Catching up and heading off

Today is my very last day in Fremantle and I see it's been well over 2 months since my last post. It feels like about 4 days to be honest.

I was marking, marking, marking for WACE and then marking, marking, marking for work and then suddenly work was finished (after a sweet little sendoff from my Head Teacher who knew me well enough to say it with French cheese instead of cake) and on a plane to Sydney for bridesmaid duties in Bowral at the exceptionally beautiful wedding of a dear old friend.

I caught the stupid red-eye flight which leaves Perth at midnight and arrives in Sydney at 7am. I've been advised that this is part of being a Perth local. I should have replied, "Well, I'm not really, am I?" and just flown at a sensible time. Add that to the surprisingly disorentiating 3 hour time difference and I was messed up for at least a week, during which time I adopted the motto: "Making easy things difficult."

So, the wedding was followed by a brief few days in Sydney and then 4 lovely days with my parents in Northern NSW. Back to Sydney for a day (which I used to drop in at my former and future job and was greeted with flattering delight and some confusion at my much longer hair). Then up to Nelson Bay for a few days to visit a dear friend and her munchkins. Finally, back to Sydney and a happy reunion with the Fella after two weeks apart.

Although our visit spanned xmas, the real purpose was to properly celebrate a milestone birthday for the Fella on xmas eve. The main event was lunch with our favourite gang at Guillame at Bennelong, a French restaurant inside one of the sails of the Opera House. It's a rare two hat restaurant where the food is a bit incidental. For example: the view from the bar:

So, birthday suitably celebrated, we moved on to one of the most relaxing and enjoyable xmas days ever. A bbq with my brother and his partner, plus an 'orphan' friend of ours. All I had to do was bring the cheese - which is the best job because I love bringing the cheese. And afterwards a few drinks and another cheese plate (that's 3 in 2 days, folks, count 'em) with some friends who live around the corner.

But this is all cheating really (especially the bit when I showed you the view from Bennelong) because this blog is about living in Perth for a year. And tomorrow it will become redundant when I move back to Sydney. So I had best revert to travel writer mode.

On to a quintessential Perth experience. We finally visited Rottnest Island - twice as it happens - with Sydney visitors. Now that I've introduced its correct title I'll be referring to it as 'Rotto'. Try to get used to it. I thought I'd never say it without wincing or at least without irony. But it's so ubiquitous that calling it Rottnest feels like wearing a badge that says, "I'm from Sydney and I mildly disapprove of your abbreviations." Why had we never been before? Well, let me ask what you would expect to pay for a 30 minute ferry ride to Rotto. Those of you who have caught the Manly ferry recently will be wildly off the mark with your guesses. So, it's stupidly expensive, but also very lovely. We only went for a day trip, but it feels like a real holiday. We took our own bikes and snorkeling gear, rode, swum, lazed and lunched at the pub. Very nice. But I'm sure what you really want to see is a quokka. Here is one scavenging at the pub -not very dignified marsupial behaviour.

It's been a great summer break, including a week-long visit from my brother and his partner. We did a few touristy things - a day at Rotto, the Hopman Cup, the Art Gallery and lots of time at the beach. One of my favourite moments was seeing a seal swim past only a few metres off the shore at our local beach. We all enjoyed that as soon as we realised it wasn't a shark...

I've been mentally writing a list of things I won't miss about being here - headed up by that wind I keep whinging about. But now that the end is here and boxes are packed and my flight leaves in 12 hours I don't feel able to be flippant about it anymore. I know why we're moving back to Sydney, and there is a lot to look forward to... but, I've grown quite attached to little Fremantle. It has been a great year and there is a lot I will miss, in particular the excellent people I've met.

In the interim, I've got a month or so to miss the Fella and the Pusscat who will be staying a while longer before they join me in  Sydney. Here is the Pusscat trying to charm me into staying:

One thing I don't want to let go of is writing. I haven't done a great job of it here - always trying to cram too much in and writing long posts infrequently. But I've enjoyed it enough to want to keep it up when I'm home. Of course, the Adventures in Federalism are over so I'll have to find a new angle. Is anyone interested in reading about my life as a teacher and, um, stuff?? Hmm... suggestions (and encouragement) welcomed. Thanks for reading. It's been fun. I'll leave you with the last Fremantle sunset of 2010, seen from Memorial Hill with a glass of champagne and great company:

My garden blazes brightly

Ok, ok, ok, I need to get another post done before my life is absorbed into WACE marking for a few weeks. The marking will be a new experience for me - the kind of thing you do for professional development, not money apparently. I like the idea that the marking is conducted online so that I can do it from the comfort of home. However, I'm also a little concerned about the incredible potential for procrastination working from home may provide. Shall I use it as an opportunity to become a better person? *sigh*

The 'lifestyle' for which Perth is renowned has returned with the warmer weather, including a post-work beach swim yesterday. It is officially Spring, but quite often feels like we've skipped to Summer. Yesterday reached 36 degrees.

One of those deserted beaches.

We celebrated the advent of Spring with a camping weekend near Margaret River. I've moaned before about the lack of bush camping sites near Perth. There are plenty of caravan parks, and actually plenty of National Parks but not many places to camp in them. So Contos Campground is a slightly too long drive for one night, but it was worth it. We absolutely love this area (see my gushing Margaret River report). It was too cold (for me) to swim, but we had a great walk along a deserted beach (of which there are many). True to form, there was some rain, but I think my highlight of the weekend was cooking bacon and eggs on our new campstove and eating directly out of the pan while the Fella held an umbrella over us. We also had a poke around Prevelly where the Margaret River meets the ocean and surfing types congregate. On our slow drive home we stopped at Mammoth Cave for some subterranean fun and detoured to Bussellton to walk on the jetty. Except it's closed. Maybe later? 


The following weekend was a veritable cornucopia of activities. On Friday night I went with some lovely Greens friends to see David Suzuki speak at the Convention Centre. He is a fantastic speaker and a very inspirational and likable man, but damn it was depressing. The Legacy lecture is based on the premise 'what would you say if you had one last lecture?' Well, it seems what David wants to say is that we are all in a speeding car heading for a brick wall. Instead of putting on the brakes, we're arguing about where we're going to sit in the car. The people who might know how to put the brakes on are locked in the boot. Ouch. (That is my man Suzuki's metaphor, not mine by the way).


Off to yum cha the next morning in Northbridge I decided it was finally time to try congee. It's not that I've ever been squeamish about it, but it's not often offered to you as I think the trolley ladies sometimes assume that anglos only go to yum cha for prawn dumplings and pork buns. I can conclude that it is now my absolute favourite rice porridge breakfast dish. No, there really isn't any competition but I did love it and ate far more than I should have after several rounds of other delights.


After yum cha we headed off for an essential WA Spring experience: wildflower viewing (spotting? stalking?) No need for a long journey, you can see flowers from all over WA at the Botanical Gardens. Here is a small selection for your enjoyment. 

Don't enjoy flowers, eh? Best to skip the next few paragraphs then. Lucky you didn't pay for this blog. Oh, you might be interested in these flowers that seemed to grow straight out of the ground. Aren't they dainty? I call them 'Ground Banksia.'

 

One of the things I'm loving about Spring here is that flowers are everywhere, not just in carefully tended gardens.They sprout madly all over the verges and other neglected locations. This lovely lot was thriving in a pile of rubble across the road from our house. In Claremont where I work, gardens tend heavily to the cultivated end of the spectrum. Spring has brought out the professional landscapers, plant pruners, weed pullers and leaf sweepers. Gardening, it seems, is something you pay other people to do. The advantage of this, is that there are healthy overflowing rose bushes every few steps on my walk to work.

After our journey to the wildflowers we had an afternoon sailing trip on the Leeuwin II, a tall ship which is based in Freo and is used for youth development programs. It probably won't surprise anyone to know that I'm not a natural sailor as it turns out. Some key quotes from the afternoon: "Ow, the rope hurt my hands." "Uh oh, I think I'm going to be sick. I'd better have a sausage roll to calm my stomach." And most frequently, "It's so COLD and WINDY!" The Fella on the other hand, loved it and could have quite happily sailed on to South Africa.

I did enjoy seeing the Sea Shepherd ship, the 'Steve Irwin' with its Jolly Roger flying, docked in Freo harbour for maintenance.The captain of the Leeuwin specifically instructed us all to wave hello, which I also liked.

And of course, yet another Freo industrial sunset.

The following day we had a (fairly tame) Sunday session at Clancy's in Freo with some dear friends from Sydney and their 10 month old cherub. I've been doing so well lately with making new friends that I'd forgotten the particular pleasures of spending time with people you know and love well. We've been quite blessed with visitors lately and there are more to come. We really are lucky kids.

The Bali Report

The Bali report is finally here by popular demand (ie. one anonymous commenter who I obviously know personally - love your work!)

We stayed first in Seminyak, described by one of The Fella's colleagues as "the posh end of town", by one of mine as "a bit like the Gold Coast" and by an ex-colleague as the place to go for good food. So you can see that we really relied on Workmates Travel Inc. for guidance. Hmmm.... Well it was quite busy, and there were lots of fancy shops and restaurants. We mostly walked around, read by the pool (beginning a successful theme that continued over the week) and ate. Actually that sentence could describe the whole trip. We had one particularly spectacular eating experience. Sardine was a short cab ride away with a beautiful bamboo building overlooking a rice field lit up with lanterns, fresh seafood and delicious cocktails. Yes please.

While we were in Seminyak we took a trip to Kuta to see what all the horrified fuss is about. Certainly the Australian accents multiplied, but they were already very abundant in Seminyak. And yes, there were loads of tacky shops, including a prolific chain of shops selling very professional, and relatively expensive, fake watches, and of course the usual tourist rubbish of Bintang branded everything (12 pack of Bintang beer coolers anyone?) and offensive t-shirts. My favourite t-shirt slogan: "Go to Bunnings, buy some cement and harden the f*ck up." It's the Bunnings reference - hilarious. (No, I'm not really afraid of swearing but my mum reads this blog and I don't want to drag the tone down. Hi mum!) Maybe it's because we were there in the afternoon rather than the wee drunk hours of the morning, but it just wasn't the big terrible pile of skeeze I was expecting. Don't get me wrong, I didn't want to hang around, or stay there, or ever return, but it wasn't SO terrible!

After two days in Seminyak we left for Gili Trawangan, one of a group of three Gili islands near Lombok. This involved being driven to a harbour to catch the 'fast boat'. Except our boat wasn't all that fast (no fair! that one has 4 engines, we only have 3!) and wasn't in motion at all for the first 45 minutes while one of the engines was being fixed. Once we got going things were ok. Oh, except for the rain coming in through the roof and the really big waves and several hours of feeling on the verge of throwing up. Oh boo hoo! We had an un-fun trip to paradise. Don't worry, I'm telling myself to shut up.

Gili T (as some, but not me, like to call it) has quite an unusual form of transport. Not cars or motorbikes, but cidomo. Or horse-drawn carriage if you want to be less fancy. Our hotel was about a 25 minute walk from the main part of town so the cidomo were very necessary at times, and especially with our luggage. It turns out that horse-drawn carriages are fairly uncomfortable on bumpy roads and occaisonally feel like they might tip over. Did you know that? I didn't. Here is the view from our first cidomo journey.

And here is one of the hard working horsies having a bath at the beach.

 The other local form of transport is bicycle. We rented some from our hotel and rode around the island. It took about 45 minutes, but would have taken 30 if there was actually a path the whole way round and not all those sections of track made out of soft sand that force you to get off and push your bike. Still it taught me not to laugh at everyone else in the same situation. How it works is that you see the sandy bit coming and pedal faster to see if you can somehow make it through and then inevitably your bike will do some kind of gnarly fishtail manoeuvre and you'll fall off. And then you'll push. Good times. But our bikes were not nearly as cool as this one.

Our hotel was right on the beach in front of a great snorkeling spot, so you could just swim out from the beach and straight into a tropical aquarium. We also had a trip to the other Gili islands (Air and Meno) and did some more snorkeling. And saw turtles!! Much bigger than these ones.

 After four days of high quality relaxation on Gili we headed back to Bali to stay in Ubud. In case you're wondering, the boat trip back was fast and comfortable. Yes, we were relieved too. 

First impressions of Ubud: green, jungly, humid. This photo of a temple we discovered in our wanderings sums it up for me. Everything is covered in moss and vines and seems to be decomposing before your eyes. Love it!

We got down to business in Ubud. I finally did some shopping (a huge pile of DVD's and a few pairs of earrings) and had a massage. The Fella watched some rugby league. We went to the monkey forest and managed to escape relatively unmolested. Life was good, my friends.



And then suddenly it was time to go home. But since that was only a 3ish hour flight away with a public holiday the following day it really wasn't too traumatic.


In closing, it wouldn't be a trip to South East Asia if I didn't come home with at least one photo of a cat. I have broken all records of restraint this time and come home with only TWO photos of cats. Here is one of them. Hello little puss!

It's been a while

It's been a long while really, and I'm heartily ashamed of myself. Though, if I don't get any comments on this post perhaps I can console myself that nobody noticed my absence?

Where shall I start?? I know, how about I just dive in and leave aside notions of coherence?

I've nearly reached the next term break now, but in the last holidays I had a visit from a very dear friend and had a lovely time showing her around and relaxing. I remember those days as a blur of chatting, drinking and eating - including several cheese plates. Sounds delightful, non? Highlights included a great mid-week yum cha lunch in Northbridge and a beautiful meal at Greenhouse. Greenhouse is an amazing place built of sustainable and recycled materials and covered with loads of pot plants. It wasn't looking very green when we went in the middle of Winter, but I think it might be worth a special Spring visit to see how verdant it is now. Anyway, the food was delicious. But I think I was most impressed by the toilet. Yeah, you heard me. Check it out! The water from the sink is used to flush the toilet!

Though it seems like years ago now and everyone is moving on to Junior Masterchef, I have to mention the Masterchef finale. I have been lucky enough to make friends with a colleague who has very similar interests to me, including music and cooking. We first bonded over Masterchef, with an in depth post-mortem of every episode the next day, much to the annoyance of those who share our office. So, we staged a feast for the finale with recipes from the show. I cooked Alvin's pork belly, which was delicious, but involved twice cooking, a lot of ingredients and some spitting boiling oil. Not a regular weekday evening meal.

The Fella and I went on a great wine tour to the Swan Valley a few weeks ago with my book club. It was very well organised by a company called Fat Decanter and involved lots of drinking and eating, and even a bit of wine buying. One of our favourite bits was the behind the scenes tour at Sandalford Winery. It was perfect for someone like me who likes to drink wine but really doesn't know a thing about it. Here is an oak barrel that particularly impressed me.

Work-wise things are ticking along nicely with us. The Fella's office has moved to Freo and he now commutes to work (all of 10 minutes) on his brand new, very sexy bike looking all dapper and continental in his suit. Once he gets a pannier I'll be able to ask him to buy groceries from Woolworths which is underneath his office. And he'll get to complain to his colleagues about "picking up a few things for the missus." Won't it be great?

I've only been working four days a week this term (times are tough in the international student sector). I have Fridays off, many of which I used to help the Greens in the recent Federal Election (you know, the one that was only just decided in a nail-biting cliffhanger...) I had a big map, 50,000 leaflets and a bunch of lovely volunteers to wrangle. The end result was a 17 point something percent vote in the Fremantle electorate, a Senator re-elected, roughly 47,000 leaflets distributed, some new friends for me and a cosy sense of belonging to the community. Here is the Pusscat helping me with the big map.

I've also been tutoring a year 12 student once a week for a bit of extra cash with a 4 day a week wage. And last Friday I had a day of relief teaching at the Catholic school I taught at in term 1. When I say teaching, I should say 'teaching', for it was in the maths faculty.Those of you who understand my fraught relationship with basic arithmatic will be forgiven for sniggering at that idea. It was a surprisingly pleasant day, and nice to see some the year 12 students I taught in term 1. Being asked, "Miss are you coming back now? Can you teach our class?" is always a nice boost to the ego. And of course shows their refreshing lack of understanding of how employment works. "Um, no I don't get to teach your class just because you want me to. That's your teacher's job. Not mine." Bless them, they'll figure it out soon enough.

So I mentioned another term break approaching. I just have to get through a week of exam marking and report writing and then we're off to prove our WA credentials by holidaying in Bali. The only thing saving us from stifling in a throng of fellow Perth residents is the fact that my holidays start a week early so it won't be school holidays then. That, and the fact that we will stay the hell away from Kuta.

Alright, I think I'm out of words but I have a few random photos to share.

To show you how windy it really is here:

I've never seen hang gliding on basically flat ground before. Aren't you supposed to leap off something high??

Cottesloe looking all iconic and stormy. Just beautiful. Shame about those sharks...

And finally, welcome to Spring. Feels good, doesn't it?

A trip to Margs (see how local I am?)

Well we finally made it to Margaret River and can see why people are shocked that it has taken us this long. I'm wondering why we haven't been lots of times already. I think what I most enjoyed was the very different climate and scenery to Perth. It is very green, with a really charming mixture of forest, farmland and beaches.

Of course you would go broke if you went all the time. Especially if you ate as extravagantly as we did. We arrived Friday night and had a welcome meal at Wino's (highlight: cassoulet and a glass of local red in front of the fire on a rainy night).

The next day we visited a few wineries and The Berry Farm which is a world of condiment yum: relishes, mustards, sauces, conserves and preserves, all made from fruit grown on the property.

Then we had lunch at Vasse Felix which is the oldest winery in Margaret River. It is a bit of an institution, owned by the Holmes a Court family (so don't feel obliged to buy after a tasting - they don't need the cash!). It's quite an amazing location with the restaurant on the second floor overlooking the vineyard and a partially underground, turf-covered tasting room next to a gallery showing some of the Holmes a Court collection of Aboriginal art. But most importantly, the food was delicious. Here is the view from our table when the sun came out briefly.

 A friend from work was in town over the weekend too and we caught up on Saturday night for some red wine quaffing and trivial pursuit. Very nice. We even won the game, with the substantial assistance of the Fella's impressive general knowledge. Although, winning might not be the best way to cement new friendships...

 Some of you may know that I really love cows (hi Mum!) Driving through the country often becomes a cow-spotting exercise with me pointing like a child and saying, "Hello cows!" Thankfully my lovely Fella is very patient and even helps me out with his superior spotting skills. So, a real bonus for me of the weekend wasn't just the real cows everywhere, but also that we arrived in time to catch the very end of the annual Margaret River Cow Parade. How to describe it? Well, there are a bunch of fibreglass cows, artists decorate them and they're placed in various locations all around the region from March to June. This year there were 85 of them. I decided that to keep things under control I had to limit myself to cows that we stumbled across - no special trips to see them. Although we were a bit tempted to see Guernicow. I also managed to limit myself to just one photo. I'm really trying hard not to turn into a crazy cow lady.

We decided on a slow drive home on Sunday, stopping at a few wineries on the way. My favourite was Cape Grace Wines for the full experience of an interesting chat with the owner/operator. It's really nice to see some small family run wineries motivated by passion rather than money who are producing some excellent wine and being recognised for their efforts. Sorry, I got a bit earnest there.

We also stopped at Smith's Beach, just south of Yallingup. We climbed out onto an outcrop of rocks to catch the amazing view. We definitely want to return and do some more walking around here.

 
After a brief visit to Yallingup - a sweet little beach town with houses perched on a windswept hill - we went to Cape Naturaliste. This is the beginning of the Cape to Cape Track which runs 135km from Cape Naturaliste to Cape Leeuwin. The rain cleared for long enough for us to have a little wander around, including a stroll along a completely deserted beach, with no other footprints. The cold, windy weather suited the desolate, remote atmosphere. As the Fella has said, there are times here when you feel very aware that you're on the edge of the continent. Of course, Sydney is on the edge of the continent too, but the vast uninhabited spaces here, and the fact that New Zealand isn't just over the horizon, makes it feel very different.

And then home to unpack the wine (some to drink now, some later if we can manage it) and start planning our next trip.

Yes, 'Ovens' is a strange name for a submarine

I've got to squeeze out a post now while I have a small window of opportunity. The Fella was away for work last night and will be back any minute to cajole me into watching the State of Origin with him on 4 hour delay. I figure it's imperative to get off the internet soon to avoid accidentally finding out the result, otherwise any shred of interest I have in the match (or in the sport for that matter) will be gone. To add to the misery, the Fella goes for Queensland, despite living in Sydney for all but 5 years of his life, which infuriates me every year. I was raised, like all good NSW residents, to loathe and abhor the Maroons. And I would probably indulge in some kind of mock rivalry over it if I could care, but this week's racism scandal has severely dented my sense of patriotism.

So, I really must tell you about our submarine tour. Last weekend was the Heritage Festival in Fremantle. We went to a vintage bicycle exhibition at the Fremantle Arts Centre (arriving by bike, of course). The Arts Centre is a really interesting place and I'm keen to go back when the free Sunday afternoon concerts start up again in warmer months. But, let's get to the submarine. It actually has nothing to go with the Heritage Festival, except that maybe we were thinking about, um, old stuff.


As I said very earnestly to the Fella that night, much to his amusement, "You know I really learnt a lot about submarines today." Not essential life skills perhaps, but interesting nonetheless. Those of you who already know a little too much about submarines (you know exactly who I'm talking about) can probably stop reading now.

 So, the submarine is at the Maritime Museum (though we skipped visiting the museum itself - all those ticket prices add up). It's called HMAS Ovens and is an Oberon class submarine - the model before the current disfunctional Collins class. I've just realised that you can take take a virtual tour here and learn even more than I did. But you won't risk hitting your head, so it's not nearly as fun. And I should warn you that my tour is going to be a lot less factual.

 The first thing yo.u realise when you get inside is how tiny it all is compared with how it looks from the outside. Most of it is taken up with tanks and batteries and machinery. It's all a perfect size for someone of my limited stature, but the Fella attracted a special "watch your head" warning from the guide before we started. I will try to cherish that experience the next time I'm unable to reach the top shelf of the kitchen cupboards.

The next thing I noticed is how familiar it all looked from the movies. It's all narrow corridors, ladders and round doors to crouch through.

There are teeny tiny bathrooms and bunkrooms, especially if you're not an officer and have to share with about a bajillion others (actually more like 55). So of course, the kitchen is also teeny tiny. I do not envy cooking in here.

Probably my favourite bit was all the dials, switches and pipes everywhere. Mostly they were fun because I didn't know what they were for and didn't need to.

The view towards that bit of the submarine that sticks up (fin? damn, I should have paid more attention). Look, I really did learn a lot, but it turns out you'll just have to take my word for it. And if you ever come to visit, you might be lucky enough to check it out for yourself.


We are planning our first trip to Margaret River in a bit over a week, so I look forward to reporting back about that. But I've got to get through the last week of term first. So folks, until sometime soon when I emerge from exam marking like a hoarder rescued from a collapsed pile of newspapers.

Ahem. Some very important matters.

I had my first homesick meltdown yesterday. It's a long weekend here for the celebration of Foundation Day (fairly self explanatory). I had a conversation with a colleague on Friday about her plans for the weekend. She replied that she would just be catching up with friends. Yesterday I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness that I couldn't do that too. It's ok. I've moved on. Just a shame I had to have the meltdown in the middle of a crowded shopping mall. Poor Fella.

I seem to have accidentally lost a little weight since we arrived here. Breaking out my winter clothes has revealed a not so snug fit in the trouser department. I put it down to the aforementioned lack of friends resulting in a lower volume of alcohol consumption. It's all swings and roundabouts, isn't it? My point is that I realised that I haven't yet reported on the drinking scene here - which seems very remiss for a blog that claims to be offering some kind of insight into this great Western land.

So, let's start with glass sizes and nomenclature. The standards sizes here are pint and middy (or half-pint). But we regularly find ourselves pining for a schooner. I find with a pint that I feel full and over it after I've drunk about the equivalent of a schooner. And a middy is over too quickly. *sigh*  What is a gal to do?

I think it's a particularly Freo thing, but you're in luck if you love boutique beer, micro-breweries and obscure imports. If, however, like the Fella, you often just want a beer that tastes like beer, let's say a Carlton Draught (or Car'n as it's more properly pronounced) then you may find yourself regularly cursing. Access to cider is patchy, particularly if you have drunk enough Pip Squeak to last a lifetime. A few places have Bulmers. And I am rediscovering the delights of beer.

And finally we need to address the issue of the Sunday Session (or Sunday sesh). The concept is that one attends the public house early on a Sunday afternoon, preferably one with a water vista of some sort, or at least an outdoor drinking region. Once in attendance with one's companions the aim is to imbibe many a large beverage until it is time to return home at around 9pm, presumably in preparation for a slow Monday morning at work. Popular venues include the Cottesloe Beach Hotel (or 'the Cot' in the local venacular) and the Leederville Hotel (which seems to be a popular location for bare knuckle boxing). It is indeed a failing of mine that this phenomenon has largely escaped my anthropological attentions. Quite frankly, I have become timid and reclusive with advancing age.

There are of course, some very important and complimentary things to say about wine in WA. But I will save that for our trip to Margaret River.

Now, in an entirely unrelated matter. Let's talk cheese. Big cheese. My favourite local Italian grocer, Galati and Sons has had this enormous um, slab? column? trunk? of cheese hanging near the deli counter since I first discovered the shop.

I don't know how long it has been there (there's a reason I've never used that Media degree). But, more importantly, last weekend was time to take it down and eat it. It became a little festival all of its own. Olive oil, Chinotto, chocolate and coffeee tastings were set up outside. Three hardworking musicians scraped away in the corner. And then, there was the cheese.

They worked from the top, on the ladder, sawing away at it like an errant tree branch.

And then slicing, weighing and selling it. Did I buy a chunk? I did not. I don't say this often about cheese, but it didn't really do it for me. It was all a bit too warm and funky. But was it a great spectacle? Indeed.