Hakuna Matata

After six years of licensed driving I finally have my own car. Problem is I’m too scared to touch it. At the moment it’s at home sitting in the driveway.

You see I had plans to buy a Hyundai Getz like Sammie’s however one weekend Dad cunningly drove me past the Suzuki dealership and since we had no other plans we took the new release SX4 for a test drive. We speed down the range though I was more distracted by all the blocks of land for sale than the car’s attributes.

The following Saturday I again found myself at the Suzuki Dealership. I had fallen for all the corny brochures and movies:

http://www.sukukisx4.com/

I wanted another look but found that I had no eye for cars, I couldn’t even tell the models apart and couldn’t grasp what Dad was going on about with Alloy Wheels, All Wheel Drive, Trim etc. Finally, as we stood behind a line up of Swifts and SX4s Dad pointed out the aerials which I had completely missed (too busy comparing colours). Straight away I took a dislike to the thick black antennae sticking up in the middle of the roof - very un chic – it looked like a Warthog, actually rather like Pumba from the Lion King. “Pumba!” I exclaimed.
“What?” Dad replied with furrowed brow.

Now I knew that the first rule of farming is DO NOT name the animals that later in the season you’ll be sending to the abattoir. But it was too late. I had named the SX4 - Pumba, and from that moment I was going to have to find a way to take it home.

...and they even threw in a free jumpsuit.

Such an exciting moment; even the camera man's hands are shaking

International Gala 2007

I always wondered, how did a dancer become a Principal ballet dancer? Was it freakish talent, the persona of a total bitch, having a Sugar-Daddy, or a pushy Mother? On Friday night at the International Gala of Ballet I found the answer quite simply. Somewhere between the Korean Pas de Deux and the interval I leaned over to my host and whispered, Who is she? He knew who I was talking about straight away and casually dropped,

Well, that’s Rachael Walsh. The Principal.


So the answer is not talent, nor image, technique or contacts it is pure and unadulterated charisma. It was as if the whole company were merely her backdrop. I was mesmerised by her eyes, the way she portrayed the emotions of the piece without resorting to cheap facial expressions. I was drawn into an Havana Nights fantasy as she performed with Samuel Colbey, who from row D is the image of Diego Luna. The score from Gladiator had my soul soaring into the rafters of the Playhouse as Weir’s chorography of The Gathering took shape across the stage. The group dance was a spooky contemporary piece which reminded me of cult scenes from Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut and in my opinion, the locals stole the show.

Am I living my dash?

One of the Crows Nest Shire Councillors has a business called; Livin' the Dash. This made no sense to me so I asked his wife when I saw her at the Hampton Food & Wine festival. She'd already had a few to drink, and so was very fluent in telling me what the philosophy was all about. She started off reciting a poem but realised she'd forgotten, but it didn't matter, I'd understood the gist of the story. She gave me a sloppy High Five with a big grin on her face and wandered back into the crowd. I made a mental note to google the poem:

I know of a man who stood to speak at the funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on the tombstone from the beginning... to the end. He noted that first came the date of birth, and spoke the following date with tears, but he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years.

1948 - 2001 for that dash represents all the time spent alive on earth...and now only those who loved that person know what that little line is worth. For it matters not how much we own, the cars...the house...the cash...what matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard...are there things you'd like to change? For you never know how much time is left and what you can rearrange. If we could just slow down enough to consider what's true and real, and try to understand how other people feel. And be less quick to anger, and show appreciation more and love the people in our lives like we've never loved before. If we treat each other with respect and more often wear a smile... remembering that this special dash might only last a little while.

So when your eulogy is being read with your life's actions to rehash...will you be proud of the things they say about how you spent your dash? (Anon)

Where even the Cellar Door is a little tipsy…

The Bunnyconnellen cellar door was officially opened a few weekends ago. Launched in style with an Art Preview Cocktail Party on Saturday evening followed by a Sunday Picnic and Gourmet BBQ open to the public.



Three minutes prior to the 10am opening on Sunday Mum asked me to ‘help’ behind the bar. That was the last thing I remember until I finally escaped, on dusk, to sit with friends.

Mica, Nic (who manages my NEIS program) and Shani

During the day I was filled with pride to see people enjoying our property; I’d look east to the dam and see happy couples wandering the vines; then west to see lines of people waiting for kebabs while listening to live jazz as kids dressed as pirates ran around tormenting picnic-ers who were sinking deeper into the lawn with every drink.

Ben (who designed the Bunnyconnellen brochures),

Nic, Shani, Me & of course Molly!

We ended the night with a Bomb Fire and only wished we’d thought to bring guitars and bongo drums – next time.

Crows Nest Shire

As most of you know I’ve settled down in the studio at Bunnyconnellen while I fulfil my new contract (creating a Carbon Footprint program) at the local Crows Nest Shire Council.

My little house on the prairie

I’m trying to make the most of every day on the property as I know in time I’ll inevitably end up in Brisbane. So I treasure waking up early each morning to the sound of birds squawking (unfortunately they don’t sing) and the sun rising over the olive trees where getting out of bed on foggy mornings is easy because I know there is a hungry horse and excitable dog waiting for me.

For those who haven't visited me yet 'down on the farm' I've included some photos of the local sites to give you a feel of the region - hopefully whet your appetite for a road trip to the country. (All the photos were finalists in the CNS Photo Competition).

Self Saucing Pudding

We were given a bag of freshly picked passionfruits, and with all my training as "chef's little helper", I thought I'd just whip up a cake as I waited for my lasagne to bake.

I beat that little cake with my bare hands, no mix masters or hand held electric mixers - no no no, this was Country Woman's Association style. So when it had been in for 15mins and had achieved a text book golden brown colour I flipped it out onto the cooling rack, trying to exceed myself by not leaving wire marks on the cake's surface. I noticed that it was squishy but took that for spongy or moist - as B used to say. But before I could gloat: 'Just Call Me Martha', a tsunami of cake batter came flooding towards me. Needless to say Mum and PJ were in hysterics.

Cellar Door Update

We finished painting the door. However I haven't been game to tell them it reminds me of an area of Amsterdam I once saw.

PJ's now started with the paving ...

Mum and I resting our legs during the Garden Tour in Pittsworth.
"How's the serenity?"