Marrickvillia

Journalists: what can you do?

2010-05-08T10:05:00.005+10:00

This title could also read "Politicians: what can you do?"

Marrickvillia is on the front of the Sydney Morning Herald News Review section today. Remember our party on election night?

I was contacted earlier this week to comment on Rudd's recent downward swing in the polls. I was happy for the SMH to use images from Marrickvillia, and to put the journalist in contact with other people who had been at our "Don's Party."

It's an ok article but I didn't say what I'm quoted as saying--but I'm not surprised that it's there. "Jilted" isn't in my vocabulary... and I'm fully aware that Rudd has kept some promises and that those he hasn't been able to keep have been somewhat thwarted by the shameless Libs in various ways.

We are still a thousand times better off with the ALP than with Abbott and his gang of losers.

Truth be told, at the end of the day, when all's said and done, I won't lie to you: politicians are primarily politicians, and we never really believe their "promises" in the first place. And journalists are primarily journalists, and we expect them to make stuff up. And I'm an academic and write a whole lot of theory-crap occasionally. It's all part of our rich discursive tapestry.

Our "Don's party" was a great night because we felt it was finally the end of the Howard era and because two powerful, fabulous women were suddenly in the forefront of Australian politics, not because any of us really thought that a consummate politician like Rudd would ever be anything other than exactly that.

What God Likes

2009-11-14T10:19:00.003+11:00

Graffiti seen in Illawarra Rd by a friend, but sadly cleaned off before I could photograph it:

"God hates homos"

and someone had written underneath it:

"Does he like Falafel?"

The Carriage Held But Just Ourselves

2009-11-13T08:59:00.004+11:00

I've started a new blog over the road at wordpress (blogger is great, I just thought I'd try something different). It's a bit more personal than Marrickvillia... so please come to visit at http://thecarriageheldbutjustourselves.wordpress.com/, I'd love to see you. Marrickvillia is almost an old lady now in blog-years: she is out to pasture but I will visit her often -- in fact, there is a review of a new book set in Marrickville on my stovetop as I type...

If anyone would like to write something for Marrickvillia please feel free: reviews, commentary, politics, festivals, found objects, crime, culture, transport, food -- anything -- so long as it's about Marrickville, obviously.

See you around the layers of webbiness...

mj

2009-08-23T21:15:00.000+10:00

I hopped on the 423 at Railway Square on Friday night but the driver wouldn't take my money. Apparently while I've been away the buses have become cash-free. I was cross and hungry and not about to get off the bus I'd waited ages for so I muttered "Whatever" and headed up the back, dropping my coins into my bag. The driver didn't say anything, he didn't care. After stretching my armpits swinging around on the hand-holds all along King St I finally got a seat.

Near me were two young men, drunk as -- they couldn't really talk but they could still walk. They were twins, identical, with the same profile: a slightly bumped nose and soft lips. Nice looking, young. They were communicating almost silently, only muttering things to each other occasionally and laughing and gesturing in that funny pissed unco' way. They wore matching blue-green beanies and milk-chocolate coloured tee-shirts, but one had jeans and thongs while his brother had grey trackies and sneakers. The one in jeans sat next to me and his head lolled onto my shoulder. He jerked up and laughed, blue-grey eyes open wide, and I smiled at him.

Then, at Enmore Park, the inspector got on. "Tickets please everyone." Oh shit & buggery I had no ticket. But the inspector ignored me and focused on the drunk brothers. They swayed, they staggered, they groped around in their pockets, they mumbled to each other, and eventually the inspector took them off the bus. But in seconds they'd leapt back on, grinning, waving their found tickets triumphantly. I felt like cheering. They sat far enough away that I could take their photo, and they got off at the corner of Victoria and Marrickville Roads near the cheesecake shop.

90 Cary St

2009-04-29T13:18:00.018+10:00

Once upon a time there were market gardens and dairy farms in Marrickville. The area was sparsely populated and still largely rural until about 1900. There's a little decrepit weatherboard cottage in my street--it's been hidden behind dense shrubbery ever since I moved to Marrickville in 2000 and as far as I know nobody has lived in it in that time. Recently the vegetation has been cleared and now there's a sign up saying that two townhouses are going to be built. I think the house must date from about the 1870s, perhaps earlier--it was most likely a modest farmhouse. I thought I'd get some shots before it's torn down. For the full set see my flickr site.

The Davis (or possibly Carrington) Dairy at the corner of Carrington Road and Ruby Street, 1899, only 2 blocks away.

View from the street.

Old stone steps near the front of the property.

The front porch.

Hank, John & Wally did a good job of setting the Hills Hoist into a concrete round in 1959.

Their inscription lasted longer than the clothes line!

A number plate, 30s? 40s?

A close up of the front fence. You can see most of the same fence on the far right in the photo below--it was taken during a fire in the park at the foot of Cary Street in 1954.

The gum in the background is often filled with cockatoos.

Through the arched window...

to have and to hold

2009-04-06T10:25:00.007+10:00

On Saturday I attended the most lovely wedding I've been at. It was even nicer than my own, alas. My little brother, Dorian, the one I used to dress up as a princess so I could be the witch and Gareth could be the baddie, got married to his long-time-love Laura. It was a gentle, arty, thoughtful day.

It was brilliant to meet some bloggers there--I felt like two of my worlds had collided, not just the virtual and the real (which I don't see as separate anyway), but the familiar (as in family) and the bloggy, the artful-creative and the lived-history.

And how things change in that lived history...a favourite auntie who I still think of as slim and blonde and super-glamorous is now a rounded middle-aged brunette. One of my 89 year old grannies--I am hugely lucky to have two of them--who looked close to death a few months ago is now almost sprightly, and definitely back to her canny observant self. A wayward teenager who hasn't been able to face his own father since before Christmas was obliged to attend, and the two of them got on like a house on fire because they were both just so HAPPY. Therapy? forget it, you just need a good wedding.

Not everyone chooses to marry, and not everyone who wants to can do so (yet). Dorian and Laura had a rare opportunity to create a day when things and people, generations and worlds, could come together, and they carried it off beautifully. It was magical.

Sars Lite

2009-03-11T11:58:00.001+11:00

Sars Lite is a palate cleanser between the old Sarsaparilla blog and an upcoming new Sarsaparilla site. Please visit http://sarsaparillalite.blogspot.com/ and bookmark this page.

If you're not already a reader (where have you been?), Sarsaparilla is a group blog devoted to discussing books, writing, film and television, theatre and the performing arts, music, publishing, the humanities, reading, cultural studies, and just about anything else that pops up on the Australian cultural landscape.

Three women I love and admire

2009-03-10T14:54:00.008+11:00

HAPPY INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY

My mother Betty

My best friend Julia

My daughter Ruby

What's happened to Sarsaparilla?

2009-03-09T13:09:00.003+11:00

Don't despair! Our beloved Sarsaparilla is down temporarily for a makeover. It will be relaunched in fresh glory in the not-too-distant future. Regular readers, please post this information on your own blogs.

Small acts of kindness

2009-02-22T14:33:00.003+11:00

Muriel lived next door with her son, Peter, and his various grown children and their spouses who came and went. English wasn’t Muriel’s first language, although she’d never left Australia; she was an Aboriginal woman. At least once a week she’d come home late, a little bit drunk, her keys lost, and cry outside Jenny’s front door “Jenny, Jenny, you there love! Jenny?”

Jenny was always kind to Muriel, bringing her cups of tea while she waited for Peter to either get home or wake up from his heavy drunken sleep. His bedroom was the front one, so only a pane of glass separated him from Muriel’s cries of “Petey, Petey, open the door, it’s Nan, it’s ya mum, you gotta gimme a new key, Petey!” Muriel never swore, and she didn’t seem to feel sorry for herself although she was poor and disabled. Another one of her sons had bashed her a few years ago and left her with a permanently injured back, so now she needed a walking frame to get about. She lived on the pension and was regularly kicked out of pubs; taxis often wouldn’t stop for her. She thought this was because they were all driven by Chinks, who weren’t to be trusted, but then her doctor up at the bulk billing place on Marrickville Road was a lovely Chink, a nice young fella.

Jenny liked listening to Muriel’s stories, liked to enjoy Muriel’s sunny outlook, which was especially happy and generous on pension day, but she couldn’t invite Muriel inside her house… that would be too much, Muriel might never leave, it would be an invasion. So when Peter was out or out of it, and Muriel had lost her key, they’d sit on Peter’s concreted front verandah, the thick leaves of the yucca curling in the middle of the patch of brown lawn below them, yarning, sharing cups of tea and a laugh. She’d rarely leave Muriel alone when the older woman was waiting like this: although she admitted to herself that it was a kind of procrastination she would have felt guilty going inside to stare at her computer screen while her neighbour sat outside alone.

There’d never been a night so far when someone from Muriel's mob hadn’t either woken up or come home to let Muriel in. But Jenny was beginning to think it wasn't going to happen tonight; it was already 1.30. She thought of her spare room with its neatly made up single bed and was embarrassed and ashamed that she didn't want Muriel in there. She told herself "if it gets to 3am I'll invite her in to sleep."

Muriel had been brought home in a little blue car by a woman from the other side of Marrickville, after being evicted from a taxi. Jenny reckoned that Muriel’s accent along with her alcoholic slurring would have made it impossible for the cabbie to know exactly where she wanted to go – she pronounced “Francis St” as "Prancess St” – but at least he’d got her to Marrickville. The woman in the blue car must have struggled to get both Muriel and her walking frame into the tiny vehicle, and – watering her Jasmine – Jenny had to laugh as she saw the car stop-starting up the street, the walking frame's metal legs sticking out of the hatchback, the driver peering at the numbers in the twilight. Muriel never remembered which house it was.

Jenny & Con

2009-02-12T21:44:00.005+11:00

Walking down the steps of Marrickville station, sun already strong enough to fry an egg on one of the metal handrails, she saw Con. A big, overgrown toddler… chunky legs and arms, a huge round face, small features twinkling in its vastness… a big tummy and thick neck. Dressed in ironed shorts, a freshly nappy-san’d white tee shirt, his trademark luminous white runners and socks pulled tightly halfway up his calves.

“It’s coming, train’s coming soon” he said to a small Asian woman carrying an imitation Louis Vuitton handbag.

“Not long now, train’s coming” he told a young man with a goatee and white ipod-ears.

“This platform, train’s coming soon” he told Jenny, and she smiled, “Hi Con, how are you?” He took her hand and kissed her on the cheek, asking her “how are you?” staring into her eyes. At this point in her regular encounters with Con she was always struck by his masculine adultness – the look he was giving her was intense, very much like the kind of unflagging attention she used to get from boys she’d gone to uni with who wanted to... well, you know. But that wasn’t part of Con’s agenda; “train's coming from that way” he said, letting go of her hand to point towards Dulwich Hill. “Train's coming now!” he exclaimed as its nose came around the bend.

As it pulled in, a clattering blur of blue and yellow, Con forgot about Jenny; he was concentrating. He stood planted there, his big runners firmly apart on the platform, fists clenched at his sides in anticipation. The guard, leaning from one of the middle carriages – an Indian woman with a long plait over her shoulder – waved at him as she whooshed past. Just as he’d been waiting for her, she’d been watching out for him. Con was known to all the train workers who came through Marrickville, and the bus drivers for routes 423 and 426 all knew him too… he liked buses nearly as much as he liked trains. After he saw the guard waving at him, Con clapped his arms together like a seal, jiggled on his toe-tips and threw his head back, mouth open in a huge smile.

Jenny had only seen the kind guard’s expectant face for a moment, and yet it was enough to see that the woman had been looking out for Con as much as he’d been looking out for her… And it was then that Jenny realised that she also looked forward to seeing Con, to having him hold her hand and kiss her cheek and look at her with his special sort of intensity. And she felt immensely sad, and suddenly very tired. She let herself get on the train with the crowd, sitting wherever. A heaviness set down on her as she realised that she’d spent last night with Muriel, this morning with Con, neither people who really needed or liked her. She was kidding herself with this good citizen, good samaritan bullshit – it was a way to fill in time, hide her loneliness. These were strangers, not real parts of her life, just props. If she moved suburbs she’d probably never think of them again. Muriel would have another neighbour, perhaps less obliging, but really not much different – after all, Jenny reminded herself with shame, she didn’t allow Muriel into the house – Con didn’t differentiate between Jenny and other kind women around the place who gave him the time of day and let him hold their hands. She felt hollow, flattened, angry with herself, and by the time the train pulled into Central it was all she could do to lift herself out of the seat and start her legs moving to get wherever she was going.

Vegan Bake-Off at the Black Rose

2008-09-22T20:01:00.010+10:00

Ruby's life-long friend Georgina lives with us now. It's wonderful - she's a gorgeous girl with interesting, eclectic tastes, amazing fashion sense and great taste in terrible 80s and 90s cult movies. Although Georgie isn't vegan she decided to enter the Vegan Bake-Off being held on Sunday at the Black Rose Anarchist Bookshop in Newtown. She made a red velvet cake with a vegan cream icing. Other people had contributed a strawberry & passionfruit pie, and some oatmeal & choc-chip muffins. I trailed along to check it out & was quite overwhelmed by the wholesomeness of it all - quiet talk, reading of books, munching of vegan treats - nobody was even smoking! Young people these days, my oh my. I hope they save the world, I really do. See more photos here.

spam-poetry

2008-07-22T17:36:00.004+10:00

I received this text in the body of a penis-enlargement spam email today. Scarily, the more I read it the more it makes sense. Perhaps I should go and present it at a performance poetry night? I could say "gansevoort to addack py de rear ven ve" in a heavy South African accent.

"Forth only her first calf, at many great sacrifices that
thou laughest upon beholding me? Seeing thee trade. Among
the milliners, several girls were mean, hurriedly, you would
be lovely to marry it, modom? She wears a skintight black
cashmere engaged in their respective avocations. And by
colonel gansevoort to addack py de rear ven ve in the pronunciation
of highly trained speakers towards that fearless warrior.
fearlessly addressing such a sense of relief and quiet.
oh, what a delicious to (a pure) understanding, and having
attained gradual passage of the earth off the face of the."

MOST

2008-07-22T11:58:00.000+10:00

The Marrickville Open Studio Trail (MOST) returns this Saturday 26 July 2008 as part of the 2008 Sydney Biennale, providing an opportunity to peek into the lives of over 100 artists, where they work and exhibit. Audiences will follow a trail of open studios across the Marrickville area and explore the world of local contemporary art.

MOST will run from 10am to 4pm, providing an important opportunity for local artists to promote their work, engage with new audiences, and discuss and sell their work.

Participating artists will be encouraged to provide artworks for sale and demonstrate how their studios works.

Studio Location Maps can be collected on the day at the Sandringham Hotel Art Market (387 King St, Newtown) from 10am or from any of the participating studios.

Participating studios include -

§ Addison Rd Gallery Upstairs Studios - My Le Thi, 1st Floor, Addison Road Gallery Upstairs Studios (end of 1st Floor) 142 Addison Rd, Marrickville

Addison Rd Centre Artist Studios - 142 Addison Rd Centre Marrickville

Alpha House Artist Co-operative - 226 Union St Erskineville

Amy Jones - 6/1 Gladstone St Newtown

Astrid Dahl Studio - 66 Railway Rd, Sydenham

At The Vanishing Point - Contemporary Art - 565 King St Newtown

Brett Hayes - 11/12-22 Newington Rd, Marrickville (Entrance located at back of building)

Christopher Downie & Jeanette Landstedt - 36 Shepherd St Marrickville

Crash Corporation - 4 Harnett Ave, Marrickville South

Dimitri Kuznichenko - 28 Floss St Hurlstone Park

Diamando Koutsellis - 1/5 Fairmount St Dulwich Hill

Edith Artists - 9 & 10 Edith St St Peters

Factory 49 Inc (Showroom) - 49 Shepherd St Marrickville

Gallery 110 on Crystal St - 110 Crystal St Petersham 2049

Gilbert Grace - 6/69 Constitution Rd Dulwich Hill

Irminsul - 146 Edinburgh Rd Marrickville

Jenny Kyng Studio - 39 Cook Rd, Marrickville

Lennox Street Studios - 111 Lennox Street Newtown

Maggie Stein - 11 Clara St Newtown

Mary Street Studios - 75 Mary St St Peters

Matthew Syres Photography - 8/10 Cambridge St Enmore

Morna Molesworth - 803/31 Station St Newtown

Mosaico Art & Design Studio - Ground Floor 111 Lennox St Newtown

Painting the Roses - (Upstairs) Studio 3, 199a King St Newtown (cnr of King & Egan Sts - enter via Egan St)

Preservation Australia - Unit 10A Level 3 32-60 Alice St Newtown

Rosedale Street Gallery - 2A Rosedale St Dulwich Hil

Shepherd Studio - 12 Shepherd St Marrickville

Silver Street Studios - 114 Silver St Marrickville

SNO Contemporary Arts Projects - 1st Floor, 175 Marrickville Rd, Marrickville

Splinter Workshop - Building 1 Factory 1 Level 2 / 75 Mary St. St Peters

Stone Villa Studios - 19 Railway Rd Sydenham

Studio 109 - 109B Marrickville Rd Marrickville (Entrance Meeks Rd)

Tooth Studios - 67 Sydenham Rd Marrickville

Tortuga Studio - 31 Princess Highway St Peters

Ultimo Project - Addison Rd Centre, Hut 24/ 142 Addison Rd Marrickville

Please ring 02 9335 2281 or coevent@marrickville.nsw.gov.au for more information.

2008-07-14T18:14:00.005+10:00

The sunset from Marrickville was gorgeous last night - very Rococo, I thought, slightly garish even, but with a gum tree flavour. You can see more photos here. The birds were so noisy along the river that Richard and I had to stop talking for a minute.

Isn't it funny how when you're busy doing blog-worthy things you don't have time to write, and then when you do get a chance you forget what you were going to write about?

Damn. Let me think. Oh yes, we had a lovely dinner:

We invited our dear friend Phil, who is Georgie's Dad. Georgie made place-markers (see mine, "Dr Jones"?) and a fantastically tangy lemon tart. Richard did zucchini flowers stuffed with ricotta followed by a pesto pasta that was almost jumping off the plate with flavour. I set the table with my favourite 1970s "scenes of Sydney" placemats & poured the wine.

I wrote a grant application, my first ever. I've been a little paralysed about them for a year or so - I think the cancer blew my confidence a bit so I just concentrated on what I knew - my teaching (hence the award, hehehe) and my writing. Anyway, I loved doing the application and will definitely do more now that I've broken the ice. This one is asking for just under $25,000 to do some research in Thailand about cosmetic surgery tourism - a logical next step from the research I did for my book - so fingers crossed! I won't find out until December.

My ex-step-father-in-law (work that one out) died last week. He was nearly 84 and had had a pretty wonderful life, crashing planes during WWII on the beach in Darwin, sailing around Australia, being married to two beautiful women (not at the same time) and having a loving, close family. Ruby and I went to Melbourne for the funeral, which was lovely - totally secular - standing room only - laughter along with tears. Vale Bert.

It's a Man's World

2008-06-01T14:27:00.005+10:00

Yesterday Suzanne B picked me up from yoga and we headed out to the Penrith Regional Gallery. We're working on a book together about Hair. Yes, hair. It'll be the first in this series of books. So when we saw that the PRG was holding an "Hirsute Pursuit" competition to accompany its MAN: Depicting Contemporary Masculinity exhibition, we just had to go and check it out. It was a beautiful sunny Autumn day and the shadows were already long by three o'clock.

The hairy competition was part of a "Mister Market" day with stalls featuring masculinity-themed artistic merchandise. My favourite competition costumes were the woman-jesus, and the woman in a woman suit. Neither of them won, which was just outrageous. I told the woman in a woman suit that I'd thought her's was the best outfit and that I thought she should have won. "What can you do?" she replied, "it's a man's world."

See more photos & commentary here.

Poor Neglected Bloggie

2008-05-06T15:47:00.005+10:00

I'm writing this post from the airport in Vancouver - I'm on my way home and hoping to do some proper blogging soon.

I've been in Canada for the past few weeks, in Edmonton and in Vancouver, working and attending a conference. See pictures here.

I took 4 days off to drive through the Rocky Mountains - my goodness, it was eye-bogglingly beautiful, scene after scene of craggy cloud-high mountains, all tipped with snow, and conifers and glaciers and bears (well, one bear - hey, I saw a bear!) and elk and a marmot and some long-horned sheep. I went with my dear friend Cressida and we stopped to ski for a day in Jasper (where elk wander along the streets & the rubbish bins are bear-proof). I LOVE skiing, it's totally addictive - I think it's the combination of brightness, coldness, cushioned silence and of course speeeeeeeed. Excellent. Until you fall and sprain your finger or get a nasty ankle-burn, but even then it's worth it.

My conference, transsomatechnics, was rather wonderful too. Cressida and I presented a panel with Lucas Crawford. I had some technical glitches because I over-ambitiously tried to show a series of small extracts from The Swan, Poltergeist, Videodrome and The Ring, silly me, but it was all ok in the end. People seemed to get my idea about "media-bodies" so that was pleasing. I think I'll make it the subject of my next book.

It's hard to choose a highlight from the conference but it was great to meet one of my long-distance mentors, at last, the philosopher Kathryn Morgan. We had some wonderful talks and I now have a new friend.

I was thrilled to also meet Antony Hegarty, who is my all-time favourite singer (I played his bird album every day of 2006, all through my cancer treatments). Antony was absolutely delightful during the performance he gave for the conference attendees - he kept starting songs, stopping after a few bars and telling a little story, then starting the song again. He spoke about his childhood, about the environment, and about gender. He was captivating, modest, humble and very very lovely. If there were more humans in the world like him I reckon we'd all be set.

The only sad note of my trip was that Ruby emailed to say she's found a place to live with some of her friends ... that is, she's moving out of home. I feel bereft. But I know she has to do it, she wants to be independent and of course that's a good thing. But, well, you know, poor me.

Before I went to Canada I had my book launch, and did heaps of media stuff - mostly interviews - radio & a little press. That's me at the top there in the UTS Co-op Bookshop window, with the display that my very talented friend Natalie Coulter made. Isn't she clever? Gleebooks sold out of the book (they'd only ordered 30 copies) on the night of the launch which was very gratifying. It's great that the book is finally out there in the world, doing its own thing - but now I have to wait for the reviews! Goodness knows how long they'll take, or even if there will be any produced at all by the notoriously slowly churning academic world.

Anyway, I have some new ideas for the blog so watch this space...

SORRY

2008-02-13T10:45:00.000+11:00

See you in the next life Brainhell

2008-02-03T22:32:00.000+11:00

Brainhell is dead.

There's a photo of him (at last) on his blog and he looks every bit the witty, intelligent and handsome man that came shining through each of his blog posts.

Farewell to a really wonderful blogger.

Marrickville Leisureland

2008-02-02T18:38:00.000+11:00

Anne Zahalka
Marrickville RSL Club, 2000
type C photograph Edition of 12 (115 x 145 cm); edition of 20 (57 x 72 cm)

The Marrickville RSL is closed for renovations. I hope they don't remove the geometric neon decorations or the mirrored ceiling. The photo above is from Anne Zahalka's "Leisureland" series of which I've been a fan for years (I show students this when we read Derrida, hehehe). If you've come through Sydney's international terminal lately you might have noticed some of Zahalka's beautiful "Welcome to Sydney" series on the walls there.

Over the years I've grown quite fond of this gigantic banner on the RSL's outside wall, and I feel I almost know these four women. I'm guessing it will be taken away or updated. It's been there at least eight years (and has become a bit faded in the sun) and most of the women pictured have probably moved on, perhaps even to other careers, by now.

Australia Day in Enmore Park

2008-01-26T22:04:00.001+11:00

Planes roaring overhead, a band with a woman lead singer doing Jimmy Barnes covers, people dancing with kids and babies, everyone with their picnic rugs, and dogs galore. Bats flapping powerfully against the breeze. Then the fireworks. It's quite a small park, and only about 50 square metres were cordoned off for the pyrotechnicians. Chrysanthemums, crackles, wagon wheels and strobes were bursting right above our heads and were incredibly close. There was no music while they were going off, which was wonderful because for the first time since I was a kid I could really hear them. They crack and crackle, screech, fizz and bang. Some sound like massive sparklers, others like surf breaking. Silver streaks wheezed their way upwards before turning into delicate stars.

David from Mount Druitt and Daniel from Marrickville

Boss, a Bull Mastiff cross Great Dane, and Beukannan, both from Marrickville

Dougall, a Boston Terrier, and Glen, both from Newtown

Sophia and Prince
"This is our local park, he's never seen so many people at his local park!"

Andrew and Grant, and their beloved Lily.

Gyoza and Sergei
"He's called Gyoza because he has ears like Japanese dumplings"

Leonie, Sunnai and Booty from Newtown

Bridge Andrews with Oscar and Bosie

Max and Marie

Mary and Lily.
Lily is half Papillon, half Chihuahua; she belongs to Mary's granddaughter Amy.

Standing, from left to right: J-me, Josh & Jika. Sitting, from left to right: Alex & Jermaine.
They all go to Marrickville High.

Margo and Sam from Enmore.

Glen Moss of Petersham and Charles Guarroch of Penrith.
They work for Marrickville Council.

Denny Burgess from Newtown

TIM Products - Greek pastries

2008-01-21T14:12:00.000+11:00

By Grant

Now if you’re a Marrickvillian and have not heard of TIM Products then it’s time you did. I’ve known about this outlet for traditional Greek pastries for a few years now, but Andrew first discovered it during one of those gourmet food safaris: http://www.gourmetsafaris.com.au/page/sydney_safaris.html

I met the son (pictured), whose name escapes me now. He was a pretty dynamic guy and very passionate about the tradition that he is carrying on with his family. I quickly found myself taking about food and how it sustains a culture and facilitates the sharing of cultures. His dad started making traditional Greek pastries a year after I was born (1967) from almond shortbread to baklava and galaktoboureko (layers of filo pastry filled with custard and lightly syruped). They have all been Marrickvillians since 1979!!

On Australia Day, let’s reflect on the richness of the traditions that make up this “big brown land” – that diversity that makes Australia unique – something greater than the sum of it’s parts.

TIM Products is up a long flight of stairs at 407 Enmore Rd Marrickville – you’ll smell the sweet pastries the moment your foot hits the first step.

More info at: www.timproducts.com.au

Black Forest Smokehouse

2008-01-21T13:17:00.000+11:00

By Grant

I love living in Marrickville – especially will all the local businesses and produce about. But I’m learning to never judge a book by its cover when it comes to good food.

Andrew’s sisters husband is a chef and told me about this week’s shop of the week, the Black Forest Smokehouse. This place is only round the corner from me but I never noticed it - it is easy to miss.

I met Richard and Cate who’ve had the business for 3 years now as “purveyors of gourmet delicacies to Sydney’s greatest chefs”, but the smokehouse has been around for 15 years or so.

They had a pretty good range of meats – some chicken and chilli chorizos I’d never seen before and fresh cut grain fed meats. Also duck, which is hard to get, and heaps of different air-dried meats.

I left with some of the best speck I’ve ever tasted...and got it for about $4 it was cheap! Richard and Cate were really friendly folk carrying on a tradition with good Australian produce. I know where I’m going before my next BBQ.

Black Forest Smokehouse is tucked away at 150 Edinburgh Rd Marrickville and is open Monday – Thursday 10.00am – 5.00pm and Friday 10.00am – 4.00pm.

First and Second Childhoods

2008-01-10T16:59:00.000+11:00

When I was on holiday in Melbourne, Griff, Richard's little son, was visiting from London. We spent a lot of time with this delightful nearly-two year old and I was constantly reminded of how much very young humans live for each moment. "Look, truck!" is Griff's most common declaration of joy, and the happiness created by the discovery (each sighting a wonderful surprise) lasts until said truck/van/tram/ride-on-mower has been admired, waved to (and so many drivers wave back to small children), and has roared or sailed or putt-putted off into the distance.

At the other end of the spectrum is my Pop. Eighty-seven, he is beginning to suffer from dementia. Well, I say suffer, but I don't think he's really suffering... in fact in some ways he seems happier than ever before. He's become uncritical, non-judgmental, accepting. Like Griff, he's also living for each moment. We had afternoon tea. I got him a cappuccino and the richest, most sickly-looking bit of cake, which he gobbled down with relish. Then we walked slowly arm in arm along the St Kilda pier and he looked for a long time at a hovering seagull. "They make it look so easy" he said, then asked when we were getting our afternoon tea. But his memories of long ago are still intact; he knows that in 1941 he had lunch every day at the Lyons tea rooms in Liverpool opposite the university: ox-tail stew for sixpence - "it really filled you up" - and for an extra threepence you could also have soup or pudding. He can still tinkle out a Chopin waltz or a Mozart sonata, and he tells the occasional joke - "I can't walk far you know, I might wear my shoe leather out" - which tickles him, especially if you repeat it straight back to him.

There are so many similarities between Griff and Pop right now: the pleasure in the moment, the love of and need for repetition, the total dependence on others. But while Griff develops by the day, nay, by the hour, learning new words, walking backwards and on tippie-toes, jumping into the pool, Pop slowly loses things: names, events, the alphabet, his PIN. He often says "it's all very confusing". He brings home other people's mail, wanders off, falls over, and is driven home by kind strangers. My frail Nanna is beside herself with worry, and they're looking at nursing homes for Pop this week.

All the bests

2007-12-31T20:28:00.000+11:00

By Meredith

The best Christmas post I've read so far is at Eddy Currents. Justine is a beautiful writer, a swimming teacher, and a book seller from the South of London. Her blog deserves more readers so please go and have a look.

The best one year old boy I've been spending time with:

The best New Year's Eve resolution ever (because it's achievable so long as I don't lose my job): buy good quality, nice underwear, when I need it (ie don't wait until all the elastic is gone and bits of body are wandering free).

The best day on holidays so far: in the city of Melbourne with my mum, including lunch at Ca De Vin, one of the many Italian-inspired cafes that pop up in the laneways and arcades that web the CBD.

The best bargain: we had a wander through all the little shops in Degraves St where I got a HUGE bargain at Shag. Imagine finding a Chloe jacket that you love, and it fits you perfectly, and, because it's a sample, it's only $195.00, but then, for some crazy reason, it's reduced in the post-Christmas sale to $15.00!! The excitement was almost more than I could bear.

The best sales purchase overall though, is these gold shoes - they're for my dear friend Tracy's wedding where I'll be bridesmaid; I'll wear them with a long vintage apricot beaded dress (the bride is wearing tangerine).

The best plan to get Christmas cake:

lie quite still, pretending to be asleep, but crawl slowly towards the fruity, nutty goodness;

get excitingly close before you're discovered & told off. Oh well.

Santa's sack slipped & someone nicked the tips

2007-12-28T08:42:00.000+11:00

By Meredith

I'm in Mebourne, having my usual Christmas / New Year break with family and old friends. On Christmas Day, after a beautiful lunch of mushroom and asparagus risotto, baked vegetables, salad, berry and passionfruit pavlova, Christmas pudding with custard, Christmas cake, and chocolates, I was assailed by this sight of sights:

On Boxing Day, wandering along Brunswick St, Fitzroy, I heard this conversation between a Koori couple sitting with lattes outside The Black Cat:

her: "A blackfella went in and stole their tips bowl."
him (groaning, head in hands): "You're kidding me."

Today, I'm going underwear shopping with my mother at David Jones. I suggested we meet on the Flinders St Station steps, but mother came up with a better idea - the Big Purse.

hols about to start

2007-12-21T10:26:00.000+11:00

By Meredith

Oh my dears,
It hasn't been such a big bloggy year as last year was, but goodness me I've been busy with other things. I'm resolved to be a better blogger in 2009. So, updates!

The menagerie: Stryker the horse has a new friend; we're very relieved as he was such a loner and we were worried he was miserable. Horses are sociable creatures, and I read a while ago that there is a law in, I think, Sweden, that you're not allowed to keep only one horse - it always had to have at least one friend. The ratties are lovely critters with soft fur and twitching whiskers and dear little fingers... they continue to delight. The cat, Led, tells us each morning, loudly, how hard her life is. We sympathise. The pug dog, Sailor, is getting old and losing teeth but is still very fit. She's thin for a pug, thanks to the brutal diet regime I keep her on.

The daughter: she did brilliantly in the HSC - she probably wouldn't want me to put the actual mark here but let's just say that not many people in the state got a higher score and she was in the newspaper. We're so proud!

Work: The CV's "forthcoming" section is bulging with no less than seven new pieces of my writing coming out in 2008, which I'm pretty pleased about. They range from my book, to refereed journal articles, to more arty pieces, to encyclopaedia entries. I also finished this year, with my wonderful friend Cressida Heyes, an edited anthology of feminist responses to cosmetic surgery. That's off being reviewed by two publishing houses at the moment - fingers crossed for it, it was so much work! Teaching was invigorating and exhausting simultaneously, and as usual I have learned much from my students.

Christmas: I have had a very enjoyable time choosing presents for friends and family. People are getting things like Italian conversation classes, little original art works, jewellery, things purchased at Gallery Serpentine (you'll just have to guess what) and lots and lots of books. I don't buy everything at the last minute, rather I collect stuff through the year, not necessarily with anyone in mind, and put it in my "present cupboard" (this is a big bag in the spare room wardrobe). Then, as Christmas draws near, I get it all out to see what I've got - aha! that book about window dressing will do nicely for my ex sister in law who is a visual merchandiser; that gorgeous Italian cookbook will suit a hard-to-buy-for couple, and I even have someone in mind for the (good quality) knock-off white leather "Chanel" wallet.

Of course I have most fun buying for the kids. Most of them are getting books, stickers, packets of tattoos, etc, but my little five year old nephew will receive a doctor's kit. In a little red case came plastic syringes, a thermometer, ear-examining thingos and a stethoscope. I've added in bandaids, rolls of bandages, "pills" (tic tacs), a tube of aloe vera gel, and a bottle of "medicine" (decanted Ribena). I hope he will be able to cure me of all my ills on Christmas day.

Caketown @ Newtown

2007-12-18T22:06:00.000+11:00

I’ve been mulling over this post for a few days now. The pressure of the first time I guess but also because of what can only be described as my conversation with a pastry artisan.

In the spirit of the blogosphere I thought I’d get some facts to pad out my post, make me sound like I know my shit! Don’t want to let my mate Meredith down with some lame post about some shop my waist line and I frequent. So as one thing leads to another and in true backyard journalistic style I found myself speaking with Paul. A somewhat intense, full throttle, occasionally dark, never fully satisfied creative genius. I’m not sure what I expected, but I should have known it could never have been mediocre – there’s nothing mediocre about Caketown.

Now I’ve lived in Newtown (King St south) and of course Marrickville for a decade now and I have watched shops come and go…mostly go. Still there’s one shop that has been around for 4-5 years now called Caketown. Paul (44) and wife Carmel are both chefs (hmmm, note the facts – good ah?) and have lived in the area for 15 years and also have a young son. Carmel, who used to run the kitchen at the Greenwood Hotel in Nth Sydney, does the savouries off site so the smell of the onions etc doesn’t affect the pastries.

“Pastry making is very demanding”, says Paul “you have to be accurate in what you do – everything is timed, measured and chilled very carefully.”

Paul starts his day at 4am and goes 100% all day. When I spoke with him at 8pm he was like a whirlwind. I realised quickly that the mind of a true artisan could be an amazing and colourful place.

“I use all natural ingredients – just butter, cream and eggs. No premix anything used – some others’ cakes are made with hardly anything natural and taste like soap! If I can’t put it in my mouth I won’t sell it. The chocolate is a blend of French and Belgium – no compound chocolate that has vegetable oil in it and it coats the tongue, I won’t use anything that masks the pallet!”

Trained by a French Chef for 7 years in Rosebay. Paul sees what he does as a craft as a journeyman trade. “This is our first business. Prior to 9/11 I was a product development officer, for a company making sweets and desserts for Ansett but was later retrenched. I started doing small wholesale from home but Carmel prompted me into opening up Caketown. Being quite reserved I resisted, but Carmel persisted!”

In all the years I’ve been going to Caketown I’ve only ever seen Carmel and occasionally other people behind the counter. Who is this person making all this amazing food? Yes of course, this is a post about food and a “shop of the week” no less. I once glimpsed the elusive Paul but too quick he was. “I’m a frustrated artist I guess, I like to let the work speak for itself. I hate showy chefs.”

I had to ask Paul about the hot cross buns. Apparently the fruit is macerated for 3 weeks prior to Easter in French Brandy and French Rum. Who does that now, I ask you? My mum does for one, maybe your mum too, but fewer and fewer these days.

With the rise of the franchise cake store (and coffee for that matter), locally made and locally run shops like Caketown are a rare find and should be celebrated.
My own blessed Mother soaks her xmas pudding fruit for 3-4 weeks in a special jar she has just for that purpose. She fills the jar with dried fruit and will turn it twice every day until is it ready. This amount of detail, love, and effort has real resonance with me. It’s more than just cooking its food alchemy.

When I told Paul this, he laughed, “Yep, all the love is done in the morning!”

Over the years I’ve sampled and can highly recommend the following:

• Almond croissants – yum
• Chocolate croissants – rich yet light
• Chocolate and almond croissants – for when you just cant decide
• Meat pies – for when you want actual meat in your pies
• Quiche – for real men ;)
• Xmas fruit mince pies – dare I say, almost as good as Mum’s
• Florentines – the best I’ve every tasted
• Fruit Danish – again with real fruit – nectarine Danish is the best
• Kougloff – a eastern European cake with chocolate inside
• Caramel tarts – superb
• “Throw downs” - mouthful size morsels of pure joys, the perfect treat as you’re walking home from work or on a Sunday afternoon with friends if you’re like me and can’t turn up empty handed.
• They also bake fresh a full range of breads and long fermented doughs – no yeast in the sour doughs here!

Caketown is located at 569 King Street Newtown and open Wed to Sun, but get in early on the weekends or you’ll be disappointed.

The Glittering Lights of Marrickville

2007-12-14T22:15:00.000+11:00

This house in Fraser St is famous - they go all out every year & even have a charity box.

There's nothing like a bit of sparkle around the palm tree at Christmas.

This house, in Petersham Rd, is one of my favourite Fedeterranean homes (I love the crazy-wall front fence & the iron work). See the sliver of moon?
A grand old home with its original gate.

Santa in car.

And even those without front gardens give it a go.

Guess who's coming to play?

2007-12-12T23:56:00.000+11:00

I'm very pleased to announce that Marrickvillia is about to have a new contributor, my friend Grant. He's been an inner-westie forever (he won't cross College St) and now lives in North Marrickville, excitingly close to the Marrickville Metro. He promises a post on his favourite cake shop, and possibly something about musk sticks, too. He's a talented redheaded flirty but stern kind of fellow, if you can picture that. Please make him welcome everybody!

this meme is doing the rounds

2007-12-06T14:29:00.000+11:00

1. Are you dating the last person you kissed?
We're married, and we had a date last night. We went here and here.

2. Pretend you've had 10 beers. what you would be doing right now?
feeling intense regret

3. What do you want?
I want a quiet life, and I usually have one.

4. Who was the last person you shared a bed with?
Let's just say that some of our mutual friends call him "the God".

5. Do you talk to yourself?
Yes, but only when I'm by myself. I also pull faces at myself when I look in the mirror.

6. Do you drink milk straight from the carton?
I never drink milk, it's made me gag ever since I was forced to ingest some at four years of age by an evil kindergarten teacher.

7. Who knows the latest secret about you?
Only me.

8. How long is your hair?
Two hands' length from the crown

9. Do you like Batman?
not at all

10. Who was the last person who told you they loved you?
Richard

13. Do you like anyone now?
I like my family and my pets and my friends.

14. When was the last time you lied?
Oooh gee, it was late last week and it was a doosie.

16. Is your birthday on a holiday?
No

17. What instant messaging service do you use?
SMS and email

18.Last thing you cooked today?
toast with butter

19. Did you have a nap today?
no but I did sleep in and then finished a novel before I got up.

20. Who's house did you go to last?
whose, you mean ... my neighbours'

21. What do you wear more, jeans or sweats?
sweats? do you mean trackie dacs? Neither, but I wear yoga pants at least twice a week.

22. Why is the sky blue?
because it reflects the ocean?

23. Do you like green beans?
love them! Tossed with garlic and olive oil

24. Do you swear a lot?
oh for buggary's sake

25. Where did you get the shirt you're wearing?
Marrickville op shop

27. Do you use an alarm clock?
clock radio - Fran Kelly wakes me on weekdays

28. Where was your default MySpace picture taken?
n/a, but my facebook picture was taken in the Tate Modern - how about that?

29. Do you ever snort when you laugh?
yep

30. Whats the first thing you notice on the opposite sex?
height & girth

31. Is cheating ever okay?
only rarely

32. Do you want someone you can't have?
Yes, I want Madonna to be my friend

34. Do you wear underwear?
often

35. Do you wear a bra?
How very dare you

36. What Size?
How very very dare you

37. Are you a social or an antisocial person?
very social, although I love time alone

39. Do you have a tan?
sometimes, unintentionally

45. Are you afraid of the dark?
Never.

47. Do you miss someone today?
My daughter, because she's in Byron Bay.

49. Do you still have pictures of you & your exs?
Sadly, yes, hundreds (of photos, not exs)

50. Who's always there for you no matter what?
My parents.

Young people today, my oh my

2007-11-29T15:57:00.000+11:00

Goodness, the things you hear on the 423 bus if you get in with the after school crowd. Two boys in school uniform, about fifteen years old. One tall with dark curly hair, the other small and blonde. They stood near where I was sitting, and there was a spare seat next to me. The tall one said to the small one, "stand here, beautiful." My ears pricked up - did he really say that? - was he talking to the other boy, or is there a girl around? - or did I hear wrong? Then the little blonde one said to the tall curly-headed one "Why don't you sit down?" To which his friend replied quite clearly and seriously "I'm not sitting down unless you can too, my love."

aowh... the day after

2007-11-25T15:27:00.000+11:00

we are not well we have a headache there was partying and screaming and joyous whoops and the house was chockers and we ate a huge lebanese feast and people dressed up and someone vomited and the dog ate it before we could stop her and everyone was glued to the teve and maxine looked so radiant and delighted, and julia so pinkly pleased & modest. One of them will be Australian Prime Minister eventually but kevin will do for the time being.

Oh God, I left the blog on the bus!

2007-11-11T21:08:00.000+11:00

Not really, I've just been horribly busy. The end of semester rushed at me like a monster. Luckily my students were a ridiculously talented bunch and their final projects made everything worthwhile. Ruby finished her HSC exams on Thursday. She was incredibly well prepared but it was still quite stressful. I made endless cups of soy hot chocolate for her & helped a little with English preparation, but I'm useless with anything like Biology. Now she has schoolies and her year twelve formal coming up...

Toby the rat is all better. His foot will always be deformed but all the infection is gone and the skin has grown back. He lost weight while he was injured and his brother Billy is now nearly twice his size. We get Toby out on his own and feed him chocolate and nuts so he can get his strength back.

We're having a party! It will be on election night and the theme is "Don's Party" (although I hope the election outcome will be different to the one in the play). People have to come dressed in "Australian suburbia, 1969", hehehe. I'm searching for a crimplene pants suit for myself and a body-shirt for Richard. Fingers crossed there will be good reason to pop the champagne. Go Maxine! Go Julia!

Saying Sorry

2007-09-27T10:53:00.000+10:00

Brainhell wrote this on Sunday:

yesterday during the movie, at 630 pm, the cough urge grew strong, so i went chin down over a towel. it was a drool fest but no suctioning.

in 8th grade 'tony' drew for me caricatures of holmes and watson that his brother had developed. i scorned his version and drew my own, more cartoonish. the teacher noticed mine and praised my creativity. i lapped up the praise and never mentioned the concept source. the teacher even had a silkscreen made of it. 'tony,' who became a professional artist, never mentioned it either. this is my apology. i'm sorry, 'tony.'

And it got me thinking, as most of his posts do. There's this notion that when we're dying, or when we're just seeking to make peace with ourselves or sense of our lives, we try to make amends. I know that saying sorry to those you've wronged is one of the twelve steps of AA. We apologise to people we've hurt and it helps us to move on, to start afresh. But, I wonder, what about those who've wronged us?

The comment I left for Brainy was about my friend Mina in grade four. Well. She has been "mean Mina" to me for many years now. My daughter, when she was quite little, loved the story about me and mean Mina having our final falling out. Mean Mina was little, even punier than me. But wiry and strong with her sharp knuckle-punches and chinese burns. She had two offsiders, huge already-bosomy "sisters" who were actually auntie and niece... one of them later became my friend so lets not name them here. They were all after me, stomp, stomp, stomp, I ran to the monkey bars, I shimmied up to the highest point, I spent the next hour prising their grasping fingers off me. Phew, it was a close call.

I digress. Mean Mina, you owe me an apology for stealing my idea for the school motto in grade four. "Helen St keeps things moving". And my picture of the swimming fish. Even more so, you owe me an apology because my idea won the competition and you got a free T-shirt.

So, can we decide to seek people out and demand apologies from them, or is that just really immature & ridiculous?

Lebanese Feast - kib'be a'raahib

2007-09-20T09:18:00.001+10:00

Here's the Lebanese feast I made on Saturday night. It was pretty spectacular and really full of flavour, especially the lemon soup and the mackdouse (this is the stuffed pickled eggplant you buy in a jar). As we were eating Ruby asked me how I liked it and I said "I love it, I just wish someone else had cooked it." So we'll have it again, definitely, but Richard will take it from here... Recipes & pictures below.

By the way, it's vegan.

Lebanese Lenten kib'be (kib'be a'raahib -monk's kibbe)
This is enough to feed 8 people so adjust as necessary

Filling
2x small-med brown onions, fine diced
1-2 small red chillies sliced
1 tsp Lebanese 7 spice (baharat)
1 cup finely diced pecans or walnuts
Olive oil, salt to taste
Golden sultanas optional

Sauté onions in generous quantity of olive oil until just starting to caramelize, then add chilli and spice, then pecans, fry another 2-3 minutes on med-low flame, set aside to cool.

Potato dough (for ‘crust’)
2x Med small onions
Generous handful fresh basil leaves
1/4 tsp chilli powder
1 tsp cumin powder
7-8 Med-small potatoes boiled, drained and cooled
4-5 cups pre-soaked and washed burghul, (brown and fine - asmar ou nayaim)
Salt to taste

Process basil and onions in food processor until v. fine dice, not watery - smooth paste, but lumpy puree!!
No large pieces allowed!!
In mixer with batter attachment, mix potatoes, burghul, spices and onion mix together to make stiff dough. If too sticky, add more burghul.

Prepare large baking pan with light ‘oiling’. Divide ‘dough’ in 1/2. Fill small bowl with water and a pinch of salt. Wet hands with this water, and flatten handfuls of dough into large pancake discs across palm, and lay,( pat) into dish. Join these up one by one like putting together patchwork quilt, until they cover the bottom of the pan about 1/2” thick. Smooth seams with damp hand. Spread with filling, then use same procedure of patching together the top ‘crust’. Smooth seams, and gently score the surface with diamond pattern, to make easier to cut. Drizzle sparingly with olive oil.

Bake in mod-hot oven until golden brown.

Serve it with lemon lentil soup, green salad, pickled eggplant (mackdouse) and radish relish.

Lemon soup

Boil one generous cup of washed lentils till tender - skim water often, add 2 med diced potatoes, boil till tender, then top off with water and lemon juice to taste. (several lemons!, or supplement with citric acid- milleh leymun)
In mortar and pestle grind 2 garlic cloves and large tablespoon fresh chopped coriander, sauté in 2 tblspns olive oil, when almost golden tip on to soup, and add 2 bunches rough sliced spinach or equivalent silverbeet, stir and simmer till wilted.
Add salt to taste and serve.

Radish relish

2 bunches radish, well cleaned
Lemon juice
Salt

Fine dice radish in small food processor bowl. Do not Puree.
Transfer to serving bowl. Pour over juice of 1 – 2 lemons, salt to taste.
Add small tablespoon to top of each kibbe slice on serving platter or on individual plates

Boarding House Masquerade Ball

2007-09-15T16:46:00.000+10:00

Last night I went to the Marrickville Boarding House Masquerade Ball at the Petersham Bowling Club. I got there too late to hear the Sydney Street Choir but I'm looking forward to doing that another time. It was a really great party with excellent dancing and singing along to "YMCA", "Mamma Mia" and "Red Red Wine". Lots of the people were wearing masks, hats and other pieces of finery they'd made themselves at the "Get Frocked Up" workshops run by Marrickville Council. It seemed that everyone wanted to have their photo taken so I spent the evening clicking away happily.

Click on the photos to see bigger versions. My favourites: the woman with the pink faux fur coat (left, third row from the top), and the elegantly aloof man with the amazing blue eyes (left, second row from the top) because they look like a couple of movie stars.

If you're in one of these photos and you would like a free print copy, just email me your name and address and the number of the photo at meredith.r.jones@gmail.com

Pickles and Pikelets

2007-09-14T18:36:00.000+10:00

When I was in Tokyo in July I stayed with my very smart and artistic cousin. Our fathers are brothers, from a quiet family that's a bit Jewish, a bit German, a bit English, and above all, very very proper. My cousin went for something completely different - she married into a huge, noisy, expressive and emotional Lebanese family, and she's never looked back. It was really wonderful being with her in Tokyo, where she'd lived for just a few months. But she had a grasp on the language after some intensive lessons, so we managed to find our way around without too much embarrassment.

After a day's hard gallery-ing and shopping we'd go home to the apartment she shares with her gorgeous husband and their three lively children, and she'd conjure up the most amazing Lebanese feasts (her mother and sisters in law taught her to cook when she first got married). In fact, apart from the bento boxes that I had for lunch at the conference I went to at Tokyo University, I ate mainly Lebanese food while I was in Japan. And what what food it was, so good, made with so much love, that I never once wished for sushi.

So, I have her recipe for Lebanese Lenten kib'be (kib'be a'raahib, or monk's kibbe) and in a rare cooking moment I'm going to attempt it tomorrow night. I've just been up to my local Middle Eastern deli to get some of the ingredients, the most exciting of which is a jar of mackdouce - pickled eggplant stuffed with red pepper and walnuts. This is served with the Lenten kib'be (a sort of nutty "pie" with a potato crust) along with lemon soup, green salad, and radish relish. Watch this space.

It's Ramadan, and the deli had some special things on offer:

like these mouth-watering bags of pickles - soaking in this briny liquid are cabbage, whole chillies, chunks of cauliflower, beetroot, and red capsicum...

and these, the softest of fluffy pikelets, sold with a tub of sugary rose-water syrup in which to dip.

Ratty wounded on escapade

2007-09-09T19:45:00.000+10:00

Toby contemplates the cost of his adventures.

On Thursday night we let the ratties out for their evening run. Toby, the more adventurous of the two (Billy is a woos and spends his "running" time hiding under the couch) discovered a hole under the stove. Down he went, under the house, and didn't return. Eventually we had to go to bed, and just left a macadamia nut under the stove to entice him back. It worked! He came trotting out holding it proudly like a basketball. So, all was well until last night, when we noticed that one of his back feet was lacerated, perhaps crushed (sob) and had blown up hugely. There's redness and pus and it's not pretty. Off to the emergency vet, a delightful young woman who told us she loves rats and said "Right, Mr Piggy, we'll have to confiscate that" when he licked the lubricant off the thermometer that had been taking his temperature you-know-where. So, $145 later and armed with a bottle of antibiotics, and under strict instructions that he is to rest(!) here we are trying to get his infection down so he won't lose the foot. "What if we just amputated the foot now?" I asked, but no, the philosophy with animals, as with people, seems to be save it if you can.

Sandcastles

2007-09-07T17:04:00.000+10:00

Long ago people enjoyed swimming in the Cooks River at Marrickville and Tempe. They would take day trips by train from the overcrowded and polluted inner city - from places like Darlinghurst and Paddington - to enjoy the fresh river water and the clean Marrickville air. Picnics, swimming, boating...

Marrickville even had its own lifesavers: this is the Steel Park River Patrol Lifesaving club sometime in the 1930s. Quite a bunch of spunks. I wonder what colours their stripey swimming costumes were?

Actually, although the Cooks River is unfit for swimming now, and may still be the most polluted waterway in Australia, we do have a beach of sorts. A little bit of sand only about 15 metres wide in a curve of land between mangrove patches. A few years ago it was always littered with Coke bottles, discarded homemade bongs, bits of toilet paper and the occasional car tyre, but lately it's been much cleaner... and last week, on a day I left work early and took a long walk after hearing an old friend was dead, here's what I saw:

Much more than a Michael Jackson impersonator

2007-08-29T16:15:00.000+10:00

Late last year I had some emails & blogger interactions with Lucas of The Sham, about Richard Blackie, a Michael Jackson impersonator who ran a toyshop in Petersham until he died. Lucas wrote about Richard's death, then his funeral, here and here. Nobody seems to know what happened to Richard's dogs, and I wondered if one of them was Dero Dog (see links in my sidebar). Anyway, a film has been made about this remarkable character and it's showing tomorrow night. Sadly I can't go as I'm teaching, but I'll see it some other time. If you're interested, the Mu-Meson Archives venue is on the corner of Parramatta Rd & Trafalgar St Annandale at the end of the King Furniture building, up the steel staircase. Phone 9517-2010.
Thursday 30^th August
Directors Cut: Maya Newell -
RICHARD The Most Interestingest Person I've Ever Met

A stark, bittersweet, and, at times, humorous portrait of Richard Blackie - consummate eccentric, toy collector and former Michael Jackson impersonator - whose public obsessions and private torments are laid bare in this devastating portrayal of the last few months of his life. Seventeen year-old filmmaker, Maya Newell, enters the inner sanctum of Richard Blackie's extraordinary, utterly bizarre toyshop. Striking up a curious relationship with the 41-year-old toy dealer, collector and ex-Michael Jackson impersonator, Maya is given permission to document the life of this most private of private characters, and the obsessions that drive him. Maya will be live in the Archives to present her film and answerer questions about the production.

	Mu-Meson Archives
	Doors 7.30 for 8pm start
	$10 with supper

Marrickville Contemporary Art Prize 2007 - Entries Close 5pm 20 August

2007-08-13T12:18:00.000+10:00

At The Vanishing Point - Contemporary Art presents ... its inaugural contemporary art award for the city of Marrickville.

Marrickville Contemporary Art Prize 2007
06 - 23 September at ATVP 565 King Street Newtown & Don't Look Gallery 419 New Canterbury Road Dulwich Hill

Prizes include:
Open Award: $1500 (open award for all entrants)
NESB Award: $500 (open to entrants from a non-English speaking background)
Student Award: $500 (open to any student up to the age of 25years - Secondary/Tafe/Tertiary)
People's Choice: $500 (open to all entrants and decided by the viewing public)

Judging Panel:
Mikala Dwyer - Contemporary Artist and Lecturer Sydney College of the Arts, USyd.
Christine Morrow - Curator, Museum of Contemporary Art, Sydney
Mary Nedanovski - Head Teacher Visual Arts, Dulwich Hill High of Visual Arts and Design
Kathleen von Witt - Director, Hawkesbury Regional Gallery and Museum

The prize is open to all artists living or working in the Marrickville local government area.
This project has been assisted by the Marrickville City Council Cultural Celebrations Grants program and will be held in conjunction with the Marrickville Cultural Festival.

Call for Entries
ATVP is currently calling for entries for the Marrickville Contemporary Art Prize 2007. Entries for artworks in any medium can be lodged up until 5pm Monday 20th August at ATVP 565 King Street Newtown (refer to conditions of entry at www.atthevanishingpoint.com.au/index.php?p=1_29_Art-Prize). The Marrickville Contemporary Art Prize 2007 exhibition will be held at ATVP from 06-23 September and the awards presentation and opening launch will be on Thursday 13th September from 6.00-9.00pm. We are also proud to announce that a second site - Don't Look Gallery at Dulwich Hill - will be housing an exhibition of entrants also. This exhibition will be held also from 06-23 September and will have an opening launch on Friday 14th September from 6.00pm-9.00pm. For further details contact ATVP. (02) 9519 2340, 0430 083 364. www.atthevanishingpoint.com.au.

Important tidbits

2007-08-11T16:45:00.000+10:00

Semester is two weeks long now and my classes have almost settled into their final shapes & demographics (students tend to sample or surf elective subjects in the first few weeks to decide what suits them). One of my classes is 90% international students and most of them are from China's big cities. Without resorting to stereotypes, these are not the Chinese students of old: quiet, anxious and with terrible English. They're very urbane, cool, outspoken, stylish, have great English and they're not afraid to question me. Obviously China is changing... Shanghai is on my list of places to go before I die.

I had a great salad yesterday in Newtown - forgot to take camera so no photo - but it was baby spinach, fresh beetroot, fresh peas, mint, fetta and yoghurt. The dressing was, I think, olive oil mixed with that pomegranate syrup you can get from Middle Eastern shops and some balsamic vinegar. The whole thing was purple, green & white: very feminist.

I am 41 and should know better but I was seduced yesterday, post salad, into buying a dress fashioned in the new silhouette. Fashionistas will know exactly what I mean. It has no waist and is balloonish. It ends just above my knees. At least it's black. What I really like about it is that it has nice pockets - comfortable slits either side of my belly button - but this is perhaps not the best reason to buy a dress. There is a risk that in it I will look like a fat little ten year old (from behind only of course).

Today we visit the lovely Stryker, who missed out on our company and bag of carrots last week because Ruby's boyfriend was bitten by a poisonous snake (one of his pets, yes really). Ruby spent most of the weekend in hospital with him keeping a bedside vigil as he was pumped full of morphine. I didn't know that one in five people goes into anaphylactic shock after being given anti-venom, so doctors try not to give it - luckily he didn't need it but he was pretty sick. Anyway, the poor kid is now back home but has lost his sense of smell, perhaps permanently.

I got a first list of corrections from the editor who is working on my book manuscript. He's a blogger! in Glasgow. The corrections were all wonderful - it is just brilliant having someone read your stuff so closely.

My magnolia tree is almost in full bloom - this morning I cut a small branch off & put it in a vase on the mantelpiece, then I made a posy of lavender & rosemary for my round red vase, then I felt all exhausted by my domestic goddessness.

The Good Life

2007-08-04T18:30:00.000+10:00

No photos for this blog entry, although I took heaps, as I'm not sure everyone I'm going to write about would be happy about them. I've had a most extraordinary day. Natalie Coulter arranged for Orlan, Raphael and me to be part of a gathering at the block in Redfern. Uncle Max, Alfred, Lily, Roxanne and Bonny were our hosts. We met near the community centre on the grass; it was the clearest, bluest Sydney Winter's day. Lily and Uncle Max danced; Alfred played Yidaki (didgeridoo) and Bonny played the sticks. I loved Lily's dance about how the emu got her little wings and her tail best.

Orlan was deeply interested and had many questions about Aboriginal culture. In turn, members of the gathering, especially the women, were very taken with her. So very many things were explained to us, and so patiently. At times the conversation was very dark - we talked about the Stolen Generation and why its members in particular come to the block when in Sydney. We were told about how the block came to be and the sorts of pressures it is under now. And yet the tone was also lighthearted, with lots of laughs. Urban life versus living in the bush - Uncle Max showed photos of his bush home (something less than a tent) & joked that he has no electricity bill there. Alfred and I had a chat about writing Yidaki music using traditional music notation. Afterwards we all went to The Royal for a late lunch (although most of them don't drink) and we talked about our children. I haven't felt so at home with a group of people who weren't my family for ages.

Hosting a celebrity gives you entry to another world. All week I've been out of my element - mixing with Sydney's artistic glitterati & going to fancy restaurants, cocktail parties and openings. That's been exciting and wonderful, especially for a shameless people-watcher like me. But today - sitting on the grass with the sun on my back, listening to the Yidaki's deep rhythmic buzz and watching the delicate, precise movements Lily was making with her fingers as she danced, seeing the way she became the emu - I knew what the good life was.

Special Beings

2007-07-29T19:23:00.000+10:00

I've been overseas for a few weeks, and I'll probably blog about that soon... but for now I'm thinking about celebrities, stars, and what makes certain beings special. There have been two particular living beings calling for my time, energy and organisational skills lately - one horse and one human.

Ruby & Stryker this morning

Ruby's horse, Stryker, has lived in Queensland with friends of ours for ages. But we decided recently to bring him closer to home so Ruby can see more of him. He's a 17 year old Quarterhorse cross Arab (actually I must admit I know nothing about horses and have no idea what that means, but doesn't it sound nice?). He is a very gentle creature. We found a lovely ajistment for him in Dapto, just an hour's drive away. He's got 60 lush acres to munch upon and about 15 other horses of various shapes and sizes to share the space with. Stryker is always bottom of the horsie pecking order and is sometimes a bit bullied by the others. He was really happy this morning to get some feed and a few pats and half a big jar of golden syrup. Ruby decided not to groom him as the wind was quite biting and she was worried he'd get cold if we took his rug off.

The human is Orlan, who is giving her public lecture tomorrow evening (don't miss it!). Although we've been having lots of email and phone contact to sort out accommodation, travel, translators etc. I only met her in the flesh for the first time today. She is deeply serious and very much the star. Her latest project will be for many her most controversial ever - I'm not going to write about it until I understand it better. The lunch, at Aqua, high above the North Sydney pool, was lovely - I had pink champagne and stuffed zucchini flowers.

Susan Cohn, Raphael Cuir, Meredith Jones, Orlan & Judy Annear at lunchtime

Orlan - Free public lecture - Monday 30 July

2007-07-11T11:23:00.001+10:00

This is what I've been busy organising for the last month. I am hugely excited about hosting Orlan in Sydney and can't wait to meet her. A whole chapter of my forthcoming book is devoted to her work... Orlan is one of the most fascinating, adventurous and misunderstood artists in the world. Don't miss this free lecture - for most Australians this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.

FREE PUBLIC LECTURE at the art gallery of new south wales

Monday 30 July, 2007

“This Is My Body, This Is My Software:
between western culture and non-western culture”

French artist Orlan uses plastic surgery as her medium. Between 1990 and 1993, she underwent a series of choreographed surgical ‘performances’. The talk will comprise a survey of Orlan's work in order to ask questions about the status of the body in society. Orlan lives and works between Los Angeles, New York and Paris.

Venue: Domain Theatre, Lower Level 3
Time: 5.15 for a 5.45pm start
No bookings, come early to ensure a seat by 5.30pm
Refreshments and exhibition viewing of contemporary galleries at 6.45pm

Email: tertiary@ag.nsw.gov.au

Orlan is supported by the Centre for Contemporary Design Practices and the Institute for Interactive Media at the University of Technology, Sydney

IMAGE: Orlan with her Self-hybridation series (1999)

Art Gallery of New South Wales, Art Gallery Road, The Domain, Sydney NSW 2000
Telephone 02 9225 1744 or Toll Free 1800 679 278 Website www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au

Marrickville Kids

2007-07-01T18:49:00.000+10:00

This photo was taken in 1978, at the Addison Rd Community Centre. Marrickville's Magic Yellow Bus, which is still operational, is in the background. I thought I'd take some photos of some of the lovely children I see each week at the Addison Rd Markets, which are held at the Community Centre (I asked permissions and all parents know these photos are going up online).

This is Dutch. I didn't ask if Dutch was a boy or a girl. One thing that is certain - Dutch has a knitter/crocheter who loves him/her dearly.

This is Rory, who was enjoying her babyccino.

Here are some old dolls that the guy who has all the tools and electrical things was selling.

And this is Jake, who looks like a China doll but is a real boy.

Shop of the Week - The Curry Tree

2007-07-01T17:50:00.001+10:00

The Curry Tree isn't strictly a shop, but nor is it merely a market stall. It's a few bicycles with attitude and some passionate vegetarian curry makers. Paul customises the bicycles and tricycles (some are electric, some require pedal power) himself, adding trailers and trolleys and various cooking and serving attachments to them. A retired film caterer, he is now vehemently car-free and maintains his cooking passions with an exclusive market stall (he doesn't sell anywhere except the Addison Rd Markets). His partner Fiona, who works full time, and fourteen year old daughter Katlyn, work with him on Sundays.

Their little Jack Russell, Buster, waits patiently for things to start happening.

We tried their South Indian Banquet, for which the selection changes each week. Today they were serving a fresh chutney full of ginger and coconut, a gooey rich vegetable curry, a channa (chick pea) dhal and a nice dry potato masala with lots of curry leaves and mustard seeds, all topped with a superb yoghurt made here in Marrickville, some grilled roti and a handful of fresh rocket. This cost nine dollars and was heaps for me and Richard to share. We even accidentally dropped one quarter of the roti, which Sailor charmingly gobbled up, vomited, then re-ingested. This spectacle in no way put us off this beautiful meal.

Paul has osteo-arthritis and believes that keeping active is good for his health. He tells me that he serves "Rubies", not curries - this is English slang - Ruby Murray rhymes with curry - so if you feel like a curry you say "Anyone fancy a Ruby?"

You can also buy, for only six dollars, a paratha dosa - Indian bread topped with the channa dhal, the potato masala and a big dob of yoghurt - I dare you to compare that to any burger or kebab!

The Warren Shopping Centre

2007-06-17T16:57:00.000+10:00

For those readers who don't live in Sydney, it's been raining for two weeks here. Storms, wind, horizontal sheets of water... and we're just not geared for it. Rain? Sydney? So we forget umbrellas, everyone under 30 still wears thongs (flip-flops) - which actually, when I come to think of it, are quite practical for getting through puddles. We shiver and complain and feel sorry for ourselves. But the gardens look great and the dams have filled up a bit which is excellent.

So. This is a photo taken in 1936, from the intersection of Illawarra and Warren Roads looking down the hill towards Earlwood. I think it was actually taken from a tram, as it's higher than I could manage. Those were the days! Trams in Sydney, how wonderful. See that the shop on the left still sells alcoholic beverages? Sad that the big balconies have gone.

Motorists Corner

2007-05-20T16:48:00.000+10:00

This building is on the corner of Marrickville and Petersham Roads. As you can see, it was originally an impressive and charming petrol station. Now it's an unimpressive and quite revolting Chinese restaurant, but more about that later. Marrickville was quite the petrol-head's dream in the 1920s. General Motors Holden actually had a car factory in Carrington Rd (I'll blog that soon) although it only operated from 1926 to 1931, closing because of the Depression. I like these bowsers, which look so personable with their fancy headgear and curvy, elegant hose-arms. So it's a sad thing that this is now the site of one of the few bad eating experiences I've ever had in Marrickville. It was back in 2001, so things may have improved (however, I will never know as I will never go there again). Let's just say bits of glass in dumplings, that my friend had to spend ages spitting out... not to mention there were open boxes of lettuce sitting on the floor in the toilets!

2007-05-13T21:34:00.000+10:00

Ta-da! Here's the first installment of the much-awaited latest nerdy Marrickvillia project. Richard and I have got a whole lot of old photos of places in Marrickville and we're taking new pics of the same spots.

These "workmen's homes" were built in The Warren, probably in the early 1920s. The Warren is the bit of South Marrickville from Warren Road down to the Cooks River. In the 1800s it was the location of Thomas Holt's massive Neo Gothic mansion ("The Warren"), complete with a park stocked with deer. Many of the modest homes in the area have bits of the original mansion's sandstone in their foundations.

Mothers of Marrickville

2007-05-13T18:55:00.000+10:00

On Friday as I was walking to the bus stop, up along Illawarra Rd, I passed my neighbour's mother. This neighbour and her husband are from Turkey and they brought her aged mother out to live with them and their three kids (in a three bedroom house) a few years ago. I've never really spoken to the grandmother properly as she has very sparse English. We pass on the street and smile and say hello. Sometimes she says "hot!" or "nice day!" and I agree with her. Once I had a garage sale and she shuffled into the front yard with a couple of her grandkids. They were interested in the box of pre-loved stuffed toys. "Eh, eh?" she said to me, holding up a raggedy elephant and a pink unicorn. "Fifty cents each" I said. "Dollar?" she replied, and I said "yes". "Dollar the lot?" she said, "yes" I said. Then her and the kids gathered up all of the toys. There must have been thirty of them. And it turned out she only had eighty-five cents.

Anyway, as I was saying, I passed her on Friday. It was raining a little and she was muttering to herself under her umbrella. I said a quick hello and continued up the hill then heard "me mama, me mama." I thought she was introducing herself. Goodness. I doubled back, smiling. "Me mama dead, me mama dead" she told me, softly pounding her fist on her black-clad chest. "I'm so sorry" I said, thinking that her mother must have been dead for decades. She nodded and stopped walking. "Sorrow," she said, "sorrow". And I suddenly felt the weight and force of her grief. We were silent for a while, standing under her umbrella. Eventually I just said "It's very sad."

Greens & Cheese

2007-04-28T11:13:00.000+10:00

I found the modesty of the decorations very heartening.

These Greens practice what they preach.

Last night Richard and I ended up at a Greens function in the Marrickville Royal Exchange. We'd met some friends at the Hollywood Hotel in Surry Hills after work, then eaten at Spice I Am and later adjourned to the KB Hotel, so the function was almost over by the time we got there. I still got to talk to some great people though.

Derek Maitland & Margie McCabe.

Derek was the campaign coordinator for Marrickville in the recent state election. He told me "The T-shirt is a joke about being passive. Greens are very passive! I've done it in Latin so people ask me what it means. It's not a hostile thing."

Fiona Byrne, the candidate for the recent state election & member of Marrickville Council, with Colin Charlton from South Marrickville. We chatted for a while & they were both delightful.

John Kaye, Greens member of the Upper House

Richard, who was on his 99th beer,
with Hazel Blunden, the Greens Policy Officer

At the end of the night there was some leftover cheese - after a bit of discussion a few people divided it up equally, wrapped it up & took it home. This further endeared me to them.

Shop of the Week - Ha Noi on Anzac Day

2007-04-25T15:48:00.000+10:00

Richard and I thought we'd head up Illawarra Rd to the Marrickville RSL, as it's ANZAC day today (the links are for you non-Australian readers). But it was lunchtime, and we got no further than our favourite Vietnamese restaurant, the Ha Noi. Given that ANZAC day is also used to remember Australia's involvement in the Vietnam war, I think that's kind of poetic & appropriate, don't you?

There was a bit of a queue outside - always the sign of a good restaurant in Marrickville. The Ha Noi is in a strip that has a few Vietnamese places - it's close to the station, directly opposite the Hellenic Bakery, and is the only one with a sugar cane juicer out the front.

Their turquoise walls and other decorations always make me feel happy.

This is something most Vietnamese restaurants have - a selection of condiments on the table, along with cutlery, chopsticks and tissues. Mostly they're different types of chilli, but there's also fish sauce and hoi sin sauce (made from soy beans, chilli, sugar & salt) here.

And perhaps my favourite, whole raw garlic and chilli pickled in white vinegar.

Once we've ordered, I like to make a little palette of chilli - starting with the pickled garlic at the top and going clockwise we have fresh ground chilli, a pickled whole chilli, a dollop of satay chilli (sticky concoction of ground peanuts, chilli, dried shrimp, sugar and oil) and finally Chinese-style salty blended chilli. So many flavours, so many textures!

Richard got some deep fried spring rolls - these are about double the size of most spring rolls, and they come with this beautiful dipping sauce, nuoc cham, made from rice vinegar, fish sauce and palm sugar - it usually has carrot pieces in it.

This was definitely the highlight - chilli salt tofu - it's to die for. I actually dream about this dish sometimes. The tofu is floured & deep fried, then tossed with a kind of Vietnamese salsa made from coriander, lemongrass, garlic, ginger, fresh chilli, spring onion, Spanish onion and lots of white & black pepper. Food for the soul, yep.

Hanoi Quan. 346b Illawarra Rd, Marrickville, ph:02 95591637

memes for the night before a holiday

2007-04-24T19:46:00.000+10:00

1. PICK OUT A SCAR YOU HAVE, AND EXPLAIN HOW YOU GOT IT
Labour with first and only child seventeen years ago "failed to progress" after 18 hours. Obstetrician, so brilliantly called Mr Pickett-Heaps, came from golf course to perform emergency caesarian section. The anaesthetist, a glamorous older woman, gave me an epidural and I entered a state of great bliss. "You'll hear a ripping sound" Pickett-Heaps said and sure enough I did, like cardboard being torn. Then little Ruby was lifted out of me & the burning indigestion (she'd been pressing on my diaphragm) that I'd had for 3 months disappeared. And, apart from having webbed toes, she was perfect and remains so to this day.

2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM?
A few spiderwebs. A drawing of two people walking up separate sets of stairs that lead to a small dark European-style tree with exposed roots. It reminds me of Joan Aiken's The Cuckoo Tree, which if you haven't read yet you should. If I had another daughter I'd call her Dido. Although Sparkle-Pony is hard to beat.

3. WHAT DOES YOUR PHONE LOOK LIKE?
Boring, functional.

4. WHAT MUSIC DO YOU LISTEN TO?
Antony and the Johnsons.

5. WHAT IS YOUR CURRENT DESKTOP PICTURE?
The lovely Mr Griff.

6. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?
More than anything? Peace of mind forever more. Guarantee of good health for me & my family. A few grandchildren in about ten years. A windfall to pay off the mortgage. A Thai-style massage. A falafel roll.

7. DO YOU BELIEVE IN GAY MARRIAGE?
Of course.

8. WHAT TIME WERE YOU BORN?
Maybe about 9pm?

9. ARE YOUR PARENTS STILL TOGETHER?
Yes and they even hold hands sometimes.

10. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO?
Scrubs is on the TV in the background.

11. DO YOU GET SCARED OF THE DARK?
I get scared of some things, but never the dark; I love the dark.

12. THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY?
Myself.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE COLOGNE / PERFUME?
Guerlain's Nahema, but it's very rare, so I'll have some of Jo Malone Pomegranate or Vintage Gardenia please. My mum used to wear Tabu & I still love that. Also, my first boyfriend gave me Chloe so it brings back very lovely memories.

14. WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOUR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?
Ridiculous question.

15. DO YOU LIKE PAIN KILLERS?
Of course.

16. ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT?
No way, I ask everyone out.

17. FAVE PIZZA TOPPING?
Ooooh, potato & rosemary... basil & tomato... mushroom & ricotta.

18. IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Just about anything vegetarian. I'm starving, Richard is still cooking dinner. Olive oily smells are wafting from the kitchen. Tabbouleh is waiting on the table.

19. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU MADE MAD?
I'd love to know. Maybe a student whose essay I failed? I honestly don't think I make many people mad, I'm really really nice, or just deluded, but pleasantly so.

20. IS ANYONE IN LOVE WITH YOU?
Of course. Two people, Richard (husband) and Sailor (dog) are both in love with me. Richard tells me so, and I can see it in Sailor's big brown eyes.

Strictly Marrickville

2007-04-22T16:26:00.000+10:00

Sorry for ignoring you dear blog, but I've been so busy. I went to Melbourne for a cosmetic surgery conference (yes, really). I had dinner with most of the Melbourne Sarsaparilla folk while I was there, which was enjoyable and interesting. It's strange that you can be quite intimate and comfortable with people online, then - shock - find on meeting them that it's just like meeting a stranger... and what's more, that they have bodies. Later, after a few drinks and a beautiful dinner, things relax & you realise you do actually share something unique with these people.

Okay, I admit I haven't been completely ignoring Marrickvillia, in fact, there is something excitingly super-nerdy in the pipeline. In the meantime, here are a couple of shots you might like.

On a beautiful sunny afternoon this kid stopped his play momentarily to grin at the camera.

I took this photo because of the faintly visible rainbow and the plane, and then realised that the building on the left with the hills hoist on the roof is one of Marrickville's famous landmarks. It was used for the rooftop dancing lessons scenes in Baz Luhrmann's Strictly Ballroom.

2007-04-08T21:05:00.000+10:00

And while we're updating things, I'm pleased to see that the English sign that Ms Li put up in October is slowly wearing off the front of her Jin Xin Chinese Video Rental Store in Illawarra Rd.

Easter Sunday

2007-04-08T13:22:00.000+10:00

It's a clear still Autumn day in Marrickville - indeed so mild and lovely that I feel some hope for our poor warming planet. Richard's been working hard on the vegie patch the last month or so - paving & planting & staking. What a star. I can take no credit. The patch seems to be on a bit of a rollercoaster and I suspect I could chart its level of order and productivity over the past year in inverse proportions to my own.

Here it was, racked & ruined, in February.

Last September it looked pretty good.

And in August it was just a baby.

Today it looks like this:

Can you see our little cat, Led Zeppelin? We'll sneak up on her...

Hello?

She is not amused.

Other kids on the block

2007-04-04T09:12:00.000+10:00

A little Eastern suburbs bird told me that this blog had been the topic of discussion at a dinner on the other side of George St on the weekend. I'm pleased, and hope I paint a good picture of my beloved suburb.

As real estate in Sydney becomes almost impossibly expensive* more and more people who would once never have dreamed of living somewhere like Marrickville are looking over this way.

Well, that's wonderful, but can you please come with eyes and hearts open to all of Marrickville's charm and beauty as it is, not with mindsets that want to transform it into somewhere with trendy coffee shops and rows of plane trees and fancy wine bars full of well dressed people? Because what you'll get here are bunnies. And pay phones.

*Want to own your own home? Simple! Just make sure you and your partner both earn more than the average wage, then save $200,000, then borrow $500,000 on a 35 year mortgage... there has to be a better way. We need real estate collectives, we need public housing for everyone, we need a communist government, we need oh god I need a panadol.

Fading Fedeterranea

2007-03-31T14:16:00.000+10:00

There is a classic Fedeterranean home for sale in Marrickville at the moment (I've taken these photos from the real estate website - I don't think they'll mind the free publicity). This is a modest, low-key version of Fedeterranea - no statues, no columns - and I think it has a lot of charm. What do you call that clean minty shade of blue? It's warmer than ice-blue, cooler than aqua.

Somehow I just know that a happy family was raised here. The chairs look so comfy and everything is so well maintained. This home has been treasured and loved and I imagine the children were similarly valued. I love the look of framed pictures on wallpaper. I reckon one of the kids went on a trip to Thailand and brought back those black elephant cushions. The crystal cabinet is full of treasures & memories.

I bet there have been some beautiful meals served at this table, although it was probably reserved for special occasions.

The strangely contradictory mix of freshly swept concrete and abundant vegetables in tubs is very Fedeterranean.

But this is by far my favourite photo. This is where this family would have spent a lot of time - at the kitchen table, sun shining in, kids & grandkids running in and out. I can almost see them there now. Looks like everyone had a favourite cushion for their chair.

Fedeterranea is slowly fading out. This is inevitable of course, as tastes change. Many of the people who created the style are now in their seventies and are moving off to nursing homes or retirement villages. Their grown-up children most likely prefer interior decorating that's more "today". I doubt you can even buy carpet or tiles like that anymore. This home will probably be given a gut-n-smeg by its new owners, unless it's bought by friends of mine who will treasure some of its Fedeterranean features as precious retro while they quickly get rid of others. Either way its loveliness will change, so I'm glad I can put the photos up here.

Election Day

2007-03-24T22:01:00.000+11:00

We wandered down to Ferncourt Primary School to exercise our democratic rights this morning. I love election days. Everyone is so polite, there's that good feeling that change is in the air, and you never know who you might bump into at the polling booth. Today I saw my favourite bus driver and a dear friend's girlfriend.

The liberals didn't even bother with any signs at our polling booth... which is safe ALP and usually has the biggest Greens vote of anywhere.

I was impressed by the Greens' multilingual signs - Greek and Vietnamese at Ferncourt School,

and later in the day I spotted Arabic outside St Francis' in Illawarra Rd. None of the other parties seemed to have bothered with anything other than English.

The parents and citizens association at the primary school was selling flowers.

And they had a sausage sizzle, which I really love the smell of although I'm vegetarian.

Pop Art

2007-03-24T09:07:00.000+11:00

Marilyn, Jackie O, now me. Photography & manipulation by Maher Berro.

What do you think?

2007-03-19T18:56:00.000+11:00

It's been languishing on my desktop for a few weeks, but I've finally posted my piece about roadside memorials over at Sarsaparilla. It's quite speculative - I'd love to know what other people think about these sites.

Worlds Overhead

2007-03-17T10:40:00.000+11:00

Driving home late last week, with Sailor, I stopped at this little park in the Marrickville suburb of Sydenham to give her a poo-run. It was a humid, still night. The cicadas trilled, a couple of other people wandered about while their dogs went all doggy, and it was rather peaceful in the twilight. Then the sky was filled, just filled, with an aeroplane. Its wing span touched the horizons, its landing gear nearly bumped my head, its roar was just unbelievable. Its lights lit up the park & it smelled strongly of fuel.

But it passed quickly, and then there we all were again, as we had been, sniffing & strolling. It was a bit like having seen a pterodactyl, a leviathan and alien creature, and I loved it. I thought of all the people in that little overhead world. No doubt I'd be less enthusiastic if I lived right under the flight path.

I went back in the daytime to try to get some photos, but in the hour I was there no plane flew over. The park's furniture is fascinating though, witty and on-topic. The main area is set out like a giant loungeroom:

Here are Richard and Sailor on the sofa, to give you an idea of perspective:

There are mosaics done by local primary children, featuring planes and homes, with Italian, English and Vietnamese writing:

There's a humongous teapot:

And my favourite, the giant mantelpiece (the "fireplace" is a kiosk) complete with doily, Deco mirror and ornaments.

Just some dandy-lions

2007-03-12T21:20:00.000+11:00

There are so many lions in Marrickville, you'd think it was the African Savanna.

They guard grand homes

and not-so-grand homes, without prejudice.

Some appear stern,

others thoughtful...

They bask in the Summer sun

and enjoy shady gardens.

Some even frolic with the frogs and the fairies.

One of these things is not like the others

2007-03-10T21:39:00.000+11:00

A copy of Marrickville Backyards to the first person to spot what's wrong with this bit of Fedeterranea.

Fedeterranea and Global Warming

2007-03-06T20:43:00.000+11:00

It's struck me lately that fedeterranean homes are very sensible when it comes to global warming. Their Mediterranean elements add a number of features that help to keep them cool, like pale paint colours and internal glazed tiling. The characteristics they retain from their Federation roots have some good anti-heat features too: verandahs, double-brick walls and high ceilings.

Lots of Marrickville people who live in fedeterranean homes cook in their yards, on barbeques and in small wood fired ovens. On my evening walks with Sailor I smell lamb marinated in oregano and garlic, being cooked over coals, and sometimes smoky wafts of fresh fish being grilled in one of these. We do have dining rooms in Marrickville, but they're rarely used, remaining preserved as pristine altars to crystal cabinets and polished wood veneer. People like to eat on their decks, in their yards, and often in their garages, roller doors open to the back lanes.

Fedeterranean gardens are often very water-wise, with dry loving trees like citrus, olives and figs.

My friend George Morgan has generously sent me a box of Marrickville Backyards. These are really lovely books, very close to Marrickvillia's heart. I intend on giving them away to anyone who pleases me, and taking a pile next time I go to Hackney. If you want one, let me know.

This very old lemon tree has its trunk painted bright white-blue every year.

A tree heavy with olives.

A fig tree, draped like a new bride to keep the birds away from the ripening fruit.

Hoot Hoot

2007-02-24T15:42:00.000+11:00

Jill, over at Ruby St, has this morning spotted (and photographed) a boobook owl in Marrickville. This is really amazing as Marrickville is very polluted & noisy. We are close to the Cooks River though, so perhaps it has come from one of the parks there. Or perhaps it has left its habitat because of the drought? Seeing an owl, albeit on someone's blog, makes me both happy and anxious. Happy because I love owls, even more than I love hippos or dragonflies. If I had to get a tattoo, it would be of an owl. Anxious because I think, what the hell is an owl doing around here? Is it in some sort of distress? Perhaps there are birdy people out there in blogland who have a better idea of why it might have landed in Marrickville.

Empty Space

2007-02-17T14:53:00.000+11:00

There's something very comforting about a spare room, don't you think? It's a place of possibility, a room unencumbered by the demands of lounging or sleeping, dining or cooking, washing, working, or even getting from one place to another, like the hallway. Since Hugh went back to live in the country I've reclaimed our spare room. I don't like to fill it up much - its appeal is in its emptiness. Teenagers crash there, my friend Zoe spends the occasional city-night, and I've set up a craft table. I've been going into the spare room lately to zone-out when there's too much going on in my brain. Like today, trying to write a piece about death & memory for Sarsaparilla, I wandered in and did this with the scissors & some glue. It's a card for Ruby, who's 17 tomorrow.

Glory, the grape

2007-02-12T10:23:00.000+11:00

We noticed a tang of richness, bordering on decay, on our back deck on Saturday. It was the grapes from our vine, only planted two years ago, ripening a little too much (regular readers know that lately my garden has been neglected).

So, what to do with kilos and kilos of grapey fecundity? We ate as many as we could. Then I found a recipe for grape jelly. This wasn't something anyone was really happy about, except me, as I've been known to be an enthusiastic but haphazard cook and in fact I've never had jam set. Richard appeared dubious & hovered about. I promised to follow a recipe and not go my own way (a public service psychological exam once said I was neither a team player nor a leader).

First, boil the grapes (2 kilos) with three sliced lemons, until the grape peels start to come away from the flesh.

Then strain the mixture through some cheesecloth, overnight. Overnight! Outrageous. I like things to be instant. Oh well... now, I couldn't work out how to get the fruit-hammock dangling over a bowl, until I remembered this post from Ampersand Duck. The wonderful blogosphere to the rescue! So I inverted one of the kitchen stools, dusted its legs, & set up this contraption:

It dripped away all night and in the morning I boiled the 8 cups of liquid with 6 cups of sugar. Boiled it until "setting point" which I've always been hopeless at. So I kept boiling and boiling and testing and testing, by dripping liquid on a saucer to see how thick it was, until finally I lost interest, drifted away, and it boiled over rather dramatically. Ruby rescued it but set a tea towel on fire in the process (at that point I had to put the camera down so no photo).

Finally, after about 2 hours of cooking, it began to set, hooray hooray, it seemed like magic (how did white grapes produce red jelly?) & I felt like a domestic goddess. I'd even sterilised some jars... and guess what, it tastes as good as it looks, so Nigella move over.

Frocks that Talk

2007-02-10T17:08:00.000+11:00

If you're not already acquainted with the Secret Lives of Dresses series, now is the time.

Gone to Seed

2007-02-05T16:57:00.000+11:00

Remember my vegie patch? It started off looking like someone's peggy hair transplant. It grew quickly, almost frighteningly so. Now, because of nothing but simple neglect, it is out of control.

You wouldn't know we're in the middle of a drought. This hasn't been watered in months. I've been dreading going out there to deal with it, but yesterday made a quick scan of the damage. I'm yet to actually pull a weed.

These tomatoes have sun-dried themselves.

There is a tiny rainbow silverbeet struggling for sun.

Phallic friends hiding...

A dead raspberry plant.

Mr Fawlty gone to seed. Perhaps I could make some of this.

A baby artichoke, hiding way up the back.

Shop of the week: The Bower

2007-02-04T15:00:00.000+11:00

Pre-loved, unloved, discarded, broken or just plain unfashionable stuff finds its way to The Bower. It's a reuse and repair cooperative - that means they collect, fix up and re-sell things. They concentrate on household, building and office goods. It's brilliant going there. I've bought most of the blinds for my house there over the years, and various bits and pieces including a beautiful white cotton bedspread. Yesterday there were a few amazing pieces including this vintage Cyclops pram in pristine condition

and this 35mm film editing table, next to a hospital bed (just visible on the left).

They sell bikes, computers, kitchen sinks, baths & basins (often green or pink from the 1950s), car parts, wet suits, building materials and filing cabinets. If you live near Marrickville, dropping in occasionally is really worth it. You might also keep The Bower in mind for when you want to get rid of stuff - they take donations and will even collect from your house. They also deliver, and hire things out, for film shoots for example.

On a Sunday, you could combine a trip to The Bower with a rummage around Reverse Garbage, a visit to the peaceful Addison Rd Gallery, and a lunch of Chinese dumplings or Turkish gozreme from the Addison Rd Markets. They're all in the same complex (an ex military base!) and there's heaps of parking under the big old gum trees.

My favourite spot at The Bower? The wall of pink drawers, holding deadlocks, springs, cupboard hatches & locks, drill bits, handles, washers, bearings, etc.

Fedeterranean Furniture

2007-02-01T19:13:00.000+11:00

I spotted this dear little cabinet languishing on the nature strip last week and brought it home immediately. I'm slightly ashamed to say I abandoned it again this evening. Like a very bad adoptive mother I put it back on the street, unable to actually countenance it in the house. It is a classic piece of Fedeterranean furniture: note the faux marble, the faux walnut veneer, the faux gold handle.

I'm not all bad. Here's another true story: today on King St Newtown I paid $5.00 for a big tub of strawberries. I was asked a few minutes later by a beggar for some money, and as I had none left I gave her the strawberries. She was pleased & I saw her sharing them with some of her colleagues a bit later at the bus stop outside the Bank Hotel.

Miscellanea

2007-01-31T22:21:00.000+11:00

The New York Times seems rather keen on Dulwich Hill, which is part of Marrickville, just up the road from me. The version of multiculturalism described is rather vanilla (or should I say garlic?), but I'm not complaining.

In other breaking news -

Dean has tagged me. Actually he did this some time ago, but I didn't notice until I subscribed to technorati last night.

1. Grab the book closest to you.
2. Open to page 123, go down to the fifth sentence.
3. Post the text of the next three sentences on your blog.
4. Name of the book and the author.
5. Tag three people.

Hmmn, well, first I have to say that the two closest texts to hand are an old NW, its cover screaming "Plastic Surgery Disasters", and the latest Continuum. The closest actual book is a goodie, a hardback borrowed from the UTS library, Ruth Barcan's Nudity: A Cultural Anatomy.

Here are the required sentences from page 123:

"For our purposes, Foucault's description is noteworthy because his metaphors draw on that of the naked truth - revealed, paradoxically, in death rather than life. His description makes use of the recurring binaries of openness and closure, visibility & invisibilty, revelation & concealment. In terms of Perniola's categories, the corpse in modern medicine is not the older en-souled nature, but the empty box."

So there you go. That's rather good I reckon. I tag Superannuated Feminist, Thirty Something North, and Go Away Please.

Laugh and cry with the Jelly

2007-01-28T15:47:00.000+11:00

A very lovely post.

Sisterly Love

2007-01-23T01:52:00.000+11:00

Hackney Road

Little Griff and his mums live in Hackney, London. So, I've decided to make Hackney blogs the sister-blogs of Marrickvillia.

The first thing you'll usually read about Hackney, if you look it up on Google or Wikipedia or some other reputable spot, is that it's a pretty poor place, with a lot of crime. In a reckoning undertaken by BBC4 using various statistics Hackney was deemed the worst place to live in England. Hmmmn. High crime, vile pollution, poor education, bad transport (no tube).

But when I visited I liked it a lot. About 25% of people there are black, which seemed good to me. Pete Doherty, musician boyfriend of supermodel Kate Moss, lives in Hackney (it's mentioned each time he goes to court). He's obviously hopeless but doesn't seem angst-ridden, so, whatever. Sid Vicious once lived there, too.

The Tescos was big & friendly, the teenage mothers at the station were cute, the hot chips were brilliant. We had excellent Indian home delivery (we couldn't go out because Celebrity Big Brother was on).

Like Marrickville, Hackney is very multicultural and full of wayward artistes & academics & lefties. At least that's what the blogs I've found seem to indicate.

Slaminsky is a favourite.
Baroque in Hackney is a poet who also writes about the bus, the train, the weather, whatever makes her cross, and Celebrity Big Brother.
Luke Akehurst writes stuff that may or may not be parody about being a Labour whip for Hackney council, and about Celebrity Big Brother.
Made in China '69 blogs about culture & art in East London.
Hackney Lookout hasn't written anything in a while, since his baby was born, but I like his transcriptions of overheard Hackney conversations:

"It's like summer. But it ain't cold."

"Whadja mean?"

"Well, like, it's really hot in summer. But then it gets cold at night. And now, it's, like, warm."

"Well, whadja expect? You've just been standing next to a barbeque."

Beauty in modest trinkets

2007-01-03T22:46:00.000+11:00

Before Christmas I looked around Marrickville for a home decorated with coloured lights to feature here, but never found one that took my fancy. Today I took a slightly different route on my walk and spotted this delightful assemblage in front of a modest single fronted home on Illawarra Rd, way down near the river. As well as flashing lights these people have set up two decorated trees, numerous Santas, a set of sliver bells, a fairy castle (Santa's home?) a nativity scene, and a set of elephants (heading towards the manger).

The nativity scene. I like the toy pony at far left, and the dangling angels.

From left to right: Daddy & baby Santa, a fairy castle, Mr & Mrs Santa.

From left to right: nativity scene, cherub figurine holding book, set of black elephants.

mashing pumpkin

2007-01-03T12:04:00.000+11:00

You know that saying "you can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends"? I have a pretty wonderful family anyway, but now that my friends Julia & Helen are part of it it's even better. Here is the super-bouncy, chubby-thighed & (almost) ever-smiling Griff, in Sydney with his mothers & his Richard. He doesn't like our CD collection but is fond of our bed and Sailor, whose cheeks have been grabbed and whiskers pulled (she's being very patient). His favourite fancy face is the rhinocerous, which I'm still trying to capture. I'm enjoying the every-minuteness of having a baby in the house - no time for introspection: too busy playing, laughing, mushing pumpkin & canoodling. I've managed to avoid all the pooey nappies so far.

beddie-byes

2006-12-28T22:20:00.000+11:00

The baby preparations have turned into a bit of a Spring-clean. I decided to include Ruby's room in the vacuuming, dusting, etc, and realised just how neglected it has been. She's not really allowed me in there since she was 13 - that's nearly 4 years ago. But today she was strangely keen on domesticity, and my company, so we cleaned it together, chatting about our various takes on Christmas & all sorts of other things. She's extremely observant and much more sensitive, intelligent & less-selfish than I was at 16.

So, now the hallway is crowded with bags of stuff for the op-shop. Blackened blobs of blu-tack have been scraped up off the floorboards, skirting boards have been wiped down, bookshelves tidied, mirrors windexed. Old stuffed toys have been rediscovered and a long-lost pink thong (the rubber sort for the foot) reunited with its mate.

I've made up a portacot, borrowed from a friend, for little Griff. I've had this sheet, embroidered with Dick Bruna characters, since Ruby was a baby, folded in the bottom drawer (I washed it today as it smelt a bit musty). The pure wool blanket was crocheted by my very clever mother. Richard kept checking the Qantas website today, and finally told me an hour ago that the flight's final boarding calls were being made at Heathrow.

Tomorrow: mow lawn, wipe out kitchen cupboards, get Ruby to clean bottom of rat cage, vacuum lounge, tidy my bedroom, pick the ladies and the lad up from the airport, pour red wine & begin the party! There's a thunderstorm over Marrickville right now; and so to bed.

go elsewhere

2006-12-23T22:33:00.000+11:00

Dean has a touch of Marrickvillia in a nice post about a book and a switching station.

Merry Christmas

2006-12-22T10:12:00.000+11:00

I'm in Melbourne, visiting family and friends over Christmas. It is very hot and dry. The city is overhung with smoke - vast tracts of bush are on fire. Most of the news coverage about the fires is about property, property, property. But I wonder about the critters getting roasted - there must be thousands of them. Wombats in their burrows. Koalas in their treetops. This morning, eyes sore from not enough sleep (it's SO hot!), I lay on my parents' couch and asked my brother, who was sitting at the table reading The Age, "What's happening in the world". Here's what he told me:

A Japanese guy went into hibernation. He got caught on a cold mountaintop, all his organs shut down... he stayed like that for 27 days... but then he thawed out.

That copper who killed the Aboriginal man isn't going to be charged with murder. He broke the man's ribs and pulverised his liver so that it stopped working, but there's not enough evidence to charge him with murder.

Two teenaged girls killed their friend and put her in a wheelie bin.

Happy holidays.
Happy holidays.

tinsel

2006-12-19T13:54:00.000+11:00

I know the blog's new colour scheme is horrible, but humour me for a while won't you? It is Christmas after all. Consider it my bit of online tinsel.

Bloggo Troppo Nomino

2006-12-18T17:52:00.000+11:00

Over at Club Troppo they're calling for nominations for the blogosphere's best essay-style posts of 2006, to be republished on Online Opinion. The posts have to be between 500 & 1800 words. I've nominated three of my favourites: Ampersand Duck's Gathering Strength, Laura's My Day! Starring Cat! + Many Foods! from Sorrow at Sills Bend and Crazy Brave's Austrayan Values: a sense of bollocks.

And I've self-nominated some of my stuff from Sarsaparilla: Viva La Muff; Dancing Shoes and Caesar Salad.

electro-humans

2006-12-17T21:31:00.000+11:00

When I received this as part of an invitation to a gallery opening:

tXt:> tranSmission
To what extent have technologies become part of us? Or, inversely, have we become part of our technologies? Where do we end and they begin? How would most of us feel without the simple technology of clothing for instance -- exposed, cold, incomplete perhaps? How many of us now feel exposed, cold and incomplete without more sophisticated technologies such as the internet and mobile phones?

I knew I had to go. Not only was the gallery itself in Marrickville, but the quote above is like something right out of one of my lectures - most of what I teach is to do with technology/culture/human relations. And lo! I recognised one of the artists, Matt, as a former student. I taught him a couple of years ago at UTS in the subject Virtual Communities. Matt is one of those passionate & creative students you always remember. I recall his class presentation featured a huge old mobile phone and a little portable musical keyboard... he hasn't changed his focus much. The exhibition was full of phones, TVs and the sounds of original, eerie but somehow comforting compositions. The works were by him and his sister Greer. The blurbs about them say:

Greer Rochford is a photographic artist who experiments with a variety of mediums, pushing the boundaries of traditional photography. She deals with ideas such as surveillance, technoscience and alienation.

Her kid brother, Matt, explodes myths and storms social barricades. He is continually searching for the point where he ends and the rest of the world begins.

Matt lives in Dulwich Hill - I've seen him at rallies & riding his bike along Enmore Rd. He is quite a tiny person with a huge smile. He looks a bit other-worldly, even more so when seen next to his strikingly similar elfin sister. I reckon these two are artists to watch.

DON'T LOOK Experimental New Media Gallery 419 New Canterbury Rd (Near Marrickville Rd), Dulwich Hill.

The Art of the Insult

2006-12-17T10:31:00.000+11:00

Richard and I went to the Dendy Newtown last night to see the Borat movie. I was SO in need of a good laugh, it was wonderful. There was a woman in the row behind us braying like a donkey for much of the time, but I enjoyed that too. The movie is just so incredibly politically incorrect... potentially insulting to just about everyone. There was only one scene that worried me. At a Southern dinner party Borat declares that the women sitting either side of him (a heavily made-up redhead & a glamorous blonde) would be very popular in his home country. He then adds that the other woman at the table, a quiet person with short grey hair, would be popular not so much. There was a longish silence. For me, this was the one place in the movie where he went too far. Perhaps that's the key to this sort of very confronting comedy - always taking it too far for someone. George Saunders has written a brilliant "memo" in The New Yorker - I recommend it as an antidote to the movie if you're planning to see it.

Dero Dog in with Poets

2006-12-13T13:28:00.000+11:00

I've just received in the post a copy of Famous Reporter #34. Ralph Wessman, one of the editors of this Tasmanian literary magazine, emailed me a while back to ask if he could reprint Dero Dog in it. They've done a nice job of printing and arranging the photos. If you didn't keep on reading my posts on him you may not know that Dero Dog was eventually euthanised by the RSPCA.

I've been away, spending a few days at Mollymook with my dear friend Zoe, post the annual cultural studies association conference which this year was in Canberra. I'd convened a panel on Container Technologies, one of the areas of cultural/technological analysis that I'm interested in (and working on an edited collection about). My paper, about handbags, femininity and globalisation, was well-received and a lot of fun to write & present. I like that at many of my conference presentations members of the audience laugh... it is more flattering than you might think!

The sea at Mollymook was clear & not too cold. In the evenings - I tell a lie, usually from about 12.20pm onwards - the gin flowed, there were many girly chats & I started to read Clare Clarke's excellent The Great Stink, highly recommended by my mother who certainly knows a good book. I haven't finished it yet, but am very much hoping that the mongrel champion rat-killer dog Lady will be reunited with her beloved human Tom by the end. Their imminent parting is beautifully written, as finely calibrated as any tragic romance:

"There was a dark hole inside his chest that had already started to open. He knew it would make him dizzy when he stood up. So he stayed where he was, his knees ablaze with cramp, his arms wrapped around the dog. His hundred-guinea girl. The tears dropped on to the black velvet of her broken ear and quivered there, bright as diamonds."

I didn't take Sailor on the trip but we were accompanied by Zoe's very personable companion Toby, a rather distinguished-looking and intelligent miniature black poodle.

I returned home last night, after a week away in total, and noticed that Sailor seems to have lost some more of her wrinkles. This is what happens to pugs as they age - their face-folds reduce - the opposite of humans.

I liked this stanza of John Bird's "The Fence Rider, 1950 Australia", in Famous Reporter:

"southern cross -
sharing the universe
with dog"

My world is more like

"middle age -
sharing the old couch
with pug"

Fedeterranea Not Forgotten

2006-11-29T21:19:00.000+11:00

I haven't forgotten Fedeterranea... I snapped these two yesterday. The concrete walls that line the lane in the top photo warm up during Summer, and when I walk Sailor in the evenings they're still radiating heat. There is a beautiful Summer of photography coming up.

All booked out

2006-11-28T08:27:00.000+11:00

I sent the book off last night. Phew. Gee it's hard to find a picture of champagne that isn't absurdly phallic. Not that I'm anti-phallus, totally, but really... anyway I diverge. The book is done! It is now in Oxford sitting on my editor's desk, and she's already emailed me about some tiny changes... why don't you have a glass of something and think of me.

Everyone knows Con

2006-11-27T19:30:00.000+11:00

This is Con. He loves trains. I mean he really loves them. I've seen him rocking back on his heels and clapping with excitement when one arrives. Lots of people in Marrickville know him and you've probably seen him if you ever catch the train from Marrickville station. He's a very polite and helpful person and will always tell you when the next train to Bankstown or the city is coming (he's not always right). His voice is very deep and raspy. Next time you pass him, why don't you stop to say hi?

The Christmas Cupboard

2006-11-24T09:44:00.000+11:00

This is the secret Christmas Cupboard!
Family members read no further!
I mean it, have a bit of restraint.
I trust you.

Christmas is coming in case you hadn't noticed. Last year we were so poor (I didn't have a proper job and my scholarship $ had run out) that all we gave people were cheap frames with photos of Ruby in them (beautifully wrapped). They were appreciated, I know, and Ruby is totally gorgeous, but nevertheless I'm really looking forward this year to being able to spend more than $6.00 per person. We have a lot of people to buy for... when Richard married me he got in-laws galore. My parents, siblings & their partners, my 3 remaining grandparents, and Ruby's father's family too... (in an unheard of development that side has decided on a Kris Kringle this year). Our family has grown recently too, with Hugh now with us and Richard's son Griffin born in March (Griff and his mothers are visiting us from London in January - we can't wait to squeeze him!).

I decided to get all my presents in Marrickville, then realised I'd be a little restricted so extended it to the Marrickville LGA to include Enmore & Newtown. We can't buy anything really big, as most of it has to be taken down to Melbourne in plane luggage.

ARE YOU A FAMILY MEMBER STILL READING? SURELY NOT? BUGGER OFF OR RISK SPOILING YOUR CHRISTMAS SURPRISE.

I've got a bunch of things on lay-by at M.A.D. This shop sells work made by artists using materials from Reverse Garbage, and lots of it is really beautiful. Dad's getting an Alex Noble lamp (to go with his Danish Modern furniture), Mum's getting a milky-purple Jane Alexander necklace, Dorian & Laura are getting the thing I really want myself - not pictured on the website - a deep red, round carpet made of really soft fabric with a nap about 4 inches thick. Helen is getting a Chandice satchel with a big H on it (what a find!), Julia is getting a necklace by Jason Bell (not pictured on the website - a small bright yellow & silver oblong pendant).

We've got little Griff a blow-up thing to float about the sea baths in, shaped like a hippo (what does a baby know?). For Hugh I'm thinking the new Scarface computer game, or a Fight Club poster & DVD, or a new skateboard. Ruby, I really don't know... I'll have to wander along King St & see what pops out. Grandpa - socks of course! The two Nannas I don't know about yet either... But I reckon I'll get my brother Gareth a copy of The Present History.

I almost forgot Richard... me & the kids are going to get him a crumpler backpack.

I might order everyone a dear little badge from prickie, or even use the badges to decorate presents in lieu of ribbon... one of the best things about Christmas is the wrapping. One year I wrapped everything in black tissue, then put a handful of glitter & foil stars on top, then wrapped it again in clear cellophane. They were like snowdome presents. This year I'm thinking of getting metres & metres of ribbon from one of the Bollywood shops at the Paris end of King St... ho ho ho

The beast book; or "all poshed up and no way to phone"

2006-11-21T16:52:00.000+11:00

The beast is getting tamer... it is down to about 94,ooo words. I've deleted all the big chunks I think I reasonably can without having to adjust the arguments. I've chucked most of the bits that say what I'm going to say next. A whole lot of footnotes have gone to God. Now I'm just scrolling through it at random making sentences shorter. Limit of one adjective per sentence.

Anyway onto more pleasurable things: yesterday was our 2nd wedding anniversary so Richard and I treated ourselves to dinner at Forty One. It was partly chosen because they have a lot of vegetarian options. I had the "potager" which is a vegetarian degustation meal of seven small courses. Everything was beautiful but there were two highlights. One was the truffled organic creamed eggs, which combined the high comfort of scrambled eggs and that deep truffle flavour that always makes me think of moss. The other was the tiny beetroot jelly, which had a perfect thumbprint on its glossy purple surface (I think that was unintentional, and I wouldn't even have seen it if the light had been slightly different). It was glorious being so high above Sydney... we had a window table & watched the harbour getting slowly darker and all the city lights coming on.

Although I really enjoy them I always feel a little out of place in posh restaurants, coming from Marrickville in my 1985 Honda. I look around at the other people there and wonder if it's a special occasion for them too or just a normal night out. Do they live in mansions? Do they drive Porsches? Do they holiday in the South of France and shop on Rodeo Drive? I identify more with the waiting staff (I was a waitress for years) than the other clients and probably say "thank you" too much. I head off to the toilets to check out the flower arrangements and the little rolled towels for drying your hands. I savour every sip of champagne. Last night I would even have called the kids from the mobile to tell them all about it, except that I had no credit in my pre-paid account as all the cash was going on the dinner!

The humble dinner

2006-11-19T20:16:00.000+11:00

I've just read a great post by Laura over at Sarsparilla about, in part, dinner parties of the 1960s. They don't sound that different to the dinner parties we hold now - consisting of similar levels of stress about preparing something fancy, scrubbing the bathroom, looking nice, worrying about who will talk to whom, buying the right alcoholic beverage, etc etc... in short, usually resulting in a host or hostess too tired to enjoy their own party.

Last night we sort of did the opposite - my wonderful parents were visiting from Melbourne so we knew they'd be here for dinner. Richard just felt like cooking (actually, he always feels like cooking) so he spent the day preparing an Indian feast of sambal, rasadar aloo, chana masala & paratha... we also had rice & lots of condiments. Then Hugh asked if his friend Tristan could come for dinner... then Ruby announced her friend Jo would be here, then she added in Chris and Brendan and Deon. So there were ten of us! Amazingly, there was plenty of food for everyone, and then leftovers too (which we're having right now). And because of the way it unfolded there was absolutely no stress involved.

Pet Blog

2006-11-18T16:11:00.000+11:00

"A blog is like a pet rock. You promise to always cherish and nurture it, and then you do not." This is a quote from David over at Lorraine Crescent. Anyway I've been thinking a bit (usually at about 4am when I can't sleep) about changing the focus of Marrickvillia slightly... so I can cherish and nurture it a bit more. The girly swot in me doesn't like not doing things properly and sometimes I just don't have time to do what I want on Marrickvillia by way of photos of places in Marrickville and interviews with people.

So I figure, it's my blog, and I live in Marrickville, so why not write about myself? I know there's nothing radical about that, actually it's what everyone does on their blogs! I am my own biggest resource, and I don't have to go out and interview myself to write something, so you can expect more about me from now on - including the two teenagers (daughter and nephew), all the pets, having had cancer, my gorgeous husband of nearly 2 years, my writing & research interests, my work at UTS, my clothes, what I'm having for dinner, my 10 month old godson (who is my husband's biological son and the child of our dear dear friends in London), my headaches, my garden, etc etc...

What's on my mind at the moment - I'm cross that Hugh's skateboard has been stolen. He left it on the front verandah. I forget that he's a country kid and we need to actually tell him stuff like "don't leave things on the verandah". Anyway it's gone now, along with the 2 phones, the ipod and numerous small amounts of cash that he's had stolen this year, mostly from out of his bag at school. Maddening!! The other thing on my mind - I did a word count for my book yesterday (it's a cultural analysis of cosmetic surgery) and realised I need to cut 13,000 words out of it. It's currently 103,000 and has to be 90,000 before I send it to the publisher next week. How to do this I'm not quite sure. Remove all adjectives? Delete entire sections? We will see, and back to it I now trundle...

Update - Various

2006-11-16T09:13:00.000+11:00

Ok, I know I've been neglecting Marrickvillia a little lately. But I have a good excuse - the manuscript for my book about cosmetic surgery is due in on December 1 (actually I'm aiming for the end of next week) . So, a few updates, without photos I'm afraid.

Hugh recovered well physically from the attack but did suffer some anxiety about seeing the kids wot done it on the street. I can't write the details here but let's just say that one of them was picked up by the police and after a lengthy process "has been brought to Justice". There was also a completely unexpected and spontaneous apology - I think that was what finally put Hugh's mind at rest. We took him to a martial arts class & he did seem to be into it, but then wasn't keen to go back. I don't think the vocalising and bowing were really him. We thought a skateboard would give him a bit of speed and confidence in the streets of Marrickville so my brother sent him skateboard wheels (and something called a truck?) and we took him to Fox Studios to get the board (it's called a deck)... It was interesting for me to witness the very blokey business of choosing the design (some of them are amazing works of art).

Vegie patch - lettuces have gone to seed, cabbages got attacked by snails (the insides are still ok) and we have tomatoes galore. We put in a "Black Russian" which will be beautiful I think. Corm and sunflowers should be tall soon.

Beer!! The second batch was a huge success and we're planning the 3rd.

Chooks!! We're on a waiting list for 2 chooks and a portable chook house. This is necessary for protein as Ruby and I no longer eat meat or bought eggs (I wrote about it at Sarsaparilla).

Fish!! The sad and lonely goldfish has a friend at last. They swim about next to each other.

Ratties!! Getting tamer by the day. They come out of their penthouse & sit in my hands. Their long delicate whiskers twiddle around all the time. They have lovely round dark eyes.

Sailor!! Snoring.

Shop of the Week - Danas

2006-11-12T20:40:00.002+11:00

Danas opened in 1962 and for forty years was run as a specialty Greek delicatessen by Agatha and Dimitrious Danas. They raised their four children here, living in the apartment above the shop. When I first moved to Marrickville in 2000 this was my local for fetta, olives, taramasalata and dolmades. My only problem with the area was that there was nowhere really close by for coffee - I had to walk up to the Post Cafe on Marrickville Rd, which despite its many awards I find a bit impersonal. So I was really pleased when I heard in 2003 that Agatha and Dimitrious' two daughters, Tina and Olga, were planning to renovate the shop and turn it into a cafe. However, I was a bit sad about losing the deli.

I've ended up with both cafe and deli. With some clever interior design the deli remains intact in the back half of the shop while the front has become a charming cafe space. The girls didn't go for anything trendy or slick in the redesign - instead there's lots of Fedeterranean blue - including the crockery - and Greek flags and posters.

Dimitrious still looks after all the fettas, olives, oils and other Greek specialty lines. He also distills his own vinegar and red wine from fruit he grows on vines in the backyard. "I get a lot of pleasure from making the vinegar" he tells me, "looking after it, watching it ferment. It's a natural medicine - it reduces cholesterol and clears the veins." I left there yesterday morning bearing gifts from him - a bottle of his homemade red wine and one of the vinegar, which is the most amazing ruby colour.

Agatha still cooks pasticcia, spanakopita, soups and pastas to sell in the cafe and the two daughters run front-of-house. They serve great coffee, beautiful fruit salad, a fantastic dips platter, Greek salads, etc. The deli section has five different fettas - Australian, Bulgarian, skim milk and two Greek ones, Peperati and Dodomi. I'm not sure which of these are made from sheep's, goat's or cow's milks but I know they sell all three. Dimitrious cuts them with a piece of fishing line. There are nine types of olives: the tiny ones from Samos, three different sizes of Kalamata, green cracked ones, the round fleshy ones from Volou and those salty dried ones from Thassos. The jar of olives is unheard of at Danas - they're kept in big metal tubs of brine, strained and scooped out to order.

Danas Grocer and Cafe
416 Illawarra Rd Marrickville
9591 1589

womit

2006-11-10T13:11:00.000+11:00

My daughter used to announce "I'm going to do womit!"

I've written a little piece on vomit & its cultural significance over at Sarsaparilla - have a look & add your comment. Although I've previously blogged chewy in Marrickville you may rest assured I have no intention of doing the same for the pavement pizzas occasionally spotted along Illawarra Rd on a Sunday morning.

Bless the Beasts & the Children

2006-11-07T09:33:00.000+11:00

I heard on ABC news radio yesterday that a 14 year old girl had successfully fought off an abductor in Dulwich Hill in the morning. In Herbert St he had grabbed her around the waist and tried to drag her into his white utility vehicle. She escaped and ran to a nearby school. It turns out she is in Hugh's class...

Teach your kids, especially the girls, to fight dirty with whatever they've got - teeth, nails, fists, feet - and to go hard for his balls & eyes. Teach them to scream "Fire!!" and then scream and keep screaming. Teach them to be on the lookout. What else is there to do?

Farewell Dero Dog

2006-11-06T10:10:00.000+11:00

The RSPCA rang this morning to tell me that Dero Dog has been assessed "not suitable for adoption" as he's shown signs of aggression. He will be put down today. I feel sad about that and will think of him all day. But I'm happy that he's been given antibiotics, pain medication and a warm place to sleep for the past few weeks. Perhaps he wouldn't agree? Maybe he'd rather be free and alive. When I put it that way there's really no question, is there?

The RSPCA is really wonderful. The people there did their best to find his owners - via a breeder's tattoo inside one of his ears - but with no luck. They spent a lot of money on medication and housing for an ancient dog that they knew would probably end up being euthanised. And they kept in touch with me and were very understanding about my feelings that they told me have a name - "rescuer's bond".

Good Dog.

Shameless Self Promotion

2006-10-30T18:15:00.000+11:00

Caesar Salad