The last minute of 2008

. Well who knew?

Apparently the last minute of 2008 will have 61 seconds, not 60.

So make the most of it, won't you.

For the first time in a long time, I'm looking forward to a New Year.

I'm full of hope. And expectations. Aren't you?

New Year's Eve has always been a time for looking back to the past, and more importantly, forward to the coming year. It's a time to reflect on the changes we want (or need) to make and resolve to follow through on those changes.

Even though following through is often so very hard to do....

Nonetheless, I really like the idea of taking steps to make life better.

So, I've checked and double checked the traditional top ten list of resolutions to see if any will 'work' for me in 2009.

1. Spend More Time with Family & Friends - sorry, but the thought of doing this so close to Christmas, given I've just spent so much time with family, means this resolution is a little overwhelming. I will have to come back and reconsider this one in a mid-year review ... I may think differently six months out....

2. Fit in Fitness - I am following through on this one just because...well yesterday I was dragged around the neighbourhood by a relative who happens to be a fitness fanatic. How can I describe the experience? Well, has anyone watched that TV show where celebrities walk the treacherous Kokoda Trail in New Guinea and, after many days' walking, they become angry, abusive, thirsty and exhausted? Well apparently that was me after one minute and 15 seconds. And I was on flat terrain. Even I was ashamed when the neighbourhood dogs cocked their heads to the side and looked concerned when they saw me crawling up the hill on all fours just to get back home. Yes, ashamed people......I will vow to walk more next year but jogging is definitely out. The trouble with jogging is that the ice falls out of your glass too easily.

3. Tame the Bulge - Tame the bulge? What with bulge obedient classes or hitting the bulge with a rolled up newspaper? Forget that. Nor will I entertain the notion of battling the bulge either. Violence is just all shades of wrong. Now if we are talking about negotiating with the bulge, then I may reconsider.

4. Quit Smoking - I already gave up smoking when I was 11.

5. Enjoy Life More - Yes, of course I would like to enjoy life more but how is that possible if I also quit drinking. The two aren't mutually exclusive.

6. Quit Drinking - see above. Sobriety is overated anyway. People need to learn how to drink and not drown.

7. Get Out of Debt - this should only be on the lists of CEOs and politicians and OFF everyone else's list.

8. Learn Something New - well this one is easier than you may think and no effort is required. Apparently I now easily forget things which invariably means that the old stuff becomes the new stuff by default....and I'm forever learning things that I think are new but which apparently really aren't.......and Alzheimer's is more than likely in my future.

9. Help Others - I do that best by staying out of their way.

10. Get Organised - organisation skills are something you are born with or can hire in. If you don't have them don't pretend you can get them just because you resolve to do so. You will end up stressed and unhappy and a failure. You have to work with what the good Lord gave you if you want to succeed.

I wish I could come up with some crazy resolutions though.

Jeff, the owner of the Weird Meat blog made a new resolution to eat as many "weird meats" as possible. Some of them included raw yak, crickets, ostrich sandwich and deer penis. Gala Darling's last year's resolutions were to : "learn a party trick - weird stomach contortion, belching the alphabet and handstand push-up demonstrations" or "learn the names of flowers - it's such an odd thing to master, but it's so utterly charming that I can't help but be impressed". Other resolutions I've seen in the blogosphere include 'must remember to suck less on a daily average', 'find a snuggle partner', get my comma problems under control, 'read and memorise more poetry' and 'make no propositional statements in 2009.' I am unsure as whether these are all related to each other in some way. It doesn't bear thinking about.

Perhaps this year I can hedge my bets by picking some vague resolution about becoming a better person. That gives me a whole year to do at least one thing right. How can I go wrong?

I therefore vow to be kinder in 2009. To myself and others.

So, do you make new year resolutions? Do you write them down or share them with others? Do you have any weird ones you want to share?
And, as the last sparkler splutters and dies on New Year's Eve, I hope you make as merry as the law in your country permits. May optimism reign supreme. My wish for you in 2009 is that the harsh dose of reality we have lived with in 2008 doesn't make a return on New Years morning and that you continue to ride a new wave of optimism throughout the year.

Have a 'great one' everyone and take care. Just remember that Australia gets to celebrate before the rest of you so when you see the Sydney NYE celebrations on TV think of me....just look out for the kind looking one. I'm already practising...

Auld Lang Syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne, we'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

Walk on the Wildside

These are a few photos which are courtesy of my daughter who spent the day with our Canadian visitor at the local Zoo feeding the animals (a special tour under Zoo Keeper supervision). I didn't have the courage to do this. I think I would have fainted at the point they gave me the horse and deer and rats to feed the animals....the food they eat scares me more than the big cats......you get the picture (so no gory dinner pics on the blog). However, the animals really look kind of cute from this safe distance..and are very well looked after. I love the shy Koala who refused to show his sweet face. Aussies aren't usually that timid. Click on the images to see a larger version (if you are game, of course).


1. Brown Bear 2. Lion who appears to be a little hungry 3. White lion cubs known as the "Brat Pack" 4. Alligator 5. Cheetah 6. Cheetah who loves some TLC 7. Giraffe 8. Cougar 9. Dingoes 10. Shy Koala 11. Lemur 12. Leopard 13. Wombat 14. Monkey 15. Emu 16. Monkey

My personal favourite was this stylish creature (monkey). Who knew? Monkeys apparently have hair products.


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The Erotic Appeal of Housework

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This week I am spending some time with family so I am reposting some of my earlier posts. I hope you are getting ready to welcome the New Year and are planning your 2009 resolutions.

Blue-eyes, blonde hair, and, most importantly, on a salary considerably lower than her boyfriend or husband.

These are key attributes that define the perfect woman, if the latest survey of 66,000 UK men is to be believed. The ideal female would also weigh nine-and-a-half stone, live on her own and occasionally wear glasses.

Most men ranked 'blue eyes' as the most important attribute followed by 'long blonde hair', with 'occasionally wears glasses' as third.

That's nice, most men are looking for an intelligent looking Barbie who is prepared to sacrifice her career to protect her man's ego but still earn enough to live on her own. I get it. Thank god for blow up dolls.

OK guys, do you want to hear what we women want? Women are not as picky it seems about a male's physical attributes. However, we are more forthcoming about what we find truly sexy in our mates. And the good news is, it's something well within your reach - whether you are handsome or ugly, rich or poor, fat or thin, hairy or bald or young or old. How cool is that and how fair and equitable are we?

Now this is a SECRET that I am prepared to share ONCE and ONCE only. So listen up.

According to some research published this week and which will be buried so far down the media in tray that it will never see the light of day, THERE IS NOTHING A WOMAN FINDS MORE SEXUALLY ATTRACTIVE THAN THE SIGHT OF A MAN DOING HOUSEWORK.

Read it again. I do not jest. The study found that men who do their fair share of housework - driving the vacuum cleaner, vigorously scrubbing the bath tub - received much more sex than men who don't pull their weight.

I am telling you guys, put this one to the test. I am sure you will get the positive feedback you deserve in any shape, form or otherwise you desire if you are just prepared to give this a go.

Here are the instructions. It's simple really.

Wait until your partner or prospective partner is home. Then, just sashay down the hallway to the cupboard where the cleaning products are kept (yes, this may mean opening a few doors until you find them - note this is what you would expect to find at left). Try not to draw attention to yourself. Subtlety is called for.

Then, choose a suitable product. OK, put the Fairy Original Spray down and choose something like Mr Muscle if you find this exercise to be any kind of slight on your masculinity. You do not have to read an instruction booklet for this task because the name of the product tells you what to do - Spray n Wipe, get it? Next, take your shirt off simply because Home Journal says it's wise to do so and a health and safety hazard to do otherwise.

Now, put the hot pink gloves on if you want some protection (hot pink is the new black for men this spring - Mark Jacobs says so) - NO, step away from the ones with the frills, let's not take this little jolly too far, too soon. Pick up a clean cloth, whichever one takes your fancy. Start scrubbing anything and everything the product tells you, you can. Preferably on your hands and knees. Be thorough. Put your heart and soul into this. The longer and more vigorously you do this task the better the end results will be.

Eventually, your partner will come and find you. She may appear shocked at what she sees and gasp loudly. Do not be put off or distracted. Stay focused on the goal at hand. Even if she collapses to the floor, in shreaks of laughter with tears rolling down her face, do not be tempted to put the cleaning cloth down. It just means the magic is working. She is actually showing all the signs of being deliriously happy. After two hours of cleaning (floor play we call it), your partner or love interest will be so turned on by the sight of you flexing your muscles, and cleaning for Texas, she will find you completely irresistible. Bleach fumes and all.

That's all it takes guys. A little bit of effort will go a long way. Cleaning at least once or twice a week will make your dreams of Barbie a distant memory. You will have something way more real and earthy waiting for you at home.

It's time we women spoke up. I think the erotica film industry has poorly catered for females to date. Sure, we see women turned on by the hired help such as the pool boys and the gardeners. Little do they realise that we want to see the real men in our lives, donned in manly aprons, armed with cleaning products and giving us some bathroom cleaning action. There is a whole untapped market out there.

I did find a book called Porn for Women which more than backs up my views. It's from the Cambridge Women's Pornography Cooperative. Thousands of women of all ages were interviewed about what they found sexy in their men. The book features men fully clothed, cooking, listening, cleaning, asking for directions accompanied by steamy captions such as 'I love a clean house' or 'as long as I have two legs to walk on you'll never take out the trash'. !!!

So, to all the males out there who haven't discovered the erotic appeal of housework, stop dreaming, start living and do this for yourselves. It's a win-win all around. Share the love with your mates.

And, in the spirit of compromise, while you're cleaning I am prepared to sit back, insert some blue contact lenses, don a pair of glasses every now and then, stop working for the duration and breathe in .........just to be even more fair.

Have you ever been one or have you ever hired one?

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I hope everyone had a good Holiday. I'm still in festive mode. Over the next week, while I spend some time with family, I will repost some of my earlier Lilly's Life experiences. Pour yourself a drink and enjoy.

I read that Robin Williams divorced his.

And that Ethan Hawke had a baby with his.

Then we all know that Jude Law slept with his.

And apparently Bruce Willis & Demi Moore had four at once.

Remember Maxwell Sheffield finally relented and married his.

No, I don't have any proof that Eliot Spitzer did that with his.

Although I do know Matt Lattanzi left Olivia Newton John for theirs.

And Michael Jackson has definitely taken up with his.

Poor Madonna & Victoria Beckham had to stop theirs from telling all.

Then there was was Britney Spears who got nude in front of hers.

And even I was someones just for a while.
What am I talking about?

NANNIES of course.
Most celebrities have at least three nannies per child - one for weekdays, one for weeknights and a third for weekends and trips.

I was a Nanny in London many years ago. I wanted the job so that I could save some money to travel. It paid well and you were able to 'live in' for free. I had no previous experience with children but this was in the days when you didn't need any qualifications. You just had to say you liked children.

I applied for a job at Nannies of Kensington and was offered a position with a Lebanese millionaire and his wife. They lived in Prince Consort Lane near the Royal Albert Hall in the most luxurious apartments I had ever laid eyes on. Gold, marble, ornate and spacious.

I remember my interview with the family as if it was yesterday. I pressed the door bell and the door slowly opened. I looked down a long marble corridor and there was a man wearing an ornate purple caftan standing at the end of the hall. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or run at that point. It was such a long walk and he stood there watching my every step.

He was the Master and his wife, who appeared some time later, was the Madame.

This was what I had to call them. Master and Madame.

Madame was at least 20 years younger than the Master. Beautiful. From top to toe.

They had four children, three boys and a girl. They ranged in ages from four to eleven.

With every child the Master presented Madame with a new fur coat and diamonds. Something she took great delight in telling me over and over again.

There were body guards, cooks, housekeepers and drivers.

I was the fourth nanny in so many weeks, the children told me with wicked grins on their faces. And I still remember those gorgeous faces.

The children were only allowed to see their parents once per day at 7pm (to say goodnight). They would literally meet in the middle in an adjoining living area between the parents' and childrens' apartments. They ate separately.

I am not sure what the Master did for a living as this was not a subject discussed with the live in help. It was however 'something' that required bodyguards for all his family. If I took the children out we were always accompanied by a bodyguard and a driver.

The Madame shopped on a full time basis. I remember she came home crying one day because her skirts were apparently the wrong length. She made her full time seamstress immediately start adjusting all the clothes in her substantial wardrobe.

Being the Nanny did not entail much other than supervising homework and meals, playing some indoor games, taking the children to the dentist and doctor and carrying out special assignments requested by their mother. For instance, I was asked to keep an eye on the ten year old girl and question her about who she was mixing with at school and report back. She also had to be kept away from her brothers as much as possible. I took the children on outings but not to the usual children's haunts. The children were not allowed to associate with other children outside school hours so we often took them to Harrods Department store to buy them whatever toys they wanted. Money was never an object. They would spend hours there. Playing among the toys...as if it was an adventure park. A scene that drew many raised eyebrows from other shoppers.

The Nigerian cook and I were often alone in the house for at least and hour or two during the day. The Master and Madame had bought her to the UK under the guise of sending her to school. She was made to work for her keep but was desperate to escape. Except, the Master had her passport. We tried to contact a missionary she knew who lived in Scotland but we had no luck.

We did have fun together though. We would go into the Master and Madame's apartment and try on Madame’s fur coats and eat caviar. It was all cloak and dagger fun but we always feared getting caught. They had the biggest custom made bed I have ever seen in my life – it was large enough for the inhabitants of a small nation to sleep in. It was the kind of luxury that I do not ever think I will see again. Nor would I want to.

Unfortunately 'the fun' ended when it became apparent that I was in a 'strange kind of set up' where you really were a servant and on call all the time. There was no time on your own and there was always someone watching. More importantly, the Master kept demanding me to give him my passport and I kept making excuses. He said he needed to take the children to France and I would need to come with them. He started to give me money on the quiet ‘for doing a good job with the children’. Then one night I woke up with a start to find him standing over my bed. He didn't say anything but was just staring at me. Even a young naive me knew it was time to fly the gilded cage. Quickly.

I literally waited for a moment when no-one was round. I grabbed my suitcase and ran. I always felt a little guilt that I had to leave the cook behind. She wouldn't come with me as she had a bigger fear that she would be sent back to Nigeria.

We all live such different and often bizarre lives. For all the money in the world though who would want a life where you are meeting your children in the same room for 20 minutes every day? Give me the cook and the cleaner but you can keep the Nanny (not literally as some celebrities have done).

I wonder what happened to those children....and how many nannies came after me. I, myself, went on to stickier pursuits, selling ice creams at the Earls Court Exhibition Centre.... but that's a whole other story.

You don't need snow to have a White Christmas!

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My favourite Christmas song is Bing Crosby's White Christmas.

Every December, I play it over and over which is a little 'delusional' given that I live in Australia where it's summer and Christmas Days are always warm.

I haven't let a lack of snow get in the way of living the dream. Snow is just a small detail that can be overcome......with white sand.

Strangely, Bing's dulcet tones don't seem to have the same effect on my neighbours, friends and family. In fact, he seems to make them lose that loving Christmas feeling. I don't have a problem listening to Bing 400 times a day so why should they? By the time the 25th rolls around we've all probably heard White Christmas close to 10,000 times. Hardly excessive is it?

This year, White is part of my Christmas theme. Yes, you read that right. I colour co-ordinate most things in my life, even Christmas. Clothes, food, decorations.... I'm kind of peculiar like that. Most people cannot understand my need to do this. It's just me. I'm not sure that this is the kind of White Christmas Bing was intending either but....inspiration comes how it comes. We're all different.

So over the weekend I was busy creating....after all, I had some serious catching up to do. There wasn't a hint of tinsel, glitter or razzmatazz in sight.

These pictures are a glimpse of my White Christmas efforts. After my redistribution mishap with the glass doors, I can safely tell you that I've bounced back. In fact, after my baking weekend, with its obligatory taste testing, I have bounced further than I had hoped and I now resemble a Christmas bauble. Probably another session with some glass doors, post Christmas, may be in order. Just click on the picture if you want to see a bigger version. No, not of my new shape, I mean my Christmas efforts.

1. Getting into the Christmas spirit.....finally. Caught in mid song ...well you know what I would have been singing while decorating the tree 2. The Angel that sits on top of the Christmas Tree 3. I collect one, and only one decoration each year which means I have 25 in total from all round the world (that number could possibly be stretching the truth considerably). I only collect white, silver, gold or crystal decorations. The only exception to this is the family name baubles. There is a bauble for each family member with their name on it (even those no longer with us like grandparents). 4. Christmas tree - I have used a combination of real, and 'fake' green and white trees through the years. I love the big Blue Spruce tree which is outside, the best. 5. Presents are wrapped in the same theme of white, silver and gold. 6 My baking, a Coconut Cake 7. A small fruit cake. 8.9. 10. Gingerbread biscuits in many different shapes 11. Cupcakes iced in white with a white rose. 12. Meringues 13. Snowman (he is deadly, the ingredients are to die for). 14. Snowman family 15. Rum balls 16. White Christmas 17. Chocolate covered sultanas and nuts 18. White chocolates 19.Marshmallows 20. Candlelight, silver and crystals everywhere.
So what are our Christmases like in Australia then? Just the same as yours I expect. With different weather.
Up until about 30 years ago our celebrations were heavily influenced by our original Anglo-Celtic influences. The English style of Christmas served as our model for celebrating Christmas.......right down to the traditional roast turkey and steamed pudding in over 35 degree (centigrade) heat. Common sense is prevailing today in terms of weather. Traditional dinners have been replaced with family gatherings in back yards, picnics in parks, gardens and on the beach. Our typical Christmas menu could include seafood, glazed ham, cold chicken, duck or turkey, BBQ meats, cold deli meats, pasta, salads galore, desserts of all types, fruit salad, pavlovas, ice-cream plus Christmas edibles of all varieties such as mince pies, fruit cake, shortbread, chocolates, coconut ice etc.

Christmas Eve for me will involve Christmas Carols and then attending mid-night Mass with family. Christmas Day will involve a long lazy breakfast, gift giving, then a mad scramble to call my sister and her family and various friends who live overseas. Then we will have a big family seafood and champagne lunch outdoors which somehow will extend, after a bit of rest and backyard cricket, into a BBQ dinner and more of everything. Simple and relaxed. Jingle all the way!
I have spent Christmases in other countries and have experienced a white Christmas but to me, it's the people you spend the holiday season with and being at peace (with yourself, others and the world at large) that are important and that really define Christmas Spirit.
I sincerely wish everyone the happiest of holidays and I will see you in the New Year. Des sends his best wishes to you too. He is busy counting his presents under the Christmas Tree apparently .
Go on, have a listen to Bing, I know you really want to.........


Update: Some really exciting news is that a friend of Rhondas just arrived moments ago from Canada to spend Christmas with us in Australia before he heads off to see Betty in Paraguay in the New Year. It's like a bloggers tour!!

Message from your Mother

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Note to new readers: Message from your Mother is a series of letters written by Lilly to her daughter which are usually based on their most recent phone call or in this case recent visit. The letters are often written in the kind of irrational way that seems to come naturally to most mothers when speaking to their children no matter how old those children happen to be. You will always find a hidden message though if you look hard enough.

Hi

I'm sorry I embarrassed you.

I know I'm getting too old to be doing that kind of thing now but.....but it really, really, wasn't my fault that I got stuck in the doors at your office.

They nearly killed me.

It happened because I was too busy taking photos of everything that opened and shut and failed to see the disaster closing in on me.

Let me try and explain.

We bloggers take our jobs seriously. We are like paparazzi journalists. So, it means that we need our camera with us at all times, just in case. Well in case we come across a good story that can, with a sprinkling of magic, be turned into a half decent post without any consideration for the privacy, rights, dignity, views, requests, pleading, lawyers phone calls or bribes of family, friends or even perfect strangers.

I was really happy when you asked me to check out your 30th floor office with those gorgeous panoramic views. The excitement must have gone to my head. I think possibly.....altitude sickness had a bearing....

It's just that when you had your back turned (I knew you would disapprove) I was taking pictures of the view, the river below, your office, how tidy your desk was, the name plate on your door, your matching desk accessories (a colour I so approve of), the chair you swirl in, your business cards and ...... Was that so wrong? For a mother to be proud of her child and how high up in the world she had come? Thirty floors is an achievement. I only ever made it to the fourth floor.....

Then, when you asked me to go and check out another part of the building I dutifully followed. Except, you didn't warn me that these modern architect designed buildings have equally modern architect designed electronic glass doors.

Designed to harm.

Now I finally know what these companies mean when they throw around the term natural attrition in these dark economic times.

The doors were open when I walked through them and naturally I assumed they would stay open.

How was I to know that they stay open for a few seconds and then slowly close.

In the shape of an inverted V.

And I just happened to be standing at the tip of the V.

Blissfully unaware of the trauma to come.

You disappeared no doubt thinking I was right behind you.

I stood there awestruck. The Christmas Tree was amazing.

I raised my arms to quickly take a photo before you reappeared.

And wham!

I didn't hear them coming. They were silently rolling round the bend. (For some unknown reason I feel like breaking into a Johnny Cash song - I hear the train a comin´it´s rolling round the bend and I ain´t seen the sunshine since I don´t know when, I´m stuck in Folsom prison, and time keeps draggin´ on).

I felt an enormous pressure on my arms - the glass doors were closing and crushing me. I was standing in the f****** path of the door. I was stuck. I screamed and tried to worm my way out.

I managed to wriggle my way through the door only to find myself some 2 inches taller and somewhat narrower (I think the technical term is called redistribution. If any plastic surgeons are reading this, as I imagine they would be, I want you to know that I coined the term first and I'm having first dibs at patenting the procedure depending on the cost of fancy glass doors).

Anyway, back to you. You came looking for me none the wiser to the drama that had unfolded moments earlier. Don't you recall you looked me up and down and told me you thought I had lost weight and asked me if my rosacea was playing up because my face was all red?

I decided to keep 'mum'. Thinner and taller is good despite the pain right? After all, nothing had been harmed in the making of my documentary to show your grandparents EXCEPT ME!

Well now it seems I was wrong.

It seems the whole thing was captured on your office's CCTV.

I'm no doubt humour fodder for the masses. Well, just remember people that I am the victim here.

I can understand your humiliation and your need to deny that you are related to me or even know who the hell I am. It's a harsh call but I completely understand.

Tell me, does the footage also have sound? Just wondering. Because that could be really embarrassing. Pain makes you say terrible things.

I have pictures too! Of zebra stripes running down my arms. Black, purple and blue. Like a Hockney gone incredibly wrong.

Anyway I digress, do you suppose it would be reasonable if you just emailed security and told them that if they really want to know how some strange woman got captured in their doors with a camera in her hands then they should just read my blog?

Mmmm, I guess you're yelling right about now.......

Well I'm sorry .....

I just want you to know that next time, if there does happen to be a next time, I won't be tempted to bring my camera with me and get distracted.....

Your Mother xx (your still considerably thinner and taller mother -I guess one day I will bounce back - more than likely over Christmas).


PS. If the worst should happen as a result of this 'accident', and they demote you to the 4th floor or something, I still have all the pics of what the view was like from the 30th floor just so you never forget. They do say hell has harbour views and they could be right after all.

PPS. Please don't mention that old people's home that you have picked out for me on the other side of the country again. I have another 40 years before I'm due to go in one of those and no amount of talking about it is going to make me act your age, ok?

Don't judge a book by its cover

unless you happen to be buying one, that is.

I rarely go into book stores knowing what I’m looking for.

I usually buy books based on their cover.

And I’m rarely disappointed.

Except for one time. I was ten years old.

The book was called My Darling, My Hamburger.

It was junk food alright.

Here's the book description from Amazon - apparently it's still available.
As senior year rolls around, two unlikely couples find themselves caught between desire and the fear of intimacy. Liz and Sean, misunderstood by their parents, confused but certain they are in love, have an affair that ends shatteringly. Maggie and Dennis, just as confused, take their first steps toward understanding the demands life makes on everyone. ....

You get the picture. It was a summer of discovery. And a period of alarm for my mother when she caught me reading it.

Strangely, I can't remember the cover at all....just the contents.

So here are my tips for choosing a book by its cover.

You have to let the book covers do the talking.

Once I would have chosen a book based solely on the colour of its cover.

Now that I am mature and more worldly, there are a few other elements that I look for.

First, the cover artwork can tell you a lot about the contents. Any images of bare chested Fabio characters or pouting, adoring, helpless females always indicates I am in the wrong section. Romance.

Then there are the images that are used over and over again. A smoking gun equates to a murder mystery. An empty bed with rumpled sheets usually means a literary novel with lots of sex. A smoking gun and an empty bed.... well you best email me if you want help understanding that one. Naked women adorn lots of books for lots of reasons. It could spell sexist rubbish or not. It's a tough call sometimes. If there’s a painting from an earlier era, it’s either a classic or an historic novel. If the date of publication and the year the novel are set more than 100 years apart, put it down and walk away. Historical novels are rarely done well. You need to know the author.

Some images which you should avoid are happy families (miserable looking families are perfect), birds, reptiles and angels. You should be okay with most animals especially fish and cows. Although I personally always avoid horses. If there are high heels and lipstick on the cover, its chick lit. These books always look the same. Pink is invariably a feature.

The best images to watch out for are shadowy male figures or beaches. Don’t ask me why. Or any images of Richard or George ...oops sorry, that’s the cover of my autobiography.

Second, another element to check is the font used for the book title and author. A flowery over the top font means either historical fiction or a romance. A clean, sharp font with a minimalist cover is usually trendy fiction. If the font used for the author is much larger than the title of the book, it’s probably written by someone who writes the same book over and over again well known, such as Grisham, Clancy, White, Keneally, le Carre and King. This just means that all you need to know is the author’s name because you sure as hell aren't going to get anything new and different. Just more of the same.

Third, look at the book description (more commonly known as the marketing spiel). The words used don’t always mean what they say. For example, twenty-something means annoying character who frets about her looks, men and clothes, over the hill means sexy, gorgeous, got it all together, (ok, well maybe I am making this bit up because I'm still recovering from my cosmetic buying episode), frothy means insubstantial, cappuccino making instructions or Lilly's blog, saga or epic means boring, too long and not edited properly or an indication that Baz Luhrmann is now writing novels, hilarious means you may laugh at least once but usually only once and dazzling – means nothing, nothing at all because it's a filler word used in every book description.

I am personally drawn to books with words like "magic", "makeover", "karma", “delicious,” “sexy,” “true life”, “devious”, "adventure", "passionate"........

Finally, we get to the author’s photo. Now I realise it shouldn’t really matter should it? However, while I believe it’s the least important element, the photo must match the overall book concept. If the book is a racy chick lit and you turn the book over and see a 100 year old author standing in a field of pansies in her gumboots with a cat in her arms then I would put the book down. A bit of leopard skin and red lipstick never hurt anyone, no matter how old you are. Then again, I prefer no photo at all because it's good to leave something to the imagination, right?

Anyway, the real reason I mention books is because I’m writing one. Yes, it’s true. I have been pushed and cajoled to do so. I know thousands of manuscripts sit on dusty shelves but hey why not? I'm writing a book about a particular dark time in my life that wasn’t at all funny. It's called Black Magic. And you can rest assured that I've already developed the cover concept. There is no Fabio, smoking guns, witches, rabbits, card tricks or even a Criss Angel to be seen. However, there are most definitely some shadowy male figures, lots of illusions and many slight of hand tricks. It's dark and it's autobiographical. And so ......so unlike Lilly.

I've been inspired over my first year of blogging by many passionate writers. I would like to recommend some of them to you (there are lots as we know) but these are the ones I've been following for a while (they are in no order). I'm sorry I didn't have time to show you their cover art. Perhaps next time.
Ugich Konitari - Gappa
Robin Easton - Naked in Eden Blog
Matt - Matt-Speak
Soul Merlin - Almanack (he has a few blogs that are all great reading)
Judi Moran - Zany Life + Crazy Faith
Christopher Williams - Christopher Williams Blog (again a few blogs including his novel and short stories- all great to read)Jon - the Ups, Downs and Sometimes Insane World of Freelance Writing
Eric - Ruminations of a Small Town Mountain Boy
Tasha - The Big Novel
June - Journeys in Creative Writing
Sylvia - Chasing Ashes

Tell me, what are you currently reading and/or what is the one book that you have been most affected by?

Oh...... and the winner of the last giveaway is Trish from the My Little Drummer Boys. Congratulations Trish, a mysterious parcel will be on its way to you soon.

Ho Bloody Ho

There was a certain little Department store makeup consultant I interacted with today who clearly had read Post Secret before she went to work. Truth be told, she was probably the one who sent this secret in....

After hours of weathering the push and shove of the never-ending Christmas shopping queue I ended up at the Clarins makeup counter. Waiting, waiting, waiting for a consultant to wake up from their 'cat nap' and come and help me.

I'm always 'prepared' when I go to buy makeup. Makeup consultants often have about as much tact as a cat (because I trained as a makeup artist and I'm familiar with the breed). I usually take their uppity attitude with a grain of salt. Not today.

Today my apparently wobbly jowls were quivering in astonishment.

Yes, it was even worse than the time that one of these princesses looked me in the eyes and said, "Why, what beautiful eyes you have. They remind me of my cat's eyes. They're yellow." They are green, people!

See, makeup consultants and cats are so alike, what did I tell you? They both have claws, are forever preening themselves regardless of whose company they are in and they have NO TACT.

I was finally assisted by a five year old consultant. In pigtails. Department stores are apparently recruiting straight from kindergarten these days.

"Hi, I am looking for a face mask," I said.

"Mmmm", she said, as she examined me intently, "is it for yourself?"

"Yes", I said.

"Well, I think that you will be needing the firming mask then. Actually, now that I look a little more closely, I think that you really need the VERY FIRMING mask. Shall I wrap that for you?"

"Oh no sweetheart, not quite yet", I said with a strained smile, "I just want to clarify something first. Can you tell me how many degrees of firming this face mask actually comes in? "

"Well", she purrs, "normal, firm and very firm".

"So, you're telling me that I need the mask with the highest degree of firming properties, are you?"

"Yes, I guess so." she grinned.......strangely .....just like a Cheshire cat.

"So, if that's the case, does that mean when the benefits of this mask stop working, I'm going to have to shop for cosmetics in the Hardware store for the next 40 years? Let's see, spacfilla and putty to fill in the wrinkles, sand paper for exfoliating, cement for extra coverage...or maybe a primer and then a quick paint with either a matte or satin finish......is that where I'm headed?"

She looked at me. I looked at her. I swear I could see a thought bubble coming out of her childishly coiffed head ...batty old cow...

I wasn't about to debate the issue or hit her on the nose with a newspaper. After all, even though their nose is a bit sensitive, a cat’s sight is supposedly their keenest sense. Who was I to argue with what she 'saw'. Not today.

"Fine", I said, "wrap it. I haven't got time to debate the mask's degrees of separation or to workshop my wrinkle control strategic plan with you. It's Christmas and I'm busy. Oh, and I do hope Santa brings you something nice dear. Age appropriate, of course."

Can you tell that I too read Post Secret this morning?

For any readers out there who have five year old children masquerading as makeup consultants, GIVE THEM SOME TACT FOR CHRISTMAS!!!! And remind them that anyone over 35 is NOT OLD!!!! And anyone over 40 is NOT BEYOND ALL RE-FIRMING HOPE!!

I also now know my New Years resolutions. High-speed cyber shopping (hint - Strawberrynet.com for makeup shopping ladies) and my blog rating may be upped to 30+.

Anyway, now that I've got that out of my system I'm going to give one of you a present. And I don't even need to examine your wrinkles for this one. One lucky commenter is going to win a Mystery Gift, of a bit of this (Thai stuff) and a bit of that (Aussie stuff) and most likely a sample of Clarins' Very Firming Face Mask will be thrown in for good measure!! Oh yes, I hear you, not that YOU need it either......

The winner of the previous post's giveaway, chosen by Random.org is Commenter No. 16 which is Tasha from Tasha's Take. A Thai silk scarf is on its way to you very soon.

Just Some Stuff

Oh it's taking me a while to get back my blogging spirit let alone get into the Christmas spirit. I think it's the sugar withdrawals. Or more likely cocktail withdrawals. Or holiday blues.

So, I just thought I would ask you about some stuff I have been tossing around. Just stuff that I store in the back of my mind and which rolls round and round ......and round (too much empty storage space obviously).

Feel free to throw in your own observations about any of this stuff which may happen to take your fancy.

1. Why are we obsessed with changing our skin colour? Many people in Oz are addicted to tanning beds, spray tans and slathering on their favourite orange hue to get that bronzed glow we seem to lust after (not all of us but enough of us for me to generalise). However, when I was in Thailand the girls kept touching my skin admiring its pasty hue (white as a ghost!!). Then, when I walked into Thai stores I found variations of skin whiteners on every shelf. Everywhere. Look at the advertising - "Whatever keeps my skin the purest white".
Thais have the most beautiful colouring yet they are buying products to bleach their skin in the same way Michael Jackson does. Why do we do this to ourselves? Where is the pressure coming from? It's kind of sad because no matter whether we are green, yellow, black, white or shades in between, our teeth are white and our blood is red. We are beautiful as we are. Besides, we have to be ourselves - because everyone else is taken.

2. What is your blog rating? Sandi mentioned that she realised she had a couple of kids following her blog and had to write to them to explain that her blog was for adults only. I guess it's something I haven't been that mindful of really. My blog, according to film ratings, is R rated (17 and over). Simply because I have used the words sex (3x), kill (2x), sexy (1x). I notice that Julie has a content warning on her blog (she needs another to alert readers to how hilarious she is).
So, should more of us be doing this? I guess there is a reason that the majority of journalists who end up in prison these days are bloggers. As bloggers, we say what we think, relate personal stories and let it 'all hang out' at times. Sometimes we press the publish button without thinking about who could be reading our blog. We do not have an editor or lawyer (some of us do) looking over our shoulder when we write our personal blogs.
3. Why are we obsessed with celebrities? Well I always wanted to look like Sharon Stone but I have just found out that I actually resemble Adam Sandler moreso (72% match). That's disturbing even if it is hilarious. If you want to have some fun and see which celebrities you most resemble then check here.

I used to enjoy reading about celebrities before I got a life and started blogging. I haven't bought any magazines for almost a year. I made a decision after Heath Ledger's death, and the subsequent fiasco, to quit feeding the papparazzi beast.

Except, I do have one remaining link to Hollywood (other than the fact I met someone on a Thai beach who is best friends with Bette Midler's PA and had some stories to tell - nice ones). Gwyneth sends me her newsletter (okay...along with millions of other people). Mmm, yes, Ms Paltrow. Gwynnie is a bit of a mentor for lots of people these days. She tells us how to get the holiday spirit, where to shop, what presents to buy, what to eat, what to cook, how to be the perfect mother, lover, actress and how to live every day (as if we are millionaire actresses, who are 6 ft tall, size zero, married to English rock stars and live in mansions with servants - no Braja I am not talking about you). Here is her website, called Goop. Go check it out and see how the other half live. I find it strangely fascinating. Even Gwynnie is a blogger. Do you think celebrities have their own blogging world that we regular people don't know about?

4. Should men wear mantyhose? No, I am serious. Men are getting in on our fashion domain ladies and I happen to like it for reasons I will explain later. "Mantyhose" are pantyhose for men, the latest in a string of men's fashion trends straight from the bizarre files. Take note Russell Crowe as I hear you are refusing to wear tights when you appear as Robin Hood in your next film.

Apparently everyone from truck drivers to cowboys are wearing them. Self-confessed male hosiery-wearer Harisnya is so passionate about the issue he set up e-MANcipate, a website aiming to "accelerate the acceptance of male pantyhose as a regular clothing item". Harisnya says the UK-based website is "as serious as fashion can be". "It's fun, but no joke," he said, and is adamant that both males and females should be allowed to wear the sexy sheer garment.

I have been thinking about this for a while. One of my biggest bug bears over the years has been that we women cannot claim pantyhose as a tax deduction. Some of us have to wear them for work and they last two seconds. So, I want my male readers to buy a pair (who are real men and wouldn't mind donning a pair for a good cause) and for my female readers to buy their men some Mantyhose this Christmas. I can guarantee that if more men wore them we would be able to claim pantyhose as a tax deduction in a very short period of time.

Well these are just a few thoughts. There are more......always more.

Oh, the winner of the Thai scarf from the previous post is Commenter No 16 which is Sandi. I used Random.org to draw the winner. There will be another Thai scarf on offer for one lucky commenter who leaves a comment on this post.

The Land of Smiles

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Every time I renew my driver’s licence I have the same old lame conversation with the Road and Traffic staff.

Just as they are about to take my photo, they say, ‘Smile.’

And I say, ‘No, I don't want to smile, thank you. If the police pulled me over and checked my licence they wouldn’t recognise me because there is no way I would be smiling.'

They get it, eventually.

So that’s why my licence photo always looks suitably sullen and displeased.

It got me thinking about what kind of expression I would have to wear on my licence photo if I lived in Thailand.












Clearly my eyes would have to be tightly shut and my mouth would have to be open, forming some kind of four letter word.

After all, that’s the expression I wore every time I travelled on the roads in Thailand. And I wasn’t even driving (we considered hiring a car but we didn’t have the psychological fortitude to take the plunge – bungy jumping and swimming with stingrays were seen to be less hazardous).

The traffic is something you have to see to believe (now I am not having 'a go' at the beautiful Thais but their driving may indicate that they have a death wish not only for themselves but for everyone around them).

Don’t get me wrong. I understand that some people have a need to live on the edge. Some like the thrill of riding fast motorbikes and rally cars. Some enjoy driving four wheel drives in rocky terrains and others just like seeing how fast their 15 year old cars will go. Gosh, there are even those who like the occasional game of Russian roulette. Thai drivers do it all. Every time they hit the roads. No matter what they are driving.

It’s not for the faint-hearted. If you happen to be from one of the few countries in the world who drive on the left side of the road (like we do in Australia) you have a slight advantage.

The official road rules are actually quite similar to what I’m used to but the rules of engagement are essentially Thai. The expression, put your life in someone else’s hands comes to mind. It’s a big call to get behind the wheel (and that also includes sitting in the back seat).

The general knowledge of any sort of road rules appears to be non-existent. Such things as overtaking at speed and signalling (even when turning across several lanes of traffic) are not practiced. By anyone.

Motorbikes will cut you up left and right at the same time. They will pull out in front of you and expect you to stop, all the time while pedestrians are weaving between traffic queues without seeming to notice cars and motorbikes heading towards them at 50 kms per hour and a few centimetres away.

In the country where the roads seem to be appallingly potholed in places, there are no rules given the local drivers have had to drive round these hazards for years. They will use the bit of the road without holes. That’s why it may be possible to find yourself on entirely the wrong side whilst someone going in the opposite direction passes you on their wrong side.

Compared with Western countries the passing of a Thai driving test is a mere formality which takes around 10 minutes in a car park with cones. Until you pass this test you can drive anyway without ‘L’ plates if you are with another driver. In fact you can probably do that with the whole family on your bike or piled into your car. Seat belts are not a requirement.

We mainly caught Tuk-tuks to get around.

On one trip we met this gorgeous driver called Mr Sam. He had driven us to various areas around Phuket (taxis are cheap) and during a near miss with a bike we asked him if he rode a motorbike as well. He said that he did but not as much now given he'd had an accident some years earlier and was badly injured. He then completely turned around in his seat, while still driving, took off his sunglasses and showed us that he only had one eye. Oh.... I hadn’t noticed.

So if you want to drive in Thailand not only do you have to have a driver’s licence but you should also possess these other must haves that locals clearly possess in abundance: a permanent smile (even on your driver's licence), nine lives, the patience of a holy-man, eyes in the back of your head, a crystal ball, the reflexes of Michael Schumacher (and heavy medication just in case it all goes pear shaped because it may take some time for an ambulance to rescue you in that traffic).

So who is up for travelling to South-East Asia to check out this dangerous pastime? It’s actually very good fun! Once you live to tell the story, that is.



Another giveaway – one lucky commenter will win a Thai scarf. All you have to do is leave a comment by 11 Dec and by some magic hocus pocus and a clever algorithm a winner will be selected.

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And the winner is...

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Des has spoken.

The winner of the flight story giveaway (see previous post), is Rhonda.

He seriously considered Braja's bribe offer of a drink when next in India but, after reading all of your horrific flight stories, he made the decision never to board a plane again.

You can read Rhonda's full travel story at her blog, A Day in the Life of Rhonda here.

Thanks to everyone who left a comment. It's a wonder anyone is flying at all! I will be having more giveaways over the next few weeks so come back and check.

Rhonda it may be wise if you give everyone warning of your future travel plans. We may choose to avoid air travel at that time (for obvious reasons when you read her story).

A beautiful Thai silk cushion cover is on its way to you BY AIR when you reveal your postal address (unless you want to run background terrorist checks on me first). I should tell you that when I was going through security to board the outgoing flight I was stopped and told that I had been selected and to walk behind a barrier. I was excited because I thought I may have been the millionth passenger and had won free air travel for life or at least an upgrade. Alas, they wanted to carry out an explosives test on me. There was no backpack anywhere near my person. And no explosives on my person for which I was understandably grateful.

I'm finally getting my holiday photos together (there seems to be too many of me lying on a bed, a deck chair, the beach or under a table - most with a cocktail in hand. What can I say I was relaxed up until the point I found out I couldn't get out of the country). I will just leave some pics in the side bar in the next day or so because all beaches look a little alike as do most cocktails, elephants and temples. We did Thai cooking classes, a Batik painting class, rode elephants etc which was all great but it can get a bit yawnoriffic to look at other people's holiday snaps. Right? I will blog about some more serious issues that stood out for me soon. Mainly about the people and the sex trade, the road traffic and the culture.

I've been going through all the the shopping I somehow accumulated while away. The Thais are expert salesmen or con artists, whatever professional term you prefer.

I always find it difficult to haggle but I got the hang of it after some practice. Who knows it may be a skill we will all need given this current economic climate.

Lower-than-low prices and the sense of getting a great bargain make Thai shopping an addictive activity.The open air markets are the best (although they also have amazing shopping centres in Bangkok). Merchants will almost always give you your desired price if you hold out long enough. They are also very good at talking you into purchasing things you don't want or for paying more than you had intended.

For example, I was looking for a wallet and when I couldn't find one I wanted, the merchant asked if we wanted to look at DVDs. He then opened a door at the back of the shop and led us into an air conditioned room where there were rows and rows of DVDs. We walked out with 50 DVDs (alright, I don't want lectures or a prison term either....). They do the same with designer handbags, watches and sunglasses (except I do not like the real designer bags let alone the fake ones). Like many cities all over the world I guess.















So I ended up with a suitcase full of 'stuff' that looked awfully attractive in the markets but somehow looks a little suspect now I'm home. Its the Kool Aid isn't it? There is something in the cocktails in Thailand or in the intense heat that drives a sane woman crazy (don't you dare say one word...).

I learnt a thing or two about shopping though...I cannot wait to walk into the supermarket or the mall for that matter....with a whole new attitude. I'm never going to pay full price ever again....just watch me!

Flights of Fancy

I guess I should have known my holiday was going to end up as 'a bit of a circus' after taking a domestic flight to meet my daughter in another State prior to going to Thailand.

I really like flying, well provided the trip is eight hours or less. I used to fly back and forth between Australia and the UK for a while and let me tell you I regarded these 24 hour plane trips to be just as 'painful' as child birth. Once you're on the plane you can't decide to abort the flight mid way and just get off. You have to suffer through it as best you can until it's all over. Just like giving birth. Except you have to suffer in silence when flying. You can't scream obscenities or ask for more drugs or oxygen like you can in a labour ward ......I tried once and nearly got banned from British Airways....

I've celebrated birthdays and Thanksgiving while in mid air. I've been on a plane with a dead body (thank goodness I didn't realise) and someone who'd suffered a heart attack. I even fell in love with an American on a flight between LA and Sydney. Ahhh.. anything is possible when you spend 17 hours in cramped conditions without much oxygen getting to your brain.

I like travelling on Virgin Airlines for domestic trips. The staff at least have a laugh. For example, on my most recent flight the attendant said in her introduction, "There may be 50 ways to leave your lover, but there are only 4 ways out of this airplane". At the end of the flight we had a lot of turbulence and a very bad landing. The attendant announced, "We ask you to please remain seated as Captain Kangaroo bounces us to the terminal." To which the Captain replied, "Enough of the sarcasm it was the asphalt's fault." The Attendant then said, "As you exit the plane, make sure you gather all of your belongings. Anything left behind will be distributed evenly among the flight attendants. We beg you, please do not forget your children."

Anyway, before the flight took off I was sitting in my seat and a guy comes up and says, "Hi, I'm Steve and I'm bonkers. Is it ok if I sit next to you?" "No worries, Steve", I said, "I'm sure I have met stranger people than you".

Well I was wrong.

Steve wasn't lying. He was bonkers.

He sat down and immediately started talking. With a thick Scottish accent. He didn't draw breath for the entire hour and a half flight. I did manage to ask him why he felt the need to tell me he was a screw loose. He said the last flight he took he sat next to this woman who was a real bitch. She complained to the air steward about him and he was moved. Can't imagine why.

Dreadlocked Steve, told me about his life, family, his bi polar disorder, his breakup with his girlfriend and how he had signed his house over to her to prove his love for her (and how she refused to give it back), how he lived in his car for seven months, his suicide attempt, the musician Harry Manx who saved his life with his lyrics, how he was inspired to take up guitar, how he himself became a musician (and played with the John Butler Trio for a guest appearance and had pictures to prove it) and how he was now working for Cirque du Soleil on its Australian tour. I even got to see a photo of his grandmother...oh....Kate, he comes from Glasgow - you don't have any relations working in a circus in Australia per chance?

Steve also introduced me to the other Cirque du Soleil performers who were on the plane. There was the Sylvester Stallone lookalike from Bulgaria, the French and Canadian couple who had a baby only one week earlier while on tour, the logistics people, the fire eater, stilt walker and on and on.

When I walked off the plane Steve was still chatting to me. My daughter was in the Arrivals lounge to meet me and I introduced her to Steve. She looked shell shocked. I think she thought he was the surprise I promised to tell her about. You know, the younger man with the dreadlocks, piercings, tattoos and guitar in hand that I was clearly hiding from her. She then started looking carefully at all my fellow travellers, "what kind of plane did you fly on Mum, it looks like some kind of bizarre circus...".

Oh yes, how right she was and that was just the start..meeting Steve got me thinking that if I was 20 years younger it would be very tempting to run away with the greatest Circus on Earth. Instead, being too old to tumble, I was glad to be flying to Thailand for a relaxing holiday.....to be continued..

Tell me, do you like/dislike flying or do you have a funny flight story to tell? The most interesting comment gets a beautiful deep pink Thai silk cushion cover (there will be giveaways through December so don't be put off from commenting). Des is the judge....so you best make it funny or at least mention whiskey..that will get his attention.

We're Back!

My daughter and I are finally home after a frustrating wait to fly out of Thailand. Thanks everyone for your good wishes and thoughts. A belated welcome to BATW bloggers.

Like the many thousands of other tourists, we are just pleased to be home (sleeping will be good). There were big cheers on the plane as we touched down in Sydney.

We were really lucky to get on a Thai Airways flight from Phuket. The boarding selection process was rather strange to say the least. It felt like we were waiting in line (for four hours) to get entry to some exclusive club. Some people were given boarding passes and others were rejected. I am unsure what the selection criteria was. Everyone was desperate. I was ready to throw myself over the counter and fall at the feet of the airline staff and beg - thankfully it didn't come to that. It was obvious that money was changing hands and people were paying extra to bribe staff to get boarding passes. It's the way things work in Thailand so it's hardly any surprise that this may also be the way the Thai Government does business and the reason so many people want a new government. I really do not blame the demonstrators for the action they are taking and hope it gets resolved soon. Thais are truly beautiful people with permanent smiles on their faces. Life is not easy for them and it was an eye opener for me on many levels.

However, at the same time it was very frustrating for travellers mainly because of a lack of information. It seemed the airlines were only looking after their Business and First Class passengers. They were provided with hotels and meals yet all other travellers had to fend for themselves. Times like these brings out the best and worst in people so it was interesting to watch how people dealt with the situation. It's amazing just how many people fly in and out of Thailand on a daily basis. The country relies on tourism so this crisis will have a long term impact.

I did worry for a while that Thailand may be my new home. When wandering the streets I came across this sign - I thought it was an omen of things to come. How funny is this?

So what was a girl to do but sample the delights of Lilly's Bar - it was so hot, really hot and I had time to kill you know how it is.....besides, I hold the philosophy that you have to taste all the cocktails on the menu before you can decide which one you really want to order......we all deal with a crisis in different ways...

I will resume posting and visiting your blogs in the next few days. Let's pray that no more people get hurt from grenades and that all travellers are able to make their way home as quickly as possible. Other than this little hiccup, I had a truly wonderful holiday and will go back to Thailand one day. I really want to see Bangkok (and its shopping centres) in all its glory.

Life is back to normal again or as normal as Lilly's Life gets........