Archive for the 'No place like home' Category

Do I still call them “children”?

Disneyland For Adults - ska band

It’s official. I now have two adult children. The Boy turned 18 last week. In Australia, that means he can vote, drink and generally raise mayhem whilst being entirely responsible for his own actions.

To celebrate, we hosted about 30 of his friends to a party in my back yard. The highlight of the evening was a performance by a ska band “Disneyland For Adults*” on the rear porch.

We’d warned the neighbours that there would be noise by leafleting the previous week. There were no objections, and I even got a couple of phone calls thanking me for the warning and wishing us well.

Because at this time of year it can get cold and wet, I’d erected a large awning and there was a patio heater. We only got a spot of rain, and mostly the heater wasn’t much in demand.

The Boy and His Girl

The Boy and His Girl

The guests were well behaved – no unpleasantness, no overt drunken behaviour, some dancing (that left my lawn a bit the worse for wear, but it will recover!)

I did supply nibbles, but thanks to my clumsiness, only one oven load of hot food made it to the kids, as I broke the door catches of the oven, and it refuses to work without them. (The subsequent repair is a story of its own, since the manufacturer doesn’t make the parts any more.)

A good night!

*alternate name: “Daisy Duck Does Dallas”

Seasons bleatings

I’ve had a couple of Christmases at the “new” Chez Moi now. The kids are late teeners – so I haven’t gone overboard with the whole Christmas schtick. This year, though, Ms Canada decided to buy herself a new “tree” and offered me her old one. The Daughter accepted the invitation and, $20 worth of decorations from the “Reject Shop” later, we have a festive living room.

The only problem is, if we let the ferrets in to play, they proceed to attempt to steal the decorations and pull them, (and sometimes the whole branch) off the tree. We have to put it on a kitchen chair while they’re inside.

Arrghhh.

I’m just going out the back for a while.

Across this wide brown land, when the going gets tough, the man of the house gets going – out the back door to his shed.

My blog readers who hail from non-antipodean shores may not be aware of this Australian obsession. Traditionally, the Australian urban dream has been for a house on a quarter acre block. This is plenty of room for a good sized dwelling, a garden just large enough to require an unreasonable amount of maintenance and a nice, cozy shed. Continue reading ‘I’m just going out the back for a while.’

A sign of thrift.

I’m blessed with living 1-1/2 blocks from a very nice little strip shopping street. You can get (almost) everything you want, including a quite reasonable (IMHO) haircut for $14.

You can also get a fix of grease. The closest shop is a fish and chippery. It has burnt out twice in the last year. They’re not good with cooking oil. It’s just been rebuilt, and opened again last week. Unfortunately, the owners are all -too-obviously feeling the financial pinch and have done all the signwriting themselves. I leave you to marvel at the attractive, mostly hand-lettered-with-a-wall-paintbrush street sign and a furtively snapped shot of the menu board…. (I’ve obscured the phone number for obvious reasons!)

The menu is in dayglo yellow on white using badly applied stick-on lettering. It’s damn hard to read.

Paternal pride

Here’s the boy (in black on lead guitar) performing at his school at lunchtime with others from his music class. The piece is a series of variations on Kasey Chambers “Not Pretty Enough”.  They deliberately chose the “worst” song on the list of options available to them, and it ended up a hoot.  Here they are playing it for laughs – and getting audience participation.

The (improvised) guitar solo at the end was overlong due to some confusion – it was supposed to keep going until the drummer gave the wrapup…

Not a bad effort, I think, both arranging and performing this piece after only 2 years since starting to learn the guitar.

Sad news from Canada

This morning we learned that Isabel, Ms Canada’s mother, died peacefully last night.

We were to attend her 90th birthday party near Toronto in 3 weeks. What was the birthday party will be a celebration/memorial to her with all the same folks coming, including us. I had never met her; she was apparently looking forward to seeing us together.

Mood: solemn.

Be afwaid. Be vewwy, vewwy afwaid.

Yes, the Daughter has just passed her drivers licence test on the second try after missing out by 0.7 marks out of 100 last time.

Watch out for a deep blue Ford Festiva hatchback with “P” plates. And stay vewwy, vewwy clear.