Posts Tagged ‘Rod Steward’

Mr Vlad. Putin cummen all toot’n for ‘n root’n to Brisbane.

September 22, 2014

images G20

It hasn’t been confirmed but I have it from an unconventional peanut sauce that Putin is coming to Australia’s sunny Brisbane. He was after all invited to the G20, and as most of those coming here are rogues and thieves, it was thought, nay welcomed, he might as well join the tribe of merrrimen and merriwomen. A huge table made from finely hand hewn Eucalypt and French polished with a mixture of gumnut and wombat faeces is now on its edge getting all those little alarm buttons fitted, just in case someone unexpectedly says …boo or, in extreme cases, says..poo. In that case machine-gun toting marshals will drop down with the help of long coiled up ropes (unexpectedly) from the Candela-bras high up, jump on the huge table, say stick’ em up, and shoot blue-berry muffins at the perpetrators.

The meat pies are already on high alert, lamingtons are now in lock-down mode behind reinforced glass counters and Morton Bay oysters have been told to practise coitus interrupt us. (just in case) On previous occasions, many male oysters committed mortal sins by leaving their mass before communion, hoping to avoid an oversupply of little baby oysters… Strictly, a no no in their neck of the salty environs. It is so difficult being a pious girl oyster.

I remember many decades ago, going to a very ‘in’ and ‘up’ market restaurant/ nightclub. The place where one could expect Rod Steward or a fake Elvis to pop in. Ladies were sitting at the bar smoking from elegant cigarette holders. It was during a period where women had their hair held back with large Rhino horned combs. They would blow out smoke and at the same time scan the diners making an or having their entrĂ©e.

I was with H and wearing a wine-red safari suit with a huge belt, not around my pants but around the jacket, that looked like phoney gold.(it was), but at least it gave me a bit of shine (where there was none). H was pure Scandinavian and so honestly told me I looked totally nerdy. Could I refrain from speaking at the dinner table, please?

nr two

Anyway, I was so nervously unsettled. All the expense which started off with a taxi and a generous tip. The first course was ‘ spinach stuffed oyster’ which were so expensive I developed an immediately headache. I mean stuffed oysters? I had a main dish of pigeons guaranteed to have been bred with reckless abandon high on the Southern Highlands but with a nervous disposition, making them extra lean.

There was so little sustenance in that meal I had to take a pain-killer while sitting on the toilet, reflecting also what a huge mistake it was to try and join the ‘in it folk.’ I left hungry but relieved we got out of the place.

I remember the nightclub/restaurant was called ‘Rogues’.

First we take Manhattan.(More of the Same, Thank you).

February 16, 2014

untitledManhattan

It’s odd that, even though the choices are supposed to be endless, we usually end up doing the same. What is the compulsion to be driven by the security of routine? I sleep, wake up, and make coffee. The choice could well be to not get up and wait for H to make my coffee. I could also just stay in bed and read or stare at the window, listen to the radio. ( I haven’t listened properly to a radio for years!)

I sometimes switch on the radio which is cemented solid on the ABC’s channel of classical music but within minutes switch it off again. The noise in the morning even of classical music is too much. Peace and quiet, especially in the mornings needs to be observed and maintained. Talk about maintaining the status quo and lauding ‘choice’? Even Chopin’s tingling on the piano before 10am is an intrusion on the sounds of birds and lovely stillness.

We sometimes break the rule, and especially after a couple of reds at night might put on the revolutionary Leonard Cohen’s ” First we take Manhattan,” or the schmaltzy Rod’s “I am sailing.” We play this loudly. Never mind the neighbours. They are in bed at 9pm. Can you believe it?

Why do people go to bed so early in Australia? I remember my teen years in the suburbs, never a light on after 9pm. What do people do so early in bed. Perhaps I have been mistaken. The place might well have been a cess-pit of unbridled lust, riddled and rocked with passion and sexual fever. Who knows? I doubt it though. It always puzzled me how people could spend so much time tending to a lawn. Hours, days, weeks on knees pulling out unwanted and different specimens of grasses! Oh, the pains of getting the perfect lawn.

But going back to routine. I could also have the choice of having a cup-o-tea with a cloud of milk with a coconut biscuit or a hot chocolate. Alas, I don’t, and I must therefore be firmly in the grip of routine. Yet, I have always prided and preached the sermon to others that we have freedom to change and really do what we like. Life is too short to not try out all sorts of things. Just jig about and do a quick step on the dance-floor of the available years ahead, I would advice. These are still my exhortations to others. There just seems to be a whiff of my usual hypocritism about it all.

As I was pondering about all this prior to getting out of bed, I felt a surge and need to do things differently this morning. “Let’s go for breakfast”, I stated bravely to my dear H. There is a shop around the corner and they have installed a lovely nook for those in need of early coffee and breakfasts.

It all looks very Italian and not at all the usual Aussie-Anglo stuff with muffins and doilies, drinking tea with little finger pointed forwards, toast and honey, stirring the sugar clockwise without tinkling the spoon, elbow raised perpendicular to the body. All this consumed by long married couples in utter silence.

No, this place has early morning laughter and shouting. “let’s go and make noise, have a focaccia Genovese, or maritozzo with whipped cream with Sardinia fried crepes with pecorino cheese and honey with Campanian sfogliatelle afterwards”, I said loudly. (I was hoping to impress my H, just having googled Italian Breakfasts.) “Let’s peruse the news, talk to people and do it differently this morning.”

A change of routine is like a visit to the doctor…