New Year's Eve

Well it's New Year's Eve, I've got four days off work and Mystical Roo and I are off to join Monster Noggin for a little camping trip.  I have no idea where we're going but I've been advised we're potentially close to the beach and the toilets are a 1km walk from the camp.  Hmmm.  We're preparing for our trip as we speak with Mystical Roo batching up some curry for cooking on the camp stove.  So New Year's Eve will be spent with some curry and hopefully some bubbly.  So, does Little Stalky have any new year's resolutions?  Not really.  I've never been very good at sticking to them.  I hope to do a bit more exercise, eat a little less junk food, continue to nurture my plants and share my adventures through my blog.  Maybe the pigeon and I will make peace.  Perhaps the battle will reach new heights.  The rogue washing machine might see the error of it's ways and return any stolen underwear.  Or it might team up with the demonic hoover of doom and start a revolution.  One things for sure, the land dwelling shark will continue to be a menace that refuses to be tamed.  I look forward to seeing what adventures I will have in 2011.  See you next year everyone! 

Happy Birthday El Kenco

Today I would like to wish a very happy birthday to El Kenco, otherwise known as, little sister of Little Stalky.  Or not so little sister of Little Stalky, considering she has towered over me for as long as I can remember.  It's always difficult being half way round the world when loved ones are having birthdays because you wish you could be there with them, drinking their wine and eating their food.  But mostly just being with them.  El Kenco and Biltong Boy are actually due a visit out to the land of Oz in February and I'm ridiculously excited about it.  There will be much celebrating and jumping around.  In fact, El Kenco and Biltong boy will actually be here for my birthday, which is a nice surprise. So, without further ado, I would like to sing. Ahem. #Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday El Kencooooooooooooooooo, Happy Birthday to youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!#   As you can imagine I have a beautiful singing voice and haven't cracked any windows or anything.  Might have woken up Mystical Roo though.  Oops.  Happy Birthday El Kenco.  I hope you have a wonderful day.

The Woes of Milk

Being the only milk user in the household (Mystical Roo opts for the soy stuff - yuck) I get stuck with both the bad bits of a bottle of milk.  There are bad bits?  Why, yes indeed there are.  I hate being the first to open and use a bottle of milk.  The bottle seems to be too full and I am totally unable to pour that first drop without spilling milk over the counter, over the floor, over myself.  This normally follows much muttering and cursing.  It's not too bad if I'm doing my cereal but if it's a cup of tea then milk is guaranteed to go everywhere.  Not only that, but I lack the ability to pour the milk gently and so a huge amount goes sloshing in, washing tea over the side of the mug and giving me the dreaded milky tea.  The other side that ruffles my feathers?  Getting to the end of the bottle and not being quite sure whether or not the milk has turned.  Again, with just my Little Stalky self using the milk I don't get through it that quickly, but if I do forget to restock and have a little bit left at the bottom I'm always unsure of whether it's safe to use.  Sometimes it's good.  Sometimes it's bad.  Very, very bad.  There's nothing more disappointing than taking that first mouthful of cereal, only for a sour taste to hit your tongue.  Then you check your tea and see the milk has gone thick and lumpy at the top.  Breakfast is ruined.  Horrible.  I prefer using milk when I'm halfway through the bottle.  No spills and no risk of a sour breakfast.  And I can't share this responsibility with Mystical Roo because he drinks the soy milk.  If he drank my milk then there'd be a chance he'd have to open it first and he'd have to use up the last splash.  Knowing Mystical Roo though, he'd pour that first drop perfectly and sniff out turned milk before letting it anywhere near his cereal.  Mystical Roo would not be thwarted by milk.

Greetings and Salutations

There are so many different ways of greeting people from raising a hand in acknowledgement to a kiss on the cheek.  How you greet someone will often depend on where you are in the world, how well you know a person and your own preferences for personal space and who you want in it.  I'm terrible at the whole hello / goodbye malarkey and find it all very confusing.  It would be much easier if everyone could just say, hello or goodbye and that be that.  But no, nothing is straight forward.  Especially not in Stalky land.  It seems to me that people are a lot more huggy in Australia.  I guess that's a nice thing but I'm not the most huggy of people.  In fact, I'm not the most touchy feely of people, so sometimes even a handshake is pushing it.  I don't know where that hand has been!  I like my space.  A lot of it.  And unless you're invited, you should think carefully about invading it.  So it's not natural for me to go in for a handshake or a hug when greeting people and wishing them farewell.  Normally I'll go for a nod and a smile and if you're lucky, a little wave.  But now handshaking has been thrown into the mix and it catches me off guard.  Then I have to think about things.  Like how hard to grip your hand.  Do I like you?  If not I might squeeze a bit harder.  You didn't notice?  Oh, that's because I'm weak!  Anyway, I like most people and I don't go around aggressively squeezing hands.  Unless I catch sight of a land dwelling shark just over your shoulder or a pigeon flying overhead.  But please be assured that is a simply a reaction of tension.  I'm preparing myself for a fight.  But less importantly than the pressure of a shake is the length of time one should be holding someones hand.  Not very long if you ask me.  Shake once, maybe twice but any longer than that and you're holding hands!  Being the lady that I am, hand shaking doesn't come up all that often.  People seem to want to hug me instead.  Or kiss me on the cheek.  I might be able to handle this if I didn't always seem to cock it up.  If someone wants to kiss me on the cheek I end up hugging them and they get a mouthful of hair.  If someone wants a hug they get a face full of cheek.  Or, I can't work out which direction we're meant to be going in and you get a kind bird bopping dance where both of you are shifting before you end up butting heads.  If you ask me, a nod and a smile are a lot more effective and sometimes less dangerous.  The amount of times I've got jewelery stuck in a friends hair.  No one likes that!  Physical gestures aside, the actual verbal greetings confuse the hell out of me too.  No one says hello and goodbye anymore.  It's all "how's it hanging" and "how you going?"  Ok, I've got the hang of "how you going?" as this is commonly used in Australia.  The correct response appears to be "good".  I've never had any complaints at this response.  I got totally thrown at a gathering at Monster Noggin's the other night when not one but two separate Australians asked me "What's happening."  What's happening?  What do you mean what's happening.  A party of sorts is happening.  People are eating ham and cheese and listening to music.  There's a storm outside.  And so on.  The first gentleman to ask me "what's happening" was someone who I didn't know that well so after a pause, a thought, all I could come out with was "stuff."  I quickly changed the subject.  The next Australian who asked me "what's happening" was someone I could be more brutally honest with.  I gave her a confused look and demanded what the correct answer to such a question could be.  Because quite frankly it made no sense to me.  Apparently "chilling" is a good response.  So, Little Stalky, "what's happening?".  "Oh, just chilling."  That doesn't sound stupid coming out of my mouth at all.  And what happens when I'm not chilling.  What happens if I was in a full on battle with a rogue washing machine.  Would the answer then be, "oh, just battling."  My God, these Aussies are so laid back.  Nothing ruffles their feathers.  Not even an attack from a rogue washing machine!  In defence of the Aussie "language" we do manage to confuse them with statements such as "you alright?", our own way of asking "why, how are you my dear?"  This leads to much blinking and head scratching.  They seem to consider it a genuine comment of concern that specifically asks after their health.  It's all so damned confusing.  I had a couple of French guests in yesterday and it was much easier saying "bonjour, cava?" and "bon soir."  Maybe I'll just stick to French instead!

Funnels

I was pondering, whilst using a funnel to decant wine into a funky glass bottle, who invented the funnel and what a genius invention it is.  A funnel.  Excellent.  I have three.  A little one.  A medium one.  A big one.  Like the three bears of funnels.  Hmm.  But alas this is all I can ponder today as I'm exhausted and my weary self needs to head to bed.  So whilst considering the greatness of the funnel, I bit you all adieu.

Mini Christmas Miracle

Well, after forecasts of rain it was actually a perfect day yesterday.  A perfectly hot and sunny Christmas day.  And yes I was working but then, in a mini Christmas miracle, it was really, really quiet and I got sent home after four hours.  It was the most exciting thing ever and I got to enjoy the rest of the afternoon in the sunshine and on the beach.  I got my Christmas swim in and I was very happy.  I was even happier when a random wave knocked over a crowd of about twenty people (including myself) and washed them up the beach.  It was the funniest thing ever, especially seeing as everyone was just lying in the surf laughing.  What a lovely thing, to be able to laugh with perfect strangers, in the sea, on Christmas day.  So surreal.

Merry Xmas

I would like to use today's post simply to wish everyone a very Merry Xmas.  I would also like to use it to obtain sympathy for the fact that I'm today working a 10.30 - 19.30 shift.  Yes, I know - worst shift ever!  I'll try my best to get into the festive spirit and wish everyone a happy holiday but I may find it hard.  But I'll try.  The plan for today is to have a Xmas breakfast with Mystical Roo, get through work with many exciting nibbles such as cheese and crackers and return in the evening for some food and drink.  Hopefully someone will have saved me a plate of Xmas grub!  But I can't complain too much.  I know I'm not the only one who will work over the Xmas period and many of those are doing jobs much more important than mine.  So here's to everyone working on Xmas day, I raise a metaphorical glass of wine to them.  Then later, I shall raise a literal glass of wine to them.  And here's to everyone who has the day off.  Most of you deserve a well earned break.  So, Merry Xmas everyone.  I hope you all have a wonderful day.

Medical Madness

Today I've been pondering visits to the doctor.  A random ponderence (another official word) yes, but I was inspired by a series of events at work.  The first was a man who dashed into reception to ask for directions to the doctor.  His friend had slit his wrist open.  Good God!  Does he need a first aider?  An ambulance perhaps?  Why no.  His friend had "patched him up" and just needed someone to "fix him up".  Right.  Fair enough.  It's just a slit wrist.  No need to panic.  So I gave the gentleman directions and then off he went.  Then today I had a phone call from a man who urgently needed to speak to his wife.  Their daughter was seriously ill, couldn't move and he was with the doctor who needed to find out symptoms.  His wife doesn't have a mobile so is there any way I can get her on the phone.  Ummmmmm.  Ok, so we found a walkie talkie type thing-a-ma-whatsit, transferred the call to it and off I set in search of the wife.  I found their cabin and knocked on the door.  I waited.  No answer.  I waited.  Still no answer.  I tried again, a little louder this time.  No answer.  I was concerned, if there was a sick child inside that I was doing more bad than good by banging on the door but the husband insist I continue.  So I gave it a real pounding only to be greeted by a "who is it?".  Um, I'm from reception, I have your husband on a walkie talkie type thing.  So the woman opened up the door and had obviously been in the shower as her hair was in a towel and she had another wrapped about her person.  I had to wonder how desperately ill her child was if she'd had time to take a shower.  She then took the walkie talkie and angrily told her husband that everything was alright, she was ok now and to stop disturbing her.  She hung up on him and returned the walkie talkie.  I returned, feeling somewhat confused.  Was the child sick or not?  Who knows.  It just seems that people have different ideas of what constitutes a visit to the doctor.  The people who really could do with a doctor end up patching themselves up and getting on with it and the people who really don't need a doctor are falling over themselves to get an appointment.  Very strange indeed.  I'm always surprised at the amount of people who go to the doctor because they have a cold.  It's a cold people, a cold.  You just take some lemsip, drink soup, whine to your significant other.  You don't need a doctor.  The amount of people that return in a state of shock that the doctor sent them home with nothing more than advice to buy some flu pills.  All that and you're less $60 for the appointment.  Well I could have told you that and I'm just a Little Stalky.  Honestly, all you're doing is spreading your germs, possibly collecting more germs, basically creating a massive germ party and paying to be told that you need some vicks vapour rub!  And whilst you're talking to the doctor about feeling bunged up, some bloke is in the waiting room bleeding all over the place because his friend "patched him up."  'Tis madness.  Madness!  

A Jar of Plenty

As much as I adore Mystical Roo, he doesn't half make a mess sometimes.  I suppose that's a combination of him being a male and me being a neat freak who (as previously noted) is quite unnerved by hair on the bathroom floor.  Anyway, Mystical Roo tries to keep things tidy without compromising his belief that a house should be lived in.  And I try not to nag without compromising my belief that work boots should not be worn in the house.  We probably both encountered a bit of a learning curve when we first moved in together but after seven years of cohabitation I think we've got the hang of it.  Mystical Roo makes a conscious effort not to leave wet towels on the floor and I secretly (or not so secretly) hoover on a daily basis.  One of things I struggle with is clutter.  I like things to have a home and to be put in that home.  I can't be doing with rogue items just lying around the house, making the place look untidy.  So when Mystical Roo used to empty his pockets of change and just leave it on the kitchen counter, on the coffee table, on the bedside table, in the bathroom, it used to send me into a bit of spin.  Not only is that major random clutter, but I'm also somewhat unnerved by coins.  Especially when they're not the gold type.  I think I'm traumatised by my time working in retail where money would be handed to me in all sorts of conditions, from covered in chocolate to freshly retrieved from a child's mouth.  It makes me shudder just thinking about it.  Anyway, coins to me, are dirty and I don't like them just lingering on various surfaces of the house.  I imagine this is an issue many of us encounter, though I doubt too many people are quite as freaked out by this as I am.  I think the problem arises because men, generally, don't have a purse.  They have a wallet, where they can keep their notes and cards but then the change has to go into the pocket because there is no purse.  So when they come home, the change has nowhere to go.  That's not Mystical Roo's fault.  He doesn't have a handbag.  But I do.  I figured I should put this habit to good use and snaffle me some change for magazines and sweets.  At first I just swept up the change and added it to my purse but that soon became a chore, especially when there was only silver in sight.  I then decided that I would get a change jar on the go.  A pot for Mystical Roo to deposit his coins and from which I could snaffle at will.  No manky change lying around the house and a collection point from which to fund my sweet habit.  Excellent.  The change jar worked well and filled up quickly.  Every day, Mystical Roo would come home, add to the change jar and everyone was happy.  We would dip into the jar when going out for coffee and felt like we hadn't really spent anything because we didn't break into a note.  The trouble with change though, is that the gold coins are great but the silver coins, especially the small ones, require a lot to amount to much value.  It's all well and good having a collection of 5c pieces, but how many do I need to jam in my purse to buy two cappuccinos?  A lot!  Yesterday the change jar was on the verge of spilling over and I was considering adding a 2nd jar to the equation.  Then I had the idea that maybe I could just pay it into the bank.  A cunning plan.  So I grabbed my jar of change and walked down to the bank.  I got to the counter and sheepishly asked if I could pay some money into the bank.  I wasn't sure how the bank lady (I'm sure they have an official name) would react and was worried she might laugh at my jar or tell me to go home and count it out into baggies but she just whipped it away and chucked it into a magic coin counting machine.  Yes, a magic coin counting machine.  I can only imagine that there are small leprechauns in there that count the money whilst you're waiting.  She returned my now empty jar, which I quickly stowed in my bag with my library books (yes, another trip to the library).  The leprechauns made short work of my jar of change and the bank lady announced we had $37 worth of change.  $37 worth of change?!  And that was after I'd snaffled all of the gold and big 50c pieces to fill up my purse.  I'm terrible at estimations and had imagined we had something along the lines of $10 saved so $37 was a lovely surprise.  It just goes to show that all of that coin adds up.  I turned an annoying habit into a money making scheme.  I'm possibly an evil genius.  So if your significant other is leaving change around the house then start a jar.  If you're really sneaky, they won't even know you're doing it and you can cash in that jar for a whole box of sweets!  Or shoes. Or whatever floats your boat.  Now the jar is back in the bedroom awaiting it's next contribution from Mystical Roo.  I won't let it overflow again.  As soon as it reaches it's limit then I'll be back down the bank.  Who knows, maybe the jar will be able to fund a supply of sweets directly from England.  The possibilities are endless. 

Bad Hair Day

One of the reasons I like to keep my hair long is because it's low maintenance.  If it stops behaving itself then I can just chuck it in a pony tail and forget about it for the day.  So when I went to get my hair cut and decided to get a bit of a fringe I have to wonder what the hell I was thinking.  After 25 years I should really know my hair a bit better.  It's thick, it's wavy and it doesn't react well to heat or humidity.  So the fringe might look lovely when I leave the hairdressers, after the professionals have been at it, but it refuses to be tamed by my inexperienced hand.  I've never been that "in" to hair so I'm the worst possible person to try and tame a fringe.  Again.  What was I thinking.  Being the low maintenance type of girl that I am - though Mystical Roo might disagree - I wash my hair and let it dry naturally.  Unless it's a special occasion I rarely bother drying it with a hair dryer and don't even own that much product.  My hair generally agrees with naturally drying and I get that kind of beachy look, which works rather well when living next to the beach.  But the fringe?  The fringe does not like to dry naturally.  It doesn't like it at all.  The fringe in question is one of those kind of side sweeping things but my hair doesn't seem to want to fall in that direction.  The first thing I did when getting ready for work this morning was  straighten the fringe.  That will sort it out.  No it bloody well won't.  Not at all.  In fact, all it seemed to do was create static electricity and the fringe just stuck out.  It wouldn't fall to one side, it just stuck out straight ahead.  It looked ridiculous.  It's ok, I told myself, it would settle down.  But it didn't.  It was just kind of hovering there like a floating fringe, taunting me with it's flyaway hair.  Gah!  So I walked around for a bit holding the fringe, hoping to trick it into staying put.  But the fringe was having none of it.  It flatly refused.  I returned to the hair straighteners and whilst attacking the fringe, remembered a scene from the Bridget Jones films.  Bad hair?  Whatever you do, don't iron it.  Bugger.  With time running out before I was due to leave the house I was desperate for a solution and somehow decided that hairspray would be a good idea.   I would stick it in place.  Spray it into submission.  Or...not.  Hair spraying a fringe that is already sticking out does nothing more than make it more stubborn.  It was simply a more solid version of the previous version.  It became even more unmanageable.  I tried brushing out the hairspray but that did nothing more than separate the fringe into stringy, solid, sticky out pieces.  Awful.  I didn't even have a hairband to wear because I'd snapped it and forgotten to replace it.  Worst hair day ever and no time.  Then I remembered that Monster Noggin had once mentioned about having to blow dry a fringe into place.  You have to force it into place with heat and air.  Heat and air!  So, to the bathroom.  I washed the fringe, rinsed all of the hairspray out of it and rushed back into the bedroom.  Grab the hairdryer and blow dry it into place.  It actually appeared to be working and my make up was only melting slightly.  Blow drying alone creates major fluffy hair but it was in the right place.  Did I dare straighten it too?  I did dare.  And it was ok.  The fringe was in position.  The fringe was defluffed.  But my God it was a lot of effort.  I walked to work and promised myself I would never get a fringe again.  Too much hard work!

Secret Santa

Now that we're deep into the festive season we've just done our secret Santa gifts at work.  It's a little different to what I'm used to as previously I've pulled a name from a hat and known who I've been buying for.  Here we don't know who we're buying for and the recipient doesn't know who the buyer is.  It's all totally random.  We're given our $20 limit and sent out like lost rabbits to buy something for one of about twenty women who may or may not get your gift.  No pressure!  The pressies are then thrown into a pile before being distributed at random.  Now I like the idea of secret Santa but not knowing who I'm buying for proved tricky.  I felt no inspiration so ended up buying a rather nice box of chocolates.  I figure everyone likes chocolate.  So with all of us working varying days and shifts there's no way we're all going to be in at the same time so a few of us, myself included, missed the official present giving and opening.  Instead, my gift was left in my locker, which I discovered when I arrived at work yesterday.  That's a nice way to start the day.  With a present.  I decided I would wait until I got home to open my present and share the gift opening experience with Mystical Roo.  I actually got home at about 19.45 and then we had dinner so the gift opening did not commence until 21.00.  A bit late perhaps, but exciting none the less.  So I unceremoniously ripped off the wrapping paper and realised I had three mini gifts in one.  Very cool.  The first thing that caught my eye was the red on a small box of choccies.  Yes, everyone likes chocolate.  Then I saw a naked lady.  Then a semi naked man.  What?!  What could it be, Little Stalky?  Well, it turned out to be massage oil (naked lady adorning the back of the bottle) and a calendar (semi naked fireman adorning the cover).  I think it was at this point that I burst out laughing trying to figure out who the secret Santa behind the gift was and what had inspired them to offer such a unique gift.  I can see I'll have to do some investigating at work today and locate the saucy secret Santa! 

Dancing in the Street

Why is it that the strange people come out after dark?  Are they allergic to the sun?  Do they sleep all day?  Is it just a coincidence?  I consider myself to be a relatively strange person but I don't come out after dark.  My weirdness is out there be it night or day.  But mostly day as I get sleepy and can't stay up late so am normally tucked up in bed at night.  I think some of the weirdness I witnessed whilst driving home on Saturday night was probably down to it being a Saturday night.  You've got to be especially careful driving through a town on a Friday or Saturday night because there are drunks everywhere.  Drunks who lose all memory of the road and the cars that are travelling on it.  The pavement and the road become one and drunks are stumbling all over the place.  I had to stop a number of times to let stragglers stumble across the road and into nearby bushes.  That's what drunk people do.  They fall into bushes.  I've seen it happen.  Anyway, drunks aside, the strangest thing was the Billy Elliot esq teenager who was literally dancing his way down the street.  I had to do a double take.  He was on his own, he was on the pavement and he was dancing.  He was running, then he was leaping, then he was twirling - yes twirling - then he was dancing.  It was the most surreal thing.  It was like watching something from Footloose or maybe Fame or as mentioned above, Billy Elliot.  The thing was, he was actually pretty good with his leaping and twirling.  So I shrugged and carried on driving.  Who am I to judge.  If you're happy and you want to dance your way down the street, then why not.  It's good exercise I guess. 

King and Co Album Launch

Mystical Roo, Monster Noggin and I were out and about at the Jamberoo pub last night, attending another album launch.  I learnt my lesson from last time and selected a pair of my highest heels (faux snakeskin no less) so that I could attempt to tower over some of the crowds.  Actually, it boosted my normal height to a more average height and I was eye level with most people.  I guess that's a good thing.  Unless you're trying to avoid eye contact, especially with that crazy looking dude.  Then you could do with shrinking back to normal height again.  Anyway, enough about my shoes.  The album launch was for King and Co, who describe their music as a kind of funky, reggae rock.  We were there in more than just a "fan" capacity, armed with cameras as we attempted to get shots and footage.  Even I had a camera!  This time Mystical Roo had set it up to handle my shaky hand and penchant for stumbling.  I think I actually got some good shots.  Again, the shoes were a benefit to boost me above some heads.  I was irrationally concerned that the flash from the camera would some how put the band off, but it seemed not to bother them.  I took ridiculous amounts of photos from full group shots to close ups.  I even tried to get "arty" at one point and was taking close ups of hands playing instruments.  The band were excellent and really whipped the crowd up into a frenzy.  The energy in the room that night was incredible.  I even got pulled into a kind mini mosh pit at one point.  Ok, mini mosh pit is probably over the top, but there was much bouncing as we bopped to the sound of "Drum Song."  That is my personal favourite, I must confess.  I love the tribal sound.  Makes me want to skip around a bonfire.  But in a funky beach way, not a crazy yokel way.  King and Co has a lot of talent and I'm always awed by people who can play their instruments with such ease, often seeming to freestyle, listening to each other and collaborating to create mesmerising sound.  The band played their way through the whole album and also treated the crowd to a few new songs and then after that, various band members hopped up on stage to showcase their own work.  They were playing until about Midnight and the audience absolutely loved it.  It was a fantastic night and both the band and crowd seemed to be enjoying the experience.  Mystical Roo and I have our own copy of the album and we both give it a huge thumbs up.  If anyone is looking for a new band, you can find their material on i-tunes.  It comes with a Little Stalky recommendation!

http://www.myspace.com/iankingband   

The Chilli

Today I would like to bring your attention to this immense chilli, whose photograph I have included.  Look at this beast!  He's a monster.  I'm not even sure I need to write anything.  The photo says it all.  Ok, maybe I'm bit overly excited about the chilli, but I'm just so proud.  I'd never expected this plant to grow as big as he did and produce the chillis he is.  I suppose I haven't tasted them yet, but on aesthetic qualities alone I'm pleased.  I'm assuming this fella will turn red, but I'm not 100% sure on that one so I'll have to consult...something.  Or someone.  Maybe I'll ask the lemon tree.  He seems fairly wise.  I was chattering on to Mystical Roo yesterday about how my next batch of chilli con carne could use a fresh chilli.  Then I pondered how I would go about testing the heat of the chilli.  I know we bought hot ones so I'll have to guess how much to use.  Maybe I can test it on Mystical Roo first.  Get him to take a nibble and see what he thinks.  Anyway, I'm rambling.  My point is simply this.  The chilli plant rocks! 

Little Stalky Steals a Ladder

We had some computer type folk in the office yesterday, pottering around and trying to hook up our WiFi.  They were in and out all day and I wasn't really sure what they were up to.  I did know that they kept leaving their ladder in my way.  Right in the doorway to the back office where important items like the hoover are kept.  The ladder was positioned underneath a hatch into the ceiling, where various wires were hanging from a hole.  Ok, I see why the ladder has to be there but does it have to be there when it's no in use?  So, with Little Stalky on official hoovering duty I had to retrieve the hoover and get it past that damned ladder.  I gave it a go, I really did, but Little Stalky plus hoover were not fitting through the gap.  Even just the hoover wouldn't fit through the gap.  So I moved that ladder.  Oh yes, I moved that ladder away from the hatch and out of my way.  And then Little Stalky and the hoover were able to emerge and continue the afternoon chores.  It was only when I was returning the hoover that a colleague noted the removal of the ladder.  Did you move the ladder?  Yes, I couldn't get the hoover out.  Dude, they're totally still up there.  Oops.  Ok so the computer dudes were still in the roof and I had removed their only means of getting down from the roof.  My bad.  Actually, it was the hoover.  The hoover made me do it!  I'm not sure if they made attempts to escape the hatch whilst I was merrily hoovering away but I didn't hear any shouting.  I sheepishly returned my hoover and then put the ladder back in it's original spot, hoping that no one else would be the wiser.  

Carols in the Park

 Last night I took my Stalky self off to the park for our town's "Carols in the Park".  I made sure to smother myself in bug repellent first, snaffled Mystical Roo's camera and off I went.  I've been to a few events in the park but this certainly seemed to draw the biggest crowd.  There were people everywhere!  Even walking to the park was crowded and I had to do some serious dodging to avoid collisions.  I found myself a hole in the crowd, a vacant spot of grass, and homed in on it before plonking myself down whilst cursing myself for wearing a white skirt.  Foolish Stalky.  I was on my lonesome for about half an hour until I located Bob-A-Roony, Duke and Squishy and joined them on the blanket.  It was a great atmosphere in the park and I think about a quarter of the town had turned out to listen to various folk do some singing on the stage.  There was something very surreal about sitting in the heat, watching the ocean, whilst listening to Christmas songs.  I still can't get my head around associating summer with Christmas.  There were some great voices there last night, including one of our favourites, Penny from Penny and the Mystics.  There were also some not so great voices.  One dude massacred Lennon's "Happy Christmas (War is Over)".  He did an ok job until he went for the high notes and never made it.  You could feel the crowd cringe.  Bless him, he kept asking us to join in, I think to cover this up.  Well I don't think we were going to do much better.  It was kind of nice though.  A mix of good singing and squiffy singing made the whole event more...homely I guess.  There were glow sticks in the hands of most of the kids and by the time the sun went down the park was amass with flickering lights.  It looked so pretty.  I did try to capture this moment on Mystical Roo's camera but I have a notoriously shaky hand and actually don't know how to use the camera so some of the shots came out a bit blurred.  Mystical Roo tells me this is because I didn't have the flash on and the camera was taking slow shots to absorb as much light as possible.  Oh, I see.  He's so wise, that Mystical Roo.  Ammy and and Treacle also joined us, along with Mystical Roo's grandma who is here on holiday.  Mystical Roo was returning from a trip in Brisbane so alas was not present for Carols in the Park.  It was a nice evening and maybe helped push me to feeling a little more festive.  It's great that the town can put on events like this that are free of charge to the public and take advantage of the wonderful location of our little town.  I think a good time was had by all and I only came home with two extra mozzie bites.  Result. 

The Radio Goes Rogue

Today I have been interfering with radio waves.  Yes, I am an all powerful Stalky.  Though I imagine it's only my own radio waves that I've been messing with.  But if anyone out there was getting a dodgy signal at about 08.30 this morning (that's Australian Eastern time) then please feel free to blame me.  I was pottering around this morning and as I'd decided to grace the masses with my presence, thought I'd better put some make up on.  Don't want to scare anyone or anything.  I've still got mozzie bites on my face you know.  So with Mystical Roo having left in the very, very early hours of the morning I put the radio on for company.  I never seem to have any issues with the signal but this morning it was noticeably crackly.  There's something about a crackly radio that is very frustrating.  Especially when you get three or four shows trying to compete for your attention.  You try to tune it out but the vague noise makes you concentrate harder to try and work out what is being said.  And that's just asking for trouble.  If you concentrate all of your attention on the fractured sound coming from the radio you're bound to get a mascara wand in the eye.  So I continued to do my make up, hoping the radio would sort itself out, whilst pondering how much effort would be involved to find my i-pod instead.  Too much effort evidently as I never did go to fetch it from the front room.  It was after a few minutes of crackly behaviour that I established it was me that was affecting the sound quality of the radio.  My proximity to said radio was directly impacting the noise.  If I stood up and went to look at it the thing worked fine, but as soon as I sat down again to do my make up it went all loopy on me again.  If I moved from side to side the sound became even more erratic.  It was like I was in the way of radio waves.  Like I was distorting the sound with my jigging.  Well honestly.  I can't be doing with erratic radios.  If I can't sit and do my make up without the radio having a hissy fit then there's a problem.  It's never done it before so I'm not sure what had changed to make it so angry.  Maybe I haven't been paying it enough attention.  Or maybe it's yet another household item that has gone over to the dark side.  The dark side led by none other than the rogue washing machine.  Gone from the flat, but somehow still influencing others from afar.  I will not be pushed around by my household appliances.  No I will not.  So I sat there, finished doing my make up and listened to the radio as it jumped from station to station.  There were no winners this morning but I feel I made my point!

A Package from England

I do love a bit of snaffling and with Christmas almost here there are numerous snaffling opportunities for a Stalky wandering past her postbox.  I peer in every time I go past and am always delighted to see colourful envelopes with handwritten addresses.  Those aren't bills!  I've actually effectively managed to snaffle my Christmas cards without getting my hand stuck (although there was a close call the other day) and whilst leaving all of the junk mail at the bottom.  Mystical Roo would argue that this is pesky, but snaffling is about grabbing the good stuff.  You can't waste time with things like junk mail and bills.  You wouldn't get your hand stuck for junk mail and bills.  You wouldn't risk post box dwelling sharks for junk mail and bills.  Not worth it!  Yesterday I noticed two colourful cards in the post box but alas, was unable to retrieve them.  I was on my way to a yoga class and Mystical Roo was not yet home so I hoped he would return with the keys and rescue the cards.  When I came home the cards were awaiting me on the dining table.  But more excitingly a package was awaiting me on the dining table!  Christmas cards and a package.  A Little Stalky can only handle so much excitement.  And what was in the package?  A supply of fruit pastilles, directly from England and courtesy of Bear Z and Rabby.  And a note to brush my teeth.  Excellent!  I'm unreasonably thrilled with sweets from England.  Simple things, simple things.  So thank you Bear Z and Rabby.  That package made my day!  

The Mysterious Glass

Do you ever question your sanity?  I do on a regular basis.  Today I'm being tested by the mysterious appearance of a glass.  An innocent looking glass.  An Ikea tumbler to be precise.  But why would this glass perturb me so?  Possibly because it appeared on the side and I have no memory of putting it there!  And I know what you're thinking.  Surely Mystical Roo put it there.  But no, he can't have done.  I did all the washing up after he'd left for work.  All the washing up.  So with all the washing up done, Mystical Roo happily packed off to work, Little Stalky alone in the house, where the frick did this additional glass come from?  I only noticed it when I went to make myself a cup of tea and I had to wonder why I had chosen to not wash up this single glass.  Then I remembered that I had washed up everything.  The surfaces were clear.  I'm sure of it.  Had I had a glass of water?  Not that I remember.  Did I forget to take my vitamins and needed something to wash them down with?  No they were taken at breakfast with a cup of tea and some Cheerios.  So where did this glass come from!  I'm sure there's an innocent explanation but as I write this I find myself glancing back over towards the kitchenette just to make sure it's still there and I'm not imagining things.  I can confirm that it's still there.  Still there and I still have no idea where it came from.  Did it grow little legs and find it's way out of the cupboard, using a a homemade ladder to escape the shelf and climb atop the counter.  It seems unlikely.  I know Ikea make some cool stuff, but walking glasses?  I think not.  Maybe the flat is possessed.  Maybe there's a poltergeist moving things just to mess with my head.  Or even freakier, not a poltergeist, but a real person hidden in the cupboard somewhere.  Maybe a gnome or something!  In retrospect it's highly possible that I did the washing up, found a glass in the bedroom, returned the glass to the kitchen for washing and forgot about it.  I am known for this kind of forgetful behaviour and wild imagination.  Still, you can't be too careful.  If there's a gnome hiding in your cupboards it's really something you want to deal with.  

Little Stalky is Having a Rant

Today I'm feeling a lot of frustration towards the stupid orangutan advert that keeps making me jump every morning.  And I mean every morning.  You think I would have learnt by now.  The stupid orangutan advert in question?  I honestly don't know what the bloody thing is even advertising.  All I know is that the TV will be at normal volume, even the other adverts will be at normal volume but when the stupid orangutan advert comes on the volume suddenly zooms up and I'm bombarded by the over enthusiastic singing, nay screaming, of what appears to be a "choir".  The reason it's the stupid orangutan advert is because every time I jump at the sudden racket coming from the television I am faced with nothing more than an orangutan's face smiling back at me.  Stupid orangutan.  This advert only seems to get me in the morning - maybe it's trying to wake everyone up or something - and every time it makes me jump before cursing and muttering at the stupid orangutan advert.  I immediately launch for the remote control to turn the volume down, but Stalky fans may know that my remote control is currently working against me and so before turning down, it will will turn the volume up first.  Gah!  Maybe it's just me that this advert annoys but if you ask me it's awful advertising, mainly because I have no idea what it's actually advertising.  It literally makes me want to switch off!  And whilst I'm ranting, after my musings on people not being able to remember the colour of their car, I'd like to confirm that yesterday at work, someone actually described their car to me as peacock.  Peacock!  He didn't miss a beat.  And the colour and make of your car?  Peacock Toyota.  Bloody peacock.  

Update from the Balcony

I'm pleased to confirm that my plantlings are doing wonderfully well on the balcony.  I haven't killed any of them yet or anything!  I thought you'd all appreciate a photo of our little tomato plant, whose little tomatoes are now turning red and ripe for the picking!  In fact, we may well be picking them for dinner tonight.  I'm still having guilt over this.  I feel like I'm eating the plantlings.  Mystical Roo tells me to stop being silly and that the plants would want me to.  The chilli plant is also doing wonderfully well.  He's grown massive and we have counted up to 40 chillis on the go, 6 of which are going to be ready soon.  The thyme continues to thrive, the parsley hasn't given up hope, the rosemary does it's thing and the lemon tree is looking happy.  It's a harmonious balcony indeed.  I'm very proud of myself, even if I haven't really done that much.  I suppose I make sure they have enough water and plenty of sunshine.  I bring the chilli plant in if it's looking too windy.  The other day, in the absence of Mystical Roo, I even waded out amongst flood water to unclog the drain for them.  I suppose I do my bit.  And we mustn't forget that I say hello to them every day.  Give them a little poke and have a chat about the weather.  I think they appreciate that.  So I'm pretty proud of my little balcony style garden and wonder what else I can fit out there.  Maybe a coconut tree.  Too much?  Probably.  Well, that's all from the balcony update.  I'm off to work!

Spider Pig

Any Simpsons fans out there will know what Spider Pig is all about.  Some of you might even know what Spider Pigging someone is all about.  For those of you who have no idea what the heck I'm going on about I shall explain.  Briefly.  In the Simpsons film, Homer acquires a pet pig and makes him walk on the ceiling before dubbing him Spider Pig.  Spider Pig has his own theme tune.  It's the Spider Man theme tune but with new lyrics: #Spider Pig, Spider Pig, does whatever a Spider Pig does, can he swing, from a web, no he can't, he's a pig, watch out, he's a Spider Pig#  Anyway, this was a huge hit with Mystical Roo and I and it wasn't long before a Spider Pig craze took hold.  It was then that we began Spider Pigging people and in return, people began Spider Pigging us.  What is it to be Spider Pigged?  To be Spider Pigged.  When one is Spider Pigged.  Basically it's making an "anonymous" phone call and playing the Spider Pig tune down the phone before hanging up.  If this has ever happened to you, you've been Spider Pigged.  You can sing the tune yourself or find a recording and press play.  Either way, Spider Pigging was good fun.  So Mystical Roo bought me a gift to celebrate all things Spider Pig.  The gift was a pink t-shirt with the words Spider Pig emblazoned across the chest.  Amazing.  Now I've never had any issues with my Spider Pig t-shirt.  I wear it proudly and sometimes elicit a knowing smile but generally I don't get much attention.  But yesterday, when I wandered off into town, I was a veritable walking joke!  People just kept staring at me.  Some people even scowled at me.  I had to wonder if I was flashing something inappropriate the way some people were giving me strange looks.  I even had some kids start singing the theme tune at me.  Singing at me in the street.  I was Spider Pigged in broad daylight!  I've never felt so exposed.  With the heat of the day I was wearing denim shorts, which had my freaky knee on show too (see yesterday's blog - my knee has inflated to the size of a tennis ball) and I think the combination of pink Spider Pig t-shirt and freaky swollen knee was just too much for the inhabitants of this town.  I made a swift turn for home as I couldn't stand the weight of the stares anymore!  When I got home I even checked myself in the mirror to make sure I didn't have make-up smeared down my face, a giant rip in my clothes, or anything else that would warrant the staring that I'd received.  It seemed to me that I looked ok, but then maybe I'm one of those people who can't see a walking fashion disaster.  I don't really care.  I was happy with my "outfit" and people should learn that staring is just rude!  On a positive note it has reminded me how much fun Spider Pigging is.  It might be time to give someone a call!   

Bitey Beasties

Did I mention that I don't react well to being bitten?  But then, who does.  You can't just go around nibbling folk and not expect a reaction.  So with summer here I'm having to fend off attacks from some of the worst of the bitey beasts - the mozzie.  Yes, you could argue that a shark, maybe even a croc, are the worst of the bitey beasts but it's the mozzies that have so far given me the most grief.  And when I say I don't react well to being bitten I mean I literally don't react well. I have some kind of allergic reaction in fact, that sees the bitten part of my person swell to seemingly impossible proportions and itch like crazy.  Last year they got me on the feet, which resulted in huge swelling that actually made me look like a hobbit.  The skin was stretched so tightly that it made it hard for me to walk and the itching was so bad that it made me want to sit with my feet in cold water.  I actually couldn't even get my flip flops on and had to reveal my true height at work as there was no way I could wear heels.  Mystical Roo had to piggy back me to the chemist so we could get some antihistamines.  On Tuesday night I got some of my first bites of the summer and I cursed myself for not protecting myself better.  Mystical Roo and I had gone out for a bite of our own and were sat outside with our drinks.  We had plans to head back inside when our food arrived but kind of never got round to it.  Therefore we ended up outside, in the dark, under a tree, not wearing any bug spray!  I might as well have just served myself up on a platter.  Come on mozzies, it's a free for all.  Because they like the taste of me you see.  They can't resist a bit of Stalky yumminess.  They got me on the knee.  The knee!  So now I have two golf ball sized lumps on one knee, which make me look a little bit random to say the least.  I suppose it's better than the foot.  It's inspired me to venture off into town in search of more bug spray, bug cream and some sweets.  The sweets aren't really bug related.  I just like sweets.   

Mysterious Grass Action

There is a mysterious smattering of what appears to be grass that has somehow managed to coat the balcony and everything on it.  Weird?  Very.  It's the type of weird that makes you wonder if the pigeon has been launching sneak attacks.  In the form of grass.  I first noticed it when I was out checking the plants.  I realised that their leaves were covered in the tiniest film of grass.  I had sprayed their foliage the night before and wondered if I'd some how managed to put grass in the bottle and sprayed it over them.  Then I remembered that I would remember if I had put grass in the bottle.  Why would I put grass in the bottle?  I wouldn't.  That's just silly.  And it didn't make sense that it would be the bottle as everything was covered in this film of grass.  It was over the floor, the chairs, the table, the BBQ cover.  It was everywhere.  It was like someone had done their lawn mowing, emptied their cuttings into a blender, chopped up the cuttings, blended them again, bagged them up, snuck onto the balcony and let them loose.  I can't imagine I've angered anyone enough to make them want to partake in grass rage but maybe I'm being persecuted by association.  Maybe there are some angry cricket fans out there who know where the poms live.  The thing is, we had some wind and rain and maybe I could accept that the weather whipped things into a frenzy before dumping it on my balcony but there's just not that much grass around us.  We all have balconies.  Sand would make more sense than grass!  So the mystery continues and as I haven't yet had time to get my broom out, the balcony remains covered in grass.  Maybe I should take a sample as evidence.  In case the grass fiend strikes again! 

Trolley Rage

There appears to be some kind of trolley crime wave gripping our town at the moment.  Shopping trolleys keep appearing in obscure locations, sometimes sitting innocently in the sunshine and other times upside down in a bush.  I even heard some trolley rage the other night whilst I was in bed.  There was much whooping, cheering and the unmistakable sound of a wonky wheel.  I guess every town with trolleys that aren't chained down will experience a certain level of trolley rage, but the trolley rage here has definitely increased in it's frequency.  Luckily for us the council here, or whoever is in charge of the retrieval of stray trolleys, is very good at tidying things up.  You don't want trolleys hanging around too long or before you know it there's graffiti, vandalism and possibly even the occasional mime!  I have to wonder what the trolley dude makes of the whole situation.  He works so hard to look after his trolleys, I'm sure he doesn't approve of stray trolleys.  How long will he let this go on for before he starts to take action?  The Godfather of the trolley world surely cannot continue to let this disrespect continue.  I don't think these trolley thieves know who they're dealing with!

Little Stalky's Cardboard Box

When I left school and with plans of one day becoming an actress, I did a degree in theatre and creative writing, which turned out to be one of the weirdest courses in the world.  Find your inner seaweed and all that.  For the record, I think I do a rather good impression of seaweed, but I suppose that's a matter of opinion.  Anyway, as part of my course I had to do some contextual art, creating performance in live surroundings and random stuff like that.  Somehow I managed to drag Mystical Roo and Monster Noggin into my plans and we headed into the city to create "art".  In my wisdom I had the idea of creating an interactive cardboard box.  A box that would silently communicate with and possibly freak out the public.  A box that I would hide in as we encouraged people to write messages on our box.  A box that I would maneuver into a cunning shuffle as I attempted to confuse shoppers.  Hold on.  That bloody box is moving.  How could this possibly be?  Wasn't that box over there.  It must be a ghost box.  This is the only logical explanation.  Much more logical than a random girl hiding within a box in the name of "art".  I'm not sure where we got our box from in the end but it was just big enough so that I could crouch inside without bursting from the sides.  We poked me some air holes, you know, just in case and set about leaving me in the middle of a semi busy square.  Monster Noggin and Mystical Roo were able to hide at a safe distance, disassociating themselves from the person in the box whilst filming the action.  I sat in that box feeling like a total fruit loop and wondered how I would eventually get out of my box discreetly and in a ladylike fashion.  I took a peep through my makeshift eye hole and noticed that no one was paying much attention to my random box.  I decided I'd do a little box shuffle.  Cause a stir.  I'm lucky I didn't fall over in that thing.  That would have been embarrassing.  Stuck head first in a box, on your face with just your legs hanging out the end.  Bad box etiquette.  Anyway, it got the attention of a little boy who saw the invitation to write on my box.  Give the box a message.  And he did.  He had a pen - which in retrospect was something we hadn't considered.  Why should anyone be carrying around a pen to write on a box.  And why did this small boy have a pen - and scribbled on the box before happily wandering back to his parents.  Excellent.  The plan was working.  People were indeed communicating with the box.  Well, one person.  A small child actually.  But still.  Better than a kick in the box.  The next group to notice my box was a trio of teenagers and even as I saw them approach I had a bad feeling and suddenly felt strangely exposed in my little box.  Teenagers?  Bored on a Saturday afternoon?  Armed inexplicably with pencil cases and sweets?  Me and my box were a dream come true.  At first they were nice to the box, if a little rough with their pens and I could hear them drawing all over it.  I suppose it was giving me material but I couldn't help but be suspicious of their motives.  After interacting with the box with their pens and crayons they then tried to interact with the box verbally too.  Well honestly.  Boxes don't speak!  That's the whole point.  So I had to keep quiet whilst they tried to get answers from the box.  Who was in the box?  What was the box about?  Was I a hobo?  There were vague attempts to peer in through my air holes but it was dark in the box.  Then the teenagers decided that I must be hungry and started to send offerings in through my air holes.  Sweets to be precise.  Well, that's not so bad but seriously, don't block up the air holes. A box has got to breathe you know.  With little reaction to the sweets the teenagers then decided they needed to learn the identity of the box dweller.  At first it was a few shoves and I managed to hold my ground but then there was definite tugging and I had to cling to the box, lest my identity be revealed.  I think at this point I had worked at expanding my body to fill the box, thus rendering it impossible to pull away from me.  I still wonder how I held out against three teenagers.  They must have been really weedy!  By that point I had to wonder when Mystical Roo and Monster Noggin would come to the rescue.  I pictured them bent over with laughter as my box was attacked.  Finally, after what seemed like hours of torture, Monster Noggin came to the rescue, politely informing the teenagers that the box might need a break.  They grudgingly moved on and I was freed from the prison of the box.  I must say, they did leave a number of messages on my box and pictures too.  Creative lot.  But that was the last of the box art.  It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. 

Little Stalky's Late Night

I don't have many late nights.  I'm kind of boring like that and have a tendency to fall asleep in the corner.  But when I do have a late night I figure I need to catch up on my sleep as I seem to need a good eight hours to be able to function properly.  So why, when I don't get to sleep until 2am, do I still insist on waking up at 06.30?!  Come on body, we need some rest.  What are you doing!  I forced myself to stay in bed until 07.30 before finally admitting defeat and going in search of breakfast.  As I write this I have puffy eyes and am yawning but I know even if I tried to go to bed again I wouldn't be able to sleep.  Instead this will catch up with me some time in the afternoon and I'll be in need of a nap.  Who knows, I might even just randomly fall asleep where I stand.  I was actually hunting for my phone this morning, which I use as an alarm, to try and establish the time.  I then remembered that I'd left my phone in my handbag.  And my handbag in my locker at work.  Then I remembered that I'd forgotten to turn off the alarm.  So I have to wonder how long Fur Elise has been playing from inside my bag and how many people have cursed me for leaving my stuff behind, locking the locker and taking home the only key.  Lets just hope it isn't one of those persistent types, going off once every five minutes until someone tells it otherwise.  Lets hope it played it's tune, did it's thing and then went back to sleep.  I guess I'll be able to gauge the situation when I head into work to retrieve my belongings.  I'll have to see who's giving me evils.  Maybe it will still be singing away when I get there and then I'll know for sure if my phone has been single handedly infuriating the reception staff.  Maybe I should go armed with chocolate just in case.  If the phone is singing, chocolate for the staff.  In the phone is quiet, chocolate for Stalky! 

Little Stalky Considers Technology

I've said it before, I'll say it again - technology is bloody brilliant when it works and a complete pain in the bum when it doesn't.  Take my wireless broadband for example.  It's a wonderful invention as it allows me to access the Internet from the comfort of my own home, stay in touch with those half way around the world and infiltrate the blogging world with my crazy notions.  So when my wireless broadband decides to squiff up, it upsets me and I start going into a kind of Little Stalky style rage.  Much ranting and raving with the occasional melodramatic sigh as I attempt to gain attention and sympathy from Mystical Roo.  As I write this I feel like I'm tempting fate as I'm still trying to get the wireless broadband to work reliably.  I've been on the phone to various "tech support" type folk only for them to suggest it might be an issue my end.  Oh the frustration of it all.  If I suddenly go quiet you'll know why.  I've gone on a mission to find these "tech support" type folk!  The other piece of technology that's decided to go a bit temperamental on us is the PS3, which has suddenly become very selective over which DVDs it chooses to play.  Maybe it's just trying to make a stand, demanding to have some control over what it plays, but really, if I want to watch the new Tom Cruise film then I'll watch it, regardless of whether or not my PS3 approves.  But it got me thinking about how much me now rely on technology.  And do we really appreciate how good most of it is, especially when compared to what we had a decade or so ago.  I remember when I was in primary school we had this old BBC computer that sometimes worked and sometimes didn't.  You had to start it up by pressing Shift and Break.  Honestly, does anything even have a Break button anymore?  What is a Break button?  I just remember that it was red and when we pressed the two together the computer would make a kind of juddering churning noise as it tried to leap into life.  More often than not it refused to play ball, but on the occasions it would spring, or rather stumble, to life we got to play exciting games such as the math inspired quest with a wizard and an impossible challenge at the end that no primary school student was wise enough to complete.  It was one of those games with the black screen and big bright green letters combined with 2D characters and weird electronic music.  One of the first computers we had at home used tapes and took about half an hour to load up.  I suppose it's all down to expectations and what you're used to.  I didn't mind waiting for that tape to load up because it was new technology at the time and that's just what happened.  Now, if my PS3 doesn't immediately detect the disc I've given it I stamp my feet impatiently and demand an answer.  How dare it not work.  I'm used to watching my films now and I don't want to wait!  Perhaps we're privileged with the technology that now surrounds us.  Or perhaps it's teaching us to take things for granted.  We have more but does it mean less?  I was so excited when Rabby once told me how I could use the video player to record things from the TV.  Really?  Anything?  Even like Bugs Bunny?  Yes, even Bugs Bunny.  That was so exciting.  But now we have a DVD player and a PS3 and they have to work because that's just what happens.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  I can't claim to hate technology because I obviously don't, otherwise I wouldn't be using this laptop and wireless broadband to update my blog but I wonder about how it's now so essential in every day life.  We rely on technology so much it makes you wonder how we'd all get on if there was a major power cut or something.  If our computers go down at work then we're all lost.  If the satnav stopped working, would we know how to read a map?  If our mobile phones lost all signal would we still be able to make conversation?  I suppose it's not that bad as most of us have lived during a time when these skills were still necessary.  But what about the next generation?  I've already told you about the various household items that are plotting against me and I've seen the terminator films.  I'm just saying, maybe we need to start relying a little less on technology.  Before computers enslave mankind!

Little Stalky Goes Deaf in One Ear

I've already mentioned that I don't hear all that well on a day to day basis.  Well today it just got worse as I appear to have gone deaf in one ear.  Damn you ear wax!  Gah!  I was fine when I first got up this morning.  I think it was the shower that did it.  Water got in my ear - funny how that happens in the shower - swished things about a bit and then bam! clogged ear.  Not impressed.  It feels like, or rather it sounds like, being underwater.  It's like coming up from under a wave and not being able to shake the water out of your head.  I dealt with the situation by grabbing the cotton buds and having a poke but I think this only made everything worse.  Dag nabbit.  I'm sure it will clear itself up but as a person who already has trouble hearing I wonder how I'm going to get on at work today with the fridge of doom droning away and the expected Friday afternoon crowds, which inevitably involve screaming children, loudly chattering miscellaneous people and that person who speaks like a mouse.  I think I'll have to stick a post it note to my forehead or something.  Today, everyone, I can't hear out of one ear - ooh I rhymed - so please only talk to one side of me.  The other side will be ignoring you.  

Little Stalky and the Hungry Duck

Yesterday it was Monster Noggin's birthday and in celebration we all headed out for a birthday meal.  The boys were working so it turned into an all girls affair as we descended on the small town - maybe even village - of Berry.  Berry is the most picturesque little place; very rustic and quaint.  We happened to arrive on the day when Berry was having a kind of Christmas party so there was not much parking to be had and various roads were closed off to traffic.  I had to comment that it was only the first of December and Berry seemed to be getting a bit ahead of itself with the Christmas celebrations.  But there we go.  We had no idea where the restaurant was, so parked up where we could, grabbed the brollies and braced ourselves for the rain which, by the way, had been falling constantly for the past three days.  We splashed through puddles, dodged revellers and eventually popped into a shop to ask for directions before finding our way to the restaurant.  The chosen spot for the birthday meal was The Hungry Duck which, incidentally, is possibly the most fabulous restaurant ever.  We were treated to what can only be described as a feast for the taste buds in the form of beautifully presented, perfectly sized mini dishes, which totalled about six courses over a meal which lasted several hours.  It was heavenly.  I had a peek at the garden too, where the restaurant grows much of it's own produce and started to wonder what else I could add to my balcony collection!  I do love food and although I fill up easily I think I did rather well tackling all six courses.  We had zucchini flowers, duck, crab and other delicious items, the names of which I forget but that tasted incredible.  The wine was flowing - though I was designated driver so only had one glass of bubbly - the food was out of this world and the company was delightful.  We already have plans to book a table for when Bear Z and Rabby visit.  Are you listening (or reading) you two?  We're off to the Hungry Duck!  So if anyone's ever in Berry, or even close to Berry then I can confirm the Hungry Duck has the official Little Stalky seal of approval!

www.hungryduck.com.au

The First Day of Summer

It's officially the first day of summer today, and Monster Noggin's birthday - happy birthday Monster Noggin - and it's also bloody raining.  Ain't that just typical.  Bah!  We're apparently being harassed by some kind of rogue trough and the entire Eastern side of Australia is being rained on.  Let's hope this isn't a sign of the summer to come!  But it's still strangely warm, even if it is wet and my windows keep steaming up and my hair keeps going frizzy.  So with summer here it also means that Christmas is approaching.  The shops are decked out in their finest decorations, Christmas songs are playing from every speaker, we've had the Christmas party and Santa has already made more than one appearance in preparation for the big day.  And honestly?  It just feels totally weird.  As a pom I do not associate summer with Christmas so with the weather hotting up I'm all in a flap.  I used to be the Christmas queen back in England, putting the tree up exactly 12 days before Christmas, opening my advent calendar, making minced pies.  Here I just don't feel the need because Christmas no longer feels the same.  I don't even have a tree.  I'm not sure if that's sad or just an inevitable part of moving half way around the world.  Perhaps I'll have to come up with some new Christmas traditions that fit with my new home.  Seasonal hamburgers perhaps.  A Christmas cozzie?  I suppose that's one thing about all this rain - it reminds me of England!