Frost/Nixon

I am going to gush. I went to see Frost/Nixon at the cinema yesterday and it's a fantastically good film.  Who would have thought that a movie about a chat show host interviewing a crooked President could be so nail biting.  Frank Langella is great: even though he looks nothing like Nixon you forget that after a few minutes and get totally sucked in. Michael Sheen is also really good and seems to be making a name for himself playing real people (he was Tony Blair in The Queen and Kennenth Williams in Fantabulosa!), his David Frost in this isn't quite an impression but it does have the essence of Frost in it. Another surprise was that Kevin Bacon's in it. Don't laugh, but I think he is probably the most underrated actor in Hollywood. Even when he's in crappy things he's still good. In this he's excellent. Overall I'd recommend going to see it: even if the premise sounds a bit dull the film is anything but.

I wasn't all roses though. I have finally decided I hate going to see films at the cinema. It's just really frustrating with all the other people there. I mean I went to see this at the Cinema Paradiso in Northbridge. Now this is meant to be an 'art house cinema' and there were STILL people rustling lolly wrappers and talking. And there's the fact that I pay to go in and then have to sit through adverts, I don't do that at home (unless I was daft enough to pay for cable TV which costs a fortune and still comes with commercial breaks every two minutes). The ads at the Paradiso are also totally incongruous: the cinema was full of people who remember Nixon and who have some interest in history or american politics. A more mature audience you might say. So they show the "1 in 4 15 to 24 year olds end up in hospital after drinking booze" ad. Not really reaching the target audience I would think. Mind you they did follow the "if you drink alcohol you are bound to die" ad with one for Crown lager. Irony or stupidity? Probably the latter.

Oh and to add insult to injury the woman on the ticket desk didn't even say please or thank you. Bitch.

*If you're wondering why this is my first post that has a title that represents it's content, it's because I'm going to see how many hits I get by posting something that people might actually be searching for.

Really?

These guys really need to get separate signs:

Get in Early

Well Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanzaa/Winterval is over for another year. And they are already advertising next years Christmas hampers on the TV. I mean everyone gets all bent out of shape when the Cadbury's Creme eggs appear in the shops in February, but when you are advertising next years hampers two days after you've just gorged yourself on the contents of this years then you know the world has gone mad.

Actually I don't really understand the whole Chrissy hamper thing anyway. Surely it's easier and cheaper to just got to Woolies and buy all the stuff you need the week before the big day? After all, you always end up with a jar of Dundee Marmalade and some unidentifiable pickles from any hamper that never get eaten.

My Christmas was good, thanks for asking. I went to my mate's mum's for the big day, which was really nice but it's always odd to be at someone else's house for Christmas. They have different rituals and that's a bit strange. There seem to be two ways to do the Christmas day thing. One is get up early and open all the presents there and then in a blizzard of torn wrapping paper. The other is get up at a civilised time, have lunch and then open the presents in the afternoon. I've always done the former method (I mean as a kid I was sometimes up at 4 am) and that is what is normal to me. This year I did it the other way and it was a bit odd. I think it's because the "presents after lunch" way always seemed to be the really posh method. After 37 years of doing it one way I just can't get my head around the other way. Must be my poor, country heritage. At least some things are the same at every house: the feigned excitement at really terrible presents (I got wine so my excitement was real) and at least one, often many, really awkward moments when one member of the family gets drunk/stoned/belligerent for no reason/tearful with another member of the family. Oh the fun of a family Christmas.

Thank your gods it's over I guess. Now it's just time for the sales. Or more accurately the jumble sales. We went onto Perth today and it seems that the shops are suddenly full of crap. For example, David Jones seems to have moved out pretty much all the stock they had in there last week and brought in piles of crap that they are just selling in the sales. I mean it really looks like a jumble sale with stuff piled on tables and crammed into racks. In fact it was pretty much completely pointless gong into town at all. I mean the only thing I wanted to buy had actually increased in price since Christmas. That is not my definition of a sale.

So now it's all over and I have nothing to do until I go back to work after Australia day. Luckily the house I'm in now has cable tv so I have 50 channels to choose from to fill in time. Currently I'm watching Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall cooking pigeon pie with scrambled eggs and almonds and cinnamon. My god, these toffs will eat anything!

Twas the Night

OK so I'm house sitting for friends over Christmas and they have an item in the house which I just love.

It's an instant boiling water tap! Brilliant! Every Englishman's dream: tea at any time with no kettle to boil. This is what the future is about, forget flying cars and zip up polyester jump suits, just give me instant boiling water.

Now if only the damn cat would decide whether it wants to be in or out.

Driving Me Crazy

So I've been back a couple of weeks now and I would like to know why nobody in Perth seems to be able to drive properly?

Driving on the freeway is the scariest experience in my life, and I've just come back from Europe. No one here seems to be able to grasp the concept of merging into the traffic already on the freeway. There are two basic methods. One seems to be to drive as fast as possible down the slip road then cut up the people already on the road making them jam on their brakes. The other is to crawl down the slip road and then pull out in front of the traffic already on the road making them jam on their brakes. Both methods involve a significant amount of jamming on. There is a third way where you match your speed exactly with the traffic already on the freeway and have a very brief game of chicken with the driver of the car that you're are next too as the end of the slip road looms up. It's a bloody nightmare. To explain to everyone here; the idea of merging is for the vehicles on the freeway to maintain a steady speed, with sufficient gaps between them for the joining vehicles to carefully match the speed and gently filter in. This NEVER happens here. Ever.

To be fair that's partly because everyone on the freeway drives with a gap of about two feet between them at 100 kph. I have lost count of the number of Landcruisers and Holden Commodores that have tried to get into my boot while driving up to the City. I have always wondered why the freeway in Perth has such a low speed limit (100 kph) and I know why. It's because no-one is capable of driving any faster.

I have been doing quite a bit of travelling over the last couple of weekends. Last week it was up to Kalgoorlie to visit the gang and see the Christmas Show at the Goldfields Repertory Club, which was great. I did get a bit shocked by the drive though. I mean I've done it millions of times before (yes; millions) but I'd sort of forgotten how far 600 kms really is. I was completely knackered by the time I got there. It was good to go back as it made me realise that I really don't miss Kalgoorlie. In fact it's a bit of a hole. I can say that now. When you live in the bush here you are contractually obliged to tell everyone how great it is and how much you love it. We all do it and we are all mostly lying. I do miss my friends though. It was brilliant to see them all. 

This weekend I've been to Bunbury to visit some other friends. I am so popular. Another great weekend but another nightmare drive. This time not so far but through speed trap heaven. This is normally not a problem but on the road to Mandurah there are signs everywhere saying "WE Know The Speed Limit. DO YOU?". Well actually, no, I don't. Because you never put any bloody speed limit signs up. And it changes from 80 to 60 to 90 to 100 in the blink of an eye. Makes for an interesting trip I suppose, especially watching all the other cars flying past at 120 kph then seeing them just down the road stopped by the rozzers. Obviously some people love getting points on their licence.

Mandurah itself is just horrible. A great smear of suburban excrement spread along the coast. All huge, unimaginative identikit mini-mansions thrown up on vast treeless blocks. All with no eaves, black roofs with a massive air-conditioner on the roof. Oh and no shops except for a massive big-box shopping centre here and there that you have to drive to. Very sustainable.

Maybe I'll stop now before I offend every single person in the State seeing as they all live in huge, uninmaginative identikit mini-mansions thrown up on vast treeless blocks. All with no eaves, black roofs with a massive air-conditioner on the roof.

Whoops!

The Property Dance

Well I've been slack blogging. Actually I've been really busy trying to find somewhere to live. In the last few days I've looked at about 12 houses and they were all poop. Either the wrong house in the right street or the right house in the wrong street or the wrong house in the wrong street. It has been a bit of a nightmare to be honest. 

The biggest pain has been the real estate agents. They just all act like dicks.  I've decided all you need to be a real estate agent is a very basic grasp of English, enormous sunglasses (if you are male and under 30), bleached teeth (if you are female and over 30) and an ability to sort out keys. That's it. The first question is "how much can you afford?". Like I'm going to tell them that. Then you have to put up with the ancient dance of the estate agent, them fishing for info, me trying not to give any info, them trying to talk up the damp marks on the wall as features, me picking holes in the state of the kitchen and the lack of a dishwasher space. You know how it goes. 

Today in particular has seen me up and down the freeway about 6 times going to visit different places. In the end I was so disheartened that I was about to give up. However....

As you don't know I have just bought an iPhone (yeah, yeah, sucked in I know but if you saw it you'd want one too) and you can view the internet on it from anywhere. So I logged onto realestate.com in desperation at about 1pm and saw a nice looking place that had come onto the market this morning. To cut a long story short: I bought it.

It's in Mount Lawley, which, if you don't know Perth, is a nice place. And the house is a nice house. So I guess you could say I bought the right house in the right street. Well as long as the bank fronts up with the money. So for the next ooooh, say, 30 years I have no money. At all. 

But I still got a nice house :-)

Jet Lagged

Well I am back in sunny Perth, I will blog soon but, to be honest, the whole trip back is a bit of a blur, caused mainly by horrible lack of sleep on the 'plane and fairly appalling jet lag now that I'm back. 

So stay tuned (that's lame but, like I said, I'm jet lagged so it's the best you'll get) and I'll tell you about my house hunting and all that fun stuff.

Heathrow

Ahh, here again at an Airport. I think the target audience for Singapore airlines is a bit more loaded than i am. The magazines in the lounge include "Luxury Yacht Monthly", "Executive Jet" and "Rich, Mahogany Tanned Old Slappers Who Think They Look Great In Dior Weekly".

I may have made the last one up.

White cliffs of Dover & Joy of John Lewis

It's my last day at home, hence the reference to the wartime song above. (Vera Lynn is a Saint in case you didn't know, and she's still alive which must indicate some sort of supernatural powers at least). I also thought I'd let you know some of the things I'll miss when I get back to Australia.

Now you'd expect this to be lists of family and friends, childhood memories and all that guff. But actually the thing I'll miss most, apart from lists of family and friends of course, is actually Waitrose. And John Lewis. 

Now you might think it's weird to miss a supermarket and department store, but if you've ever been to Waitrose and then had to go to Coles or Woolworths then you would understand where I'm coming from. It's a different world in Waitrose. Everything is gourmet and everything has it's provenance on it. For example you don't just by eggs, you buy "Large, Organic, Free Range Old Cotswold Legbar Eggs" and it's got the name of the farm on the box too. When you unwrap the burgers (or "Scottish Aberdeen Angus Free Range Quarter Pounders"  to be precise) you get a little picture of the farmer and his story. You want tinned duck confit? Waitrose has it. You want Madagascan vanilla pods? Waitrose have got them. 

It's not just that they sell all this fantastic stuff, it's also a lovely place to shop with clean, wide aisles, friendly and helpful staff. In fact staff that take you to the item you need, not just point and mumble "aisle 46". Actually Will takes you to your item too, but he's far too classy for Woolies anyway. It is truly the altissimus quod optimus of supermarkets. So nice in fact that I've gone all latin. That's how posh it is! You do of course pay a bit more for this. Actually a lot more but Waitrose has the highest rate of passing money from the customer to the farmer of any supermarket in the country. So you pay more but the producers get more too and this makes you fell all warm and fuzzy. And makes paying a third more for your Marmite than at Tescos almost bearable. Waitrose also has no shareholders. It's run like communism, where all the staff own the company. Actually it's not quite communism, as there are, to my knowledge, no Waitrose gulags where employees found shopping at Lidl are sent to push heavily loaded trollies around remote parts of Siberia. More like socialism maybe. Does anyone remember what that is?

It's like this because it's part of the John Lewis Partnership. This whole company has a fantastic story which you can read here. I just love it as it's sort of the last real department store left. It's not just full of other retailers concessions. For example it still has a sports department that actually sells sports equipment (like hockey sticks and tennis rackets), not just sports casual wear. It's got a men's accessory department where you can buy wallets and cufflinks. It's one of the last places in the country that still has a haberdashery department. I just love it. It is even unique when it comes to advertising, this christmas it has managed to be the first company in the UK ever to be able to use a Beatles song in a TV commercial. 

Tell me that isn't cool. Simple but brilliant. See why I'll miss John Lewis?

And if you're wondering who does the music it's John Lewis' staff and Music society. See. Socialism.