September 14. Day 258. Baby love

 You know what it's like when you are watching a horror film?
You need to watch but you can't. There's this thing where you peek between your fingers or watch from behind a cushion in an internal battle between watch and don't watch, or perhaps that's just me.
But it's not just horror films. The truth is drama can be even more difficult probably because it deals with the sort of stuff that inflicts real families far more often than maniacs with machetes. So it was with Offspring, the series finale tonight. The trailers had set it up so the anxiety meter was at crisis point, a setting which seemed not all that unreasonable given that Offspring made the almost unprecedented decision to kill off Patrick at the end of season four. And then there was this bit were the troubled teen Brodie goes into labour. The baby is clearly in distress and isn't breathing when he's born. It's fiction but I wanted to cry ... and then he took a breath. Because that's the thing, the only thing new parents really want and that's a baby who is well. Just hours earlier at South Bank I'd met baby Athena. She's seven weeks old and today was allowed to leave the hospital to experience the great out doors for the first time. For now there's still an oxygen tank in the pram but her parents hope she'll be allowed home in the not too distant future. The little one whose name comes from the goddess of wisdom, courage, inspiration, civilization, law and justice and, surprisingly, mathematics, was clearly enjoying her first taste of sunshine and even opened he eyes to check out what the dogs were up to. Now if that wouldn't bring a lump to your throat I don't know what would. Her mum says she's like to get Athena a dog but first things first get her safely home and and see how things go. I wish them all health and happiness (and a dog when the time is right).

September 13. Day 257. Duck off

 It's was one of those days when I wanted to tell the world to duck off. I wanted to pull the doona over my head and hide. This is almost certainly a side effect of marking-induced fatigue. It saps me of the will to live but even allowing for that I'm feeling especially down. Introducing Sad Sack Susan. There is just one saving grace: the fur friends. Those balls of fluff have the ability to pull me up at least a bit when I'm down. Their joy for life is infectious as is their insistence of getting out of the house. They know just how to motivate me at least enough to get out of bed and out the door. The little loves decided it would the University of Queensland lakes today which turned out to be a fine choice. As well as my friends the turtles and the eels and the dogs' friends the lizards and the ducks there was a bonus - a family of ducklings. How sweet were they. These fluffy ducks (not the cocktail) were enough to put a bit of a smile on my dial.

September 12. Day 256. The Company you (don't) keep

QT's artitistic director Sam Strong launches the 2017 season of Queensland Theatre

Simon Burke who will star in the British farce Noises Off

It's said you can tell a lot about a person by the company he keeps. The reverse must also be true. Much is revealed by the company you DON'T keep. I can only assume that this is the thinking behind Queensland Theatre Company's decision to dump the "company" bit of its name. From 2017 our state's premier theatrical company will be known only as Queensland Theatre. One can only hope a rose by any other name will smell as sweet to borrow a well used theatrical quote. Mind you, it's not the first name change in the company's history. In 1985 it gained the right to be known as the Royal Queensland Theatre Company. The Royal was later dropped and the Company is now gone too. The change, today's launch was told, was because the job is to present theatre for all Queensland and not just for a small company. I admit, I'm not a huge fan of the need for organisations to rebrand. What they do interests me far more than what they are called. Fortunately there was much to report in that too. I love the look of the 2017 program which has an exciting blend of old and new, local and imported. A return to the Cremorne Theatre, just prior to its renovations,  for The Flick is interesting and the season-ending Scenes form a Marriage will cap of a great year. It's set to be a good year whatever you call it.

September 11. Day 255. Oh what a beautiful morning

It feels wrong, disloyal and completely out of character but it is time to come clean, to spill the beans even. I, Susan Hetherington, lover of the creative and performing arts and self confessed musical theatre tragic does not like Oklahoma! I find it tired, dull and with very little to say to contemporary audiences. And while it is honesty hour I probably should add that although I'm a bit of a fan of The Sound of Music my general dislike of Rodgers and Hammerstein extends to Carousel, South Pacific and The King and I all of which I find even more tiresome than Oklahoma!  This is not to in any way detract from the talent of Rodgers and Hammerstein. I have no doubt their work was ground breaking and awesome in its day but that day is not longer with us. Of course there are till moments of greatness. Oh What a Beautiful Morning is a song that still inspires and uplifts. Unfortunately it is right at the beginning of a very, very, very long first act. By the end of the act I was dozing off. Not because SQUIDS Theatrical's production was bad - just the opposite - but I went in exceptionally tired, the theatre was dark, the seats comfy and, as I have already confessed, the production not my cup of tea. So at intermission rather than fight my way to the bar or the ladies I took a quick stroll to the ornamental lakes just near the Redcliffe Cultural Centre. A brisk walk and fresh air ensured that I not only survived but enjoyed the second act. It was a very well put together production. The balance of youth and experience and a bucket load of experience combined well and my mum, a big fan of Oklahoma, came out singing its praise. She's right. It was good but not good enough to turn me into a fan. But SQUIDS, the problem is me not you. You deserve better. And you got it from an auditorium full of admirers. Forget me. You can't please all of the people all of the time.

September 10. Day 254. The show must go on

In it's own way, my line of work is quite seasonal. There's the planning season, the teaching season and, heaven help us, the marking season. But regardless of which stage of the academic calendar we are at, the take home pay at the end of the fortnight is identical. Of course this is not the case if you sell hats, pick grapes or work as a ski-ing instructor. Nor is it the experience of the street performer. Today I met James AKA Stuntman Jim outside the piazza at South Bank. The skies looked threatening and the Australia's Got Talent semi finalist was deciding whether to pack up and go home. He rather thought he would especially because the weather forecast for tomorrow was a whole lot kinder. The dogs and I walked on but when we returned he was just about to start a show. And the rain was just about to start falling with determination. The dogs and I found cover and watched while poor Jim poured more and more fluid on his flaming torches to keep the fires burning through his abridged act. Despite the hideous conditions, Jim lived out the performer's mantra, the show must go on. The sheltering crowd was enthusiastic and appreciative but clearly the cold hard cash deposited in the hat after the show would have been a good deal less than had the sun been shining on Jim's parade. Seems rather unfair if you think about it. But at least he brought a little sunshine into the lives of the damp crowds at South Bank.

September 9. Day 253. The Mayne event

No-one who saw Susan Boyle that first time she opened her mouth on Britain's Got Talent will ever forget that you can't judge a book by its cover. More specifically, you can't judge the talent by the person standing before you on stage. It's a lesson reinforced in a talent quest as part of the ABC Radio Brisbane talent quest this morning. The Spencer Howson outside broadcast at Centenary Theatre invited audience members to compete for tickets to the orchestra. I would have had a go except a talent for sleeping doesn't translate well to the stage. I admire people with talent. I especially admire those able to display that talent before 7am. Not only do you have to have talent but you have to have enough guts to perform it in front of others. And the three competitors showed both talent but a great sense of fun. Good for them. It's all part of the crazy unpredicatable fun that can happen when you take radio out of the studio and into the community.

I do enjoy an outside broadcast. I especially like an outside broadcast in a theatre celebrating the performing arts. There is also a certain symmetry in theatre reviewing in a theatre. It may have meant only four hours sleep but it was totally worth it.

September 8. Day 252. Get down and dirty

Marking does my head in. It turns my brain into a pool of mush killing all reasonable thought at the time reason is most called for. There is a limit to how much of this a single human can be expected to endure and today my capacity to critique reached overload. Time to down tools and head out for the best de-stress I know, taking the dogs to the beach. Now as everyone in Brisbane knows, Nudgee Beach is not exactly the A game when it comes to pristine sand and sparking blue waters. It is, however, close and good enough if your aim is not to surf but to let the dogs swim. From the second the car pulled into the car park the dogs were like little Energizer bunnies ready to bounce into power mode. They love a bit of off leash action especially if there's an opportunity to get wet and muddy. It was a bit blustery and the tide was in but that didn't stop anyone. I just wished I'd read the memo that declared today Giant Dog Day. Every other pooch on the beach this afternoon could have eaten either of my dogs as a snack. They were all well mannered and playful and Winkle has never been a dog that considers size to be a defining factor. But I always feel a bit intimidated when a giant ball of fluff is hurtling fall ball in my general direction.  Still the only casualty was one favourite ball that was carried out by the tide. It was a small sacrifice to make for an otherwise excellent afternoon.