Happy anniversary to us (may contain asterisks)

It's our 7th wedding anniversary on Sunday (our second wedding that is*) and thus the 10th anniversary of the day we met. To think if M had remembered to wear her watch that night, that I would not know many of the people reading this and I would probably be a sad and lonely drunk wasting away in a Clapham bedsit. Or perhaps a world-renowned film-maker married to Liv Tyler. We'll never know, will we?

We're off to a nice place in the Hunter Valley for a celebratory long weekend. The forecast is for drizzle, but so long as they have Foxtel** I'm not too bothered.

* but that's a whole 'nother story
** for the Man Utd game, obviously. It's a tradition***
*** stemming from our first wedding*

10 years ago today

The scene: The Metro theatre, George Street, Sydney
The date: 4th November 1997
The time: 10 p.m.
The occasion: Primal Scream gig

Foxy chick: Excuse me, do you have the time?
Half-cut pommie backpacker: It's 10 o'clock - I saw them last night, they should be on in 5 minutes or so.
FC: Are you English?
HCPB: Yes.
FC: I love England.
HCPB (shiftily): Hmm...who's that bloke you're with?
FC: Steve? Oh, he's my ex.
HCPB: "...."

And that is how a combination of the Screamadelica album and M forgetting to wear a watch one night led to the existence of B1 and B2.

Thanks fellas:

It was my sister's birthday on Saturday...

2 Cool Cats

We had an inauspicious start to the weekend, when I had to take a sick day because all four of us were feeling a little groggy. We had an extremely dull day, but we appreciated the rest and felt better for it.

On Saturday night I went to see the mighty Nick Cave playing both as himself and as Grinderman - the band that do for facial hair in music what Ivan The Terrible does for facial hair in film. The dazzling version of God Is In The House alone was worth the ticket price.

On Sunday we went to a charity "family fun day" thing, and caught up with our mate Dani - that's her in the yellow cat suit. The things we do for charity.

Post birthday post mortem

Crikey, thanks to everybody who suggested ideas for M's birthday present. There were 4 of you and what was noticeable was that everybody suggested exactly the same thing, i.e. a day at a health spa. Taking all our your kind thoughts into consideration, I ended up getting her... a couple of CDs*. Don't worry though, her mum got her a voucher for a massage place so that's covered.

I had Friday off work (flexitime!) so we had a lovely relaxing, low-key weekend with the Bs. Shopping for clothes on Friday, a picnic at Lane Cove National Park on Saturday (pictured) and seeing friends at Balmoral Beach on Sunday. Other than the usual lack of sleep thanks to B2, it was pretty much how weekends should be.

* Polyphonic Spree and Taken By Trees if you're interested. This weekend we also picked up albums from PJ Harvey, Radiohead, Broooce and Wilco/Billy Bragg. Plus, I get to see this mob on Saturday - DAMN!

God - the final smackdown

ADHD Librarian and I have decided to determine the existence or otherwise of God once and for all.

Follow the debate here. (btw, at the time of writing this, I have posted a comment but it is yet to be moderated).

What do you buy the woman who has everything?

It's M's birthday on Friday, and I'm a bit stumped for a good gift. 10 year's worth of birthdays and Christmases have drained my well of inspiration - I'll never be able to reproduce the genius that was the legendary hammock (c.2004).

The trusty book/CD/DVD option is difficult without looking too selfish, as our tastes tend to overlap so much, so it always looks as if I'm just buying for myself.

M has asked for clothes, which means we would pick them out together, which means that she would choose them. Our money is all pooled anyway, so that's not really a present is it?

Then there's the silly pressie, but all I can think of is a neon sign saying "World's Best Mum", but cost would be prohibitive. Any ideas?

Grizzly man

By the way, I am aware that my previous 2 posts have been complaints about:

1) Having to sit on a sunny beach in Australia, and
2) My next holiday to Europe being too long

Not the worst things that can happen to a bloke, are they? Nevertheless, I reserve the right to be a cantankerous old git.

Grump. Grizzle. Grrr.

Tom Waits would be number one, but still

If I were to write a list of, say, the ten pop acts I would most like to see tonight, 4 of them would be Arcade Fire, LCD Soundsystem, Bjork and Billy Bragg. Each of them are top of the tree in their own corner of popland, and each is touched with genius in their own way.

The good news is that all 4 are playing Sydney in the coming months, thanks to the good people of the Big Day Out festival. The first 2 have never come down under before, and the others haven't for years, so it's a rare opportunity.

Have you guessed the bad news yet? it's that I'LL BE IN CHUFFING ENGLAND AT THE TIME! NOOOOOOO!!!

I am now seriously considering going down to Adelaide for that leg of the event, which will be when I am back in Australia. The things I do for love.

This song isn't by anyone playing the BDO, but it is the Best Song Ever:

Summer is here. Arse.

It was Labour Day long weekend here in Oz, and that traditionally means:

1) A trip to Avoca Beach
2) The onset of the Australian summer(Sydney doesn't really do seasons, actually. Spring and autumn barely exist in the way they do in England, and the winter doesn't get that cold.)
3) As a result of 1 and 2, it also means my first oh-so-reluctant trip to the beach.

I just don't get the appeal of the beach. There is no shade, no fridge, no stereo, no sofa, no DVD player. Instead of these essentials, what you get is sand. Lots and lots of irritating, sticky, blowy sand. And a whole crowd of people that are better-looking than me pretending that they are having a good time.

I inevitably end up grumpily sitting with my nose in a book waiting for the all-clear to head back to the house where I can shower off all that bloody bloody sand and get back to my Bergman movie. Now there's a guy who understood what the seaside was all about.