A few years ago I had to curtail a bush walk as the trail took me through a farm paddock with a quite angry bull in it. He was terrifying.

You and it are beautiful!

The cover of the album Rock & Roll I Gave You the Best Years of My Life by Kevin Johnson. The singer songwriter is attempting a soulful, slightly sultry look, which is hampered somewhat by being a bearded Australian man.

Also spent $15 on this album because I LOVE and ADORE the title song. It’s cheesy and daggy and I AM NOT ASHAMED.

A photo showing a 12” single of Lights Out by Peter Wolf.

Finally added this to the collection BECAUSE I LOVE IT. Now my goal is to learn to dance like Peter Wolf in the video. I AM NOT ASHAMED.

Fortunately I found a table at the pub, I have a book while I wait, and we can see a later sesh of the movie.

A series of texts clarifying which movie the texters were seeing, and what time, but never confirming they were talking about the same cinema.

Making movie plans with The Antiquer. Who would've guessed one of us would assume we were both talking about Luna Freo and one of us would assume we were both talking about Luna Leederville.

Am at the pub for the quiz night. As always, timed it so I have half an hour before The Antiquer arrives to read my book and enjoy a bucket of wine.

*because I quite enjoy my job and love the people I work with but the capitalism treadmill is proof we have frittered away the potential our big juicy wrinkled brains offer us.

Also, working* SUX, man, and any day of freedom is to be cherished and celebrated.

So many messages already this morn saying people are unwell and won’t be in. And on the off-chance anyone is being less than scrupulously honest, I can’t say I blame them. The sky is dark and rumbly, the lightning is flashing, the rain is insistently drizzling: it’s a perfect day to stay at home.

Okay. Heading out to water the garden and chat to the Agéd Aunt, which will hopefully be a most efficient way of knocking off two things I don’t feel like doing but know I must.

Am home from a long weekend in Sydney, hanging out with DJ Pups and seeing TISM at the Opera House. It was all brilliant but probably my fave thing was DJP fishing a piece of orange peel out of her cocktail and rubbing it on her face while making eye contact with a waitress.

100% agree. Was a chaotic, brilliant 90 minutes. Well worth travelling across the country for.

Cat with ghost cats.

They do!

“Fly me to the Moon, let me play among the stars” -
- Frank Sinatra

“I need to borrow your rocket, I ain’t telling you why”
- Evasive Sinatra

Ooh, excitement!

I bought Jesse Ball’s How to Set a Fire and Why in 2016 and have just read it this weekend. I might celebrate by toddling ORFF to bed early.

This is showing on a free to air channel here so will be my switch-off viewing for Easter - thank you!

Yeah, he’s obvs a fine upstanding gentleman.

Oh how delightful - and purrfectly offset by that darling ginger guy.

I should point out I did NOT pay anywhere near $1m for my haus. Ten years ago hausing prices were bad, but not that bad. Also, I can hear every bank manager in the country weeping with laughter at the thought of lending a wanton grasshopper like me a million bucks.

Anyway, hauses on my street start at about $1m these days if you’re looking to get a foot on the property ladder in a family-friendly neighbourhood.

The best bit was when the older, objectionable brother took down the younger boy and then yelled out, “Awww, don’t grab my hairrrrr.” Australia, you’re standing in it.

That particular melee was the first time in the ten years I’ve lived here that I’ve ever laid eyes on the mother of the haus. I assumed she only slipped the chain for grocery shopping and general public displays of marital harmony but her desire to protect her younger son obviously won out.

The man is a total horror show. All standing at the end of his driveway every Anzac Day and waking us all up with his show of HONOUR and PATRIOTISM and then stylishly laying the boot into his young son in public.

Klasseee, is the word I’m looking for.

Sounds like it’s in the street behind me. Not like my dignified avenue where a couple of weeks ago the cretinous dad across the road kicked his prostrate teenage son in the ribs as he lay on the ground and said, “You should be in a faarqing coffin, khundt. I’ll see you in a box in the ground.”

But somewhere out in the quiet suburban Sunday eve, it sounds like a brawl is in the offing. #inmahspearhood

Have showered, washed off the masks, applied various lotions and potions to my body, applied a large quantity of cream imbued with AULD LADIES’ PISS to my feet and am now ready to apply myself to an improving book.