Salt and corrosion

Just for the record: Australia's political war drums have started again. Could we be looking at our seventh Prime Minister since 2010? It won't happen before February (Parliament has shut down for summer), so we've got all of January to watch this mess unfold. The May election to end this nonsense can't come soon enough.

It is that time of year again, f-list. Time for my annual Barbara Cartland book! This year: the nonsensical tale of a Marquis and his... very unusual wife.

A Very Unusual Wife: The watch list
Orphaned heroine with unusual name: Not orphaned - in possession of two parents and three siblings, in fact - but cursed with the name Elmina (her siblings are Mirabel, Deirdre and Desmond, which are at least actual names).
Who — speaks with — Shatner-esque pauses: Yes, of course. "Can I do — that?" Also afflicted with this problem is Lady Sapphire Carstairs, her rival in love: "Who is this — fortunate girl who is to marry the most — attractive man in — the whole world?"
Who lives with her titled uncle: No, it's her father, the Earl of Warnborough, which is not pronounced how you think it is.
And his unsympathetic wife: In this case, her mother, whose worst fault seems to be an old-fashioned taste in dresses.
Absurdly named hero with aristocratic title: Alston, the Marquis of Falcon, who is "the most consequential as well as the most exciting man in the entire neighbourhood".
Female friends of heroine: Two sisters, who seem all right, and one male friend/groom/karate teacher, Chang.
Male friends of hero who seem more pleasant than he does: The Marquis isn't too bad, as these chaps go, but he does have a nice friend, Major Charles Marriott.
Hero and heroine united in shared love of a dog: No, it's horses this time, specifically an Arab mare called Shalom.
Act of vengeance by a bitter former servant: None.
Heroine requires rescue from: Being kidnapped by French horse thieves.
Duels fought: Chang and the Marquis do karate on the horse thieves.
Book ends with one of the pair recovering in bed: Elmina, after nearly being shot during the kidnapping.
What the heroine believes the hero's lips give her when they kiss at the end: As the sun rose, they were part of it and its burning glory swept through them.
Diamond-studded snuff boxes mentioned: None.
Heroine inwardly approves of the hero's champagne-coloured pantaloons: No, it's white riding breeches this time. Also: his nightshirt: "... with the frills round his silk nightshirt high against his neck almost like a cravat and the red of his robe accentuated by the darkness of his hair, he looked, she thought, almost as if he had stepped out of a picture."
Sample stilted dialogue:
"I hope you will enjoy this champagne, Falcon. It's a brand that was recommended to me years ago by King George when he was on the throne."
"He was certainly reputed to be a great connoisseur of wine," the Marquis said conversationally.

(Note that the Marquis spends a lot of his chapters thinking about how boring conversations at Queen Victoria's court are, and, I mean, if that's an example of his own conversation, he's not helping the problem.)

( This book, f-list )

1. Australian politics has self-immolated again. I can't even begin to describe the current nonsense. Let's just say we're about to have our sixth prime minister since 2010 (or fifth, as one of them did it twice). Perhaps we could try not having a government for a while. I think the sun would still rise.

2. News from my mother, part I
"He's auditioned to go on Pointless as he had such a good time on something called Dating In Your Undies."

3. Some brief information in order to set up the next part
My mother's brother died last year. His wife, Ann, is carer for her elderly mother, with no help from her sisters. Ann went on holiday to Greece a couple of weeks ago, which necessitated putting her mother in a temporary respite home as none of the sisters would take her. While Ann was away, her mother died. My mother went to the funeral on Tuesday.

4. News from my mother, part II
"I said to Ann, did you get home in time to see her? And Ann said, no, she got home yesterday and only found out last night that the old lady had died. The sisters hadn't called her to tell her. Ann had been thinking of having an extra night in Singapore and just as well she didn't, she would have missed the funeral all together. I mean, what a family."

5. On dodging a bullet
Earlier in the year, I was interviewed for a job that I really wanted, corporate services manager at a not-for-profit shelter, but never heard back from them. Rude! Anyway, my weekly quiz team includes a journalist from the local paper. He said to me last week, "You dodged a bullet there. You know the CEO who interviewed you? She's apparently done a runner, not turning up to work, not answering calls, and the woman who got your job is stuck running the show."

6. Update on some things I hadn't reported in the first place
We now have a working oven and a new letterbox.

Australia's word of the year has been announced. It's actually two words: democracy sausage. It's a sausage that you eat when you go to vote. We're not a sophisticated people. Every news item mentioning this has illustrated it with footage from this year's federal election, in which the Opposition Leader bites a sausage in the middle instead of starting at the end like a normal person. And that's why he lost the election. (Although it's not as weird as our former Prime Minister eating a raw onion like an apple.)

A few months ago I was in Spotlight (a craft chain store), and on the way to the checkouts I had to pass the sale shelves. One shelf had a white ceramic trinket dish with an owl on it. I had no need for a white ceramic owl trinket dish, but it was the only one, and it was so dusty and unloved looking I bought it.

( Owl )

Today I was in the supermarket and I went down the seasonal promotion aisle, which is all Christmas stuff right now. Amidst all the baubles and whatnot there was a mug. Just one mug. A sort of bear with a scarf, twice as big as a normal mug. It had such a hopeful expression on its little face. But I have no need of giant bear mugs, so I passed it by.

A few aisle later I realised I'd forgotten something, so I had to go back down that aisle. This time I noticed that the giant bear mug with the hopeful face really was the only mug there. It didn't even have a price label on the shelf like all the other things. But I have no need of giant bear mugs, so I passed it by.

Then I spent the rest of my shopping trip brooding over that mug, hoping some other person would appreciate its hopeful little face. But who would that be? Who else would anthropomorphise a mug as much as me?

So I bought it. Look at its hopeful little face!

( Mug )

Apparently I am a sucker for lonely ceramics.

Our Prime Minister, honestly. Last year, in response to precisely no demands, he re-started the practice of creating knights and dames. Yesterday was Australia Day* and to mark the occasion, he knighted Prince Philip. I assume he did this because he couldn't dame the Queen.

Back in the real world, painting is proceeding at... maybe not at full steam, but definitely at some steam. They start at 7:30 in the morning and finish at 3:30, without stopping for lunch, which I find extraordinary. I need lunch.

They bring a radio with them and the head painter likes to sing along. This morning while I was having breakfast he was stirring paint under the patio singing along with Bruce Springsteen's "I'm on fire", but the only line he knew was, 'Ooh-ooh-ooh, I'm on fire'. So Bruce would sing about the freight train running through the middle of his head, and the painter would chip in about how he was on fire. Then at the end, he whispered, 'I'm. On. FIRE!' to the paint, sounding as though he should be doing jazz hands. I don't know if Mr Springsteen finishes the song like that when he performs it in concert, but he should consider it. It was just what was needed.

A few people on my f-list have been doing that 10 day challenge meme, which I have enjoyed reading. Here's the start of mine, fashionably late:

The 10 Day Challenge

Day 1 - Ten random facts about yourself
Day 2 - Nine things you do everyday
Day 3 - Eight things that annoy you
Day 4 - Seven fears/phobias
Day 5 - Six songs that you’re addicted to
Day 6 - Five things you can’t live without
Day 7 - Four memories you won’t forget
Day 8 - Three words you can’t go a day without
Day 9 - Two things you wish you could do
Day 10 - One person you can trust

1. When I was little, I would find a long stick, put one end on the ground and the other in my belly-button, and walk around the garden. This was tremendous fun (I was a sad and lonely child, yes), until I hit a bump and the stick pushed back. It's a great game, and I urge you all to play it. I take no responsibility if it disembowels you.

( And nine more, just as thrilling )


* Was I made Australian of the Year? No, I was not.

Today's heading may be my favourite palindrome of all.

I have hurt my knee. Hmph.

This is delightful: an artist reinterprets children's drawings.

There was a baby in today's paper called Zariyah, sister of Zakary, Alexzander and Kaszidee. Their parents must be bees. (I am fairly sure I noted the birth of young Kaszidee a few years back. I remember the names, at any rate.)

I am quite proud of my mother today. She said to me, 'I got a phone call from a man called Bruce who said he was from a computer shop and that he had been monitoring my computer and needed to check it for errors. I said to him, "Bruce, I think you're telling me porkie pies," and he said no, it was true and my computer wasn't secure, so I said, "Bruce, I don't have a computer, I get my daughter to do all that for me," and he hung up.'

She does have a computer, so she was, in fact, telling Bruce porkie pies too. I told her that was very well done and she agreed, saying, 'If he calls again, I hope you're here, and we can string him along for ages.' Some mothers and daughters go shopping together for fun; we are apparently going to take up wasting phone scammers' time. It's good to have a hobby.

Today's big news (as in actual news, not what passes for news in my sad life) is the retirement of Australian Greens leader, Bob Brown, one of the few Australian politicians I've got any respect for at the moment. Before entering politics, he was a prominent environmental campaigner; he was Australia's first Green parliamentarian and first openly gay politician; and, as a young doctor working in London, was one of the emergency room staff who worked on Jimi Hendrix the night he died. Also, in the 70s, he looked hot while rafting. So that's a life. Anyway, I think he's pretty awesome and wish him luck with his future endeavours.

( Bring the monkey )

I went to the library today. There was a class of very small school children being shown around. The librarian said, 'What can't you do in the library, can anyone tell me?' and their teacher mimed running, so one little girl put up her hand and said, 'You can't run.'

'That's right! And what else can't you do?' The teacher put her finger to her mouth in a helpful 'shh' gesture. One boy took the hint and gave the answer we were all thinking: 'No headbutting.'

Today's election update: while waiting a result, please enjoy this intermission. This man is now one of the most powerful men in Australia. Savour this.



Here's what he had to say about helping to form a government: Many times I've gone to bed as a cockle doodle doo and woke up the next morning as a feather duster - this might be one of those times. Perfect sense.

For comparison, this is the campaign advertisement for the party he used to belong to: ( Cut from very similar cloth )

'You know how some trousers have small pockets?' asked my mother this morning. 'Well... these don't.' And she plunged her hands in her pockets halfway to her elbows and beamed at me. I don't know. It made me laugh. And she'll be able to keep a lot of tissues in them, so everyone's happy.

Yesterday I read a suggestion that interesting effects could be obtained by taking a photo with the camera looking through the view finder of another camera, as a way of putting old cameras to use now we no longer buy film for them. So here is a photo of a plant in my garden this morning, taken with my digital camera:


( And here's one I prepared earlier )

Tomorrow (Saturday) is election day. I love election day. Even when I was little, I used to like going with my mother to the Purnim Primary School to watch her vote, although that was partly because I went to the town's Catholic primary school and enjoyed the chance to see how the other side lived. They didn't have a tennis court, but they did have a slide and a giant Rainbow Snake painted on their shelter shed wall, which seemed to even things out. (Incidentally, tabouli, I'm from Purnim. You're thinking of Panmure, a nearby but quite different place.)

Last election day I voted and then went a baptism followed by a celebratory barbecue, during which the child's mother said she felt personally affronted that the election was called for the same day as the baptism because it was Such An Effort to find fifteen minutes to go and vote during this busy, busy day, and the people near her agreed that, yes, voting is such a burden. And I looked around and thought, why am I friends with these people again? I was glad to get home and turn the election coverage on. (I was no fan of the then-Prime Minister, John Howard, but even I couldn't blame him for not taking into account my friends' baby's baptism when planning the election date).

The City by the Sea is in what used to be the third-safest seat in the country, in favour of the Liberal (that's our conservative party) Party (the electorate is Wannon, if my Australian f-listers want a personal connection while you're watching the call of the board - and do tell me your seat too). For my entire childhood, our local member was also the Prime Minister, Malcolm Fraser. I met him and his wife on a school trip to look at seaweed once; they lived nearby and were just walking on the beach and stopped to chat with us. Best school trip ever! Since he retired the seat has been held by the world's beigest man, who has steadily been losing support, so Wannon is now only a middle-range safe seat. He's retiring this election, and while it's likely his personally picked replacement will get in, there is a chance to at least make the seat marginal, ensuring we get more attention. The electorate next to us, Corangamite, is one of the most marginal in the country, and we have watched, dismayed, as every major politician from the Prime Minister down has visited Corangamite this campaign and promised them all sorts of funding, completely ignoring us. Even senior members of the local Liberal party have written letters to today's paper urging people not to vote Liberal as part of the local Make Wannon Marginal campaign. Which is fine with me, because I wasn't going to vote for them anyway. My natural inclination is to vote for the Greens (and they will get my Senate vote), but the local Greens representative is vague and unimpressive, so I have decided to vote for one of the independent candidates. Big decision.

Australia has a new Prime Minister, only this time... it's a woman. Gosh. It's like living in the future. I'm not one to say 'yay, she's a woman' just because she's a woman (because, eg, Margaret Thatcher), but 'yay, Julia Gillard seems to know what she's doing and I would vote for her *and* she's a woman' just about covers it.

I just hope that her cloak of Prime Ministership gives her protection from the most senior woman on the other side of politics, Deputy Opposition Leader Julie Bishop. I wouldn't vote for Bishop in a pink fit, but credit where it is due: she has an ( awesome death stare )

Anyway, this has all come as a bit of a surprise. Prime Ministers don't normally get taken down by their own parties, and leadership contests are always preceded by weeks of speculation, but this happened over the last twenty-four hours. The Prime Ministerial band-aid was ripped off Kevin Rudd quickly, if not painlessly. I like Julia, but I'm also sorry to see Kevin go. He cried as he was leaving and apologised for 'blubbering'. His term got off to such a good start with his official apology to the Stolen Generations (Aboriginal people who were taken from their parents by the state), but then he got lost. It just goes to show: you can't lead a country if your name is Kevin.

Birth notice of note in today's paper: Kaszidee, sister of Zakary and Alexzander. I think they're a family of bees.

I've been having fun playing with Gapminder this afternoon. I now know that Luxembourg has the best teeth in the world, and that Equatorial Guinea has a considerably higher average income per person than South Africa. I do love a good graph. One of the example graphs on the site shows life expectancy against family size: put on the time tracker and watch life expectancy rise and family size shrink. What's really startling watching that graph is every now and then one country's bubble plummets like a falling star as its life expectancy drops: Cambodia, Timor-Leste, Rwanda.

Also, I don't like the look of the beta profile page. Just in case anyone was wondering.

For those who are interested, the case of the chair-sniffing politician continues: here is a full description of the infamous incident, which turns out to be even more peculiar than it sounded in the first place. As a result of the sniff and his subsequent weepy confession, his leadership came under scrutiny and he narrowly survived a party vote to maintain his position. Other people have now come forward suggesting that there are still more dubious events to come to light. Oh, good.

I got another postcard from Patrick and Daniel today. Still no specific mention of what it's advertising, but part of the message ("Lucky we had broadband on board!") makes me suspect my ISP, which phoned me recently in an attempt to make me sign up for mobile broadband. So that was a dull resolution to my mystery mail.