Salt and corrosion

Last day of the month, which means a late evening at work for me, running reports and rolling over variables once everyone else is done. Tonight I finished in time for The Masked Singer (Australian version), which is, unexpectedly, my mother's new favourite show. It is so unlike her, but then, it is weirdly hypnotic. Because it is filmed in Melbourne, currently under stage 4 restrictions, they are really leaning into the masks this year: not just the singers, but the backing dancers, the crew, the host (sometimes). The "audience" consists of stuffed toys and crew members dressed in animal costumes. One of the masked singers is a terrifying giant ventriloquist's dummy. It's like watching a fever dream. I keep thinking of when you see clips of old TV shows and wonder in amazement at what passed for entertainment back then, and how future generations are going to think the same about this. I don't think saying, "Well, there was a pandemic," is really going to explain it.

Anyway, they have had to halt production of it for a few weeks, as despite all the masks some of the dancers have tested positive to Covid-19. And because it is a self-aware show, I am 99% certain when they come back, someone is going to have to perform "Ironic".

I won't finish the book I'm currently reading tonight, so I can do this now:

August books read

* Underland - Robert Macfarlane (2019) ★ ★ ★ ★
( Read more... )

* The Man Who Didn't Fly - Margot Bennett (1955) ★ ★ ★
( Read more... )

* The Unquiet Dead - Ausma Zehanat Khan (2017) ★ ★ ★
( Read more... )

* The Poisoned Chocolates Case - Anthony Berkeley (1929) ★ ★ ★ ★
( Read more... )

* The Near Witch - VE Schwab (2011) ★ ★
( Read more... )

LiveJournal sent out that ten year challenge notice last week, reminding me that ten years ago I was (wait for it) complaining about the heat. So... not much has changed. Today's paper reminded me I had good cause to be complaining about the heat ten years ago, this being the tenth anniversary of the Black Saturday bushfires, the most fatal fires in Australian history. Ten years. Kevin Rudd was still Prime Minister then, so that's five Prime Ministers ago. And now I'm second on the list at the library for a book about them.

The fires were much further north and east than the City by the Sea, but a local couple — actually a woman my mother used to work with — had family in that area and lost their son, daughter-in-law and two grandchildren. Kevin Rudd made a secret visit to the City by the Sea to meet them in private afterwards. My mother's friend described him as really lovely, which is not something you often hear about Kevin, so good for him.

Late last year, I read an interview with an executive from Amazon, wondering why Australians hadn't taken up their Black Friday sales in the sort of numbers they expected. Well, one, we don't celebrate American Thanksgiving, so Black Friday sales have no historical meaning for us; and two, days labelled as Black tend to signify to us that something terrible happened occurred on it. Disaster, not bargains. I mean, learn your local market, dude.

This week I watched an episode of Grand Designs New Zealand while I was making dinner. The couple was attempting to recreate some historic 1800s homestead the wife had admired as a child. Well, that's what the wife was doing. Her husband was just going along with it. Anyway, they recreated this house and filled it with period furniture and did it all well under budget. And it was nice. Not to my taste, but it looked exactly like the house they were copying and it was what they wanted, so good on them, right? No. Not at all. The host asked them if they were happy with it, and the husband was, but the wife... not so much. What's the problem?, asked the host. She was unhappy with the local building restrictions that meant her ceilings weren't as high as the ones in the original house, and the left wing of the house had to be several metres shorter, and she wasn't allowed to use the heritage-listed wood that the original was built out of. So they had bought another block of land and were going to build the same design all over again. That's when I added her to my mental list of "irritating people on Grand Designs whose houses I hope fall down". And they live in New Zealand, so that actually might happen next time there's an earthquake.

This weekend I have been struck with some sort of minor bug. A sniffly nose and heavy eyes that just won't stay open. Not sick exactly but aware that's something's not quite right, and I can't remember what it's like not to feel like this. I feel like I'm going to be mildly peaky forever.

I'm watching an ancient episode of Inspector Morse. (How old? Elizabeth Hurley is playing a school girl!) I find it hard to believe that the chap from Endeavour is going to grow up to be John Thaw. Or, I suppose, since I'm watching the older man, I find it hard to believe that he used to be the chap from Endeavour.

Anyway, if you ever feel you might be trapped in a murder mystery, here is how to survive: always greet people by name. If you just say, "Oh, it's you," you will be murdered. That's all you need to do to be safe as houses.

Weekly knitting update: ( More than it looks like )

Weekly update:
The past few winters have been lean for whale viewing, but the City by the Sea is having a bumper whale season this year. There are apparently ten southern right whales in the bay — three mothers with their calves, and four singles — and a humpback. I didn't see that many when I went out to the viewing platform this week, but I did see quite a few. Tails splashing, heads poking out of the water, the works. Not just floating rocks, which is what they normally look like.

I've spent most of the week writing an essay for my final MBA subject. As a fun getting-to-know-you exercise, the professor had us all do a Myers-Briggs test that gave us our personality types as fictional characters. My result was INTJ, the Mastermind, which is what I always get. And my fictional doppelgängers? Michael Corleone (The Godfather), House (House), Walter White (Breaking Bad), Peter Baelish and Tywin Lannister (A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones), and Skeletor (Masters of the Universe). Am I... am I evil?

Weekly Masterchef update:
- Your ice-cream lacked intensity... and there was no foam.
- That crumb was blonde and... undercooked.
- Your duck skin wasn't crispy and the texture of the meat just... wasn't right.
- We loved the flavour of that black sesame ice-cream, but the mandarin syrup was... too bitter.

Weekly knitting update:
None. I was too busy writing that essay to do much else. But I've written ABSOLUTELY POSITIVELY MUST SEW ON BUTTONS on my things to do list this coming week.

This week:
1. Spongebob Quizpants came second. We are creeping up slowly.

2. Someone on Masterchef served up coriander ice-cream. That's a big bowl of nope.

3. I went to Melbourne for the National Gallery's annual winter blockbuster, which this year is Van Gogh and the Seasons. The paintings were superb, of course, but they really needed to rethink the layout. To enter you had to go through a narrow, zigzagging walkway. I think it was supposed to be like walking down an alley, which would have been fine, except they don't stagger the number of people who can go in at once anymore, so the alley was packed. And it was even worse in the little room they had for each season: still a lot of people, and they don't prohibit photography now, so people were taking photos of the works from oblique angles. So I was hot and crushed and grumpy and not inclined to linger.

On the other hand, when I was a teen, I had a print of Wheat Field with Cypresses on my wall, and it was lovely to meet it in person. I treated myself to a reusable grocery bag printed with it in the gift shop later. No glasses cleaning cloths like they had for Degas last year. I wonder if Van Gogh would be pleased about that or not.

Next week: Monday will my last day at work. Again. I feel oddly flat about it this time round.

Weekly knitting update: ( First band in progress )

I don't want to suggest it was a slow news day here in the City by the Sea, but the local paper featured an interview with a woman who has two dishwashers.

My mother was watching Selling Houses earlier. It's a show in which people who want to sell their houses call in a team of experts to fancy them up a bit first. Tonight's couple who wanted to sell their unit on the Gold Coast were... really in need of the expert assistance. Their unit had been on the market for three months and in all that time it hadn't occurred to them to mow the lawn to make the garden look tidy. I mean, that's basic stuff, house sellers! Anyway, at some point, they had decided to give their bathroom a bit of a makeover. When they bought the place, the bathroom walls were "a sort of yellowy-green colour". Did they paint those walls? No. Did they tile those walls? No. ( What did they do? )

I saw two bats flying overhead tonight. Or maybe it was the same bat twice. It's hard to tell with bats.

(Honestly, sometimes people in television shows are just too stupid to live.)

I have had a couple of wobbly moments this week when I wondered if I'd remembered to tell someone at work something. After twelve years it's hard to let go. "They're grown-ups, they'll work it out," said my mother, which made me ask myself why I am reluctant to let it go. Is it because I want to help, or because I want them to remember me as helpful?

It dawned on me that all my appointments and stuff were in my work's Outlook calendar. I have a diary, but I like having reminders pop up. So I spent some time this week setting up the calendar on my Mac, which I've never bothered with before. I've also started a complete spring clean. First stop, emptying my handbag. I've been too stressed to empty my receipts and such the last few months, and that has made me even more stressed. I like a neat bag. Next, the magazines that have been piling up over the last couple of months.

On Friday I went to the first day of the City by the Sea's annual three-day Agricultural Show. That's an odd experience. It was a huge deal when I was a kid, but it's shrinking. I spent a lot of time there thinking how to make it better. I don't think they advertise it enough, and they have a lot of competition now with regular local markets. Still, there are so many people who grow things and make things, there should be way more entries in the gardening and cooking pavilions.

I watched a section of the showjumping. It's funny how quickly you can think yourself an expert. The first rider went round in 41 seconds; the second in 44. How good was that first rider? The third rider went round in 38 seconds; how good was she? The fourth went round in 45 seconds; what a slow coach! Then the next riders completely threw my established ideas out the window, as they all did 37 or 38. Number three didn't even place in the end, and she was my early pick. Hmph.

On Saturday my mother and I went round the bay to Port Fairy. I wanted to go to the spice shop, and she wanted to catch up with her friend Sue. The pair of them run a biannual quilting camp there, and they're in the thick of organising it for next week. I had a very peppery pepper steak pie. They did not lie about that pie.

Today I emptied the compost bin and dug it into the vegetable patch, and put together a 3D apple puzzle that I've had sitting in my cupboard for ages. Look! It looks just like an apple:


This week's knitting photo: ( Back view )

(My mother is watching some sort of variety show and just described a troupe of shirtless male dancers as "the Poldark dancers", which made me laugh.)

Heavens. After the dullest election campaign ever, the result turned out to be quite the opposite. There may or may not be a change of government. We don't know, and we won't know until at least tomorrow, maybe longer. So that's a bit of fun. It's an interesting change, with a swing to the left in the House, a swing to the feral in the Senate and the beginnings of the two-party system breaking down. Cue the outraged bleatings of the Murdoch commentariat.

I have thoughts about our embattled Prime Minister, Malcolm Bligh Turnbull. Born to be President, but, sadly, also born in a constitutional monarchy. He'd have been a good President, I think. Less successful as a party politician, and I think part of his problem is that he isn't the man we all thought he could be. But we should have known how it would turn out. Look at his middle name. He's named — seriously — after William "Mutiny on the Bounty" Bligh. Doomed by nominative determinism.

I forgot to take my weekly knitting photo yesterday, so here it is from this morning:
( in weirdly saturated colour )

I saw the end of Masterchef tonight and it apparently involved a meat lamington? I may have misheard that.

I am not watching every episode of Masterchef Australia this year, but every episode I have watched has involved someone making miso caramel. At least two people have mentioned it tonight. It is obviously this year's dish à la mode.

I heard sirens the other evening, sounding like they were down by the river. That's never good. The morning revealed the delightful truth, that a gentleman, possibly (in fact, very probably) under the influence of alcohol and/or drugs, had stolen a car from somewhere and driven it to the City by the Sea. With the City by the Sea's finest hot on his tail, he drove to the river mouth. You can't drive any further than the river mouth, obviously, so he was cornered. No, he wasn't! He stole a boat.

I say "he stole a boat" and what do you imagine? Perhaps this bold gentleman is in a little motor boat? Is it a yacht? Perhaps that local chap who built a galleon in his garden had moored in the river? No. He stole a rowing boat. He rowed to freedom!

No, he didn't. He rowed to the middle of the river and – and here we quote the local paper – "taunted the police".

I mean, they arrested him in the end, but thank you, good sir, for being entertaining beforehand.)

(One of the contestants on Masterchef has by-passed miso caramel. She's making beetroot caramel. No, thanks, I'll pass.)

Knit Every Day in May is drawing to a close. The cardigan isn't. ( Progress this week )

(One of the judges on Masterchef has just said that if he had the ingredients in today's mystery box, he would make sweet corn custard and miso caramel. Are they... Is that... I thought sweet corn custard was a sauce. Like, for meat. Could you serve a bowl of it with caramel? Well, I suppose you *could*, but would you?)

My mother's former neighbours rang this morning with worrying news. Someone broke into their garden overnight, gave their dogs bones, then broke into their garden shed. The dogs are fine and nothing was taken. "But they wondered if someone was after something to break into John's house," said my mother. So she went out to John's and had a look, but nothing had been disturbed.

I am trying to talk her into getting one of those automated light switch turner-onners, but unsuccessfully so far.

* * * * *
I think it has been years since the fashion page of the weekend magazine has been anything other than wearable. Not necessarily wearable by me, mind, but certainly capable of being worn by tall, thin people without attracting the derision of passersby. Today, though, was a return to form with five ways to wear a pair of shorts. Four of them were fine. One... wasn't. Just look at the model's face. Those eyes are saying, "This was not my idea. I know it looks horrible. DON'T BLAME ME."

( No. )

* * * * *
Actual line spoken by Inspector Barnaby in last night's repeat of Midsomer Murders:

"All nuns look alike in the dark."