The sun has set on Autumn. I find it such a calm season. Comfortable temperatures and muted tones. We’ve had a red-carpeted stroll through tree-tunnels of orange and gold. Leaves fly like earth-tone fairies across pink 5pm skies. And now suddenly, it’s Winter for sure, by calendar and temperature, in case there was any doubt. See you next time round the Sun, Autumn.
We like to make things in this house… well, not all the time, we can open packets and buy pre-prepared stuff with the best of them (chicken-on-a-stick, fish-in-a-box), but when we do make things from scratch we are very proud!
Exhibit A: Date loaf for school election day cake stall…
Exibit B: My mothers’ Day pancakes, made for me by George
Made with a little bit of help from this…
The date loaf looked good, but I didn’t taste it and hadn’t baked a second one to keep for us. I wrapped it and literally took it straight to the cake stall still warm. Someone whacked a $7 price tag on it and after I came back from doing a bread and chopped onions run for the school BBQ, the date loaf had sold! Hope whoever bought it enjoyed their afternoon tea.
The last days of Autumn have brought some pretty sunsets…
We’ve had high school information nights to go to in preparation for next year and dinner out with some school families.
A Mother’s day outing in the city to many favourite destinations…
This past week we’ve had a visit from my mum, aka Batgran, aka George’s “Naughty Granny” (naughty because she was the one who introduced a much younger George to chocolate, hot chips and video games – not all in the same day). Maybe that’s just what grannies do.
This weekend, we introduced Granny to IKEA. “They’ve got it sown up!” she said, impressed with the cafe, the grocery section, the checkouts, and the other cafe at the checkouts exit where you buy the $1 hotdogs. She came out armed with Swedish foodstuffs and confessed to buying them “because they’re Swedish”. I know what she means. Sometimes I feel like I live in Europe when I visit IKEA. It’s a nice little escape.
We had been enjoying the last of T-shirt and shorts weather (George) before being hit by an icy blast at the end of May, which saw snow in the Blue Mountains (but not in Canberra). But still, he has relented and started wearing his long pants to school this past week.
And finally last week, George got his first pet… two actually, a pair of baby guinea pigs!
We’ve been learning a LOT about Guinea pigs. Will post more about that next time.
Have a great weekend.
Well today is Election day and I’ll be going to our local primary school to vote and serve at the cake stall/sausage sizzle.
This time, I didn’t do the cutesy-wutesy little panda cupcakes I slaved over in 2013… ain’t got time for that these days. I’m baking a date loaf, easy and quick and something my grandmother used to make a lot. So simple, but so delicious with melting butter.
Election days are exciting days, and I like to mark the occasion by supplying a cake for the school cake stall. I didn’t bake for the last federal election in 2016, but I did bake cupcakes for the one before that between Rudd and Abbot in 2013…
The post featured cute panda cupcakes from baking website Bakerella
Except Bakerella’s looked liked this…
They are still one of the most popular posts on Bakerella, originally posted in April 2012.
Spider Boy George saw a picture of my version last night and said, “I remember those!” He was five when I baked them, and I’ve never attempted them since.
Bakerella’s panda cupcakes…
My panda cupcakes…
Nailed it! Don’tcha think?
Oh goodness, it’s already so late in the morning. I’ve got to get a date loaf in the oven before my cake stall shift later.
Will let you know how it turns out!
Will you be eating an election day sausage today? Or buying something from the cake stall? I’ll probably do both.
Well we’re about to hit day 2, week 2 of Term 2, and I can’t believe we’re nearly in the middle of 2019. George was not excited about school starting last week, still being in “holiday mode” he said, the night before. I was still in holiday mode too last Monday morning but now back into the swing of things well.
This holidays, after our afternoon of bath products window shopping, I worked for a couple of days and then we hot-footed it to my Dad’s in the Blue Mountains. This involved a Murray’s Bus from Canberra then a train from Sydney’s Central station. Why did I not drive? I’ve caught the anxiety of the M5 from my parents. So 6 hours after leaving Canberra, we arrived in the Blue Mountains, about 90 minutes west of Sydney.
We witnessed an altercation on the train between two young women over one of the women saving a seat for “a friend getting on at Parramatta”, and taking up four seats (2 for her luggage, one for her bottom and another for her legs). George was quite interested in all the lively high-school/uni student conversations, including from a group of six skateboarder-types perched on chair arms, as there weren’t enough seats.
“Next time, we’re driving!” I whispered to George in a wave of middle-aged defiance against my parents.
In the mountains we met up with Dad’s partner’s daughter and her boys aged 8 and 11, so George had plenty of play time with them. We had some lovely late afternoon walks admiring the red and orange leaves and Dad cooked a lamb roast on Good Friday.
We battled the crowds in Leura Mall (Pitt Street Mall, more like it) while we were coffee-chasing (me) and lolly-shopping (George) and sneakily vintage-clothing window-shopping (me). Leura on Good Friday was like Campbell Parade in Bondi on a Summer Saturday, proportionately speaking.
George was disappointed Woolworths was shut – he couldn’t get his hot fried chicken wings, but he cheered up with pizza at Leura Garage, a cafe with Bondi-style prices in a charmingly decorated converted garage. It was very good Margarita pizza though. We bowled up to the host standing behind a lectern at the cafe entrance who informed us we could go on a “wait list” for a table and he would phone us when one was ready. To make the most of our time, we hurried over to the gourmet chocolate shop “Josophans” around the corner and selected a few items. Just as I was about to queue up to pay, I got the call from Leura Garage… a table was ready now! No time to purchase chocolate, I planned to return later. So much for peaceful village life.
After our late lunch George felt better so was tolerant of my browsing (Yes, I was happy browsing) in a few arty and vintage shops. And we went back to Josophans for Easter chocolate gifts.
We got a taxi to Dad’s in the next town as it was late and Good Friday – I did consider waiting for a train but a lamb roast waits for no one!
The rest of our holidays was more trains, buses and taxis. Because our train to Sydney the next day was delayed by 30 mins, it meant we had time to duck across the road for this…
Easter in Sydney was a whirlwind of wheeling luggage around from Central to Bondi Junction, lunches, family, chocolate, pizza, no church, no beach and an Easter egg hunt in Granny’s courtyard.
We caught a bus and taxi (thanks, “track work” on the Eastern Suburbs train line), and then met my friend Nadia to catch a train to the Royal Easter Show with our boys aged 8 – 13, then a train, bus and another bus back to Mum/Granny’s.
After the Show, it was a bus from Central to Darlinghurst to Nadia’s amazing new pad – location, location, location! Then we hot-footed it to Kings X to get a bus back to Granny’s. 14,000 steps later, I collapsed on the couch and George carefully examined his Warheads (sour candy) showbag.
The next day was lunch with Sister Señorita Margarita in the very lunch-friendly Woolworth’s* express in Pitt Street Mall (Leura Mall, more like it), before catching a train and a bus to Skyzone in Alexandria to meet my cousin and her son and then catching a bus back to Bondi Junction where the thought of a train and another bus back to Mum’s was all too much so I jumped in a taxi. Which really was all too much, in the dollar sense.
The next day, we got a Murray’s bus back to Canberra, then a taxi home to my beautiful, scratched little hatchback that gets me from A to B.
Before the Easter holidays ended, we managed to fit in another Easter, Greek Easter, with family friends of George’s dad. George found a canine friend there. I still haven’t managed to get him a dog. I can’t remember this dog’s name, but I think it was a Greek name and she’s part husky.
I hope you’ve had a great start to Term 2, or May, if you don’t think in school terms. Less than four weeks to Winter, my second-favourite season! I’d better fit some decent Autumn walks in before then, since it’s my favourite time of the year.
Canberrans say you don’t turn your heater on until after Anzac Day. It’s not that cold yet, so I haven’t needed to. I’m really enjoying sitting with a blanket over my knees in the evening when there’s a bit of a chill. It is SO cosy.
*This post is not sponsored by Woolworths. I just go there a lot.
What to do in the school holidays on a day off from work? The 11-year-old son formerly known as Spider Boy was annoyed that he had to go to Vacation Care the next day, so I told him we could do whatever he wanted (within reason) today. He declined offers of ice-skating and movies; top of his list was to go to Lush, the bath products shop.
George’s love for Lush started one Sunday last year when we happened to be in the newish Monaro Mall beauty precinct at the Canberra Centre, and he spied Lush’s bright colours. “Oooh, let’s go in here!” We went in and he’s been hooked on the idea of bath bombs ever since.
That day we bought a bright blue, pink and gold dusted “galactic bath bomb” for $8.95. He enjoyed its fizz, bubbles and disintegration as it quickly coloured his bath water bright blue with little gold sparkles.
At $8.95 a pop on average, I suddenly became interested in seeing what we could make ourselves for less money. Lush’s selling point is that the bath products are fresh and handmade so surely I could whip up a few at home? And so our short-lived bath bomb making frenzy was born.
We watched You-tubers make bath bombs that looked like watermelon and Oreo cookies, stocked up on Citric acid and essential oils and food colouring and made bath bombs in ice-cube trays and plastic bauble toy containers from the supermarket. We came up with all kinds of names for our business, like “Bombs Away” and “Buttercream Bath”. But after about a month, our bath bomb business had become a bit of a fizzer quite frankly.
This holidays, George had fun choosing one out of 50 billion products there. He seemed disappointed that I wasn’t going to get anything for myself, but as his cost twice as much as I originally planned to spend, I thought I wouldn’t. But I did end up buying myself a soap.
We then popped into L’Occitane across the way. Our arms were a canvas for rose-scented hand cream and perfume testers.
“So many good smells here, so many good shops!” he said gleefully. I agreed, it was good for the senses and the soul.
Once back in the main thoroughfare of the beauty wing, we came across a makeup bar, specifically the section with body shimmer and other glittery products. This makeup was different to the heavy body glitters of the 90s that were part of my routine Saturday night look (Like hair gel for the skin). These body shimmers were so light and delicate they looked like they’d been harvested from fairies wings.
The friendly sales girl shrieked with excitement “They’re all testers!” as she invited us to dip our fingers into little delicate pots of rose gold and silver and shimmer up. Our inner arms smelled like roses and sparkled like a vampire’s skin in the late afternoon sunlight.
We capped off our shopping trip with some eye candy – by staring at the counter of Passiontree Velvet patisserie. It was the the hot pink cafe sign that caught my eye, followed by the delicate and beautiful cake art in the cabinet. The fluffy raspberry meringues looked like clouds at sunset. Actually, they didn’t look that different from what we’d just seen at Lush.
I had a realisation that buying bath and beauty products could be a very good substitute for the pleasure of buying cakes and chocolates. For me, part of the attraction of the cake shop is how the merchandise looks, the craftsmanship that goes into these sugary creations. It’s not JUST about the eating. I’ve realised delicious cosmetics and beauty products give me the same little burst of excitement and feeling of indulgence.
I thought of the time I walked past the old Jazz Apple cafe on Canberra’s City Walk when George was almost 2, he started pleading for an “ukcape, ukcape, ukcape”. Amazing, as I didn’t think he knew what a cupcake was.
We left the Monaro Mall beauty precinct talking about all the things we liked about it – George’s top thing was that it was uncrowded and no one seemed to know about it – well, it was 4pm on a weekday. The cashier at Passiontree Velvet said the same thing about the cake shop – not many people seem to go there while they’re beauty shopping. But to me it makes perfect sense to have the pretty soaps and the pretty cakes close by in one pretty sensory shopping destination.
Once we got home, George set up his own little mini-Lush bar in a corner of the bathroom.
Hello! Well we’re
well into nearly at the end of March now and that means we’re well overdue for the Alexcellent Summer Retrospective. But hey, this is Canberra in March, therefore still hot, and it still feels like summer to me.
There’s also the second-half of last year retrospective that I really need to get to, but I think we’ll just leave that now.
I’ll compress summer into a few words and pictures.
My Peace Lily flowered twice. Spider Boy just told me I’m “flexing on the internet” (that’s what the kids say these days) about my green thumb. And by the way, Spider Boy doesn’t want to go by that name anymore. It’s George. When I started this blog he was still four years old – last week he turned 11!
But more on that in a later post, now back to greenery…
I set up my cactus station with a glowing green cactus from Kmart (I think).
There were concerts with acts from the 80s… (Pseudo Echo and Bananarama)…
…and acts that were close to 80… (well, Old Man Moss is 67… I know, so bold, still beautiful)
There were Canberra Christmas lights (not our house).
There was Christmas sparkle (might be our house)…
There was a birthday for mum very close to Christmas.
There was school holiday water fun in Sydney.
There was New Year’s hijinks with auntie Señorita Margarita,
There was a glorious new year’s beach day at Sydney’s Neilson Park.
George got to work in Granny’s courtyard garden for a little while.
An outing to Mad Pizza in Darlinghurst with friends
And a visit to our former local park with another Sydney friend**…
I tried to write my goals down but it’s now March and I still haven’t done that… just busy living a goal-less life where I constantly feel like I’m running to catch up with all the things I should’ve done that I haven’t done.
Maybe because I spend so much time just doing nothing, like photographing a random passer-by on a paddle board.
I could get some wisdom from Señorita Margarita’s new book…
There was a Spider man movie and Spider man dreams of web slinging for George…
There was the bizarre choice to ice-skate at a synthetic ice rink on a 39 degree canberra day. The ice was made of a greasy wax-like substance and wasn’t cold. Wouldn’t do it again – it’s real ice for us next time!
There was lots of my beloved coffee from The Espresso Room at Woden Plaza.
There was a half-hearted attempt at this wading pool in the front-courtyard-with-fake-grass after work.
There was the much more satisfying swimming in a hotel pool
And a yummy hotel breakfast just for a treat.
We squeezed in another quick visit to Sydney at the end of January. A determination to have one swim at Bondi Beach in the limited time we had meant turning up there at 6pm when the wind was blowing a gale… but at least we got in the water!
There was a pre-birthday birthday cake for me with George and my mum
Birthday selfie with me and my boy
I had a second birthday cake during a quick Blue Mountains visit our dad’s place in the Blue Mountains. This one was an ice-cream cake with Marzipan kangaroos and trees! I was very lucky.
There was cosy capuccino with Señorita Margarita…
before our beautiful bush walk in the mist…
Several bird appreciation opportunities….
Back in Canberra we went to an amazing tropical plant sale at The Jungle Collective…
I even wore tropical-themed shorts just to get $5 off my plant purchases. Mama’s gotta pinch the pennies where she can.
And back at work I had to confront this reptile in the car park down in downtown Tuggeranong. That’s the bush capital for you!
And that was just some of the edited highlights of the Alexcellent Life this summer 2018-19. (School uniform shopping, school stationery foraging, work and vacation-care negotiating, failed dieting, failed body hair removal and bill shuffling not pictured.)
*the friend formerly known as Lulu
**the friend formerly known as “the magician”
Sex and the City (SATC) turned 20 last month. Yes, I’m late to celebrate the party because, life (and the city). But I wanted to acknowledge the milestone with a blog post, as it’s been one of my favourite TV shows over the years and I feel compelled to share some pearls of wisdom from those SATC ladies… 20 years and 2 months later.
A Google search on “lessons from Sex and the City” delivers a whole host of content, both negative and positive over what was, in the late 90s, a ground-breaking show.
Has SATC aged badly?
An anonymous writer for USA Today, in a piece titled 20 years later, ‘Sex and the City’ has aged badly (June 5), says that the show’s sensibility has become “irksome” in view of today’s cultural zeitgeist, and that some episodes now seem homophobic or racist.
“I ate up their romantic and sexual exploits and I listened to Carrie’s’ voiceover with reverence. But two decades after it premiered, I’m not so sure I believe everything the ladies who brunch had to say”.
A 40-something male friend of mine, Raj, agrees it has aged, but thinks the show deserves credit for capturing many of the types of experiences people – especially women – still face on the dating scene. “It’s not as ‘real’ as say, Girls, but there was no way a show like that would’ve been shown at the time (late 90s/early 00s)” he says.
I agree that it’s dated in some ways, but I find repeat viewing still serves up the laughs and some truths about dating 20 years later. And people must still watch it because it was on free-to-air TV last night – for three hours!
SATC was heralded as a controversial new show when it launched, because it portrayed women going for what they want just because they want it, and not having that pursuit be part of the marriage agenda. It portrayed women “having sex like a man”, and talking about – shock – actual sex acts.
Far too outrageous
Before I even saw an episode, I remember thinking that it sounded like it was just not for me and would be far too outrageous. I felt challenged by the concept of it. But then I watched it and loved it. It wasn’t really so much about sex at all, but about friendship, questioning accepted social mores and daring to be true to yourself.
It also served up eye candy every week in the form of the cutting-edge outfits by Patricia Field, aesthetically-pleasing apartments and New York locations. Another friend, Giselle, still loves the show for all of the above and takes from it the idea that, “You don’t need a man to have a good life, but the right man can bring you lots of happiness.”
Who was I at the turn of the millennium?
When Sex and the City was in its hey day, I was in my late 20s and working in publishing. A couple of years into the show’s run, I felt hemmed in by one particular boyfriend. I was just not that into him. But at least I didn’t dump him by Post-it note. I broke the news in person, in a shop doorway in Newtown one Friday night. Or maybe it was at Town Hall Station. Whatever Sydney situation it was , it was Breaking up and the City.
I wanted to be free and single,”…like the Sex and the City girls” I told people. I’d delayed “break-up talks” because I didn’t want to ruin the Olympics (Sydney 2000), although in hindsight it would’ve been preferable to be single for that – look at what the future Princess Mary achieved at Sydney’s Slip Inn.
By now I was working at Weight Watchers magazine with a whole lot of women (we put SJP on the cover of one issue). Whenever we attended events circa 2000 – 01, we needed to take a big spray of Rhinocort to cope with all the oversized flower brooches on the dresses and lapels of the PR and publishing crew. My peers, along with the SATC girls, were out in bars, drinking cocktails, going to launches, lunches, as well as shopping, brunching and chatting.
But back to my boyfriend… although I knew I wanted marriage and a family one day, I realised I didn’t want it with him. I wanted to be single for a while, party at Darling Harbour with athletes and princes (yeah… in my dreams) and not be beholden to anyone. I would find someone else to marry later. But until that time, I would curl up in bed on Monday nights for my double episode of SATC, eating buttered toast and honey (my secret single behaviour).
As for that boyfriend, let’s call him Tim (not his real name). I hope you’re not reading this, Tim. It’s highly unlikely, But if you are, I’m sorry, I couldn’t, don’t hate me. Anyway, I’m sure I saw you pull up next to my car at traffic lights 10 years later, and you looked really happy. So I’m sure it was for the best.
And what was my friend Giselle doing circa 2000? She was waxing celebrity legs by day in one of London’s finest beauty salons, and corrupting her octogenarian Hungarian land lady with episodes of Sex and the City by night. “They’re all sluts!” land lady would exclaim. Slut-shaming aside, as I’ve mentioned, the show was about so much more than sex.
Carrie’s pithy narration and the characters’ one-liners, while clever and funny, sometimes did perpetuate stereotypes, and I concede could seem homophobic and racist at times when viewed through a 2018 gaze. Carrie’s voiceover told us things like, “The gay-straight man was a new strain of heterosexual male spawned in Manhattan as the result of overexposure to fashion, exotic cuisine, musical theatre and antique furniture.”
My friend Raj says he doesn’t recall it as being racist or homophobic but notes, “I’m obviously a fairly privileged middle-age man, because even now, I don’t see it. Modern Family plays up to gay stereotypes as much as Sex and the City ever did, and both do it with affection.”
Not affectionately enough for some. In an attempt to correct the labels, stereotypes and political incorrectness, the people behind the Instagram account @everyoutfitonsatc created the hashtag #WokeCharlotte. It’s a meme that refocusses the cultural lense to one that’s a bit more socially progressive.
Didn’t Charlotte pull a great array of judgemental and appalled faces on the show? (Often about something Samantha was doing) Which is why it’s so easy to make a meme out of her correcting any political incorrectness.
My mate Raj concedes: “I guess there are some episodes that could be not PC, like the gay-straight man (and the converse) and Samantha’s line to (her actor boyfriend) Smith about “First the gays, then the girls, then the industry…”
“I suppose a lot of Charlotte’s views were very traditional. But she was meant to represent a prude, even then, and much of the show was about her opening her mind.”
Consuming any historical text through current eyes highlights the differences in thinking between now and then. But SATC does stand the test of time in its central tenet – to remind us that women should be able to live their lives however they like, without judgement, and that they have the right not only to choose, but to shoes! But more on that later.
Sex and the City was ultimately intended to portray the lives of women living the single life and not being in the waiting room for marriage. Although Charlotte was always wanting to get married. But that was her choice. As she repeated in one episode, desperate for a critical Miranda to approve of her, “I choose my choice!”, when Miranda accused her of succumbing to traditional female roles by deciding to quit her job and not work, so she could focus on becoming pregnant.
Miranda, eventually comes around, as they all do in different situations, and while they would often make different choices from one another, after some discussion, debate (and a teensy bit of judgement in some cases) they were always there in the end, supporting each other’s choices.
Another female choice was illustrated in the episode “A woman’s right to shoes”, where Carrie made the point that for years she and her single friends had subsidised the lives of married friends by buying them expensive wedding and baby shower gifts. Yet, now she was being judged by a married woman for spending money on expensive shoes. Carrie points out that she has a right to choose, and she chooses her shoes ($485 Manolo Blahniks in this case). The anonymous writer for USA Today who asserts the show has aged badly, concedes that this is one episode that does stand the test of time.
“I liked A woman’s right to Shoes at the time, but if anything, I find that episode has aged” Raj offers. “It has a message, but it’s pushed to the point where I now find it manipulative.” Manipulative maybe, or perhaps the writers were making a point about something they’d heard their single friends complain about.
Criticisms aside, many, including me, still view the show with fondness. Years later, my friends and I still enjoy it as it raises questions and issues that we all remember and in some cases still relate to. And it’s funny. I love that I can still watch this show with my friends (even if it’s just over text) and we can still find humour and relatability in in.
“I still love Sex and the City, I think it’s still relevant today… I relate to Charlotte being such a romantic and love how Samantha acts like a man. I wish I could think like her!” says Giselle. And she loves the show for it’s focus on the female friendships.
My friend Nadia’s takeaway from Sex and the City is that “Women and men will always be the same, even though times have changed. We all want to love someone and to be loved.” She loves that it talked so openly about sex, as well as the depictions of some of the crazy situations they got into. “Especially Samantha! Samantha is a legend! I love how she goes for her man and is proud of her sexuality.”
My sister, Senorita Margarita, who was in her early twenties when the show was about to air, recalls she had just arrived in New York at the time… “I remember when I first got to New York from JFK airport and was catching the bus into town in June 1998, I saw a massive billboard with SJP on it in that nude-coloured cami dress with the words “Sex and the City on HBO” on it. It made a big impression as I had no idea what it was and obviously didn’t know how it would impact on and reflect culture and our societal ethos.”
29 lessons in life and dating from the women of Sex and the City
1. Despite what Donald Trump tweeted above, it’s OK to eat chocolate cake from the bin (Miranda). I’ve done it once or twice and even thought of Miranda while doing it.
2. If you don’t want to be dumped by a Post-it, then don’t leave them lying around. Invest in some stylish stationery and leave that lying around instead.
3. The gem that helped women just hand their worry over to the universe… If he doesn’t text you back, or call after a date and a week has gone by… he’s not sick, he probably hasn’t lost all his phone contacts… he’s probably just not that into you (which is a relief because now you can move on).
4. To avoid the risk of being fashion road-kill, just don’t walk the catwalk
5. If you must choose to walk the catwalk and risk being fashion roadkill, make sure you’re wearing spangled Dolce and Gabbana undies.
6. Remember, even Heidi Klum feels the need to ask “Do I look OK?” before walking the catwalk.
7. Don’t party at 2am on a Tuesday if you don’t want to look like sh*t at your magazine cover photo shoot the next day. Especially if it’s an article on how being single is so hot right now.
8. Don’t use the F-word in Vera Wang.
9. But do swear on Chanel.
10. Just don’t get drunk at Vogue.
11. Men in their 30s who live with their parents, smoke weed and run a comic book store, are only for Summer.
12. If your boyfriend delivers you a pizza-sized chocolate chip cookie with the words “I love you” on it, just eat it really quickly in one go so it doesn’t exist and you don’t have to deal with it. Emotional eating at its finest, thank you Miranda.
13. That as long as you can breathe, and kneel, you should be able to do whatever mutually consenting act you like without being judged by someone who happens to walk in on you.
14. Online shopping will never completely replace bricks and mortar retail, as shopping IS many people’s cardio.
15. If you’re forced to take your $485 Manolos off at a party and leave them in the host’s designated shoe area, chances are they won’t be there when it’s time to go home.
16. Furthermore, if you’re a freelance writer who spends $40,000 on shoes, you won’t have enough for a deposit on your rented apartment you want to buy and you will literally be the old woman who lived in a shoe (or shoes).
Shooting from the lip… in their own words
17. “Men in their forties are like the New York Times Sunday crossword puzzle: tricky, complicated, and you’re never really sure you got the right answer.” (Carrie)
18. “Ball parks are great places to chat with your girlfriends, flirt with sportsmen and smoke and drink at two in the afternoon without judgment.” (Carrie)
19. “I’ve been dating since I was fifteen! I’m exhausted! Where is he?” (Charlotte)
29. “Nipples are HUGE right now!”(Samantha, wearing fake nipples)
What did you learn from SATC? Do you still watch it? Tell me, I’d love to know!
How is it already nearly the middle of 2018! It is already the third day of Winter as I write this, a Sunday morning, and outside my window I see clear blue sky with an overlay of bare dark branches wearing a skirt of sparse golden leaves. They are losing their battle to cling on, like gold spangles hanging by a thread from the lace on a blue silk dress.
I feel like I haven’t really absorbed Autumn as much as I wanted to. Life is so busy and I feel like I skate over the surface of things. To quote my busy dad, “Life just goes, and goes and goes.” Like falling spangles.
So a little thankyou and farewell to Autumn, my absolute favourite season, especially in Canberra. The burning dry heat of summer becomes less intense, and even though March can still be very hot, you know relief is coming soon. There’s the anticipation of that first chill in the air and you notice the leaves are starting to turn.
Everything is easier and prettier in Autumn with it’s warm colour palette, transeasonal wardrobe cosy evenings and cool weather cooking.
I didn’t take as many Autumn walks as I wanted to, or as many photos, but here is what I did manage to capture…
Well “the wedding” of last weekend is over, but the honeymoon certainly isn’t. Many I’ve spoken to still admit to being in a post-wedding glow, and admittedly, I’m having trouble letting go of the occasion this week.
I didn’t think I would get as enthusiastic as I did about the marriage of the sixth in line to the throne, but I do love a wedding, particularly a big royal one, and the match between Prince Harry and the former Ms Meghan Markle seems to be a particularly exciting one, what with royalty meeting Hollywood.
Harry is emblazoned in the collective consciousness (of those of us of a certain age), whose hearts broke watching him as 12-year-old-boy walking with head bowed, behind his mother’s coffin 21 years ago. I felt happy and grateful to see him walking today, again with his brother William, but now a man in uniform with a much different gait, on his way to marry the woman he loves.
I was excited when my sister, Senorita Margarita said she was coming to visit on “wedding weekend” and that she shared my enthusiasm to attend the wedding on telly. We texted in the days leading up to the big event; we swapped links to wedding recipes, party planning tips, and royal-watching blog posts.
We planned our own little wedding-watching party. Spider Boy’s dad came over to hang out with him, because 10-year-old boys generally don’t appreciate weddings. Am I gender stereotyping? All right then, my 10-year-old (who is a boy) was just not into it.
Now on with the show…
Let’s first compare cake, outfits and décor at Windsor and in Canberra, in A tale of two celebrations!
Harry and Meghan’s cake: The news that the cake would break with the traditional fruit cake was exciting. People.com reports that the couple asked Claire Ptak of London-based bakery Violet Cakes to bake a cake that “incorporates the bright flavour of Spring.”
“The cake consists of deconstructed tiers of lemon sponge cake drizzled with elderflower syrup and topped with an Amalfi lemon curd. The entire cake is coated with a Swiss meringue buttercream also infused with elderflower, and is adorned with a mix of 150 fresh flowers, including peonies and roses. The texture is really lovely and the flavour is quintessentially Spring and British,” the baker said in a video released by Kensington Palace.
To me that description makes the cake sound like a work of art, and a gastronomic version of a walk through a lemon grove on a beautiful Spring day.
My living room in Canberra
Senorita Margarita’s and my cake: Well, it wasn’t a cake. More of a pav. Or a mess, or, as my friend Nadia texted, “pavlova scrunched up.” We planned a wedding version of Eton Mess we dubbed “Elderflower Mess (without the Elderflower)”
The Senorita did place a call to The Essential Ingredient in Canberra’s Kingston, but at $21.95 for 375ml for a syrup I’ve never tried and don’t know I’d like and may never use again, turns out that on my salary, not so essential!
Champagne: I don’t know about Meghan and Harry’s but ours was German sparkling wine. “Let’s drink it in your Kate and William tea cups!” said my creative sister enthusiastically.
“No!” I exclaimed. I was uncomfortable with that idea. “Champagne goes in champagne glasses, tea cups are for tea” I asserted.
“I understand” said the Señorita sagely. “There’s a line. And I just crossed it.”
2. The Outfits
Meghan Markle: I actually took a breath when I saw the divine Ms M step out of the car. The dress was designed by Clare Waight Keller and according to the @kensingtonroyal Instagram account, the design “epitomises a timeless minimal elegance referencing the codes of the iconic House of Givenchy.” To me it evoked the classic sophistication of Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn. Ms Markle ascended the steps of St George’s Chapel like an angel, her tiny duo of dark-suited page boys, twin Cupids to her Venus.
Prince Harry: Hunky Officer and a Gentleman– type outfit
Assorted royals and celebrities: Colourful, structured pieces and statement headwear
My living room in Canberra
The Senorita: “I got out of my pyjamas!” Yes readers, it’s true, the Senorita swapped her jammies for a sophisticated black jean and black wool shawl ensemble, accessorised with a diamante tiara. It was Saturday night after all.
Alex: “I didn’t get into my pyjamas!” Again, I made a Saturday night sacrifice and stayed in my street clothes for the occasion. A blue jean and navy jumper ensemble in case you’re wondering. Pyjamas would have to wait until Karl Stefanovic had turned off his mic (although wish I’d watched Channel 7 and that nice Melissa Doyle now). Oh and a paper tiara the Senorita made for me from the pages of Woman’s Day! Again, Saturday night!
Spider Boy: “What wedding? Batman pyjamas!”
3. The Decor
Real Union Jack flags lining the streets, masses of white flowers and foliage, Harry and Meghan T-shirts
A white candle shaped like a floral bouquet, bunting from Woman’s Day and New Idea, souvenir royal tea towel ($2 with New Idea), Harry and Meghan paper masks (thanks Woman’s Day), and royal crockery used for the first time, especially for the occasion.
The event itself
The Senorita and I had a hoot watching, from commenting on the arriving guests and their outfits, to the beautiful, uplifting ceremony itself.
We commented on Princesses Beatrice and Eugenie. You may remember Bea with her 2011 “pretzel meets bow” number (AKA Medusa snakes hat) at the wedding of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. Well, I think the pendulum has swung straight to The Handmaids Tale in 2018. I thought Eugenie’s hat was evoking the spirit a 1960s air hostess. Yes, I said air hostess. Although the Senorita was down with her “Jackie Kennedy” vibe.
Our top 21 favourite moments of the wedding (in no particular order)
1. Harry and his brother William walking the long walk side by side to St George’s Chapel. I thought about how many walks those brothers have taken together. I got a bit teary thinking about the boys and how they were at their mother Princess Diana’s funeral and now today – what a wonderful day.
2. The weekend weather in Windsor
3. Harry’s wedding beard
4. The first glimpse of Meghan and her mum Doria Ragland in the car
5. The look of contented composure on William’s face; the tilt of the head reminding us so much of Diana’s feminine energy as he sat beside Harry in church, a well of reassurance for his younger brother. The Senorita, who is very intuitive, observed “I think Diana’s energy was coming through William.” I agree with her. I have since read that a lip-reader reported that William said to Harry “You know what Mum used to say…” as they sat waiting for the ceremony to begin. Diana was there.
6.The first full view of the dress as Meghan stepped out of the car. Meghan’s dress was so simple, so elegant, so classic, a hint of décolletage but the right amount of coverage. I couldn’t fault it. The 1930s bandeau tiara that had belonged to Queen Mary, lent just the right amount of pizzaz, elevating her look from simply elegant to stunning.
7. The two page boys holding Meghan’s train as she glided up the stairs
8. The look on one delighted page boy’s face as Meghan entered the church (“That’ll come back to haunt him at his 21st” predicted the Senorita). Apparently his facial expression was in response to hearing a trumpet for the first time.
9. Meghan walking herself down the aisle (the first part), the first royal bride to do so. Meghan asked Prince Charles to greet her halfway, and then rather than him “giving her away”, she “stepped forward” to greet Harry.
10. When Harry mouthed “you look amazing” to his bride.
11. When Harry, a bit awkwardly, lifted Meghan’s veil during the ceremony.
12. The fact that there WAS a hair out of place – Meghan’s hair and makeup looked natural and beautiful.
13. The emphatic way Harry said “I will”.
14. The emotions on Meghan’s mum’s face
15. When Harry stroked Meghan’s fingers with his thumb while listening to the sermon.
16. Meghan’s smile as she listened to Reverend Bishop Michael Curry.
17. The various facial expressions of assorted royals as they listened to Reverend Curry.
18. The rendition of Stand By Me, by The Kingdom Choir. And how about that beautiful steel grey hair and fabulous dusky rose outfit of choir leader Karen Gibson!
19. Doria, Charles and Camilla walking together behind the newlyweds as they left the church.
20. Meghan and Harry appearing in the flower-covered doorway, standing at the top of the steps, and then that kiss.
21. That for-real fairy-tale carriage ride through the streets of Windsor!
We all know life is not a fairy tale. But this beautiful royal wedding looked pretty darn close to one, if only for the day. The Senorita and I are so happy for them both (especially Harry).
After the wedding…
After wedding coverage had stopped on ALL stations (don’t worry, I checked) the movie License to Wed began on Channel 9 and to my horror, my sister uttered the words I just did not expect or want to hear… “I’m all weddinged out.”
“Wash your mouth out!” I gasped, aghast.
The Senorita had been on a steady diet of pre-wedding documentaries for a couple of weeks, but I wanted more. I wanted a partner in crime to get my wedding fix with. I felt like I was having a sugar crash when the telecast was over.
On Sunday morning we watched the news, read the paper and we spoke separately to Mum and Dad for a debrief.
“What channel did you watch it on, Dad?”
“ABC of course, why, what channel did you watch it on?”
“Oh!” he sounded perplexed. “But you would’ve had… advertisements!”
The Senorita and I talked about how happy we were that we could watch the wedding together and how wonderful it had been. “So wonderful, in fact… I’m buying the crockery!” the Senorita announced.
“I know! me too, and you know what, I’m going to USE the crockery!” I shouted.
That afternoon we carried on the spirit of beauty, history, tradition and royalty by visiting the Cartier exhibition at the National Gallery.
A highlight for me was the “Royal Room”, where the Duchess of Cambridge’s wedding tiara, lent to her by the Queen, is on display.
In the exhibition we found our people. We overheard clusters of middle-aged women talking about “the wedding” (and jewellery of course), and we jumped right into the conversations. We were in our spirit place.
In the news report we’d watched earlier, we saw two middle-aged sisters from Adelaide who camped out overnight in chairs on the carriage-ride route. When asked if all the time, money and effort getting from Adelaide to Windsor had been worth it for a 30 second glimpse of the happy couple.
“Yes!” they said emphatically. When the sunshine hit her tiara and made it sparkle, it was amazing!”
Would you do it again? asked the reporter. “Yes!” they enthused.
“Because it was fun!”
And I know if my sister and I had been in a position to go to Windsor, we would’ve got caught up in the spirit of it all and enjoyed ourselves just as much as those two sisters did, as we did in my living room. Because it was fun. It’s fun to see people whose stories we’ve seen and heard over the years, experience such a happy and beautiful event. In reality we’re removed and distant, but thanks to perspective and the media, I feel like we’ve watched Harry grow up.
Did you watch the wedding? And would you ever drink champagne from a Kate and William commemorative tea cup? Maybe I should relax my crockery and stemware standards, mix things up a bit? I never could embrace that “drink in a jar” fad.
Imagine the title of this post being spoken in the kind of voice typically heard in a horror movie trailer. Maybe with some chilling, high-pitched, psycho violins reminiscent of stabbing.
But we’ll get to the seagulls later. Mothers’ Day 2018 in Canberra was pretty low key which is just how I wanted it: a chance to sleep in, teach Spider Boy how to make my breakfast (after he ran into my room at a reasonable hour to give me a beautiful card and origami box he’d made) go to Bunnings for a sausage sandwich and some double-sided wall adhesive, and a little walk and coffee by the lake. There were no seagulls. But there were chips, and former-Sydneysider Spider Boy commented how lovely it was to eat chips by the sea, while lakeside at Kingston Foreshore. I knew what he meant. But just as well we weren’t by the sea in Sydney, after what I heard next…
On the way home from our pleasant little lakeside stroll, my sister Senorita Margarita called to report a savage seagull incident in the Harbour city. She and my mum had decided to take a ferry from Rose Bay to Circular Quay and enjoy some fish and chips by the water. According to the Senorita, just as Mum was about to tuck in to her seafood lunch, fish on fork on its way to her mouth, a seagull swooped in, stole the fork from under her nose, slapping her in the cheek with its wing as it flew off, fork in beak with the fish still attached. Then it ate the fish and dropped the cutlery on the ground. Not only a violent thief, but a tosser!
As my sister recounted mum’s seagull encounter over the phone we both started laughing at the sheer gall of the gull, but then I was laughing so hard I nearly ran the car off Yamba drive. My laughter was hypercritical, considering I got annoyed when Spider Boy laughed at me spilling my flat white on my new felt winter hat that very afternoon (and in case you’ve got a mental picture, I wasn’t wearing my hat at the time)
The Senorita reminded me of another seagull event at the Quay a few years ago, when one decided to move into her lustrous blonde curls during her lunch break, while its seagull sidekick did a fly-by and took a bite of her sandwich as she brought it to her mouth. Yes, the Circular Quay seagulls are particularly bold.
Later that day after hearing about Mum’s seagull drama, I rang my dad.
Dad, who has recently moved to the Blue Mountains just west of Sydney, had ventured back to the East for the weekend. We swapped stories about our Sundays. He complained about Sydney traffic, Sydney queues, Sydney prices, Sydney attitude and annoying and expensive Lexuses and Range Rovers in Centennial Park, and how he’s so happy that’s all behind him now that he’s moved to the Mountains. (I must admit, I do love being able to visit him there.) And then I told Dad about my peaceful Mothers’ Day in Canberra, and about my Mother’s not-so-peaceful day in Sydney.
While relating the story of the savage seagulls at Circular Quay, it occured to me the Seagulls were just like Sydney itself… they were, in fact, very Sydney seagulls.
“Yes!” agreed Dad. “That’s exactly what they are – Very. Sydney. Seagulls!”
In May 2014, I blogged about a family outing where we experienced another particularly rude seagull event coupled with terrible service from an ice-cream vendor. Here’s an edited version of Sunday drive: savage seagulls, snakes and service with a snarl…
My sister Senorita Margarita, Mum Spider Boy and I decided on a nice low-key beach area. So not Bondi. We drove south and ended up at Botany Bay.
We bought fish and chips and made our way down to the little beach facing the airport runways. There was lots of interesting things to look at, and balmy weather considering it was May.
We perched on the wall of an elevated garden bed since all the benches were taken. Suddenly, A flock of seagulls descended. Spider Boy wanted to run, run so far away (sorry, any chance to bring up the 80s).
Spider Boy was edgy. He tensed as the seagulls squawked and edged closer to his lunch. “Should I give them some lunch?” He asked, obviously hoping that feeding them would make them go away.
“No!” I squawked. “If you do that, they’ll never leave! They’ll just get louder, closer and more annoying! Like Mummy nagging.”
So we sat there uncomfortably perched on the garden bed, sea grass tickling our legs, seagulls staring us down, wind blowing my hair in my face.
Suddenly a rampaging toddler disturbed the status quo, throwing out the delicate mutual respect Spider Boy and I had achieved with the flock of seagulls. They squawked, they flapped. Spider Boy jumped. Then I felt something drop onto my fish and chips paper at the same time as hearing a distinctive splat! I felt something wet on my hand and leg.
I looked at my lunch fearing what I knew I would see there, and I’m not talking about tartare sauce.
“A seagull just pooed on my lunch!” I shared with my family and passers-by.
“Well at least a seagull didn’t land on your head!” said The Senorita. “That happened to me once you know!”
Here are some pics from Sunday…