February 27. Day 58. Dog's day

Every time I come home it's the same. The dogs greet me at the door. The dogs jump on me. The dogs wrestle each other. Winkle jumps on Rumple and then they go about their business. Much of that involves lying around as close to me and each other as possible. That's until the food comes out. You know how they say pet owners start to look like their pets.
In the case of my dogs and I, there's little in the way of physical similarities but we do share the same interests - food and sleep.
My dogs approach mealtime with the same slavering enthusiasm as I do at an all-you-can-eat seafood banquet. I love that about them. Food should be enjoyed and enjoy it we all do.

February 26. Day 57. Diet is die with a T

I'm on a diet - again - still. Technically, I think I've been on a diet since I was 15 and lost hundreds of kilos. I'd hate to think how many I've put on in that time. Next to yo-yo dieter in the dictionary should be a time lapse video of my bum.
But right at the moment,  I'm in the weight reduction phase. Lite n Easy is delivering bundles of food to my door. I am eating the food and nothing but the food.
I'm sticking to it because the alternative at the moment is not very pretty. Nothing fits, everything is too hot and too hard. The trajectory is unattractive - like my bum. So diet it is. If you so much as see me sneaking a snack feel free to knock it out of my hand

February 25. Day 56. Haunted house

I seriously hope Jean Trundle is okay with what I saw at Brisbane Arts Theatre today.
I'm not actually referring to the action on stage. Jean founded Brisbane Arts Theatre with her husband Vic Hardgraves in 1936 so she was clearly a lover of the performing arts. However, she died in July 1965 and was cremated so I doubt she care much one way or the other about Shrek The Musical. But her ghost is believed to haunt the theatre and I'd been repeatedly told "her" seat in the back row of the balcony was always left empty. But today the Full House sign was up outside the theatre and indeed every seat was filled. Every seat. Including Jean's seat. I don't believe in ghosts but I do love a good ghost story and it would have pleased me greatly to see that one empty seat (as long as the empty seat wasn't the one my bum was meant for). Shrek was a huge amount of fun. For the record I think Jean would have really enjoyed it. There was one small hitch. Donkey's entrance didn't quite go to plan and involved a stunt double losing a limb. The cast turned it into a moment and all was good but perhaps that was ghostly work at play. Part of me likes to think so.

February 24. Day 55. Dramatic licence

Before there was a Drama Teen there was a Drama Three-een. Brisbane Arts Theatre was one of two companies that had a pivotal role in creating the dramatic individual that occupies the bedroom down the hall.
He was three when I first bought tickets for him to see Ali Baba and the 40 Thieves at Brisbane Arts Theatre.
He was hooked  performed in many children's shows there including, as it happens, Ali Baba.
We both continue to hold a great affection for the place.
I feel it my duty to direct other impressionable young dramatic individuals along the same path.
Enter Miss Molly. I have already been instrumental in convincing Molly's parents to enrol her in Fame.  Task one of two completed.
So when we were asked to occupy Molly for a few hours while the family moved house, the distraction of choice was a no-brainer: Arts Theatre. Miss Molly sat transfixed while watching 12 Dancing Princesses.
When the show was over, it was Oliver who led her around to have her program signed. There was a light in her eyes just as there had been in his at the same age.
She carefully studied the season guide and when asked which of the remaining show she would like to see she said "all of them".
Job done. Sorry Tiania and Jamie. I have ruined your child. You can thank me later.

February 23. Day 54. Apples to apples

Yada, Yada, Yada

Demi Lardner

Luke Heggie

I never knew how much passion people had for apples. To me, it's largely a question of red or green. The red ones I eat. The green ones are for cooking. How wrong am I. It started this week, when my son refused an apple I had in my bag because it was a Royal Gala. He was hungry but not hungry enough to bite into anything else but a Pink Lady. This is weird for a person who for years would only eat green apples because Snow White had taught him the red ones were poisonous. The next day in a consultation with a student about something completely different, she volunteered that she would only eat Pink Lady Apples. None of this Royal Gala nonsense. Either this is a "thing" or I just happen to attract Pink Lady tragics. I decided some peer reviewed quality research was needed. I took to social media instead. The outpouring of love for the the Pink Lady was instantaneous and overwhelming. Okay, let's take this hypothesis to a wider audience. Today I was fortunate enough to be invited to a media preview ahead of tonight's opening gala of the Brisbane International Comedy festival. We were given one-on-ones with three performers -Luke Heggie,  Demi Lardner and Yada, Yada, Yada (AKA Lauren Edwards and Jude Perl). Five minutes with each. That's not long enough to delve deep into their psycho and runs the risk of asking the same stock questions and getting the same stock answers. So let's go all random. The same five questions for each, not at all related to their performances - at least as a starting point.
Our questions were.
1. If you could ask five people living or dead to a dinner party, would Barnaby Joyce be one of them?
2. A quick game of F**k, Marry, Kill with the choices being Donald Trump, Harvey Weinstein and Karl Stefanovic
3. Which reality TV show would you be forced off first: "I'm a Celebrity Get me Out of Here", My Kitchen Rules or Married at First Sight?
4. Could you please settle an argument we are having? Which is the superior apple: Pink Lady
or Royal Gala?
5. What would you tell you 10-year-old self?
The Pink Lady was three from three. Not one person gave a moment's hesitation. They didn't even seem to think it was a randomly stupid question.
Our Brisbane Comedy Festival podcast is available for your listening pleasure here.

February 22. Day 53. Bad hair day

I know I have no right to but I feel kind of bad. I have convinced my neighbour Margaret that she needs a carer to take her to the weekly hairdresser's appointment. We have reached a compromise where I will cover the occasional visits - such as to a specialist - while the MyAgedCare-appointed carer will be the haircut man. Today Geoff was on duty and I felt guilty. The thing I only got the taxi to the hairdresser gig by accident. When Margaret was discharged from hospital last year after a fall, I sensed she wouldn't be steady enough to make the weekly pilgrimage alone. I offered to take her for a couple of weeks until she regained her strength. Weeks became months and clearly taking a cab was now out of her reach. So I got the job by default. I know finding a more suitable permanent arrangement does not make me a bad person but I still feel bad about it. Geoff did a sterling job and she arrived home to her birds happy and groomed. Job done.

February 21. Day 52. Blowing in the wind

 Sometimes you see something that until that moment you'd never considered had to happen. It's a thing, you never knew was a thing. Such it was today. There are there beautiful bright coloured banners flapping in the wind outside QPAC.
They are there to promote Aladdin and are glorious sheer fabric numbers with the faces of the cast in costume. It would be hard to drive, walk or ride across the Victoria Bridge and not be lured into the magical cave inside the performing arts centre. What I didn't realise is that you have to work hard to retain that beauty. The Brisbane sun is hard on everyone and every thing including coloured banners. In short, they don't last the season and have to be changed.
Today I watched as a bloke struggled in the wind to pull down old banners and replace them with ones identical apart from the fading. In part the process is like hoisting a flag but it's far more complex. The raising and lowering is quite straight forward. The threading on to the wires that keep the banners neatly vertical looked far more difficult - at least in the wind. But our lone hand was not deterred. He kept at it.
The funny  thing is that you only really noticed how faded the old ones were when there was a line up of both old and new. The new ones really did outshine the old. That has to be reward in itself for a really annoying job.