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A Moustache-Protecting Soup-Spoon // Filed under: Life on Friday June 23rd 2006, 7:34 pm Seriously. Sheffield, oh Sheffield, will wonders never cease. Also, we’re alive and safe and well in the mother country. Also, Yorkie bars are singularly disappointing. I mean, seriously. // 3 Comments 
// Filed under: Life on Sunday June 18th 2006, 8:45 pm Tomorrow night, at 10.10 pm, Simon and I will be on a flight to the land of the forefathers, the land of the fried mars bar, the chav, the chavette and the red buses - the United Kingdom. I’ve got nothing coherent to say. Seriously. I’m very excited. Everything’s all organised. Everything’s pretty much packed. It’s just waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting. British pound notes are weird. They’re taller than proper Australian notes, and they don’t quite fit in my wallet. And they’re made of paper as well. Paper. I can tear them. With my hands. I feel uneasy about this. And frankly, I judge the entire British nation on it. That’s right, you’re all weak. And oddly-sized. You heard me. Also, your exchange rate makes me cringe. Cringe. It’s a good thing I don’t spend a lot of money here because goddamn, I’m certain I will be over there. Ouch, I says. Still, tax return comes in soon. That should be delicious, in as much as a lump sum of money can be said to have a taste. I saw the weirdest thing yesterday. Walking through the city with friends, one of whom was wearing a Collingwood scarf. As we passed a group of goths, they erupted into raucous laughter and derisive anti-Collingwood jeers. Goths. Laughing at someone else’s football alleigances. Goths. Don’t they know their kind gets regularly beaten up by football players? I wasn’t sure whether to laugh long and hard (which I did anyway) or to congratulate them on their diehard Australian sport-lust. Which is apparently strong enough to survive repeated punching by football players. I should have asked them to explain this enigma. Assuming I could have got past the girl dressed in a home-made, tattered nurses uniform with streaked mascara and with piercings around her eyes in places I didn’t even know you could pierce. And oh man. Borders have opened a store in Perth. With a coffee shop in it. I disapprove of it in principle, as I do of all multinational chains sinking a tentacle-claw into my delightful local market. But man. That place is pretty. Very, very pretty. So there we go. Only 23 hours left in this wide brown land. Two weeks from hence, I return, to rapturous cheers and applause. And to the imminent arrival of my very favourite lady from Sydney, whom, it should be noted, deserves a thorough spanking. Peace out, folks. See you in the motherland. // 7 Comments
// Filed under: Life on Sunday May 14th 2006, 9:41 pm I have the most horrible cough. It lowers my voice about eight octaves and makes me sound like I smoke a pack of bitterness-and-sandpaper cigars a day before heading off to my job as a gravedigging baritone opera singer. I also let out lung-shattering coughs every few minutes in what appears to be an attempt to external viewers to vomit up my organs. We took Mum out for dinner tonight, for Mother’s Day, to a little place in East Perth called Little Moorish. Aside from the quite delightful food, I had the incredible epiphany that the back of East Perth is absolutely fucking gorgeous. Especially at night. It’s the most beautiful, cleanly landscaped and tranquil peace of lakeside delight, and I can’t believe I’ve been walking and driving through the city for twenty-odd years now, and never even seen it before. While we were strolling past the lake, a barge pulled in the through the lake mouth and gracefully executed a balletic turn at agonisingly slow speed, showing all the diners on board what I can only assume was a thoroughly exciting view of me peering into the darkness before pulling out again. It was like magic, or something. Anyway, I just thought I’d share. If somebody could go here and help me out with my application for that position, I’d be most appreciative. // 3 Comments
// Filed under: Life on Friday April 21st 2006, 10:36 pm As you may or may not know, my father, John Colwill, was the weatherman on the nightly TV news at the ABC - was being the operative word. Tonight, the 21st of April, saw the last appearance as the face of the ABC’s weather by a man who has given well over ten years of his life to an organisation, to an institution, that he believes in. I can’t remember a time in my life when Dad wasn’t involved with the ABC in one way or another. Growing up, he was always hosting one gardening talkback radio show or another. When he wasn’t hosting them he was listening to the gardening advice being dished out on the commercial channels, and hooting with disgust as he pencilled in the last few letters on his daily crossword. I remember on one of my birthdays one year he promised me he’d play a song of my choosing on the radio. Be Prepared from The Lion King, I said. The one thing I don’t remember is what he played instead. I remember when he moved to doing the TV weather full-time, in 1999. Oh, the jokes. I remember when he told me he was leaving the ABC. Seeing your father on the verge of tears is not something that you ever get used to. When someone’s contract expires - somebody who’s given an organisation over a decade of devoted, inspired service - somebody who has brought answers, information and happiness to hundreds of thousands of people, you’d think you’d be anxious to keep them. Instead, it appears the official ABC policy is to try to rehire them… for less. An era comes crashing to an end at the hands of incompetent, fearmongering management. A man gives a touching and honest farewell speech, delivers the weather for one last time with flawless precision, shows his leg on statewide television and comes home, to a dinner of microwaved, reheated curry and a bad Friday night movie. Dad didn’t deserve this. He’s come to terms with it now, and I honestly believe that the move will be good for him - but he didn’t deserve for it to end like this. He didn’t want to, shouldn’t have had to, go out like this - his dedication and his devotion have been badly abused. Tonight, a titan lies snoring in my living room chair, and my pride has never been so bittersweet. God bless you, Dad. // 12 Comments
// Filed under: Life on Sunday January 01st 2006, 12:12 am Achievements - New friendships, forged. Old friendships, rediscovered. Awards won, and relationships, lost. Lessons learned, faith unshaken, secrets given and kept. Happiness, bought and found, hurdles jumped. Money earned and spent, but mostly saved. Regrets - None. Oh, wait. I do have one regret. It’s that I don’t write long enough journal entries. See you in 2006, beautifuls. // 3 Comments
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