Front page of The Global Mail at 6.14pm WAT

I heard Monica Attard today on the radio talking about this new journalism experiment – The Global Mail – a new independent, not-for-profit journalism wet dream of a site.

No advertising, no subscriptions, fully funded by a philanthropic businessman who wanted to do something to protect quality journalism in a world where the profession is hacked by a reducing advertising spend, and a fragmenting media space.  Where “real” journalists are a dying breed.  Where interests of mega-media types of the Rupert Murdoch variety rule and competition comes not from other journalists but citizen reporters, bloggers. Where being first does not always mean being accurate, but nearly always means a grainy picture “or it didn’t happen”.  (Monica didn’t say all that I hasten to add, that’s just the vibe I got)

So what’s The Global Mail like?

Well really you should check it out for yourself but since you asked…

In one word… classy.

Nice font (open sans if you’re interested)… and nice and big for those blind as a bat like me.

Horizontal scrolling… which takes a bit of getting used to (I wish the little scroll thingy on my mouse worked to scroll horizontally) but was, according to Monica, so that their yet-to-be-developed app works better.

Beautiful imagery – make sure you look at the photo essays.  Gorgeous.

Writing – again quality stuff.  The sort of writing that makes you wish you wrote better.  Sigh… (moment of reflection)

Loved the article on the Superbowl – I’d never thought about sport in terms of countries like that.  Also enjoyed the Obama article.

So overall go The Global Mail… and if you’re ever wanting a Western Australian team member…

But I do have some suggestions… what you thought it was going to go all your way??

Did you not read your own article about bloggers who like to tell the truth and not suck up to people???

First, while I quite like the horizontal scrolling – I’d quite like to be able to see who has written the article and the title on each page.  It’s a pain to do the click click click thing to get back to the start.

And call me a flibbertigibbet, but some of the articles are very long – too long for my attention span… although if I was not online they would probably be perfect.

User generated stuff… what’s the deal there.  No comments when I checked in and yet very easy to send one in.

I would like to see a section on upcoming features that could call out for help in getting those stories.  Use citizen journalism for good not evil.

Small quibbles indeed.

Keen to hear your thoughts as well… and your thoughts on the need for this kind of website as well.  We have a national broadcaster with the same remit.  Is that not enough?

(My view is Bring. It. On.  The more journalism like this in the world – the better.  But I guess you figured that out.)

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For the last month I’ve been in the fortunate (?) position of “owning” two mobile phones.

One, I’ve had for over a year: the quickly superseded Samsung Galaxy S – an Android phone.

Two, my work phone,  a brand new iPhone 4S with the Siri feature disabled for security reasons, which replaced my Blackberry Bold.

Every day I unconsciously compare the two and so I thought I’d share my observations with you.

Android keypad

Samsung/Android

• I love Swype.  This enables you to “type” by dragging your finger around the keyboard.  It is superfast.
• Menus.  In every app, every screen you can nearly always find more options to do more stuff.  If you can’t see it on the screen, it will no doubt be in a menu.  Even if there is an option on the screen and you are suffering domestic blindness, you often find the option in the menu.  This is good.
• Market.  It is not iTunes.  This should be enough of an explanation.  It is easy to navigate.  Easy to download.  I can put apps easily on the SD card freeing up memory.
• Flexibility.  I don’t need to wait to upgrade my phone operating system.  If it gets upgraded I can (or rather Groover can)  root the system.  It’s like getting a whole new phone.
• Contacts.  Easy transfer of contacts.  Seamless interaction with Google products.
• Favourites.  I can use my one Favourites menu to text or call or email.
• Sliders.  I like the fact that my apps all live off the front screens… unless I want them on the front screen.
• Widgets.  Android has them.  They are good.
• I love the universal power thingy.
• I like the little menu on the top bar that shows me notifications.
• I like the big screen.

iPhone

• Nice packaging and nice touch and feel.  It feels more solid (and indeed is heavier) than my Samsung.  It has that Apple sweet design.
• I really like that little switch on the side that makes it silent with one touch.  It’s annoying to have to click the up and down buttons on the Android to make games silent.  And the silent touch button on the top menu of Android only controls phone functions.
• I like the setting that allows me to see what messages/emails I have even when my phone is locked.
• I like that it has a flash – my Samsung doesn’t (although I think the new one does).
• I quite like the one touch to call favourites… although I keep forgetting that it doesn’t give me the option to message so I dial people when I want to message them.
• I like the voicemail link at the bottom of the call menu.
• I like the way you go straight into contacts by sliding the front screen to the left… well your finger goes right but the screen goes left… that’s a handy little feature.
• I like the fact it asks me what size of photo I want to email.
• I like the variety of apps.  But that’s more of a whinge at companies and organisations who only or mostly develop apps for iPhones and ignore the huge Android market. You know who you are!

Whinges

• Well lets start with apps… and see the last point above.
• Also hate the way iPhone won’t download an app unless I’m on wireless (but I concede that might be a work setting).
• iTunes
• My main whinge with iPhone is the keypad.  What’s up with that?!!!!  To get to numbers and symbols you need to change keyboards. To find an underscore you need to go to a third keyboard.  Frustrating.  And no Swype.  Apple – you need to get Swype.
• And I’d like widgets on the iPhone… I like a really big clock because my eyesight isn’t what it was.
• Android could do that notification thingy when the phone is locked – that would be nice.  While you get a symbol showing what has arrived, it’s nice to get a precis of the item without having to open a menu.
• And Samsung should defs get that switch that allows for quick silencing of the phone.

Just a note on Blackberry – what I liked most about my old Bold was the keypad.  Keypads are important to me.

So I suppose you want to know what I would buy if I had to choose between them.

Yeah no…

I don’t know.

I think at the moment I might have to go with a Swype-enabled phone – simply because it is so good, and I hate the Apple keyboard.

But if Apple fixed that???

Then I might lean towards an iPhone because… they look better.

Sorry to be so girly and non-geek about it, but there you are.

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I went back to my old college – St George’s – today.

Partly to beg, plead and plunder for my son who would dearly love to follow the family tradition (I think)  and go to the college himself this year as he studies his science degree at UWA, but also just to walk the halls and remember those “good old days”.

I don’t think I’m alone in this.

I’m pretty sure my dad, who also went to St George’s and indeed was Senior Student, also pops by to feel that red brick memory soak right in.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s no coincidence that the house I grew up in and the house I have now lived in for 13 years is also red brick…

Just sayin’.

“It’s hard to tell how much the student actually wants to come here… and how much of it is the parent wanting the student to live here.” says the acting warden – a charming man – when I visited today.

I’m sure, I murmur politely as my eyes tear up looking out his window to the old sub-warden’s cottage.

The cottage where I and a young Groover sat listening to our priest deliver pre-marriage lessons.

“I hate weddings”, was the line I remember best.

And.

“In-laws and children.  You need to agree on what you want to do about those and you’ll be alright.”

Well I want my children to go to residential college.  And if at UWA that means St George’s.

But does my son?

I’m so excited for him, accepting his offer of a place today, the prospect of studying at UWA with his friends is brilliant.

In fact he has many more friends going to uni than I did back in the day, it must be like going on a giant road trip.

I confess I am jealous.

And yes, living somewhat vicariously.

Maybe that’s why I’m so keen on this idea of doing a post-grad degree in Archeaology….

So I had a tour of the college, and noted the changes.

Not sure I like the modern tables in that lovely old library but maybe I need to get over that…

I’m sure I didn’t help my son’s chances of getting in one iota.

But I hope.

I REALLY hope.

They offer him a place.

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Oh yeah baby.

I confess.

I do enjoy Pictionary.

Groover bought “the family” (I think it was  really for me) Pictionary for Christmas.

Tonight we played.

And.

YOU can play along too.

What’s this?

Drawn by me... easy right?

So you’ve got that one? Answer here: flamingo

Now try this one from Groover:

Another easy one... two from two right?

Answer here: dalek

So feeling confident??

This one had number one son stumped…

Ouch... tricky?

Not so easy? Answer here: spank

But this one from my daughter I thought was BRILLIANT.

Just highlight over the space next to the answer here bit.

I guessed this in about 20 seconds.

Very clever girlie girl.

Answer here: Michael Jackson – a black guy who thinks he’s white.

Yeah yeah.

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A water view and decking beneath my feet

You find me this afternoon, dear reader, writing from my new outdoor office.

I’m mid holiday, we’ve finished the pergola and the decking.

It’s 35 degrees and hot so I’m in my wet bikini (imagine me slim please) with a large glass of icy water which I hope will be replaced by a St Clair Savignon Blanc within the hour.

I am a third of the way through my reading list for this year’s writers’ festival.

I’m chairing the bloggers’ forum and for once feel a tiny bit qualified to be amongst the literati.

Of course all the bloggers on my panel have also written books.  Show offs.

Apart from appearing as an extra in my very own version of The Renovators, this week I’ve been going along to the “advanced” storytelling course led by Brian Finkelstein from The Moth.

It’s the advanced course because I did another course this time last year with Margot Leitman, not that I consider myself advanced at all.

I was a bit nervous this year.

Last year, well I was a n00b wasn’t I so it didn’t really matter if I was rubbish… but now… I’m “advanced”.

There are expectations.

And everyone else is so good, including my partner in crime when it comes to storytelling – Feline.

Still, four more lessons to go before we begin the show at The Blue Room.  There’s hope.

In fact I’m hoping to get inspired by the fabulous Ira Glass who is in town tonight.  I bought my tickets MONTHS ago and they’ve been pinned to my noticeboard winking at me ever since.

Ira is the host of This American Life, my favourite podcast, in fact I’m listening to it as I type.

He is another fabulous storyteller.

I wonder if I’ll get to meet him?

Should I take my radio to get him to sign it?  My ipod?

A sad little groupie, that’s what I am.

Still it could be worse.

I could be a fan of Justin Beiber. (is that how you spell his name?)

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Apart from reconstructing our backyard, this summer holiday seems to be all about lasagne.

Now I love lasagne but I haven’t made it in ages – me being on a high protein diet and all – and I’m good at making it.

My bechemel sauce is thick, smooth and creamy goodness.

The bolognaise is bolognaisy.

The lasagne sheets are well… flat.

It’s not hard to make let’s be honest.

But it is comfort food and I was inspired to make one recently for friends who have been going through a tough couple of weeks.

My daughter was keen to do the cooking, so supervising from my position of on all fours nailing down decking, we got to it.

I’d forgotten how messy lasagne is to make but the end result looked like a bought one and the friend was very happy not to cook for a night.

We left feeling comforted ourselves, in the pious afterglow of a good deed done, and made a second lasagne for ourselves on return, the kitchen being already a tip site.

It tasted yummy – I hadn’t lost my lasagne mojo.

So last night we had some friends over visiting from Adelaide.

It was a hot day and we decided rather than going out for a cheap meal at our local favourite Vietnamese restaurant we’d entertain at home on our nearly completed decking.

The temperature was perfect outside as a light seabreeze wafted through under the newly installed pergola, and we admired the soft feel of old boards under our feet, and the gently swinging paper lanterns.

I cooked lasagne.

Now it’s been a while since I’ve had a dinner party – if you don’t count Christmas which lets face it, has a pretty set menu.

And I didn’t ask if there were any dietary considerations…

So boring to have to ask really but these days… well most people are intolerant to something.

I should have asked.

3/4 guests had a dairy intolerance – and my lasagne is half cheese.

Problem.

But what do you do?

I cooked up the three small kebabs I had in the fridge and let them serve themselves.

The younger son, bless him, reckoned he could handle some cheesy goodness, but was dissuaded sensibly by his mother.

It turned out to be a pretty meagre spread it must be said, especially if you weren’t keen on salad.

I felt bad, but what could I do?

It has made me ponder this morning what the etiquette is when going to someone’s house for dinner.

Is it up to the host to inquire after your eating issues?

Maybe I need to consider having a “standby” meal somewhere, just in case?  And more than three kebabs.

Or on receipt of an invitation, is it incumbent upon you to say “Thank you, why that would be lovely, just to let you know I’m (lactose, peanut, seafood, meat etc) intolerant…”

Seems a bit rude.

A bit presumptuous…. “Well I wasn’t going to serve you prawns anyway!”

A bit looking at the horse’s teeth.

A gift horse? Photo by McD22

I’m leaning towards saying nothing and hoping for the best (while packing my fridge with optional extras)  - but that’s just little non confrontational me.

Oh and last night’s guests?  They filled up on the chocolate cake they brought and we all played Singstar.

A happy ending.

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Finished school

School is finished.

And wow.  I am now the parent of a nearly at university student.

But before that happy day – hopefully – of a decent ATAR result and an offer to the preferred course – Science at UWA – the pocket money has been cut off.

Now you might scream “Fair crack of the sauce bottle!  Give the guy a break, he’s just finished 12 grueling years of school…”

Stop it.

A summer job is good for him.

Independence.

A bit of money, certainly more than I’m prepared to give him.

Respect.

Something to do.

And he’s not alone.

Joining him in the workforce is Miss 14, who has been busy handing out resumes to local businesses and prospective babysitting clients.

Babysitter and Waitress

Since being on holidays she’s continued her Saturday morning waitressing job and done some work for a friend assisting at a holiday program for 4-7 year olds.

She’s good with kids.

(must get it from her paternal grandmother… sorry mum)

And how much does she like spending the money she’s earning?!!!

The only downside?

I don’t get a say in how she spends it.

A small price to pay.

So summer jobs.

They can be crap.

I spent a couple of summers photocopying in an engineering library…

But the pay packet is delicious.

And anyone who stays at home… well.

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See I didn’t think you would need a lesson but then, probably, you’re not 14.

It has taken nearly two years but finally we have got cable which means we can now use my old bakelite phone as the house phone.

Ahhh I am quite excited but the rest of the family, less so.

Groover: It’s useless! I tried to call a 1300 number today and I had to “press 1″ but you can’t on that phone.

Dippity: So does that mean I can’t take the phone into my bedroom??!

Hugamuga: Meh. I don’t use the phone anyway.

It’s not as if we don’t already have a surfeit of phones in this house – five active mobiles at last count, and one spare.

I quite like not having an answering machine too. After all, if you really want to speak to me you’ll ring me on one of my mobiles right?

And who uses caller ID anyway.

So for those of you who want to go retro communicado – here’s a little how-to video from my girl.

In other news – which you might also get if you rang us on our home phone – my boy finished his last exam today. It was Geography and he reckons it went well.

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Me getting into the whole archeology thing

So you know I’ve recently bought a ukulele – “oh I so admire how you throw yourself at things” a friend observed.

Hmmm.

Well I do try things… but do I stick to them… not so much.

(well apart from the organisation I work for… 22 years!)

Here’s the list of short courses/hobbies that I can remember starting in the last say 17 years:

• Ukulele - started this week – have sore fingertips through practice!
• Cello – started when son was 3.  No formal lessons. I can’t play it
• Italian – did lessons back in 1989, then CDs in 2005.  Can’t speak Italian except for swear words.
• French – went to Alliance Francais once or twice.  Still crap at French.
• Horseriding – did this for about 6 months at Claremont Showgrounds.  Still have jodphurs.  Lost my helmet.
• Teddy bear making – have made two teddy bears.
• Sewing - have a big pile of fabric that I will one day make into something… maybe.
• Knitting – made jumpers and hats for kids when they were tiny. 
• Belly dancing – have still got the jangly outfits.
• Ballet – needed to work on my pelvic floor post children for this to continue.
• Ballroom dancing – Mr Cha Cha’s ballroom at Perth Festival back in 2005.
• Shorthand – thought it would be useful – managed 2 weeks of course
• Religious studies (through Open University) – thought it would be interesting – didn’t hand any assignments in
• Archeology- went on a dig - thought about doing a post grad.
• Theatresports – great fun last year with Spontaneous Insanity
• Zumba – oh yeah I went a few times – I was going every week.  And then they closed the hall.
• Storytelling - started in January with Barefaced  - love it.
• Guitar – I was six months pregnant – it was hard to reach
• Script writing – a short course I did in Bunbury a long time ago
• Painting with pastels – did this a few summers ago with UWA summer school
• Bridge.  Started in 1992 and still going (with a 10 year hiatus for kids) – good to see I stick at something.

Hmmm maybe I’ve just worked out why I don’t stick at going to the gym and dieting…

This wasn’t supposed to be a meme but what about you?

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This is my new ukulele

So I bought myself a ukulele for my birthday.

I guess it all started with coming across this group on my morning walk.

That was back in 2008.

And then I saw you could buy ukes for about $30 and I thought, well why not.

But I never got round to it.

Then a few weeks ago, after taking my cello in to get restrung, I had a chat to the fellow at the local music store who told me about how he had recently taken his ukulele on a camping trip and how everyone had wanted to have a go.

He convinced me that noob that I am, I would soon pick it up.

And then convinced me that a $30 ukulele sounds crap and I may as well spend a little bit more and enjoy the sound that I made… the cheap ones really sound tinny and thin.

So yesterday.  The day I went to see the Queen.  I bought a ukulele.

It’s a Cordoba.

I don’t know anything about anything musical but I did feel good when the other shop assistant said “whoh – where did you find that?” to my shop assistant.

Now of course they might have a hundred out the back and this might be ‘the line’ to help reinforce the purchase decision, whatever, it worked. I bought it.

And it even has a cute little case and a tuning pipe. (which I will never use because my ear isn’t that good and also I downloaded an app and just in case that doesn’t work I have an electronic tuner for my cello)

So I’ve been practicing my chords.

I’m learning about chord progressions and tabs and strumming rhythms.

The tips of my fingers on my left hand are sore and the nails are now cut short.

I’ve been searching the internet for good tutorials to try.

Let me know if you come across any.

In the meantime you’ll find me at Chez Cellobella strumming tunelessly  all afternoon.

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Okay I’m not really whinging.

I like Melbourne.

I could live here. No. Really.

(Anyone want to offer me a job?)

But the thing with the tram lines does my head in.

I feel like a bird in an aviary.

Or Truman in The Truman Show.

Does anyone else feel like that?

Oh.

Just me?

Damn.

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Close up cactus

Saw the million dollar artwork for Perth yesterday.

Perth train station

Do I love it?

Am I supposed to?

Is that the point of public art?

I’ll give it this much… it stands out.

And I kind of like that about public art.

It can’t always be tasteful and classic… a statue of the great and good… usually a white male.

Oh yes the statue of Sir Charles Court is due to be unveiled soon…

Not that I’ve got anything against Sir Charles.

I danced with him once at the Shinju Matsuri ball in Broome, and I must say he was quite light on his feet.

But we need more than a statue in Forrest Place.

We need a statement.

Does it make a difference that the artist – James Angus – has an impressive resume.

Has his art in several state galleries and collections.

Holds a masters from Yale.

It shouldn’t.

We should take each artwork on its own merits.

We should respond to it, or not, and gauge its value by the strength of the reaction it evokes.

And on that basis, well, this has to be a triumph.

If nothing else, it is certainly a landmark.

Meet you at the cactus next time we’re in Perth.

Your shout.

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Now I want to preface these remarks by saying that my thoughts on this subject have not been influenced by anything like a scientific study or even from a learned source of any kind, nay not even wikipedia.

I’ve noticed that when you are looking around in a landscape your eyes are naturally drawn to the written word.

It’s as if our eyes seek out letters and try and discern some meaning, to make sense of the world.

I first noticed this when I was pregnant.

You see I can read anywhere at anytime.

In a car, on a bus, on the back of a motorbike and I never get carsick.

Unless I’m with child.

(what a lovely phrase that is)

When I’m in the first trimester, reading even a word while travelling makes me feel nauseous.

In fact, that’s usually the first sign I’m up the duff.

And of course my eyes seemed to be drawn to every word in the landscape.

Street signs, billboards, graffiti.

Those days are over, but they did alert me to this phenomenon that as humans we seek to decode our world.

And words in the landscape act as captions for what we see.

Of course many of them don’t make sense, but it doesn’t stop our eyes finding them.

And that’s why I think graffiti is so annoying and powerful.

Simply because you can’t not see it.

Even when you try and ignore it, your eyes won’t let you.

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ravioli with pumpkin, preserved lemon and sage sauce... yum

I went to dinner at Unraveled last night.

Took some doing.

Mainly because in my head I thought I was trying to book “Entangled”.

Which isn’t a bad name for a pasta restaurant I thought.

Anyhow I couldn’t find a reference to my imagined destination online but I could find the number to the restaurant it used to be – The Twisted Fork – so I rang that number and we were in!

I think they call them selves Unraveled because that is how they present their menu.

You choose the pasta, the protein and the sauce separately.

So many of the sauces sounded delicious.

I tried the mushroom sauce with chicken and saffron linguine – which was a special kind of divine.

And the spinich and ricotta ravioli with pumpkin, preserved lemon and sage was also delicious.

The bread and butter pudding with white chocolate and raspberry – diet starts today!

The service – friendly and prompt.

My one question.

Should you take the sticker off the lime before you serve it?

Yeah.

That’s what I think.

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Yeah.

I’m bored.

A Sunday and I’m thinking lets change the look of the blog.

Note: Have already crashed the blog twice installing random plugins and it wasn’t broke in the first place.

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There are a few times during your life when you feel like a grown up.

Antler New Zero cabin and medium sizes

You know, even at the age of forty-something-let’s-not-go-there, inside I still feel 17…okay maybe 22, are you the same?

And when I look in the mirror or catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window of the train sometimes I get a little unpleasant shock.

But there have been times in my life when I’ve suddenly thought… shit.  I’m a grown up.

Owning a mortgage on a house with a linen cupboard and larder – felt like a grown up then!

When I walked out of the hospital with my newborn.

The first time I travelled on my own.

Wearing matching underwear for the first time.

And today when I picked up my first ever set of matching luggage.

Grown. Up.

The luggage

I wanted matching cases, with the small one able to be used as hand luggage on domestic flights.

They had to have spinners – four wheels.

And they had to have those in-built groovy combination locking mechanisms.

I really wanted red luggage.

But.

This stuff was 41% off so it was practically free right?

I could live with bronze.

Happiness.

So why does it have to be matched luggage?

You know, I don’t know.

I mean the times I will actually use both at the same time will be few and far between.

And it’s not as if there are luggage police – well not ones that are interested in whether they match or not.

“Excuse me madam, we see you don’t have matching luggage… please come this way…”

Or.

“Last month you were spotted with a black suitcase, today yours is bronze… please explain!”

Bronze.  A fancy pants way of saying beige.

Matched luggage is just… nice.

Smart.

Grown up.

So ‘fess up.

What makes you feel grown up?

And how old are you inside?

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A cold blustery morning at Cottesloe Beach

The beach has all but disappeared

And there is so much seaweed on the beach that remains.

Still the scenery isn’t all bad

I haven’t been down to Cottesloe in a while and I was surprised to see the beach all but gone.

 

I know it diminishes in the winter but I’ve never seen so much seaweed.

 

Still the walk down to the Naked Fig for breakfast was invigorating.

 

And the gale force wind pushed me back up the hill on my way home – bonus.

 

I had a chat to one of the trainers of the Hawthorn Football Club as well – who commented on the weather – I pointed out that even at its worst it’s warmer than Melbourne to which he agreed. 

 

The boys were walking a bit slowly (wonder why… ) so we powered past them towards our coffee and some great service.

 

And I was glad I had decided against wearing my Dockers scarf.

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Oswal home now abandoned

The Taj Mahal on the Swan it was called, a family home for the now financially troubled Oswals, a potential tourism attraction,  gathering autumn leaves in the corners as it sits, abandoned.

Okay.

A little over the top you might say.

For a family of four.

An appalling waste of money.

Maybe.

But there’s something inspiring about it too don’t you think?

I mean, to have such a vision, even if it isn’t to your taste…. to spend $70M on that dream.

One woman’s dream.

I love that.

I wouldn’t do it myself, but then I wouldn’t like making decisions on new taps let alone a whole house, let alone a mansion.

I love the fact that some people go there.

This is how the great houses of England were built.

How the Taj Mahal was built.

One man’s dream.

I’m kind of sad that maybe they have to sell it half done.

That we will never see the Taj Mahal on the Swan.

Mind you… we did see Prix d’Amour… and I’m not sure that was such a good thing.

What’s the betting the new owners knock our Taj over and divide up the blocks.

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So... would you say she's just big boned?

So I walked past this window display the other day.

It’s been there for a while but today I actually looked at it.

I’m not sure I like it.

It’s probably an ironic statement about the skeletal frames we see on the catwalk but even so…

I mean it’s not Halloween or anything.

Does it entice me to go into the store.

Not so much.

I guess it stands out.

What do you think?

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