Perfick weekend
Friday to Sunday was a 3-day surf fest at Phillip Island with a wedding thrown in. The bride emerged from the waves in her red bikini, transformed herself into a stunning vision of bridal loveliness and married my famous tree hugging nephew.

There were eight speeches – bliss! I love a speech even when it’s not one of my own. I was brought to tears firstly by the bridesmaid, then by the groom speaking lovingly of his young daughter and finally by the redoubtable Auntie Buggers who took 20 minutes just to tell us about Gav's first 4 years.





Foot and I shared a house with Hil, Rob and Casp - very comfy and convivial. Only the presence of the triple Ms could have improved our perfick weekend.

Life begins at 40

My first born baby girl is turning 40 today. Here is a picture of her taken when she was 2 weeks old, looking at me in alarm. She was right to be afraid. I had no clue about what I was doing; no idea which end was up. But she survived, even thrived and was rarely sick. I don’t think she had a single day off in her primary school.
The daisy wheel printer and the floppy disc were also born in 1970 and where are they today?

I clearly remember my mother turning 40 when I was 9. She was depressed about it: 40 was old in those days but now I’m the mother of a 40 year-old I know it’s the new 21.

It’s also the first day of Summer in Melbourne but it will be very cold where Mere is today. I hope she’s feeling summery inside though.

Happy birthday dear Mere Claire

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Six and a half month old baby admits...

He still lives with his parents

Write it out a hundred times

There are many famous political slogans:
Ban the bomb!
All the way with LBJ.
It’s time.
The poetic, “Ho, Ho, Ho Chi Minh, the NLF is going to win! (They did).
Free Zarb! (I’m still waiting for mine to arrive).

But a golden oldie from my early childhood is all you to need to remember on Election Day. You’ve got a week to make sure it’s etched on your brain before wending your way through those wonky cardboard partitions:
Put Libs Last!
Put Libs Last!
Put Libs Last!
Put Libs Last!
Put Libs Last!
Put Libs Last!
Put Libs Last!
Put Libs Last!
Put Libs Last!
Put Libs Last! x 10

The look of love
Kate Middleton has mastered the adoring wife facial expression already.


This is a look you’ll never see on my face but if you don’t know what I mean check out Mrs Ted Baillieu’s textbook example from last week.

What annoys me most about these pictures is that the man is never looking at the woman. He’s always thrusting his best angle at the camera while she gazes ecstatically up at him. My hero!


The unsurpassed supremo of the adoring wife look is Nancy Reagan. She didn’t just bestow it on Ronnie, but also on John McCain and even Barack Obama.



I’m on the lookout for anyone who can top Nancy. Janette Howard need not apply. We all know she is really the man in that relationship.

Halfway to a birthday. Callooh!Callay!
The Beamish Boy turns a half today so I bought some brioches from a posh Sth Yarra bakery to celebrate with the gals at work. Hopefully Casp is enjoying his first banana.

Here is a pic of the Half Birthday boy pinched from his mummy’s Facebook page

Pissed on and pissed off

The Timor-Leste Trivia Night is the one you really want to win. The participants are mostly librarians who have been answering questions for decades and the standard is high. We have been on the winning team the last 2 years so felt we had to defend our title. It was held in Geelong and despite the fact it was pissing with rain, we drove down there on Saturday night.


What they didn’t tell us in advance was that the questions were ABOUT Geelong. Examples:
Who was the third person to run through the banner at the 1963 Grand Final?
What business is found at 49 Malop Street, Geelong?
How many jock straps does Joel Selwood have in his third drawer down?
Was the blemish on Gary Ablett Senior’s nanna’s knee shaped liked (a) the grandstand at Skilled Stadium, (b) Denis Walter or (c) the Mayor of Geelong’s first pet?

Do we feel ripped off? I know the answer to that one.
Next year we’ll hold the quiz in Queens Road. I’ll set the questions and Right Foot can answer them. That’s fair.

Aussie sheila becomes saint

Mads turned 5 yesterday. She celebrated with her German kinda friends in Frankfurt but at least we got to see her on Skype in her sparkly silver party dress. Have a great year being funf Mads.


I found myself thinking about Mrs Rutledge, our bigoted, anti-Catholic neighbour when I was growing up. How she would have hated the canonisation of Mary MacKillop! The extent of the media coverage over the last few days has been astounding and all but the truest of true believers must be heartily sick of it by now. Mrs Rutledge would have died of apoplexy had she not done so already.
Everyone but Mrs Rutledge loved Mary because she was an Aussie who became famous. We stood up and cheered just as we would for a Wimbledon champion or Olympic gold medallist. Fitzroy claimed her as theirs because she was born in Brunswick Street and Penola claimed her because she opened her first school there. Even the Scots tried to claim her because her parents were born in Scotland. Don’t they know most Australians have parents born overseas? Get your own saint, Scotland.

Two little girls beautiful and bright

Grand Final Rematch
Get it right. It's a rematch not a replay, OK? I've got a great seat and am looking forward to it, especially the bit where Sarah Murdoch announces the winner of the Norm Smith Medal. I have Brendon Goddard in the sweep, maybe he'll take another speccie.

However, nothing we see tomorrow will compare for shear exhilaration with this YouTube clip. Be careful though: Auntie Buggers used up her entire pre-paid credit after I sent her this link. If you're of the Faith it's addictive.

Drawn Grand Final
For me, the most affecting pictures from Saturday were of the two little boys who missed out on their big moment - presenting the medals to the winning players.



Pictures: Herald Sun

Eight Nine Ten
I wanted to do a post today just because of the cool date: 8/9/10.


Caspar is turning a third today. I don’t have a recent picture of him so here’s one of Campbell Brown instead. Under-appreciated by the club but loved by the fans, Campbell is one of those people whose names are never mentioned without certain adjectives attached – in this case ‘Hawthorn hard man Campbell Brown’. Others are 'recovering drug addict Ben Cousins' and 'royal love rat James Hewitt'.

We are going to miss you Hawthorn hard man Campbell Brown.

Julia! Julia! Julia!

Praise the Lord! Even though He doesn’t exist. Julia is over the line and we are spared Tony Abbott. Thank-you, thank-you thank-you.

A Shilling For Your Thoughts
When the Queen Victoria Hospital was demolished Right Foot was outraged. “Now how will they be able to put up a plaque to Mere’s birthplace when she is famous?”
Years later, to our surprise the chance came. As a fundraiser the Queen Vic Women’s Centre resurrected the idea of the Shilling Wall. In 1897 a whole bunch of women gave a shilling each to pay for the construction of the Queen Vic. By paying a bit more than a shilling, we could nominate our own special woman, have her name engraved on the wall and say 25 words or less of nice stuff about her on the website.
So on a rainy day in May 2008, Right Foot, Mads (aged 2) and I were at the open day and unveiling of the first panel of the new Shilling Wall. The panels are modest - no neon lights or gilt lettering on mahogany honour boards here – more a transparent perspexy sort of thing. We'd envisaged something grander but it is a fund-raiser after all. You have to be determined to find the name you’re after. RF and I searched for Mere’s while Mads got stuck into the afternoon tea.
We weren’t sure how Mere would react so said nothing. A year or so went by and we still weren’t sprung. Then they advertised for donors for more panels and we decided to nominate Hil, although she wasn’t born in the Queen Vic. Famous daughters need plaques and does it really matter where?

It’s a cakey sort of week and there's more to come. Two family birthdays and Caspar will be turning a quarter on Sunday. Here he is looking magnificent.

Buggies and Boogies

Last weekend we drove up to Albury where Right Foot was delivering a paper to the Carriage Builders Association annual knees-up. People kept asking us, if we lived in Queens Road, where did we keep our horses? On the mantelpiece in the living room of course.



On the Saturday night there was a trivia quiz which is my favourite way in the world of spending an evening. We competed for prizes such as canvas horse rugs, Zilco harnesses and the services of a stallion. Every second round was on a horsey theme: dressage, show driving, etc. We were reasonably useless but we learnt heaps. Last night, watching the finale of Masterchef, I expressed surprise at seeing the contestants chatting with the judges during the competition. ‘Yes’, said Right Foot knowledgeably, ‘You’d be disqualified in dressage for that’.





We spent Monday to Friday in Coolangatta, braving the waves in our wetsuits and boogie boards and trying not to blend in with the rest of the population whose average age was about 90. Everyone dines at 5.30 and toddles off to bed at 8.
Yesterday we went to ‘the State Theatre to see ‘The king and I’ and were greeted as usual at the foot of the circle stairs by Jeanne Pratt who seems to attend every performance by her company. Her late husband’s scandalous behaviour was all over the front page of the Sunday Age but she calmly sat a couple of rows behind us to enjoy the show.

But the best part of our week off was returning and catching up with our gorgeous boy, Caspar

Some tres artistique pictures of Caspar

Carn the Hawks

Caspar has proven that giving him the same name as one of the Three Wise Men was appropriate. He has decided to be a Hawthorn supporter. Here we see him following the distribution of beanies ceremony.

First, he looks thoughtful as he considers the lifetime of emotional highs and lows ahead of him or maybe he’s thinking about those cold Friday night matches at the MCG reliving his grandmother’s fantasy that one day a reincarnated Gary Buckenara will dash along the Members’ wing.


In the second shot he seems to be developing a one-eyed view of the game. It’s funny how quickly that happens.


Finally we see Caspar howling in dismay at another appalling umpiring decision by Scott McLaren.

Carn the Hawks!

Library Week Celebrations

How good is your relationship with your boss? Do you want to burn them in effigy or do you get on well enough to decorate a cake in their image - like we did?

The Triple Ms have gone back to Germany leaving a big gap in our lives. They were all asleep when I left for work on the last day so I didn’t get a farewell hug. I felt arm-empty. The only consolation was that I had spent the entire previous day with Mads. We trammed it to Fed Square, commentating on the old familiar sights along the way. The floral clock is a highlight but nothing can equal Stop 20 – Domain Interchange. Mads loves saying those words and doesn’t need an excuse to work them into a conversation. She tries out various pronunciations and emphases: D’main Interchange, DERmain Interchange, Duhmain Interchange, etc. Eventually I told her I knew a girl named Domain Interchange – THAT impressed her.
When we got to the playground at Fed Square Mads changed into her dragon suit, complete with head, tail and claws. She got a lot of attention in this outfit and, at one point, from the top of the slide, she called out to me with a world-weary sigh, “They’re all admiring me.”
From there we went to the Ferris wheel. There were no other starters on a Thursday morning so we had it to ourselves. The man locked us in our carriage, started the wheel and walked away. We went round and round, and round and round and round and round. “We sure are getting our money’s worth Mads!” Round and round, round and round, round and round. “It’s very windy up here isn’t it?” Round and round. “And a bit chilly!” Round, round and round again. “I want to get off now Arma”. Hmmm. I could see the man some way off with his back to us and it took 3 more circuits before someone else noticed my waving and gyrating and organised a breakout. I think we are Ferris wheeled out.
The rest of the day was all good. Precious memories to store up for the long winter of absence ahead.
A couple of years ago Mads’ proud boast was, “I’m toilet trained”. Now it’s, “I’m bilingual”. So there’s an upside. I suppose.

Having a second grandchild is a lot like having a second child. You feel much more confident, less scared and, Yes! I can do this!

Some photos and a video of the Beamish Boy





Caspar

More Caspar photos

Beamish Boy

We have a grandson! Caspar James Beamish was born at 9.05 pm on Saturday May 8th to Hilary and Rob. He is the most beauteous boy the world has ever known.

Another Caspar was one of the Three Wise Men and some of the lines from TS Eliot's poem, "Journey of the Magi" are highly appropriate, eg. A hard time we had of it and such a long journey but also, happily, There was a Birth, certainly, We had evidence and no doubt.

Caspar is doing well and Hil is recovering.
A few early pics are posted here.