September 13. Day 256. Twilight (not the awful book)

 File a police report. Someone stole my weekend. It just disappeared without a trace under a great big pile of paperwork and tissues. It is that time of the year where senior school assessment, university assessment and the end of the cold and flu season clash in a big vortex of ugly. My firm belief that surviving this involves making a bit of head clearing time. So late this afternoon, the fur friend and I went out for our walk heading first off to the library to return a book - yes a book - due back today. Given our proximity to the Botanic Gardens we decided to make that our destination. That suited me because I like a twilight view and it suited Rumple because he holds to this insane belief that he night one day catch a duck. If that happens I would want an inquiry.

September 12. Day 255. Turning onself upside down

7am Saturday. A phone call from my elderly neighbour Margaret who, after redefining the idea of  what letting someone sleep in might look like, requested that I might help address her lack of fruit. Sure, later. When I decide to get up.
But first there was another neighbourly promise to keep. I'd run in to the delightful tailor Feridun Avar a couple of days back and he'd asked if I could take some new photos for his website. We'd agreed on the Saturday sleep in time of 11am. Job done he offered to buy me a coffee but with the fruit crisis still looming I took a rain check and the canine photographic assistant and I headed off for our next mission. I walked. He hitched a lift on my shoulder despite the fact that it was really far too hot to be carrying an eight kilogram fur coat who is confused about the difference between being a dog and a parrot. But I let him. Because as everyone knows I'm a soft touch and if I can turn myself upside down for a neighbour, friend or extremely lazy dog, why the hell not? One day I might be the one who needs a free ride.

September 11. Day 254. Love is in the air

My heart was singing when I left the Lyric Theatre at QPAC after seeing Strictly Ballroom. Fortunately for those around me that was the only thing singing because as I tell Drama Teen "my mother didn't pay for singing lessons. Clearly that, and not any lack of vocal ability is all that stopped me from being an opera singer. Well, let's go with that because it's impossible to prove otherwise at this late stage. Anyway that theme song from Strictly Ballroom Love is in the Air was in my head when Rumple and I went on a post theatre stroll. Therefore, it is not a lack of passion or an innate coldness that made me look at the Love Locks on the Goodwill Bridge and think "tacky". Okay, it's not as tacky as writing the name of a loved one on a toilet door but it's in the same ball park. I've been to Paris a number of times. I understand that tying a "love lock" on to the Pont des Arts bridge before throwing the key into the River Seine beneath is a thing but Brisbane isn't Paris. And is the love you want really something that will rust and be cut off with bolt cutters when the council decides the locks are a nuisance? I think not. We are not in Rome so we don't need to do what the Romans do or something. It's not heartless, it's just that that every city should have it's own symbols and traditions. Brisbane doesn't need to pretend it's Paris. It is a beautiful city in its own right. That's something I am passionate about (but I promise not to sing its praises)

September 10. Day 253. Burning a hole in my pocket

All too often when a prized fur friend goes missing without a trace speculation turns to the possibility that it might be the work of either dog fighters or greyhound baiters. I happen to know that Rumple was abducted by a witch  for use in an evil potion. My evidence is as follows. A woman with warts and a cauldron and a sign identifying herself as Agnes the Witch reached out when I was at South Bank with Rumple and said "I'm going to take your dog he would be delicious in this brew". Welcome to just another Thursday night at South Bank. Okay, it's not just any Thursday it's Brisbane Festival time and that means you can barely walk 10 steps along Little Stanley Street without meeting another busker. Best of all it's all free (although you should totally be reaching into your pocket and adding change to the buskers' hats) which makes it hugely popular with families. After all, don['t we all want something that won't burn a hole in our pocket?  It would have been just perfect if it wasn't for the $95 fine for doing a u-turn at the traffic light to get a prize car park, That did hurt. A lot

September 9. Day 252. Fighting over scraps

I am about to declare war on the hashtag #firstWorldProblems. This is something we put after an incredibly whingy tweet or Facebook post to kind of excuse how pathetic we are being. a) OMG. My hair straightener just blew up. My day is ruined #firstWorldProblems

b) Nooo.Went to two supermarkets and no-one has fresh coriander #firstWorldProblems
c) If I wanted a luke warm chocolate I would have ordered that. #hotchocolate #firstworldproblem
It's as though owning it as being written from a position of privilege means we have thought about the real problems in the third world  and acted in some meaningful way to fix it. Most often we (and generally I mean me) have just continued on seeking a place that will serve your hot chocolate hot and be damned with the rest of the world. We are the sulphur crested cockatoo pretty in pink hanging off the palm tree full of fruit while the rest of the world is the crows fighting over the scraps. Not much fairness in that.

September 8. Day 251. And the people all said sit down

I am an annoyingly "anything for a quiet life" type of person.Basically if I can avoid making waves I will do so because I can't stand the seasickness that results. But with provocation I will react and it is likely to be messy. Such provocation can be extreme dickiness or extreme fatigue. Both will be likely to make me feel like I am supporting the weight of the world and oh so likely to snap. Such as today. It was a very tired, very grumpy version of me at a staff meeting. The anchor has come loose and definitely there was a lot of drifting going on with the danger of crashing into rocks very real. Into survival mode. Out into the fresh air and the good folks setting up for the Brisbane Festival Theatre Republic seem to have captured what was going on in my head perfectly. To quote from Guys and Dolls "and the people all said sit down, sit down you're rocking the boat"

September 7. Day 250. Orange is the new black

On the radio the other day a fashion guru was saying that no-one looks good in orange. Well phooey on you. Orange is such a happy colour. Orange is the colour of sunsets and monarch butterflies and gold fish. Orange is the colour of oranges (Who would have thought) all sweet and juicy. And orange is the new black around here. I'm sick of the big black cloud and the black dog so I have taken a bold and huge step - colouring books. By all accounts adult colouring books are a big thing in stress relief. I have always said happiness is a big fat box of colouring pencils well now I'm putting it to the test. If nothing else it has to be a better way to lose a few hours than playing Candy Crush