Sailing, cleaning and sunshine

I don't know what I've been doing for the past week, but blogging hasn't been part of it. I complain that there aren't enough hours in the day to do everything; after yesterday I've decided the answer is to sleep a lot less.

Yesterday, B and I got up early, at 5 o'clock. I dropped him off at a local jetty so he could join a friend on a trip down the coast from Lake Macquarie to Port Hacking. There was a strong wind warning and I was a little anxious for him - he's never sailed down the coast before. As I stood on the deck of our friend's boat I wished it was me that was heading out. Feeling that familiar motion of a yacht on the water brought back so many memories for me. But I waved them off and took the dogs for a walk along the waterfront. I needed to kill some time before the petrol station opened - my car was just about out of fuel! I stopped for a cup of tea with some friends who are living nearby and watched the day brighten, the sky becoming clear and blue, and the pelicans paddling just off the shore. It was very pleasant sitting on their balcony, and not yet even 7 am.

Here are the dogs back in the car: there's my two Cavalier King Charles spaniels (Bozo and Penny) , and B's red kelpie (Blue) looking his usual imperious self.

Back home, I decided it was time to capture the current state of some of my plants: baby lemons;

Parlsey gone monstrously to seed! and

the beatifully perfumed trumpet flower. It only releases its perfume in the evening; when I step outside the house onto my terrace after dark the air is rich with scent.

At this point it is still only 8 am, and after a quick bite I decide the day is far too nice to spend inside catching up on paperwork and housework, so I clean the boat. That takes me most of the day. I also get sunburnt. At day's end I am so so tired, and quite sore - muscles as well as sunburnt skin! but my wee boat is halfway decent and I feel really satisfied. And today it is raining again, so I am catching up on the inside stuff.

B, by the way, had a really good trip down the coast. They motored all the way since there was not enough wind to sail well.

Evening delight

I was tired and not really in the mood, but had agreed to go with B to a friend's place for a sundowner. As I left the house I thought "what I really want is a good cup of tea."


These friends have a lovely, lovely property, with views down to the lake (Lake Macquarie) from almost every room. On a sunny clear-sky day the lake sparkles blue and the trees almost glow in their greenness and the whole is a total delight; on a grey day the lake is silvered if calm or ruffled dark when the wind gets up but the whole is always life-enhancing. Our hostess was feeling miserable with a horrible cold, but in her usual determined good-humoured welcoming manner, was not going to let that get in the way of anyone else's enjoyment.


The thought of tea went out the window! B arrived soon after me, and together with our host we went for a meander around the garden. The blueberry ash has soft tasselled small pink flowers dressing its branches, and the native frangipani flowers cast their sweet subtle perfume on the evening air. B picked some of the latter for my hair, and took some of the former for cuttings. The flowers wouldn't stay in my hair, so I stuck them with the blueberry ash stems into an empty wine bottle - and hey presto, we had a casual flower arrangement on the kitchen bench.


It was a good start to a lovely evening which evolved into an impromptu dinner. Our hostess took her horrible cold off to bed with her quite early, and not long after I left the men yacking and came home with my tiredness. The guys must have been having some good conversation - it was more than an hour before B followed me!

Red Shoes Ballet

On Saturday went to see "The Red Shoes" ballet at Newcastle's Civic Theatre. The ballet was beautiful and emotional. Some stunning costumes, particularly in the enchanted dance sequence, where her red shoes keep the ballerina dancing through to exhaustion. Such a shame it was accompanied by a recorded sound track rather than a live orchestra - but of course that would have added hugely to the cost, especially for this touring performace from the West Australian Ballet - it's a long way from Perth to Newcastle.

I had a delightful little girl sitting next to me; this 6 or 7 year old followed everything, and understood all the important points in the ballet, as I could tell from her excited whispered comments and questions to her mother. "He's so angry, isn't he?" "Look, they're fighting over her!" "Why is he so sad?" The auditorium had quite a few girls in the audience, some very young, but obviously would-be ballerinas.

There is such a magic in dance. Beyond my sheer admiration (and envy) for what these dancers can do with their bodies (so supple, so strong, so controlled) I am amazed at their emotional expressiveness - not a word spoken but anguish, tenderness, joy, snobbery, tension, love, happiness, fury all there in the movement.

Lightshow

B and I watched the thundergods at work last night. Sharp bright streaks and sheets and sudden glows of lightening flashed away to the south and west, and then we'd hear the great rolling roaring rumbling of the sky furniture shifting above us. We carried on enjoying our dinner, sitting outside in hot and humid air. Classic FM provided a doleful Mahler symphony in the background.
We'd almost finishing eating (stuffed zuchnni flowers and BBQ eye fillet steak and salad) when the wind arrived. We moved the spare condiments off the table and under cover just in case the rain hit strongly and suddenly. The wind danced about, first from the south then the east then the north, little puffs and eddies and all playful. A couple of drops of rain touched us. We finished our steaks and sipped our wine.
A few more drops of rain touched us. The air cooled. The wind steadied. We cleared the table, and moved upstairs, with the last of our wine, and sat on the balcony to watch the lightstorm as the storm cell moved across the sky. Then the rain arrived. Beautiful solid soaking rain.
As I write this on the following morning it is still raining, a light grey drizzle prickling the surface of the creek and my swimming pool. It seems I needn't have watered the garden yesterday.

Food for the dogs

Yesterday being my first day after submission of final assignment for the year, and therefore the first day on which I could catch up on weeks worth of domestic duties, I suddenly found it was after 2 pm, and I was (not surprisingly) hungry. And really not wanting to be bothered with foraging in my own as-yet-not-properly-restocked kitchen. So I decided to treat myself to a burger from Eats by the Creek.

I haven't patronised them since they opened, apart from the odd bottle of milk and an occasional muffin, so I thought it was time to give them a proper go. Well, the burgers from the previous incarnation, Monties, were always pretty good, and the new owners have gutted the place and installed new cookers, bench tops, fans and cool room. And it all looks cleaner and neater and more spacious.

By the time I get up there - it's only a 3 minute drive, but it takes me 20 minutes to settle the dogs and hang out the last load of washing and make sure I've got the right keys for my post box (because I haven't been collecting my snail mail recently - been too busy) and get into the care - so by the time I get their I am really really hungry. I peruse the menu, and decide on a chicken ceasar burger over the plain chicken burger. I like the idea of a bit of extra salad and bacon and cheese - and I like ceasar dressing. And then I add a small serve of hot chips.

When I place my order for the chicken ceaser burger, the woman serving asks if I've had one before. When I say no, she laughingly says I wont want any dinner after eating it. I tell her I'm hungry and that would be OK. When I add the chips to the order she laughs again and says I really won't want any dinner. I tell her I have three dogs (my two plus I'm dogsitting for B who's gone to Melbourne on grandfather duties) and I'm sure they'll help me out.

The burger is big. Quite tasty, lots of chicken schitzel, not quite enough ceaser dressing (so I add some from my fridge) and just the right amount of lettuce. My hunger is not as big as the burger, let alone the chips. It is just as well the dogs are very happy to share it with me because I do hate waste!

Progress

Dora Creek is on the up and up - there's a cash machine just been installed at the local cafe "Eats by the Creek". Before we know it we'll have traffic lights.

Well we probably need something at the intersection with the Main Road - trying to turn right out of Dora Creek means trusting your life to your accelerator, and to the brakes of the speeding gonzales racing across the bridge and around the blind corner from your left. I'm surprised that there aren't more accidents: perhaps its because the locals, living life at a more leisurely pace, are patient.

While I'm on the subject of cars, on to a related subject, fuel. Why is it that the Shell Station on the north side of Thomas St at Wallsend is always 3 cents a litre cheaper than the Shell Station on the south side of Thomas St? Always - well every time I go past, morning, noon and night.

But isn't it good to see the fuel price come down - especially now that it's summer and I don't have to travel into Newcastle several times a week. Bet it will be back up again come February!

Aches and flowers

I went downstairs just now to get my camera and came back with a pair of shoes.

I blame my sore shoulder. My very, very, very sore shoulder. I don't know how I've done it, but it hurts. I have had trouble sleeping the past couple of nights, so much so that last night I almost cried - not so much for the pain, although that was bad enough, but because I felt so helpless. Almost every movement - and not just my left-arm movements, but almost every movement I made - resulted in a short sharp intense jabbing spasm. I had no idea that my left should was so intimately involved in the rest of my body's activities. So I haven't been able to do very much these last few days.

At 5 o'clock this morning I found a comfortable position and slept deeply for a few hours. I woke up feeling much better. Heat packs, Panadol, Feldene gel and time seem to be working. But it is still difficult to concentrate. Hence the shoes instead of the camera.

And why did I want the camera?

Remember that I brought back some cuttings from my trip to Boyne Island? Well, the Walking Iris has flowered. Here she is.

Last night we went to The ACO (Australian Chamber Orchestra) recital in Newcastle. Fantastic. So much energy in this performance. The program was PROKOFIEV's Classical Symphony BRAHMS Double Concerto for violin and cello and BEETHOVEN's Symphony No.8 - but we got some end-of-year 'gifts' from Richard Tognetti and his team - a tear-producing rendition (well I had tears in my eyes) from Tchaikovsky's "Nutcracker Suite" and a beautiful, but typically sombre piece by Sebelius - I didn't catch the name. I swear that the young man playing the cello in the Brahms concerto was standing 5 inches taller after the audience applause.

I don't know that much about classical music (or about music at all) but I have really enjoyed going to the ACO concerts in Newcastle - friends have involved me in their season ticket programme. I love watching the interplay between the players - their concentration on the leader (usually, but not always Richard Tognetti); their glances across the stage; the way the lead violinist jumps up and down when she's playing. And seeing the music live provides me with a sense that the different instruments are really playing with each other - outdoing each other, chasing each other across the field of sound, teasing each other , fighting, caressing, and sometimes singing together - they are people, but in sound form. Sometimes I feel the music as lines and colour and shapes dancing and floating and jumping and swirling and strutting and fighting. Sitting there, captive for an hour or two an making the music the focus of my attention is a different experience from playing Classic FM in the background while I'm doing other things (breakfast, washing, pottering).

Before the concert we went up Darby Street for dinner. The cheap and cheerful (except for last week when it was neither) eatery we have previously patronised and which I wrote about a few days ago after an abominable meal has shut up shop. The chairs and stools are stacked on the tables inside. It is really sad.

So instead we tried Zinc - funny name for restaurant - initially I thought it was Zest, which I could have understood. It was a good choice. Cheerful helpful staff. We sat outside in their little enclosed garden, and had the place pretty well to ourselves because we were eating early. Tasty food, especially the seafood risotto, and the lamb koftas and the meatballs were good too, with distinctive flavours. We'll definitely go there again.

Archibald at Lake Macquarie

Another new experience last night: went to see the Archibald Prize 2008 winner and finalists on display at the Lake Macquarie Art Gallery. I'd never been in to the gallery before, although I have had lunch - and dinner - at the adjacent Awaba House Restaurant. It just has to be one of the most lovely locations on the Lake, with sweeping views down across the grounds to the waterfront which provide a sense of light and space.

Last night was a preview of the Regional Tour of the Archibald Prize exhibition - friends of mine are Friends of the Gallery and so I got a chance to go and as the Gallery Lady said, be without the crowds.

I wonder how crowded it will be? It is a great exhibition space and it was a pleasure to be able to wander around, with not too many other people around, to go back to and look again at some portraits, because another work had raised a question, or someone else had made a comment which made me want to go and look again at a a piece.

The last exhibition I went to was the Turner to Monet at the National Gallery in Canberra, and it was so crowded as to be uncomfortable and difficult and unenjoyable, despite the splendour of the works on display. And I had to pay for that experience - it was not money well spent.

I had to pay for last night too, but it was worth it - the music and wine and the snacks went down well, and so did the little introductory commentaries. One by Caleb Finton a local art lover whose collection will be bequeathed to the Gallery when he 'drops of his perch' as he likes to say. I've met Caleb a number of times through mutual friends, so it was good to hear a bit more of his and his family's story - Awaba House and its grounds were owned by relatives, and he has memories of Sunday lunches and climbing the trees as a boy.

The other commentary was by Leslie Rice, one of the artists in the exhibition. Such a young man, he seemed, but he has three children! This was not the first time he had entered the Archibald, but was the first time he had been selected for the exhibition. He told of going to collect his previous work from the packing room too soon; it was the night of the Prize announcement, and the NSW Art Gallery was busy. He saw an art-school acquaintance across the floor and waved; the acquaintance waved back but as Leslie turned he saw the senior packer waving too. The acquaintance did not remember him, and is now the 'Quartered drawn and hung' subject of Leslie's entry.

Personally, I found his work too dark; literally, not emotionally. Maybe it was the lighting, but it was almost impossible to make out the faint paintwork on the black velvet. Too, too subtle. What I could see was wonderful, but it was a struggle.

My favourite work? Mmmm, that is so difficult to decide - perhaps Rober Boreham's small painting "Dad what a smile" - in part because it is small, but also because of the joy and sunshine it radiates. So much of the rest is sooo serious, sombre, angst-ridden or portentous (not pretentious, although I think there is some of that there too!)

Ducklings and dragons

Last night, as we sat on the jetty enjoying a cool sundowner after a very, very hot day I spotted 4 ducklings making their way down a neighbours slipway towards the water. Mother and father duck were supervising. One by one the ducklings slipped over the edge of the slip, and sat on the water. Mother and father duck watched from the nearby lawn, then flew the last few feet to join their flock.

None of them seemed to notice the water dragon, lying flat on the nearby jetty. It didn't seem to notice them. But I wonder how many ducklings there will be tonight?

In the picture above you can just see the ducklings in the top right, and the dragon in the bottom left corner.

The sunset colours were spectacular last night: maybe it was the effect of the heat, maybe the moisture in the air. It was a relief when the cool southerly change came through at about 8 o'clock, even though it then became too windy to sit outside for dinner.