What a weekend! It had a bit of everything. Culture. Drama. Wonder. Intrigue. Vodka. Wine. etc etc
The weekend began early on Friday afternoon. Having pitched up about 10:30 (I had been there since 9...), the boss then announced that he was leaving the office at 1 to go to the "giggle and hoot" show at the Opera House, staring none other than Bananas in Pyjamas! I assumed that he was taking his young daughter to this - but, having learnt from experience, decided not to ask in case it was just a strange quirk of his (turned out he did - in his words "she loved it! She totally lost her noodle!") So I strolled out of the office at lunchtime into the hot winter sun, freedom!
That evening was the long awaited opening of the 'Sydney Moderns' exhibition at the Art Gallery of New South Wales. I arrived late, as usual, but luckily found some familiar faces amid the crush. Heading to the bar to take advantage of the free champagne, I promptly got a glass poured down the front of my dress. Grrrr. And people wonder why I rarely bother to dress up!
After about an hour of either dull, pointless, or insulting speeches, we finally got into the show. It was a great mix - some fantastic cubist pictures of various well known sites, gorgeous black and white photos of the construction of the bridge, even a full reconstruction of a drawing room. The dominance of female artists was particularly prominent, as was the general joyous use of colour. It was a great show, only slightly diminished by the over zealous bouncers throwing us all out at 8:30! Congratulations to the curators!
The next day was similarly sunny, so spent a restorative hour sunbaking before heading to a local pub to enjoy the build up to the Lions game. And my god what a game it turned out to be! The atmosphere was incredible - the Lions fans dominated the pub - dressed in kilts and flags and being as lairy as possible without getting thrown out. While the Aussie's tried (shouts of "you'll never be a fullpenny" were thrown at the screen!) we were the dominant side. And, as opposed to the second test, it was actually a decent game of rugby as well! Afterwards, bouyed up by our win, we headed to a local bar which prided itself on Heston Blumenthal style cocktails. Blimey it delivered. It was definitely the most impressive drinking 'experience' I had ever had. I ordered the English Summer Garden Martini - which promised to bring me the tastes, sounds and smells of the summer. How could a drink bring me sounds, I wondered?
The waiter approached carrying two slabs of turf. On one lay an ipod and an eyemask. Placing the eyemask over my eyes, I turned on the ipod and was overwhelmed with english sounds - church bells chiming, leather on willow, trickling streams, wimbledon commentary (love the stereotypical english life - hardly realistic..!). I then inhaled deeply from the smoking watering can. Freshly cut grass filled my nostrils. Sipping from the gin and cucumber martini, I examined the rest of the apparatus. This included edible soil (chocolate cookie crumbs) which you ate with a miniature shovel, and absinthe 'worms' (jelly) which you separated from the grass and soil using a miniature rake.
Across the table, Vicky was wrestling with the Breakfast Mojito. Served on a dental tray, it resembled a high school chemistry experiment. You brushed your teeth with the Colgate using a miniature toothbrush (yup, they loved their small tools!!), then shot the mouthwash (served in a conical flask) then injected the rum into your mouth using a syringe. Biting down on a lime cleansed the palate. The night continued... but the memories got a bit fuzzy...All in all, it was an awesome experience which i cant wait to repeat!
The next day, lunch at a friends yacht club was followed by a lovely nap to prepare myself for the Wimbledon final. Starting at 11 at night, it was a true commitment to watch the whole thing. After the first 2 sets I had had as much as I could handle. Every point provoked a panic attack. We had squirmed our way through, hearts in mouths. Thinking that it would go to five sets (ever the British attitude!) I headed to bed. Where of course I didnt sleep, but woke up every 2 minutes to check the score on my phone... Idiot.
Knackered and elated I headed to work the next day, arriving at 10 (trying not to repeat all the time wasted on Friday), I collapsed in my gorgeous reclining chair in the sun. And waited. And waited. Around 11, the CEO appeared, on the phone. I didnt want to disrupt his call, so didnt get up or call out. Half an hour later, he was still on the phone. I started to feel awkward - I really should have made my presence known by now. At quarter to twelve, my immediate boss (without whom I cant do any work) arrived. He greeted me, causing the CEO to jump out of his skin, and glare at me for hiding in the corner. Brilliant. Ah well. I didnt care. Because that evening I knew I was off diving in the harbour!
Heading straight to Manly from work, we got to the dock and met the others, set up the kit and headed off! The feeling of heading out at full speed into the inky blackness of the ocean was exhilarating! Getting into the water was a slightly different matter. To say it was cold does not even come close to the reality. But it was well worth it. The contrast between the torch beams and the looming darkness is a pretty amazing feeling. The whole dive was really quite surreal - the swell around the rocks added to the out of control feeling. After some initial discomfort, getting repeatedly swept into a clump of kelp, I went with it. And had a fantastic time. We came across a sleeping turtle - which promptly woke up at having a torch shone in its face and grumpily swam off, as well as several small rays. Sadly no sharks, but there's always next time, and certain people werent too comfortable with the idea of them. One of which was the friend who I was diving with - she had a rough enough time anyway, cheerfully informing me afterwards that she had thrown up in her regulator. Ew.
Signing off for now - driving down to Jervis Bay this weekend - lets see if it can measure up!
The weekend began early on Friday afternoon. Having pitched up about 10:30 (I had been there since 9...), the boss then announced that he was leaving the office at 1 to go to the "giggle and hoot" show at the Opera House, staring none other than Bananas in Pyjamas! I assumed that he was taking his young daughter to this - but, having learnt from experience, decided not to ask in case it was just a strange quirk of his (turned out he did - in his words "she loved it! She totally lost her noodle!") So I strolled out of the office at lunchtime into the hot winter sun, freedom!
That evening was the long awaited opening of the 'Sydney Moderns' exhibition at the Art Gallery of New South Wales. I arrived late, as usual, but luckily found some familiar faces amid the crush. Heading to the bar to take advantage of the free champagne, I promptly got a glass poured down the front of my dress. Grrrr. And people wonder why I rarely bother to dress up!
After about an hour of either dull, pointless, or insulting speeches, we finally got into the show. It was a great mix - some fantastic cubist pictures of various well known sites, gorgeous black and white photos of the construction of the bridge, even a full reconstruction of a drawing room. The dominance of female artists was particularly prominent, as was the general joyous use of colour. It was a great show, only slightly diminished by the over zealous bouncers throwing us all out at 8:30! Congratulations to the curators!
The next day was similarly sunny, so spent a restorative hour sunbaking before heading to a local pub to enjoy the build up to the Lions game. And my god what a game it turned out to be! The atmosphere was incredible - the Lions fans dominated the pub - dressed in kilts and flags and being as lairy as possible without getting thrown out. While the Aussie's tried (shouts of "you'll never be a fullpenny" were thrown at the screen!) we were the dominant side. And, as opposed to the second test, it was actually a decent game of rugby as well! Afterwards, bouyed up by our win, we headed to a local bar which prided itself on Heston Blumenthal style cocktails. Blimey it delivered. It was definitely the most impressive drinking 'experience' I had ever had. I ordered the English Summer Garden Martini - which promised to bring me the tastes, sounds and smells of the summer. How could a drink bring me sounds, I wondered?
The waiter approached carrying two slabs of turf. On one lay an ipod and an eyemask. Placing the eyemask over my eyes, I turned on the ipod and was overwhelmed with english sounds - church bells chiming, leather on willow, trickling streams, wimbledon commentary (love the stereotypical english life - hardly realistic..!). I then inhaled deeply from the smoking watering can. Freshly cut grass filled my nostrils. Sipping from the gin and cucumber martini, I examined the rest of the apparatus. This included edible soil (chocolate cookie crumbs) which you ate with a miniature shovel, and absinthe 'worms' (jelly) which you separated from the grass and soil using a miniature rake.
Across the table, Vicky was wrestling with the Breakfast Mojito. Served on a dental tray, it resembled a high school chemistry experiment. You brushed your teeth with the Colgate using a miniature toothbrush (yup, they loved their small tools!!), then shot the mouthwash (served in a conical flask) then injected the rum into your mouth using a syringe. Biting down on a lime cleansed the palate. The night continued... but the memories got a bit fuzzy...All in all, it was an awesome experience which i cant wait to repeat!
The next day, lunch at a friends yacht club was followed by a lovely nap to prepare myself for the Wimbledon final. Starting at 11 at night, it was a true commitment to watch the whole thing. After the first 2 sets I had had as much as I could handle. Every point provoked a panic attack. We had squirmed our way through, hearts in mouths. Thinking that it would go to five sets (ever the British attitude!) I headed to bed. Where of course I didnt sleep, but woke up every 2 minutes to check the score on my phone... Idiot.
Knackered and elated I headed to work the next day, arriving at 10 (trying not to repeat all the time wasted on Friday), I collapsed in my gorgeous reclining chair in the sun. And waited. And waited. Around 11, the CEO appeared, on the phone. I didnt want to disrupt his call, so didnt get up or call out. Half an hour later, he was still on the phone. I started to feel awkward - I really should have made my presence known by now. At quarter to twelve, my immediate boss (without whom I cant do any work) arrived. He greeted me, causing the CEO to jump out of his skin, and glare at me for hiding in the corner. Brilliant. Ah well. I didnt care. Because that evening I knew I was off diving in the harbour!
Heading straight to Manly from work, we got to the dock and met the others, set up the kit and headed off! The feeling of heading out at full speed into the inky blackness of the ocean was exhilarating! Getting into the water was a slightly different matter. To say it was cold does not even come close to the reality. But it was well worth it. The contrast between the torch beams and the looming darkness is a pretty amazing feeling. The whole dive was really quite surreal - the swell around the rocks added to the out of control feeling. After some initial discomfort, getting repeatedly swept into a clump of kelp, I went with it. And had a fantastic time. We came across a sleeping turtle - which promptly woke up at having a torch shone in its face and grumpily swam off, as well as several small rays. Sadly no sharks, but there's always next time, and certain people werent too comfortable with the idea of them. One of which was the friend who I was diving with - she had a rough enough time anyway, cheerfully informing me afterwards that she had thrown up in her regulator. Ew.
Signing off for now - driving down to Jervis Bay this weekend - lets see if it can measure up!
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