My Quota of Culture

Perhaps because of the conditions under which I demanded a visit to Te Papa museum in Wellington last year, Hayden reckons (he twists my words around) I am due only one classical music concert and one visit to a large art gallery annually. He’s chuffed with himself because according to his calculations I have filled my quota already; little does he realise that a sharp trot through the Brisbane GoMA and Saturday night’s Beethoven concert by the Barrier Reef Orchestra do not count. I mean, it was really nice to see an orchestra, and because we were sitting in row B right down on the left hand side, we were close enough that I could remember exactly what it’s like to sit in amongst the first violins. One of my bookgroup pals is a violinist herself and she has asked me more than once to join the orchestra, and I might even. Hayden please note that this would mean a lot more attendance at classical music concerts for you.

On Sunday it was warm enough to warrant a daytime movie, and we undid all the cultural education of the night before by going to see Wild Hogs. I thought it was going to be awful – the reviewer in the Townsville Bully only gave it two stars – but actually I enjoyed it a lot. It was really funny. Admittedly none of the jokes were really new, but there were enough of them not to mind much. Best of all the four main players, though all men, actually had different characters and even remained true to themselves until the end of the movie. Well done, Hollywood.

Shiny & Useful

It often occurs to me to compare this blog to a mod's motorscooter - it's got all sorts of extra things tacked onto the sides. My latest extra wing-mirror is a map. It's on the right (scroll down a bit) if you want to have a look.

It was also very heartening to learn that there are two other blogs in Townsville. Slightly discouraging to learn that they are both done by the same person.

Turn of the Seasons

It’s happening here too. There’s no change in the foliage or the daily arrival of the sun BUT in the morning when I step onto the veranda to wave goodbye to Hayden, the breeze around me is cool not warm. It's the most refreshing thing you can imagine.

Pleased as Punch

Returned from NZ, we are still digesting the fact that the trip was a success and that this time we have come home nearly no worse for wear.

The moment that Hayden crossed the Ironman finish line was at least two years in the making for him. I’m very proud of him indeed.