À la recherche du temps perdu

Recently I reorganised my rather overcrowded bedroom and ended up moving a whole lot of my favourite books to put them within easier reach (and at risk of falling on my head as I sleep...). Having moved the enormous, framed print that had previously inhabited the head of the bed to the end of the dining room table, there was suddenly room for more books in the bedroom.

Mmm...

Current favourites include:

> William H Prescott's The History of the Conquest of Peru, which is also giving my slightly-remembered Spanish a workout with footnotes, etc and is generally enjoyable.

> Great Short Stories of the World, compiled by Barret Clark and Maxim Lieber. My grandparents owned this originally, and I ended up inheriting it. There are some truly unusual stories in it, but a lot of great ones too.

> Bram Stoker's Dracula. I read it first when I was about 11 or so and wasn't all that impressed by it, but a few months ago, it came free with some other classics so I figured it was time to sink my teeth into it again. Better than I remembered.

> Status Anxiety by Alain de Botton (mmm, sexynerdy), which I've just started to read for about the fourth time. Must buy The Architecture of Happiness, which is one of those books you see when they first come out and think, "Oooh, I'll get it next time" about. And then keep forgetting. Or it's not in stock when you're next there. Kind of glad I didn't read The Art of Travel, as I found I utterly and completely enjoyed my holidays in June without realising the possibilities of disorientation, mid-afternoon despair or lethargy before ancient ruins...

> Although I love all of the Chronicles of Narnia by CS Lewis, The Magician's Nephew and The Silver Chair have been ones I've enjoyed re-reading lately.

> The Oxford Book of English Verse, edited by Aruther Quiller-Couch (more of a perennial favourite, really).

Admittedly, I read too many "old" books. But it can be hard to find a good-quality "new" book. I have an unending amount of contempt for "chick lit," which seems to be what many book stores believe everyone wants. Either that or it's some pretentious long-winded drivel (if I want that, I can blog ;). Or crime novels, of which I had my fill by the age of 16 or so.

I guess it's just time to really browse through a well-stocked bookshop and discover what's on offer. Maybe explore some more Australian literature. After all, you can always give books away if you don't like them yourself. Even though books I buy tend to get to stay even if I dislike them, and they spend their days crammed into a bookshelf and often never looked at again.

^ The clouds yesterday afternoon.

I have returned to blogging... After being away being uninspired to write anything. Plus the weather has been fantastic, I've been busy with family things and birthdays, life has been life. Plus there's been things to burn in the yard. Always fun. Especially when pebbles that like to explode when heated are lurking in the leaves.

Hmmm...

*cue musical interlude*

Apparently I've run out of inspiration to write anything again for my blog. Bleh. You can just imagine the winding-down-gramophone sound for yourselves there.

Random photos from the weekend.

Huzzah!

Savage Chickens. My (new) favourite!

Yarp...

Much as I love Hot Fuzz, it's really not the best idea to be eating strawberry jelly when you see the scene that features Tim Messenger's demise (inspired as it may be). Look at the screen, look down at the spoon with jelly on it, let your eyes wander down to the bowl and the slick, red jelly...

Eww.

*shudder* You know that tummy flip-flop feeling.

Suddenly don't want jelly any more. But then it is rather late at night to be having jelly, so perhaps it's for the best.

DS Andy Wainwright: You do know there are more guns in the country than there are in the city.
DS Andy Cartwright: Everyone and their mums is packin' round here
Nicholas Angel: Like who?
DS Andy Wainwright: Farmers.
Nicholas Angel: Who else?
DS Andy Cartwright: Farmers' mums.

Oh noes!

I just broke my spork!

Well, not so much broke as melted it.

*insert shocked, horrified look*

Now... As you were.

Hmm...

Uninspired to write anything lately for the blog.

It's my birthday soon and maybe the lack of desire to write anything for my blog is indicative of a nearly-quarterlife crisis. Meh. That would require effort and be cliche (is everyone else sick of "Oh noes! WTF am I going to do with my life? I'm in my 20s and it's sooooooo hard! I know! I'll write on MySpazz about how hard it is." movies and books and stuff, too?).

So maybe I'll get inspired and thing of something to write about something. I mean, what's there to say about politics at the moment, other than it's getting ridiculous now with the scent of a possible November election in the wind, the stupid "WorkChoices is great so shuddupayourface" ads being put on by business, all the rubbish about "Ooh, it's the fault of the States!" when even people who aren't economically-minded can see that's a stupid argument... It's all just so silly.

Other than that, it's still winter, there's still loads of work to be done and I really should plan ahead for something exciting, outrageous, adventurous and so on for the next birthday I have.

After all, that one will be the quarter of a century thing.

In other thoughts, the "Ice Mentos" chewy is about as icy as a warm shower. Pffffft. And I really need more sleep. But it was so worth it to stay up late nattering with Amy and laughing so much and so hard my tummy hurt. Yay :D

Pic from lolcats

Fashionizatsiya*

Hmmm... I wonder if they still do those touristy American and Soviet-era border pass stamps by the Brandenburg Gate? And whether they'd take payment in vodka?? I'll have to get Grigor to stop the car and find out...

According to The Age, Mikhail Gorbachev is set to model for Louis Vuitton. And I have to say, I love the idea!

I remember Mr Gorbachev being in power in the USSR when I was little, perhaps only because of the easily-recognisable birthmark on the top of his balding head. The Soviet Union seemed to be in its death throes when he came into power. He was the first leader of Russia to be born after the Revolution and was the architect of glasnost, which helped to pave the way for democratic reform (okay, so there was the failure of uskoreniye...) (and there was also perestroika, which sucked for people and sent the economy into a tailspin and has perhaps allowed organised crime to become what it is today in Russia). But he was a forward thinker in a time when many in his party seemed to want to keep things just as they were.

And then the Berlin Wall fell, which seemed to be the strongest, most symbolic evidence of the end of the Soviet Union and Communism therein. Mr Gorbachev's time as leader ended in turmoil, including an attempted coup in 1991, which was stopped by Boris Yeltsin. That same year, he gave power to Yeltsin and agreed to the disolving of the USSR as of January 1, 1992.

In spite of that and the animosity apparently felt toward him by a number of Russian people - understandable, perhaps, in the face of what happened with perestroika - he's generally well-regarded in the West and always was, even when he was leader of the USSR. He's an obviously intelligent man and the awards he's received are quite well-deserved, really. Plus his environmental focus and desire for sustainable living is great.

So I think it's kind of cool that someone intelligent, with such strong historical connections and future focus, rather than an anonymous model or moderately talented actress, will be featured in the Vuitton ads. Plus the one with Mr Gorbachev is done in Berlin, in front of a section of the Berlin Wall (and I loved going to Berlin - it was funny watching Lola Rennt the other night and thinking, "I've been there! Finally! And I must go back.").

Tennis stars Steffi Graf and Andre Agassi and veteran French actress Catherine Deneuve will also be making appearances in the ads, with the photos taken by Annie Liebovitz. Must keep an eye out for them.

*Fashion meets demokratizatsiya - a slogan introduced by Mr Gorbachev calling for the infusion of democratic elements to be brought into the single-party Communist-run country's government. The world needs more English-Russian crossbreed words...

Mikhail Gorbachev speaking of the Great Wall of China: "It's a very beautiful work, but there are already too many walls between people."

Today while doing the washing up, I had the odd feeling someone was watching me, so I looked up out the kitchen windown. Staring at me from the driveway at the top of the steps is a large, black cat.

I stared back at it.

He slowly walked down the steps and down past the house, out to the back yard. Somehow I was sorely tempted to make rude gestures at it with my hot-pink rubber gloves on.

And all that follows being followed by a big crow yesterday.

Bizarre.

Sto Kalo… Sto Kalo…. Kala Nea na me Feris

This morning as I left the house, a crow flew down out of the trees and landed on the electric wire leading to the house.

It stared at me intently and then flew down and followed me up the driveway then further up the road, eyeballing me the whole way. Although I'm not overly superstitious, I found it unnerving - I wasn't totally sure whether it was thinking the cake I was carrying or I myself would be a tasty meal. Maybe it just liked my entirely black outfit and shiny shoes. Being stalked by a crow isn't the most comforting feeling, even though I generally rather like them.

The whole thing made me think of all kinds of myths and superstitions about crows, most of which seem to relate to death and destruction (and I'd watched Nochnoy Dozor over the weekend).

I discovered that in Greek superstition, crows are seen as omens of bad news, misfortune and death. When you see a crow, you say "Sto Kalo… Sto Kalo…. Kala Nea na me Feris," which apparently means, "Go well into the day and bring me good news." According to English folklore, you should raise your hat to the bird as a sign of respect or greet him cheerfully (so as to avoid insulting it). Either that or cross yourself and say, "Devil, devil, I defy thee."

Wish I'd known those this morning! Although I told a friend about it and he said, "You're evil, you'll be fine." Noice.

If you're interested, you can read more about folklore and superstitions relating to crows at The Raven's Aviary.

One for sorrow, two for mirth,
Three for a wedding, four for a birth,
Five for silver, six for gold,
Seven for a secret not to be told.
Eight for heaven, nine for hell,
And ten for the devil's own sel'.

Flowers from around Droxford.

Jane Austen's house

On our last day in England, we extended the hire for the car so we could potter around the Winchester area for longer (we all loved it there and figured it'd be better than heading back into London, where we'd have gotten to lug around suitcases for the day. Always fun...). So we went to Jane Austen's house in Chawton, which Dad wanted to see.

It was so worth going! The house was rather old and had floors that creaked in the most alarming manner. Apparently there was a creaky floorboard or something just before the room where Jane used to do her work and she didn't want it fixed because it let her know if someone was approaching so she could quickly stash her manuscript.

The gardens there were absolutely gorgeous as well. And there was a plump little robin that followed us around the garden, I think waiting for us to give him food. He'd bob around pecking at insects and then bob back over our way, looking hopeful, then back to the insects when we didn't hand over any bird-worthy snacks.

The government wants to give police and law agencies new secret search powers.

I find this really scary, perhaps because of reading Stasiland and 1984, perhaps because I watched the Cutting Edge program last night called "Spying on the Home Front," perhaps because it seems like rights and freedoms are being stripped away and abused without anyone in the government complaining...

And no, it's not because I'm involved in illegal activities (I think the closest I've come to doing something illegal lately was putting a foot briefly on the seat in front of me in the train while trying to get some balance for drawing and then I remembered it's an offense to do so and quickly removing it - humble apologies to Connex! (but would it kill you to have smoother-running trains??)).

It's because it's draconian and insane and invasive. What are we going to become, Australia? A country where we're encouraged to spy on each other, mistrust everyone and use the "It's maybe a terrorist! Get them!" excuse every time rights are eroded? We're a western democracy. We do not need the secret police.

You can check out other people's thoughts about this on the SMH NewsBlog.

Random ramblings

Are Australians stupid enough to vote for Howard again?

The topic is one that depresses me. Was talking about it with a friend on Friday night and we both concluded it was entirely likely he'd get another term. I was looking at the Oz Politics blog earlier, with stats for how a December election could see a return of the coalition government.

And then I did some technorati poking around concerning the Dr Mohamed Haneef matter.

Not a fan of Bolta, but I found his blog about "Andrews only gets worse" to be kind of interesting. And some of the comments on the blog about how Haneef's guilty until proven innocent and all people should be deported/locked up/etc if they have relatives who do naughty things, how all the bleeding heart lefties will just have to wait 'til the bombs start goin' off in Orrrstraaaaaaaaya... etc makes me think, "Yes, there are still enough people out there who are willing to defend the Howard government to the death over matters that are clearly incorrect, abuses of personal freedoms and locking people up for indefinite periods. Would they feel as comfortable if the same were done to them?"

It seems like there's still a lot of rednecks and racists out there who are willing to believe that someone's a terrorists simply because they are Muslim or of "Arabic appearance." And they'll support the government in doing the same. All the while saying how Kevin Rudd is just as bad for not condemning it - apparently in their mind it makes sense to support the government for their handling of the Haneef thing while being critical of the Labor party for stating they'd reserve judgment until more information was made available (which it still hasn't been, it would seem).

On the other hand, Tim Dunlop's blog entry was pretty good, about the unanswered questions in the Haneef case.

Anyways, away from blogging and in the news, the PM's not going to apologise, saying we're better safe than sorry. Alexander Downer said it showed the system worked well. Kevin Andrews says Dr Haneef's departure to India - following his release from detention and visa cancellation - has heightened suspicions about the doctor's character. This is all in spite of him being cleared of chargers on Friday by the Commonwealth Director of Public Prosecution, Damien Bugg QC (who said that in his view, a mistake had been made). Oh, and the PM's also saying how he's not distancing himself from Andrews following the case (which is probably making a few people recall the Brian Burke "scandal" days) ("No option but to oust the minister" by Hedley Thomas in The Australian).

Andrews is currently making Amanda Vanstone look like a bonza immigration minister, though. Although that said, I kind of liked her somehow. She was a strong individual, had a sense of humour and generally spoke her mind. To restore Haneef's visa would admit Andrews has made a big error. So he's talking about having secret documents, of which he wishes to release "selected" pieces. That doesn't inspire me with much confidence in itself. Perhaps because the government currently never seems to want to say "Sorry" for anything and just try to find some way or another out of doing so.

You don't defeat terrorism by throwing out principles that have been fought for. It's ironic to think that the terrorists work to cause chaos and thus put a curb on exercising personal freedoms, and then in reaction to terrorists, that's just what governments have been doing in regard to the personal freedom side of things. More monitoring, more desires to ban things, more laws to take away freedoms... (Just to be absolutely clear, terrorism is very wrong and there do need to be protections in place, but not those that come at the expense of the innocent - hiding the abuse of human rights, illegal activities and so on behind the veil of "Oh, this will protect you all from terrorism so shut up and just accept it" is just cowardly).

And apparently in the minds of some, thinking that the processes of law need to be just and fair and human rights abided by makes you a "bleeding heart lefty," ignoring the fact that innocence until proven guilty is one of the tenants of western justice, simply because they wish to pus their own agenda and prejudices against people of certain faiths or ethnicities or political persuasions. Instead, they want to say he's guilty by association, so that means everyone in the world has the potential to be guilty of something due to being associated with others. Everyone has a black sheep in the family...

But at least I guess Dr Haneef wasn't arrested by ASIO and held by them. In that case, he wouldn't be able to tell anyone about it, and anyone reporting on it could be in trouble. The laws also allow ASIO to compel testimony, apparently. Which probably involved being strapped to a chair in a room while Rolf Harris's greatest hits are piped in through speakers. Frightening thought.

Domo arigato, Mr Roboto?

Some random drawings from Friday morning on the bus and train - robots for some reason. Did I know somehow Futurama was going to be back on TV, STARTED FROM THE BEGINNING ALL OVER AGAIN (how I hate you, Channel 10). The bus was packed with kids from one of the high schools going to some careers expo thing or something and a number of elderly ladies. And a woman in front of me who sang along to every song on the bus radio.

Public transport is amusing, though. You never know what you'll end up seeing or hearing or whatever.

While waiting for the bus later in the afternoon, I (and everyone else at the bus stop) was privy to a conversation between some girls a couple years younger than me about how someone they knew called Dale had been caught out cheating because he got gonorrhea, demanded his g/f get tested, she was clear and it all came out about how he'd been doing the nude hokey-pokey with someone else.

Everyone else at the bus stop had that sort of "I'm not listening but my gosh, this is interesting!" expression on their face. Kind of expecting it to turn up on Overheard Everywhere or something...

I glaube Ihr nicht, dass Ihr nicht traurig sind. Ich glaube Sie sind sehr traurig...
- Dr Thomas Kupfer, Der Krieger und Die Kaiserin

In the mood for German after Komissar Rex, so I dug out Der Krieger und Die Kaiserin - one of my favourite German movies. Feeling somewhat proud for not requiring subtitles, although I'm not entirely sure if that's because of the German immersion or if it's because I've seen the movie so often I know what they're saying now.

Languages really are fantastic things. One of my favourite things about German is the way they have words that sum up things we take entire phrases in English to explain. I sometimes wonder whether learning more languages opens you up to more possibilities for understanding the world around you, not simply because you develop an ability to communicate with more people, but because your own mind is expanded by concepts often unexplored within your own language.

If that makes any sense at all... It is kind of late, sleep's calling and the guy who plays Bodo (Benno Fürmann) is distractingly gorgeous.

A case of the vapours

Vapour trail above a house in Honiton.

We stopped in Honiton after a long, long day of adventuring. I objected at first - it meant we were going to get back to Winchester incredibly late - but ultimately I had to eat my words because Honiton was lovely and the pub there, which I think was called The Red Cow, served fantastic food.

It's funny how sometimes you only realise how hungry you are after the food is in front of you. And you make a mental note to never, ever get anything at Little Chef places ever again. But the amount of food was too great even for hungry travelers who'd been out all day.

Apparently Honiton is or was rather famous for lace, and I recall it being mentioned in some of Jane Austen's work (and we went to visit her house the following morning before heading back to London). There's an airport somewhere in the vacinity these days and many contrails across the sky.

It was strangely beautiful at sunset with contrails criss-crossed over the colours nature had provided. Had to stop and take more photos, which probably added more time to our journey back. We finally arrived at Winchester around 11.30pm. After having stopped off at Stonehenge and having a rather creepy experience there.

But that's a story for another blog entry...

Slightly unhenged..?

Another Stonehenge pic, just because I can...

Have decided to return to Germany and England when the opportunity presents itself. The holidays were really enjoyable and both countries are fascinating in their own right. And the next time around, I'll make the effort to speak a lot more German (I found I really enjoyed doing it, even with the mistakes I was making - people tend to be relatively pleased you're making an effort to try using their language) and visit more places in England.

And take more photos.

Not that I didn't take enough - there's close to 2000. But you know how it is when you get home and think to yourself, "Ohh, I could have taken a few more snaps of that from some other angles." At least when the parental units send me the photos from their camera, it'll bost the photographic ranks. Plus it'll be interesting to see their take on the places we went and what we saw. Everyone has a different eye for things.

...And Then You Die.

A friend and I wrote a poem of sorts in a Year 10 maths class one day entitled "Life Sucks And Then You Die." Each line was composed of only two words, the first of which being "Get..." and focused on what would be perhaps the average sort of life. Running from birth to puberty to childbearing to middle age to obscurity and eventual death, upon which worms would devour your earthly remains and that would be that.

Obviously, maths classes inspire those with a languages bent in a different way to those of a mathematical persuasion. And it was hard to be inspired after we had a Year 9 maths teacher who was a) not actually a maths teacher and b) about as useful as the Pope's particulars. The only thing I really remember from maths classes in Year 9 was a story about some Mount Gambier couple, which caused me to make a mental note not to date anyone who liked to dress as Superman.

Anyway.

Not to sound too pessimistic, but people expect too much of their lives. Perhaps it's because we're constantly told we can and should have it all. And if not, at least get a loan or some credit cards to be able to afford some of the money-can-buy elements of it. The perfect job that's never dull. A big house with large, airy rooms. A couple new, expensive cars. Yearly holidays to an overseas destination. A perfect partner and matching perfect children.

Reality is you'll probably be in a job that's not always the most scintillating thing going, rent for quite some time, have a second-hand car apparently made mostly from plastic and be lucky enough to use some of your four weeks annual holiday to go up the Gold Coast, where you'll find everyone else has migrated for the holidays and the children whine a lot. And they'll probably hate you for a while in their teenage years, making you wish you'd had fur-kids instead (even if they publicly groom their bits when you have visitors). All while enjoying rate rises, the way prices for fuel, food and pretty much everything have escalated and wishing for death to escape the whirl of mediocrity.

Okay, it might not be quite that bad and I am exaggerating slightly...

But why not make the most of what you have, regardless of how much or how little or whatever it is? Just enjoy life, even if you're currently in a state of being that's not quite where you thought you would be five or ten years ago. Why not just have happiness and contentment now, rather than delaying it, thinking it'll come along when you get a promotion or a new car or a bigger house. Just make the most of life. Because we all die at the end of it. And that's not going to be the most exciting part of life.

Well... It might be for others. Especially if it's Darwin Award-worthy.

You should stay away from your potential, you know. It's a lot like your bank balance - you always have a lot less than you think.
- Dylan Moran

Was mucking around with the camera over the weekend and found some folders of effect options I'd not explored before. That's the problem with finding manual settings you like a lot, I suppose! But this photo was one of the results of an effect that chooses one colour to keep. Kinda odd, but nothing new.

And one of the other effects gave me the same paparazzi-orange skin colour as Donatella Versace. Somewhat frightening...

Is there a scale of value vs destructibility out there somewhere?

It seems as though with stockings, the more expensive they are, the easier they are to destroy. Take, for example, my brand new $20 thigh-high nice stockings. They had a ladder in them within two hours of putting them on this morning - aaaarrrrghhh! And admittedly $20 isn't terribly much to pay for stockings, but it's still not that cheap. And two hours! That's $10 an hour! Or $5 per leg, per hour. And I'm going to stop that train of thought right there because that's sounding like it's going down a strange path.

Compare that to the stockings you buy at the supermarket for a couple bucks and they're nearly indestructible. You could roll down a hill, comando-crawl through a barbedwire fence and they'd still be going strong. They end up being the kind of ones you use to whip up a child's costume for the school play, and find lurking in the back of a cupboard five years later, still intact. Although the moths have chewed through the Brillo pads in the same cupboard.

*sigh*

Guess that means it's about time to find what kind of stocking-magic the Sock Shop is currently producing again. And that's never a bad thing. Apart from for the bank balance.

Conversations with Strangers

When I was little, I never recall my parents telling me not to talk to strangers, although we did get the "Stranger Danger" talk at primary school. This instilled a knowledge of the necessity to scream loudly if anyone so much as offers you a lolly. After all, you would never know if accepting it would lead to you waking up in an ice-bath with a note thanking you for the kidney (or worse).

But lollies and "Stranger Danger" and so on aside, I've always found that conversations with strangers can be quite interesting. Some have been occasionally deeply odd, but for the most part fun.

There's something unusual, yet fascinating, about conversations that run to practically an hour long with a semi-stranger before you introduce youselves. The conversation I had on the weekend with said semi-stranger started out with the weather lately and tourism, moved to the planning potential for the local area, then through to politics, the treatment of David Hicks and Mohamed Haneef, our hopes for a change of government come the election, back to the local area and then religion (you're not meant to talk politics or religion with friends, apparently, let alone strangers, but hey, why not break with convention I say!).

And religion is where it got interesting.

Let me explain the back story as best I can. If you could just cue the soft-focus, Raoul? Thank-you...

There's a long history of religious involvement in the local area, although in recent decades that has declined, with businesses that had been run by one of the denominations in the local area closing. That happened about a decade or so ago, I believe, although I'm not entirely sure of the dates or the reasons for the closures (only moved here a couple years ago). However, in conversations with people around the area in the past, I've picked up on there being a lot of resentment about the businesses closing. It seems like the decisions were rushed, people lost jobs with short notice and although it was some time ago, there's a lot of hurt still felt by people.

Previously this topic had only come up with people who had actually been employed by the businesses or were members of the church. I'd not actually discussed it with someone who was looking at it through "external" eyes, if that makes sense, and didn't approach it with the biases of being involved in one way or another.

Apparently the resentment isn't just felt by people involved. There's still a fair amount residual resentment in the community. It meant that other businesses lost trade and closed or ran at a loss when people moved away, house prices were down, incomes disappeared, etc, and it took time to build it up again to where it is today (which is thriving, really, and with a housing market where entry-level housing costs have increased by 40% in the past 18 months).

However, this isn't my point. It's just the background to something that I don't entirely understand myself (you can stop the soft-focus now, Raoul!).

What I found fascinating in the conversation, yet also rather sad, is the way in which churches acting corporately can disappoint and hurt people who aren't members or employed by them, but those in the communities around. And then churches wonder why people are hesitant to get involved with them or flat-out dislike them. There are already lots of people out there who dislike church anyway. And an amazing number who think Christians are hypocritical jerks, utter w***ers or *whatever totally creative swearword you can come up with and insert in this space* (yet who often have friends who are Christians).

It's almost like there's an expectation that instead of doing good in the long-run, there's going to be more disappointment. Due to the way human nature is, I suppose I'm used to the concept of church people being hurt by others within churches/church administration or those who don't attend church being put off religion due to their experiences with unpleasant individuals from one denomination or the other (should we be used to that? Hmmm). But when it came to considering how churches as a corporate structure could have a strong negative impact on people not personally involved with them, it was sort of new territory - perhaps because you sort of think of church admin being removed from the vast majority of people's daily lives.

It made me wonder how churches can respond when someone feels that way. It would just seem ironic and completely trite to suggest God loves them and cares about them when churches so often haven't shown that. How is the damage done meant to be repaired? Can it be? Should churches as corporate beings be exploring relationships, thoughts and perceptions outside of what they believe to be their immediate sphere of impact (ie: church members, those with close ties)? What more do churches have to know about public relations that they currently don't? How can churches go about reconnecting with communities?

Hmm...

The Top Five Things I Love About Today

1. Snow!
Spent about an hour and a half running around in knee-deep snow this morning, hurling myself into it occasionally, taking hundreds of photos, being the only people up there for almost all of the time, falling into drifts, trees coated in snow looking like they're from a Christmas card sceen, the feeling of taking a step and sinking deep into the snow, freezing fun.


2. Hot chocolate.
Put Milo in a thermos at 7.30 this morning and it's still steaming hot right now at 12.30. The perfect thing for after an hour and a half of brrrr. Put a bit too much Milo in for the amount of water, but chocolatey goodness. Hurrah.


3. My Anorak.co.uk anorak.
It's waterproof, lightweight, traps the warmth and you don't get overheated like with normal big bouffy jackets. Plus I won it in a caption competition years ago. Yay!


4. This cute little bird.
Right at the sumit, there was this little bird. Somehow managed to catch him mid-jump. He was shivering a lot and I think was hanging around hoping for food or something like that.


5. Fire.
A nice warm fire when I get home. Mmm... Although I found that I felt less flu-y when I was out in the freezing cold. Perhaps it was hypothermia.

Compare and Contrast

One of these things is not like the other...


...one of these things just doesn't belong...


...can you guess which thing is not like the other by the time I finish this song..!

Hmmm... Still groping for an answer?

*With much thanks to Sesame Street for the song (as well as a Subway ad, I do believe, some years ago - in the time before The Biggest Loser contestants and South Park parodies about aides and weight-loss), The Age for the screen capture of John Howard, some random google image search for kittens and The Superficial for that delightful photo of Prince Charles.

**Immature, I know. But I have the 'flu and it's been a long day and it made me giggle. Did I mention the 'flu? Really need more Vicks Vapour Drops.

Lunchtime Snow

Because I am a deeply practical woman at heart, I wore knee-length, stiletto-heeled leather boots to the snow. But they were warm! And I didn't manage to fall over. There are plans to go up to the snow at some unholy, early hour on Friday to make the most of it all (and hopefully avoid being stampeded by people who also wish to partake in a wintery wonderland). More sensible shoes shall be worn for that - perhaps a flirty cocktail evening style shoe with spangles...


Apart from being able to see lots of tourists, etc, there was a fantastic amount of snow to be seen. This is looking through some gumtrees at the slopes of the next mountain over. Such a lot of snow! Are you bored of snow yet? I know I'm not ;)


On the way back, the clouds were over the other mountains with snow involvement. Disappointment! But it was good to be heading away from the freezing-ness that was back up the mountains. No gloves = fingers feeling miiiiighty frosty. Which makes taking photos an adventure.

All-new and with even more snowy goodness!

Woke up this morning to snow.

SNOW!!!

Well, not at the house although sleet fell in the night, but on the mountains behind home. Never, ever seen snow on them before. So beautiful and of course I have to whip out the camera and snap some pix through the fog. It just gets better and better as I walk up the road and see all of the other mountains across the valley coated in a thick layer of snowy goodness.


It just gets better as we get closer to work. Snow on all the mountains. Hurrah! A guy at work says that there hasn't been snow like this around here for 15 years or so. So hard to concentrate on work when there's snow to look at. Everyone's been taking photos out the windows.

Because you can never have too many photos of snow, really.


I love snow! *insert appropriate school-girl style giggle*

^ Camellia bush down the road. Something a little less frozen-looking than everything in the past few photo posts.

Currently feeling less wintery now the fire's blazing and it's toasty warm inside, I have a hot cup of white tea and there's a Miles Davis CD playing. Perhaps appropriate to put up a pic of a camellia, seeing how tea comes from Camellia sinensis...

Steaming hot tea always seems to make having the 'flu disappear for at least five minutes. Warmth, steam, something you can actually taste; what more could you want? Apart from the 'flu to sod off... And according to a 2004 study, white tea actually has more anti-bacterial and anti-viral properties than green tea. So maybe it is helping.

Mmmm... *sigh*

More Saturday Snow

Snow, more snow! Always with the snow!

Snow down to 500 metres or thereabouts today. Aaaaaand jolly cold, dark, freezing, etc as you'd expect Winter to be.

Also, I hate the 'flu.

A new meaning for "snowballs"

Went to the snow again this afternoon. So many people and so little snow, compared to last Friday when everything was coated in fresh, soft snow and the only other people there were two people on holidays from Brisvegas with a local friend. This time, instead of fresh powdery snow, it was slippery and trampled by the multitude of people up there (and the car park looked like it was covered with slushy, semi-frozen iced coffee. Just think of that next time you reach for the Farmers Union).

Fortunately managed to avoid falling down the mountain/into a snowdrift/etc, though, and took 100+ photos. The way I just go wild with photos may just explain how I've managed to do more than 11,000 photos since September...

While we were at the summit, the sun came out. Although it wasn't overly warm, the snow and ice on the trees immediately started to melt, dripping and sliding off and surprising unsuspecting individuals with icy droplets. I must also note now for the reference of future generations to be careful crawling through undergrowth for perfect photos. When you get poked behind the ear by a frozen twig, it's like all sorts of wrongness. Anyway. The third photo is of an icicle attached to a wattle leaf slowly melting. The sound of the droplets hitting the snow was muffled and somewhat strange.

The friend I went up with made a snowman and then started throwing snowballs at him to try to knock his head off. I managed to knock one of his arms off. She knocked the other arm off. And then I hit the snowman in his snowy groin with a snowball that stuck, giving him what looked like a rather snowy, swollen testicle. Thankfully there weren't any kiddies around at the time. Snowballs indeed.

Needless to say, it was freezing, even when the sun was out. Soooooo good to have hot chocolate and something to eat upon the return from snow adventures, and defrost by the fire.

"His birthday is on Christmas!"

There's a Kid's Club being run by one of the local churches during the school holidays here and today a guy at work and the officemate headed over there to help out with a little play sort of thing that was being put on to entertain the kids. Being a rather slow day, I decided to head over and have a field trip kind of adventure (plus kids often provide much amusement with their lack of self-editing).

The officemate got to be a Roman soldier and the other work guy was a disciple of Jesus (or something like that). We had to hide from the soldier, so were off wandering the rabbit warren-like church building with the kids being told to "Shhh! Or the soldier will hear us!" which didn't seem to bother them at all, as they all talked ten times louder. Truly a cacophony of children.

But then the Roman soldier found us (of course) and the kids all screamed. A lot. And loudly. It's kind of hard not to giggle, especially with the officemate in what could only be described as a mini-tunic over his regular clothes. Then the kids start throwing cushions and one little boy peeks out from under a table he'd wriggled under and starts screaming, "DIE! DIE! KILL! DIIIIIE! DIE!!!"

When things settle down a little, the play progresses nicely. Well, as nicely as it can with a little boy using his lanyard to wrap around his neck noose-style and saying, "I'm going to kill myself! I WILL!" which made me wonder just where on earth he'd have gotten such an idea from... And somewhat glad there wasn't a guillotine handy or something, or he'd have had his head in it going, "I'll chop my head off! I WILL!"

But yes, the play progressed nicely until question-time following it. The other work guy asks, "What do we know about Jesus?" and kids come up with a few answers, with a little girl giving a pearler of a reply: "His birthday is on Christmas!" Very cute.

Then when asked if the kids want to tell others about Jesus, they all chorus, "Nooooo!" like dutiful little atheistic sheep. Then some realise the answer's meant to be "Yeeeeeees!" and the answer slowly changes to that.

No wonder Jesus loves the little children. They're all quite sugar-high bonkers and hilarious, really!