I sit here today in a thriving café. The good old whirr of the coffee machine, glass cupboards full of little bits and little posies in water on every wooden table. Meal comes out. The pink rose petals scattered across the usual avo toast suspect matches my pink herbal tea. Succumb to obligatory social media photo. “Have you tried the coffee here yet?” “No,”I say, slightly embarrassed. It appears that many people of my home town already have: I am a late goer. “You’re in for a real treat.” Usually I’d just go with it. How can I say no to that, the excitement and pride on his face is evident… and yet, I explain that I can only have half strength coffee and that sometimes coffee doesn’t agree with me. They lose interest a bit. Gosh, this breaky tastes great. I wish it would go on for a longer time. I try to prolong it – I should have requested two pieces of bread… Outside are cyclists, looking content in their flock. Admirably practical …
The Dressmaker Costumer Exhibition, currently on display at Barwon Park Mansion until March, has some serious style eye candy!
PHOTO CREDIT: Daniel Ebersole via Unsplash Dear plumbers, electricians, people who build houses; (I know builders is the proper term but I need to whip up a bit of dramatic effect; please grant me that one.)
Megan Schmidtke, around fourteen years ago, moved schools. She was quickly welcomed by the friendly Miriam McWilliam, who became not only a bestie but also – in the eyes of many – perhaps a twin, too.
Earlier this year I had the pleasure of attending the Decor and Design Show in Melbourne and hearing from the lovely Kari Whitman. Interior designer, artist and all round animal lover, this hardworking decorator has Hollywood celebrities as well as international royalty on her book of clients.
Last year I, like millions of other Aussies, curled up on a couch and watched The Voice. This wasn’t the first TV talent show I had watched – my gosh, there had been so many leading up to that: Australia’s Got Talent, The X Factor, Australian Idol and probably half a dozen I can’t remember! – but The Voice had something different about it which succeeded in drawing me in.
Dear Geelong, You are my hometown. Even more, my home. I’ve left you and moved to other cities, cities where the roofs almost touch the sky and public transport is more abundant than here.
The saddest thing in art is when an artist is debilitated unfruitful by the ruling of an over-grown Inner Critic.