a placard and marching down Collins Street. A pinko Malaysian librarian. I wonder if she has shown the photo to anyone in Kuching.

Following on from the news that Petite and Grumpy both made it into the top twenty in the HQ short story competition, we now hear that Grumpy has made it to the final ten. They both write so well. I remember them reading their stories to me as children while I was rushing around doing housework and how they would stop me in my tracks with with an image, an apt phrase or a subtle twist in a well-constructed plot. Clever cloggs both.

Maternal Boast
The magazine HQ has been running a short story competition and yesterday Grumpy Girl and Petite Soeur received news that they had both been shortlisted. Because of the identical surname and address the judges thought Petite had submitted two entries but she assured them that Grump is her sister so they said, "Well, she has finished in the final 20 stories too!" Grumpy's story is about how a map triggers the end of a relationship and Petite's story is about a Stop & Go Man who swallows a bird. Excellent reading both, I have copies should anyone be interested.

We are all still grappling with our amazing new phone system but this morning I mastered 'Call forwarding' which has made a big difference.

The Melbourne Cup
Yesterday Right Foot and I went to our first ever Melbourne Cup with three other Swinnie librarians, their Handbags and 123,000 others. I wore a skirt and jacket from Jigsaw (at Brandsmart), a silky tee from Ralph Lauren (also at Brandsmart), a rose in my hair (from Myer, city store) and completed my ensemble with a $2 pure silk scarf from Arthur Dailey in Swanston Street.
Right Foot wore his Country Road suit and looked very spiffing. However, he hated the whole thing. It was very crowded and got very hot. The only cool place was the lavoratories and there were groups of young women sitting on the loo floor, sipping Champagne and resting their feet. I got my best photos in there.
Right Foot's aversion to public toilets made him decide not to drink anything at all, not even water. He sat on the Esky with his back to the action reading a book called 'The history of Heidelberg and its people: 1838-1900'. I tried to get him interested in Paris Hilton, New York Party Princess, but he said he'd rather have a Party Pie. He went home an hour before the big race on a train packed with other poopers.
I soldiered on to see the housekeeping money come in at 4th, 5th and 6th places. Great. Of the three horses I had in the Swinnie sweep, one was scratched, one came in second and the other is still running. Six horses altogether and I won $7 and lost untold millions. Some tedious nag no-one had ever heard of won.
Within five minutes of the end of the race, all the Swinnie librarians and their Handbags were on the train back to Queen's Road where we watched the last two races on TV and polished off the rest of the food in coolth and comfort.
I am really glad I've been to the Melbourne Cup at last. I have it out of my system now. Actually, it's a bit boring.

Z is safely back home now and seems very pleased with her trip. She has gained a lot in understanding and had a few victories. She is also very happy with the 'stuffs' she bought, particularly the two sheepskin rugs for the floor of her new apartment. These should be an object of great interest in Malaysia.

Yesterday I mentioned to Right Foot that our little fingers were so small that they didn't serve much purpose at all and we could easily get by without them. This sparked a conversation about the things we couldn't do without a little finger. Three are:
that telephone gesture people do by folding down their middle three fingers and putting thumb and pinky to their mouth and ear;
the finger cocking that's required when drinking tea in polite society;
and punks who have HATE tattoed on their knuckles would have to settle for HAT or ATE.

The delightful Z is winging her way home today after two weeks in Melbourne. She made some interesting comments about the differences between here and Kuching. She thought our morale was much higher and the work ethic stronger. Staff here have initiative and don't require supervision. We also manage to have a lot of fun along the way.
The most unusual experience she had was participating in the NTEU industrial action last Thursday. She marched through the streets to the rally with the rest of the staff. Such opportunities are rare in Dr Mahathir's Malaysia. On the same day he made his infamous remarks about the Jews.

I'm not really into nostalgia but yesterday morning we got up at 8.30 to watch 'Basil Brush', a revival from the seventies we used to love about a fox and his humans. It is full of corny often predictable jokes. I remembered watching Basil in hospital in 1979, still in pain a week after a kidney operation and the agony of laughing as Basil visited Germany and was constantly greeted as Herr Brush. I still have the scar from that surgery and I'm certain it became wider during that episode of Basil Brush.

This time last year I had been in Malaysia for ten days and the Bali bombings had just occurred. I remember hating being away from home and people who felt the same sense of grief. There have been lots of commemorations over the weekend but I did not see much because, ironically, I was entertaining my Moslem colleague, the delightful Z while she is in Melbourne from Kuching.
Actually we had a wonderful day. It was very pleasant showing off the city and seeing things through her eyes: Victoria Market where she bought two large sheepskins for her new appartment, Southbank for lunch and a Charmaine's ice-cream, Chloe at Young & Jackson's, Federation Square, the Circle Tram up to the State Library, Bourke Street Mall, the arcades and laneways, the parks and finally, the casino where Z won a dollar on the fruit machine.
She is staying in the VIP suite on campus - magnificent! I wish that sadist who built our accommodation in Glasgow could see how we treat our guests.

It is now a year since we first went to Sarawak and coincidentially the permanent Information Resources Manager is currently visiting our Melbourne campuses. I have been catching up on all the news and things seem to be going swimmingly which is very gratifying. I would love to go back and see the results of my three months hard graft.
The delightful Z is clearly doing a great job.
She remarked on the different shade of our green and it certainly is much lighter and brighter than the jungle green of Kuching. I took her to Safeway where she bought crumpets, she seemed quite fascinated with those.

The planet Mars is relatively close to us right now so Right Foot and I went along with the masses to the sixth floor of the car park at Victoria Gardens Shopping Centre last Wednesday to view it through a telescope but we were late and it was cloudy and cold so we gave it up.
The next night, earlier and more warmly dressed we drove out to a park near La Trobe University with another group of hopefuls. Mars looked very pretty when looked at with the naked eye, in its brief periods of visibility. It was another cloudy night and another long wait but eventually we got our 30 seconds each at the telescope. And what did we see? I couldn't quite make out all the features I'd heard about but the polar caps were visible. I could see it was a planet not a star. It looked like a small disc, a communion wafer, pale and translucent.
And we made lots of new friends in the queue just like lining up for finals tickets

Today I have submitted a copy of our Elit conference paper, edited (i.e. slashed by 3000 words) for publication, we hope, in the International Journal of E-literacy. I hope they will accept it and won't want further ammendments because I am OVER IT bigtime. Time to move on.

Second week back at work after our adventures in Scotland and England so I have finally stopped saying, "This time last week we were on the London Eye or walking along Hadrian's Wall, etc." It was all so wunnerful that I have tried to hold on to it as long as possible.
Our paper went very well - there were lots of questions, lots of interest and a full house. All the Aussie presentations were very well attended. We rule at that stuff!

On Friday night I went to the Mary Owen Dinner. It was my second but there were women there who had been to all eighteen. The Moorabbin Town Hall was packed with women in the feminist colours of purple, green and white. Most were in their forties and fifties but quite a number were much older and there was a sprinkling of youngies too. I was introduced to Mary Owen Herself. Imagine - you have a retirement dinner and have to hold it in the Hawthorn Town Hall because there is no restaurant big enough. And then you hold it again every year in town halls around Melbourne and the dozens of people are turned away.

It was a fabulous night.