Spoonful Of Loh

A double-life can be harmful for your career life . . . . but why?

2010-05-21T16:14:00.001+10:00

David Campbell the NSW TRANSPORT and Roads Minister has resigned after he was caught on tape driving his ministerial car to a gay sex club.

I don't see what the fuss is all about, meaning the gay sex club thingie. So far, most people I 'talked" to seem sympathetic, they simply don't give a toss about a politician's private life (okay, except as goz over a cuppa) as long as their public duty are performed to and/or above the mark.

All the hoopla about "double-life in private" = "untrustworthiness in public" is simply balderdash. A double-life in the sexual sense is at best a coping mechanism and is a private matter between Campbell and his family. His wife might want to lob off his nuts and chuck him out onto the streets, but that's another story. Us? We should arrest our faux self-righteousness and let the man be.

If any witch-hunt is to be conducted, it should be for the bloody cowardly snitch/es who tipped the media on to Campbell's activities on that fateful night.

Non je ne regrette nien Janey

2010-05-12T08:58:00.000+10:00

Need I say more? A retired cleaner channeling Edith Piaf always makes my day. Oh okay, go ahead, poke fun at her "huh?" when asked her name but trust me, Janey might just become the next pin-up girl for men out there who are let's just say, of a certain age. There's something about that bloody non je ne regrette nien song that stirs your innards whenever you hear it, every time.

Janey, you go girl!

Mom's the word

2010-05-02T11:45:00.000+10:00

Occasionally, the NSW State do get it right. The Story Time Program, a pioneering program in Emu Plains Correctional Centre, is attempting to bring the voices of female inmates into the bedrooms of their children. Audio recordings of the inmates reading stories are pressed onto CDs with professional assistance and subsequently delivered to their children as a way to maintain the bond between mother and child.

This program while groundbreaking in NSW, has been used elsewhere in the world, e.g. in USA as far back as 1997, so what took it so long to reach here is something worth mulling over.

We would like to think the NSW Correctional Services Minister Phil Costa got this gem of an idea on one of his tax-payer funded trips overseas, wouldn't we? Alright, it was a cheap shot and I take it back. Every step forward is a step forward and Mr Costa has my applause for backing the program. AND I don't often get the chance to clap these days . . . so here goes - *clap, clap*

In case you are asking, yes it can and should be done for dads as well.

Saving face for $25,000

2010-04-27T18:32:00.000+10:00

The board of trustees of the Art Gallery of NSW has decided not to revoke the $25,000 Wynne Prize from the winning artist Sam Leach despite public outcry after it came to light Leach "appropriate" his entry from a 16th century Dutch work.

Apparently the board's decision was unanimous and while they noted Leach's painting had the "light and air" of a Dutch 17th-century landscape, they also recognised "its quality and its mysterious implications of the natural world . . . in that sense it is an idealised landscape, one where time and place are indistinct." . . . . never mind that the Wynne Prize is awarded for "the best landscape painting of Australian scenery oils or watercolours or for the best example of figure sculpture by Australian artists completed during the 12 months preceding the [closing] date ..."

I don't know. I think the whole thing stinks of "saving face" and while I concede the trustee boards' decision is final, I greatly doubt if they have earned the trust of the public in the process.

Good luck to them.

I need a stiff drink . . .

2010-04-12T09:05:00.002+10:00

I don't know why this is (even) considered newsworthy and even more puzzled why I am posting about it except to say, "Kate sweetie, there are much bigger problems out there in the world, really I kid you not, so grow up! Asides, you are marrying into royalty, small price to pay for the right to wear a tiara so why the feck care where you will be married in as long as you are married to the right clown crown."

Would you hit it?

2010-04-11T10:38:00.000+10:00

No, I am not calling Tom Williams it, the "it" actually refers to that gross crop of freakish nuclear-waste green/turquoise (?) fringe sitting on top of his head.

And you know what? This young freak creep unsuccessful Australian Idol contestant is currently in Sydney promoting his debut single LOL despite a fractured eye-socket sustained from an assault by six men, an incident he squarely blamed on the organisers of AI for not "providing contestants with adequate support after the show."

I do wonder what sort of support Williams is harping on about.

Bodyguards?
Better parents?
What?

If Williams is at all worried about the exposure why go on AI at all? And is he not going to blame the Daily Telegraph people for "exposing" him in this crap article accompanied with an equally crap image, displaying that 欠打 (kiam pak - in hokkien meaning "due for a thrashing") face fringe?

Really, some people will say anything to grab a sales.

Without comprise . . . something's missing at Minh

2010-04-07T16:44:00.000+10:00

If you like Vietnamese food in a cheap and cheerful home-prepared kinda way, Minh will appeal to you, in buckets-load.

The menu (circa 2006) is extensive, the prices non-expensive but I thought the portions can do with a bit of increase in size, especially like in our case where there's four to dine. The service is attentive without being invasive although they are quite insistent on clearing our plates once our cutlery cease moving.

Don't get me wrong, the flavours are not bad (but also not great) and I would stay away from the prawn crackers which was soft, chewy and has a strange bitter bite to it. Perhaps we should have ordered the goat curry and "ba ba ba" (333 beer) but we didn't so let's just say I wasn't completely seize by my Minh experience.

Oh alright, we will go back for another go. Will let you know if when that happens.

Minh - our own style of Vietnamese food.

Our table number, handwritten by the waiter when we sat down.

There were four of us to dinner, and we got exactly four pieces of prawn cracker. At least the waiter could count.

Fresh prawn roll

Beef with betel leaf

Green curry chicken

Chilli prawn

Roast duck salad

Fresh cut chillies in fish sauce

You can see why I say the menu is circa 2006, can't you?

ON a different track. except for the "something's missing" bit, I saw the following signage along Oxford Street one arvo . . . .

"Construction without comprise" Comprise or . . .

. . . . Compromise?

As you can see, some pedantic pedestrian attempted to correct the situation.

Well, the owner of the signage has a better idea. Like all mistakes, all "comprise" got was a whitewash. Sadly, it wasn't even a proper job . . .

Minh

506 Marrickville Road

Dulwich Hill 2203 NSW

tel: +61 (02) 9560 0465

Sydney Royal Easter Show

2010-04-05T14:43:00.001+10:00

This is my fourth visit to the Sydney Royal Easter Show in the ten years I lived here and tell you what, I still love it. It is over-priced and you basically see and smell the same old stuff but hey, it is one of it's kind and you can't say you've lived (in Oz anyway) if you have never done the Sydney Royal Easter Show.

So, it was one bright and cheerful Thursday morning when Joy, John and I got into our show gear and jumped on the train and got out to Sydney Showground to join thousands of like-minded denizens for a binge at the SRES. We did heaps and the below images are just some of it captured for your pleasure.

If you haven't already been to the show, or have no plans to do so, or plan to do this instead, I've only got this to tell you - GO TO THE SYDNEY ROYAL EASTER SHOW or I will come after you and hunt you down.

Stanmore Station

The morose feeling you can only get from looking at the rear end of a departing train . . .

I don't understand why this box of unfinished chips was left here - for the birds? for the cleaners so they can earn their keep? for @#$%'s sake?

I knew it, there was no escaping the hordes of boisterous little people.

What a bunch!

Taking the cake, as well as the prize.

Erm, non-perishable?

"Would you like a cup of tea?", a prize-winning portrait.

A poignant painting of the Hopetoun Hotel in Surry Hills, closed in September 2009, after succumbing to (hearsay) pressures from the local council.

I love this!

This image of an Eucalyptus is simply majestic, while the gaze upwards as imposed by the artist is quite humbling. No wonder it won a prize!

Alice In Wonderland themed cake decoration.

Dim-sum or cake decoration? Both, in fact!

Some people can knit - look, Mrs Santa Claus has blusher on her cheeks.

Tree of life - an art display using potatoes, onions and the like.

Hidden message - DIET

It was indeed a beautiful day to be out and about.

John opted for bangers and mash for his lunch hit.

I had the humbugburger - it wasn't very good, I'm afraid.

Look for the man in red standing at the far end of the pole - he only begin to chop 164 seconds after the first woodchopper commenced and still came in FIRST! What a chopper!

The little people getting ready for cup-cake decoration.

Have you ever wanted to paint a cow? Now you can, at the SRES no less.

This is really quite cute, if not for the stench.

I wanted one of these gorgeous alpacas for a pet . . .

. . . and then conclude they can perhaps be a little prima-donna-esque?

Wheel of fortitude.

One of the few spots that is bereft of people, where we enjoyed strawberries with fresh cream. Heaven!

A stylized dragonfly.

Charity does not begin at home . . .

2010-03-23T16:33:00.002+11:00

. . . well, it would seem so if you work for Vinnies, going by what transpired today at the Vinnies center in Newtown.

I was minding my own business, having a look-see at the racks of clothing when intermittently I heard a masculine voice lamenting " . . . why are these things arranged in this manner . . . ", " . . . this is not the way . . . ", " . . . everything is in a shambles . . .", " . . . and you wonder why sales are down . . . " and a female voice, softly but firmly saying, " . . . I respect what you'd just said . . . but I strongly object to it . . ."

This sounds all too familiar. It has all the markings of a manager talking DOWN to his subordinate. And of course I put one and one together -

a. The female is likely a store manager or even a cluster manager and have applied some change to the store presentation.

b. The male is her superior (in rank, I mean, not necessarily in skill) and didn't seem to like nor appreciate what she had done and decided it was just this very initiative that had caused (recent) sales to go down.

c. So, he let rip into her, right on the selling floor. Quite uncharitably so, if you asked me.

Truly, store presentation may affect sales but to state that poor store presentation is the only reason why sales has gone down is bullshit. Poor sales numbers can also be due to many other factors, some or all occurring at the same time. I can name you one: displaying poor managerial behaviour on the selling floor.

Heavens know in my previous life as a Division Manager in the retail industry I have on more than one occasion felt like reaching out to wring the neck of a subordinate. Yes, felt like. And that was all there is to it, and also right where it stops. You may be the manager but believe you me, you DON'T get the luxury of executing that "felt like". Even if you want to make a point, angry gestures notwithstanding, the place to do it is so NOT on the sales floor. There is this thing call staff-room or stockroom; all retail stores have some kind of equivalent.

Sadly, this sort of "I am your manager so I can talk like that to you" scenario is not uncommon in retail. I witness these sort of drama every now and then, but it is a first for me in Vinnies and a definite eye-opener. And of course, driving home the point that Vinnies centers are run as profit-centers, hence all these bs sales KPIs.

How did the sorry episode ends? I didn't stick around to find out, I am not curious like that. However, I did overheard a staff relating the incident to an acquaintance-cum-customer, emphatically stating he (the staff) is "100% behind her".

" . . . everything is in a shambles . . . "

Or is it?

LL Wine & Dine

2010-03-18T14:56:00.005+11:00

I wasn't quite sure what to tell you about LL Wine & Dine when my lazy fingers took me to their website.

"Evoking the essence of a vibrant Hong Kong style wine bar and the atmosphere of Melbourne’s eclectic bar scene, LL is tucked away in the heart of cosmopolitan Potts Point in the emerging new Llankelly Place laneway."

So, there! Yet another fusion thingie.

And be told right now and right here the owners are of Ozzie-Oriental parentage. Yes, owners - there are three of them, all brothers, we were told. Surely that should be fusion enough for you cynical bastards out there.

And what do I think of the grub? Some hits (see images below), some misses, although my cohort of yum-cha kakis all gave thumbs-up to the two jars of cocktail juice, both in flavour and value.

Oh, when you make it to LL Wine & Dine, make sure you go to the back and oggle at the montage of risque pics on the wall. Apparently the owners found a big box of these when renovating the premises and decided to put them up on a wall, you know, to pay homage to the place's historic past.

writing on the mirrored-wall . . .

the live-music was way too loud for our Sunday hangover

if you can't hide 'em, show 'em!

a dash of Hong Kong chic - just a dash

Chee Chee Mule - Lychees and limes muddled, then shaken with 42 Below Vodka and lychee juice topped with ginger beer and a hint of cinnamon

LL Cool Sling - Instead of Bacardi 8, we opted for 42 Below Vodka with fresh lime, pineapple and orange juice served tall over ice with passionfruit and a dash of vanilla

Peking duck pancake

Spicy wonton

BBQ pork roll

Fried Rice

LL Wine & Dine
42 Llankelly Place
Potts Point
T: +61 (02) 9356 8393
www. llwineandine.com.au

Yawn . . . do we really need this?

2010-03-11T12:39:00.002+11:00

I don't do this for free, you know?

$1 million and a two-year deal to tell Lara Bingle side of the story, is this Max Markson for real? Who the bloody hell is he kidding? Bingle is probably worth a million moolah (just kidding), but I certainly can't see why she will need two years to tell her side of the story. This whole sorry state of affairs is getting quite (sic) rich, isn't it? With agents like this mad Max no wonder Bingle is copping it bad with the public. It's time to get back to real (success) stories, like this one for instance.

Perama

2010-03-10T16:49:00.000+11:00

The thing about not being Greek is that I can tuck into modern Greek grub with glee and impunity; there is no risk of disapproving side-eye or tsk, tsk from the elders. So what if they think that this Chinese man is mad. Last Wednesday, the eight of us descended on Perama to savour David Tsirekas's version of Greek food and tell you what, I like it.

Okay, Tsireka didn't use Persian feta on his Greek salad but why should he? The Greek feta though a little coarser, is more robust and makes a more daring composition.

Mixed Plate - the smoked eggplant and olive paste were super-yummy although I thought the paximadia can be a little less brittle.

Haloumi Cheese with Honey Peppered Dates - a superb combination of sweet and savoury flavours.

Pork Belly Baklava - you know how I love my pork belly :) Tsireka's version is an excellent alternative to partaking this piece of God-morsel.

Ouzo Prawn Hilopities - I love this dish. It was cooked to perfection! The garlic hits you just when you let your guard down. Very perverse, very nostimos!

Monkfish Kakavia - I only managed a tiny, tiny sliver because I am not mad keen on fish and it's like but my dining companions were all ooh-ing and ah-ing so it must have been okay.

Chicken Melitzana - if I have to nitpick, this is probably the weakest of all the dishes we had that evening. A little bland, I thought.

Lamb Shanks Avgolemono - the meat is tender and juicy and falls apart when you poke it. The lemon sauce makes you want to cry for more. More!

Baklava Ice Cream - unusual, and delightful.

Poached Plums - okay, I guess. *shrugs*

BBQ Figs - this is excellent and you must order this when you go to Perama. Must!

Ceiling motif of the upstairs dining area.

Dining room where we sat, and ate.

Tulips in the unisex toilet, fake I think.

You would think "LADIES" should already know by now?

Perama Greek Restaurant

88 Audley Street

Petersham 2049 NSW

tel - +61 (02) 9569 7534

perama@iprimus.com.au

I'll be the judge . . .

2010-02-21T11:34:00.000+11:00

"Well, @#$% me, how can that licejack(ass) get gold when he can't even quad?" Plushenko thought as he rolled his eyeballs.

"Well, @#$% you, I win you lose that's it. Period." Lysacek replied to Plushenko's thoughts.

Sometimes you just got to let your ego all hang out. Take three time figure-skating world champion Yevgeny Plushenko for instance. He just couldn't figure (sic) out why the judges at the Vancouver Olympics gave the gold to Evan Lysacek even though he (Plushenko) decided "my spin is not bad, my steps are not bad, my performance here was much better than in the European championships, I had transitions, I had more choreography. . . . ". I too am flummoxed. After all, don't you just grab gold simply for letting your ego go on public display?

He didn't do anything illegal!

2010-02-20T16:22:00.000+11:00

"Well, there goes my First Class ticket back to Thailand for hols, @#$%", Kultida Woods thought to herself as she sat listening to Tiger doing his lame "leave my wife and kids alone" spiel.

If you haven't already heard Tiger Woods' staged-apology *yawn* to the world (meaning USofA), you might be forgiven for thinking Kultida Woods has a bad case of verbal diarrhea. Apparently mommy Woods thought the media has been treating her goldmine son with double-standard contempt. Well, why wouldn't she? If Tiger goes down, so would her Lexus. And you know there is no fury like a woman about to lose a Lexus.

Making our dreams come true

2010-02-11T11:33:00.000+11:00

"Schlemiel, schlimazel, hasenpfeffer incorporated!"

Who can forget Laverne (de Fazio) & Shirley (Wilhelmina Feeney), the two ballsy gals from Milaukee? I love them. It's been reported Garry Marshall, one of the creator of the show and the brother of Penny Marshall who played Laverne, is remaking the hit TV series with Jessica Biel and Jennifer Garner.

Well, well, well. Stranger things can and have happened. I for one wouldn't mind a remake I am not nostalgic in that way. Anything that ain't broken could be given a fix, every now and then. Why the hell not?

But still, Biel and Garner . . . hmm . . . I don't know. What do you think?

Penny Marshall and Cindy Williams will always be Laverne & Shirley

Don't I look Laverne to you? Purrrrrrrrrrr

What? Don't I look Shirley to you? Grrrrrrrrrr

Edinburgh Military Tattoo in Australia

2010-02-06T18:48:00.001+11:00

The Edinburgh Military Tattoo has come to town and thanks to Jane and Joy, I arrived at the Sydney Football Stadium with a lump in my throat and a bounce in my steps. Like a kid in a candy store, clutching a two-dollar coin tightly in his little fist, wanting to buy just about everything in sight. The whole thing took two hours and a bit to get through and I was transfixed throughout. There's something about burly men in flowing skirts, huffing and puffing into bagpipes that is simply quite stirring. I don't know why. If you do, drop me a line.

The view from from where we sat.

The sky got dark real quick.

A little odd but yes, there was a brief indigenous dance of some description. A bit of Australiana infusion, I guess.

The pipe bands from Australia and UK doing a combine thingie, very impressive and mesmerizing; putting a lump in your throat.

There's also formation; here you see a cross . . . .

. . . . stretching bigger . . and bigger . . .

. . . and then breaking into circles.

The tiny New Zealand Army Band put in a huge performance. They were very good, even throwing some ballet movements and haka.

The NSW Police Mounted Display. The horseys were very-well trained, and behaved.

One of the many horsey formations.

What you won't be able to see are the droppings of the horseys.

The grand finale.

A display of fireworks followed the finale.

Oohs and aahs accompanied each explosive burst.

Lots of crackles and pops.

Yeah, going out with a bang.

We got really good seats, thanks to Jane and Joy.

I am a very famous model

2010-02-05T10:01:00.000+11:00

Well, don't say I didn't tell you. The next time you face up to the good people call the police, don't, and I repeat don't, utter the killer line, "I am a very famous model". It will cop you a pair of handcuffs on your wrists.

We can all take a leaf from Nick-i-am-a-very-famous-model-Snider. But seriously, I think it was Snider's usage of silly superlatives which proved to be his undoing. I mean it is one thing to claim one is famous; but VERY famous? C'mon, it's too early in the morning for jokes.

I am a VERY famous model

Sloppy journos

2010-02-04T10:05:00.000+11:00

A Daily Telegraph headline, "Giacometti sculpture sells for a record $73 million" grabbed my attention, I love Giaometti's stuff. But what I didn't quite grasp was the newspaper's claim of $73 million being a "world record for an art auction" when the previous record stood at $117.58 million. The maths just didn't stack up. So I went to The Australian and voila, the same article with the same claim. Now, what are the chances of two papers running exactly the same copy. On scrutiny I realized the article was a feed from AAP. Ah, that explains it: lazy journalism. Somebody along the chain of feed made a mistake in the currency conversion and nobody bothered enough to spot the mistake. Not even the editor.

I say, $73 million is whole lot more than $117.58 million.

Hey, I'd say the same too.

The 65 million sterling pounds answer

@#$% the mistake; look at moiye, look at moiye . . .

Have gadget will slice . . .

2010-01-24T13:58:00.000+11:00

I don't know about you but I like gadgets, especially those "why-didn't-I-think-of-that" contraptions that help improve (my) life. Take this mango slicer, for instance. How did I ever live to eat mangoes before this gadget appeared in my life will remain a mystery. I love it. You'd have to; don't you just love the green and gold colours?

The mango slicer, don't eat mangoes without it.

Grab an unpeeled mango.

Place it on the cradle. The pointy bit at the bottom of the cradle help the mango stay in position.

Place the slicer on top of the mango. Grip the handles on each side and apply pressure downwards.

That's right, continue to exert pressure . . .

. . . until the slicer glides over the cradle.

And voila! Your mango is sliced, sir.

Bloom . . . bloom for me.

2010-01-24T13:31:00.000+11:00

March last year, I arm-twisted a friend into giving me a cutting of this exotic beauty below called epiphyllum or moonflower cactus if you'd prefer a more romantic namesake.

At that point of time, the cutting has no flowers nor buds, and nary a hint of promise that it will ever flower, and truly I didn't harbour any hopes either. I was told in some cases, it take years before any flowering takes place.

But lo and behold, on Boxing Day last year, there was a whitish pink bulbous flower dangling in a sad drooping-manner from the flat leaf of the moonflower cactus and I knew we missed the blooming of the flower the night before. You see, this bloody moonflower cactus is a night-bloomer, and even then the flower will only last the night and that's it. I was quite upset since I don't know when the next one is going to appear, i.e. if it's going to appear at all.

Fast forward January 10, 2010 and there it was, not one but two buds! I burst into smiles, gone back several times during the day to observe them. They took a long time to grow, I thought. Anyhow, I decided I will have to be patient.

January 15 was a terrible day; I saw one of the smaller bud has fallen off the leaf (meaning kaput, gone to cacti kingdom, whatthebloodyever) although the other one has elongated into a spear-like bulb. My spirits though dampened but was sustained by the obvious progress of the surviving bulb.

Damn, my life has really gone to ground, you'd think?

And then disaster: last night there was a cool change and it was blustery. At midnight, while reading in bed, I suddenly had a nudge to go check out the moonflower cactus but because it was wet and nasty out there, I convinced myself the bulb will be like me all cuddled up. I mean why would it want to bloom on a bloody night like this?

You can imagine how upset I was this morning - it looked like the @#$%ing bulb did decided to bloom last night. @#$%, @#$%, @#$%. If I have learned anything from this episode it will be, time and epiphyllum will wait for no one.

Two buds, one dead and lying on the ground. The other became spear-like.

The curved-stem pushes the bulbous bud upwards, very oriental-looking.

I know, it's quite penis-like, isn't it?

Showing great promise of bloom.

Saturday evening - so ready to bloom tonight!

Sunday morning - you're too late, much too late.

Oh well, just not my time, this time.

2042

2010-01-08T17:40:00.000+11:00

I spotted 2042 in one of my (many) traipsing though Newtown. On the day, it looked invitingly cheerful and the people looked happy to be there so I made a mental note to give it a go. The "go" opportunity arose when John and I decided we needed brekky at midday yesterday.

And tell you what, I like it.

The place is set-up like an Italian deli where a wide array of cheeses, charcuterie, relishes, breads and other goodies greeted you like long-lost friends, and the service staff treat you like one as well. If I have to nitpick and I will, it will have to be the so-called "Free High Speed Internet" where it under-delivered on an over-promise - it is free but so not high speed. Anyhow if and when you find yourself in Newtown, give 2042 a go.

Oh, in case you haven't figure it out, 2042 is also the postcode of the cafe's location. There!

Rustic charm of 2042's interior.

At last count, there were 29 varieties of cheese.

So pretty, right?

What I'd call the Cozy Corner, if not for the three moms who took over the whole area with their little brats ones. Have you noticed how gigantic prams have become? One of the mom even pushed her pram around as though it is a battering ram, expecting diners to make way with nary an "excuse me". How bloody rude.

For the little brats people.

Look what they did to my flat-white!

John's Wagyu beef sanger, with melted cheese and arugula.

My scrambled eggs with spicy chorizo and tiny tomatoes on turkish bread - fabulously delicious.

The menu - simple and non-fussed.

2042 Cafe & Deli
403-405 King Street

Newtown NSW 2042
T: +61 (02) 9550 2500

A convenient response?

2010-01-05T14:54:00.001+11:00

The Indian Government has been throwing a hissy fit . . . . .

. . . . over the slaying of Nitin Garg. I don't blame them. You lash out when in grief.

But they have been eerily silent about Chamanjot Singh, one of their own who slit the throat of Manpreet Kaur, another of their own.

So, what is going on here?

Leave Santa alone!

2009-12-17T17:58:00.001+11:00

Is nothing sacrosanct anymore?

Nathan Grills, a public health fellow at Monash University's Department of Epidemiology and Preventative Medicine deliberately chose Christmas time to accuse Santa of promoting obesity, unhealthy products, disease and even drink driving.

WTF

Listen, Nathan sweetie - there is no Santa, so take your attention-grabbing theory and stuff it.

Nathan Grills - living proof too much country air can affect your brain cells

Santa coming to a mall near you

2009-12-02T21:21:00.008+11:00

According to WBJ (Westfield Bondi Junction, for those of you non-mall rats out there), "Santa arrived at Westfield Bondi Junction on Saturday 14 November 2009 . . . would love to have his photo taken with you on his magical Santa sleigh." As to why Santa can also be at the same time in other Westfield malls is however, not made clear to us.

Nonetheless, if you are willing to suspend (dis)belief and buy into the Santa spirit, it can be quite jolly, watching I mean. I don't know if I will ever find enough courage to ask to sit on Santa's lap. And I am truly impressed, these people have honed the whole Santa photography operation into a slick well-oiled routine.

What would they think of next? Youtube with Santa?

"Will you get a move on it, mate? Santa don't have all day, and neither do I." said the sequined-elf to the creepy crawler.

When you made it to Santa's sleigh, you sit with Santa to have your photo taken although I am not exactly sure if you can sit on Santa's lap these days.

Get expert advice on which one is going to be your best shot. And I don't mean mom, who will take all day to decide.

Next, you take your best shot to the booth and select the photography package you want.

And then you wait. And wait, and wait, and wait.

BTW, I do hope they are paying the sequined-elf well, she will need all the funds to go for therapy after being in that garish suit all day.

"There you go, young lady. Your photos turn out beautifully." lied the man at the booth.

I know, they thought of everything. After getting your best shot processed into photos or cards, you can also have it framed in one of these contraptions, at an additional price, of course.

And if you are bored while waiting for your photos to be ready, why not write Santa a letter although you might wonder why since Santa is just a sleigh away, literally.

It does look better in reality, I blame my iPhone for letting me take such a lousy shot.

Oh, go on . . . you know you want to

2009-12-01T10:08:00.005+11:00

Yep, you are looking at the new leader of the Liberal Party. Tony Abbott edged out Malcolm Turnbull by a margin of 42 - 41 in a leadership spill this morning.

A conspicuous absence at the spill was Fran Bailey, who was probably . . . .

. . . . doing this in one corner of the room?

Well, there you go. Malcolm Turnbull beaten by a slumbering log.

Ceviche

2009-11-29T21:20:00.000+11:00

There is nothing I like more than sitting down to a meal with friends. Okay, there is one thing I like more than sitting down to a meal with friends; that would be sitting down to a fabulous meal with friends.

A blustery wind and very warm reception from the service staff greeted us when we arrived at Ceviche last evening. It seems almost the entire service team is on familiar terms with our friend cum dining companion, Linc. And let me tell you, this kind of coziness invariably beget great service.

I should hasten to make it clear great service is not merely "orders taken correctly, food served in a timely manner". These are what we pay for and should (already) be a given. Great service is that little bit more interest and attention paid to what is going on at our table resulting in our dining needs being attended to without us having to raise (even) an eyebrow. Great service is being told we are the best customers, ever, and that it is all about us, and what else can they do to make our dining experience more pleasurable. Otherwise, why would we return?

And we were not disappointed by the team at Ceviche last evening.

Friendship is the wind beneath our wings.

Crusty baguette with duo dips - olive oil with balsamic vinegar and chickpea.

Amuse-buche of prawn with avocado and parsley coulis.

Starter no.1 - seared scallop with serrano ham on cauliflower puree and parsley coulis. The scallop is a little under-cooked for my personal taste but it was a good foil against the crispy ham and buttery soft puree.

Starter no.2 - glazed duck livers with braised baby leeks and poached quail egg. The liver is definitely over-cooked I think the kitchen miscalculated the timing on this one. The quail egg on the hand was poached to perfection, white is white and yellow is yellow.

Starter no.3 - ceviche of sea perch, salmon and scallops with crispy bikkie and what tasted like seafood sauce but is actually a very tasty roasted capsicum sauce. Easily the best of the three starters. For those not in the know, ceviche is a Peru-originated dish of citrus-marinated seafood. My friend Linc, a chef extraordinaire and a Chilean to boot might have something to say about this, but this is my blog so he can take it like a chef or leave it like a Chilean. :)

Main no.1 - slow-roasted veal rack with porcini mushroom risotto and veges.

Main no.2 - same as Main no.1 but a gluten and dairy-free version.

Main no.3 - crispy pork belly with caramelised apple on a bed of kumera mash. A little too much fatty bits but otherwise perfect composition of flavours; smokey, savoury and with just a hint of sweetness.

Main no.4 - crispy duck with glazed pears. Simply perfect, to my preference and can give the duck dishes I had in my recent holiday in France a quack for their euros!

Ceviche, the restaurant you want to go to.

Great friends and dining companions extraordinaire - Linc and Bryan

Class act, but which class?

2009-11-27T18:21:00.000+11:00

This lady, and I use that term quite loosely, was snapped giving Malcolm Turnbull the finger when he took her taxi. She also reportedly threw in an expletive. Wow, I didn't know we have such colourful creatures gracing our Sydney landscape. These are exactly the kind of denizens we need in the parliament. As they'd say, a finger sinks a thousand shits ships

Thanksgiving @ Linda's

2009-11-24T11:02:00.004+11:00

It was a scorching Sunday and there we were, the ten of us, imbibing the elixir of friendship over a fabulous meal of Thanksgiving fare. Don't worry, you don't have to flee, there is no soliloquy on the why's and where's of Thanksgiving, well, not this time anyway.

As before, yes this is our third Thanksgiving at Linda's, the token American in our midst, we were to bring something to the table. While Linda graciously provided the turkey, the stuffings fillings, the cranberry salad, the coffee, the venue, the warm hospitality, the other Linda brought vegetables, Edwina the place-cards, Jeanne the sweet potatoes, Marg the pumpkin pie and moi the hors d'oeuvres.

In addition, we were also to each bring a personal item for our "show and share" with a tweak, the tweak being the items will be each presented in turn and we are to guess who the item belongs to and what was the specialness before the owner give his/her version of the specialness. You may not think much of this because you are a cold-hearted cynic but when played in it's true spirit, it can raise a goose-bump, or two.

We most definitely can do this Thanksgiving thingie again. And again, and again, and . . .

"No, my sweet petal, I cannot give you my secret recipe for the turkey." Linda bravely stood up to the unidentified outstretched arm.

The table ready to receive the Thanksgiving horde.

A platter fit for a king turkey.

Isn't this pretty?

My chair at the table, and also my kind of chair. The legs are so Philippe Starck.

Ready for coffee, tea, or me.

Witty place-cards, courtesy of Edwina.

How appropriate, Darrell is our preferred carver of the turkey.

And here's Edwina. I mean her place-card.

Hors d'oeuvres - prosciutto wrapped dates with pecorino heart, devilled eggs, and pancetta boat with goat cheese and grape slice.

The star of the table - Linda's secret-recipe-cooked-to-perfection turkey.

The same turkey, from a different angle.

The turkey looking majestically succulent.

Darrell's arms executing their turkey-carving duty with aplomb.

Another family secret recipe, Linda's never-fail cranberry salad.

The after(meal)math.

Show and share.

Pumpkin pie, mine is a larger-than-others slice.

"You like my pie? So do I!", says Marg, the Pie Maker Extraordinaire.

Espresso, the perfect companion for the pumpkin pie.

The magnificent staghorn in Linda's backyard.

And here she is, our hostess with the mostest, the incomparable Ms Linda.

a heap of Hulk

2009-11-18T16:57:00.000+11:00

Well, well, well, Hulk Hogan as you've never seen him before. It seems a kerfuffle broke out at a Hulkamania press conference in Sydney and before you can say "bloody Hogan hell", Hogan was found slumped on the floor, bleeding profusely from the head. Don't flame me but dare I say it could jolly well be a bloody act for promoting the wrestling circus Hogan is bringing to Australia?

Mornings with Eveleigh

2009-11-15T11:46:00.002+11:00

John and I finally made it to Eveleigh Market after hearing about it for the longest time. It is not that we are immune to EM's allure but John and I do have our Saturday routine and as you would know, routine like bad habits, are hard to break. So, we were really glad when our friends Jane and Joy took pains to yank us off our routine carousel and delivered us to EM.

It was a brilliant sunny morning when we arrived at EM, armed with chiller bags and green bags and a sense of adventure. It being our maiden visit, we walked the length of the market to have a recce of the produce and products on offer. We liked what we saw. And made mental note of what will go into our shopping bags.

I won't try to relive the whole experience here but here are some tips to make your experience a little more enjoyable -

a. Go early. You want the vendors to give you maximum attention.

b. Ask questions. You be surprised what you learn about the produce and product you are taking home.

c. Bring bags. You are expected to do your part for the environment, so don't forget your chiller bag, green bags, that sort of carrying contraption.

d. Bring pets. You will be the centre of attention. Okay, there will be stiff competition but isn't your pet always the prettiest?

e. Take cash. You should have loose change and small notes. This is not the supermarket, you know.

If you think this word spell "MARKET" you are correct!

Don't let the empty street fool you, there are already plenty people astir.

Welcome to Eveleigh Market

Carriageworks - Sydney's new home for contemporary arts.

Before the madding crowd rush . . . believe me, this is the time to be at Eveleigh Market if you are the type who take your hunting and gathering seriously.

One can't shop on an empty stomach.

My brekky of bacon and egg roll; the bacon is crisp and savoury, and the egg buttery soft, hitting the right spot in my tummy . . .

. . . and this is the young thing responsible for my breakfast joy this morning.

A dash of celebrity in the morning wouldn't hurt.

Kylie Kwong seen here spruiking porcine virtues with her pork supplier.

An organic lamb eye of loin here nearly emptied our wallet.

Scott Wilson of HVPM producer of Glenelg Black Angus smiling for my iPhone. Yes, we did get a butt fillet from him, I mean how could you resist that smile?

Brilliant Food, brilliant ocean trout, brilliant packaging.

Pretty cheese all in a row, of sorts.

Say cheese . . . my hands were itching to rearrange the display into a smiley face.

The veges are so fresh you just want to eat it right on the spot.

A punnet of strawberries for $3, berry cheap isn't it?

The kind of jam I love in the morning rush hours. Guess which ones we bought?

Flowers in bloom, waiting to go to a good home. Two bunches of irises came home with us for a mere $10, not bad huh?

Our morning at Eveleigh was simply like this, parfait!

Nokia N900

2009-11-12T09:53:00.005+11:00

Isn't it fabulous? I hope it is as good for you as it was for me. Best enjoyed with the volume control set at the maximum level.

Our name is Love

2009-11-09T20:12:00.016+11:00

The day couldn't have been more perfect for a wedding. Sunshine aplenty, the air retaining just the right degree of chill. It was a clear day and you could see forever, putting a spring in our steps.

I suppose there is something to be said about being in a church that makes one . . . compliant? The guests were well-behaved, speaking if at all only in whispers and refraining from using their cameras during the ceremony, much to the minister's delight. We all stood when we were told to stand, ditto sit, although our (lack of) attendance in Presbyterian church ongoing became blatantly clear when it came to hymnal time. Only a handful knew the tunes, even fewer hit the notes. But no matter, we had a grand time.

And the bride walked down the aisle to Steve Jablonsky's uber moving "My name is Lincoln".

When the newly weds exchanged their "I do", I suddenly recalled reading somewhere something about how you don't just marry someone you think you can live with, you marry someone you can't live without.

These two are clearly made for each other.

. . . . . .

St Peter's in North Sydney, where the wedding ceremony took place. Beautiful day, wonderful church, gorgeous couple - what a perfect occasion!

The elegant programme du jour - from the collective efforts of the groom, the bride and the bride's mom.

. . . Perfect Peace, Perfect Love, Perfect Life. simply Perfect.

Down this aisle the bride will go to say, "I do".

The dashing I-am-not-nervous groom. Simply irresistible, as the bride will ought to say.

The Maley, Young and Oldknow 2/12 mechanical organ in St Peter's, installed 1885. If you are into organs and that sort of contraption, you might like to know it's stats.

Don't you just love the white lilies?

Pam and Terry, the bride's vivacious parents who are married for 36 years; to each other, in case you get any funny ideas.

Yay, we are married and you are now mine . . . and what's yours is also mine . . . as Karen reached for Duncan's wallet.

The bride's family and the newly weds beaming for the camera.

Cousins joining in for a happy snap.

Friends of bride's parents putting their best front forward.

Mother of the groom putting in her bit to capture the happy moments.

Nana and the newly weds. These people looked to be natural smilers, don't you think?

The groom's family and their latest addition, posing for the camera.

Matt giving the bride a brotherly tease in the Drawing Room of the Observatory Hotel. Terry seems to be saying, "Go get 'em, tiger!"

". . . . we will always be there for you, Karen."

The newly weds hanging on to every word Terry said. Not a dry eye in the room.

Table setting in the Dining Room of the Observatory Hotel, where the wedding banquet was held. Very elegant.

First flavour - my choice is a red onion tart with prosciutto and baby rockets, on a streak of aged balsamic vinegar. Lovely to look at, delightful to munch on.

First flavour - John's choice was the crab avocado and tomato tower salad with chipotle aioli. A twist of lemon brought forth the sweetness of the crab meat, contrasting well with the soft buttery avocado and sweet moist tomato salsa.

Principal dish - my choice is the barramundi, pan-seared to perfection, served with a cucumber & celery salad and black pepper sauce. I raised eyebrows with my choice because I am known to veer away from fish and it's ilk when it comes to culinary choice.

Principal dish - John's choice was the beef tenderloin, with kumera mash, greens and shallot-mustard toffee. The beef was a little too rare for my liking, and I thought the greens were a tad over-cooked. Please, don't ask what I mean by "a little" or give specifics on "a tad". However, I am please to let you know the 2007 Chris Ringland Shiraz that accompanied the beef in the decanted mode, was very good.

Dessert - my choice is the strawberry souffle glace, served with almond tuile. Molto delizioso. My only regret is that there wasn't enough of it. I wanted more, and no one at my table was prepared to spare nor share. @#$%

Dessert - John's choice was the coconut pavlova with seasonal fruits. John gave me a forkful of the pav, but only after I offered in exchange a spoonful of my strawberry glace.

Crumbled Macadamia nut wafers were served with coffee. These bloody wafers were very addictive; once you start you can't stop. Okay, it was more like once I started, I couldn't stop. The others were elegantly abstemious.

These two are so going to make beautiful babies. Just look at how beautiful both are!

Love is patient . . .

2009-11-06T15:36:00.008+11:00

We are expecting Sophia to arrive at 1800 hr today.

John said I've been clucky ever since we gotten the green light for the adoption to go ahead. WTH, it's a bit like the pot calling the kettle cluck, I mean black.

Admittedly I dragged my feet over well-meaning friends' advice to "get another one" ever since we lost Dotty. I keep thinking - if we go ahead with "another one", we will leave Dotty behind. And eventually forget her. I just can't do that.

Sophia's adoption is a bit nasip - the Malay word for fate. We were yakking with our neighbour one fine day last week and before we knew it I was on the web and a few clicks later, John was talking to Sophia's human mom and before we could spell Shipperke, Sophia was ours! I suppose we were waiting for the right moment without knowing it. John and I are just not cut out to be empty-nesters, I guess.

cluck, cluck.

Now, what has all these got to do with the African violet you see below? Well, a year and a bit ago, I was ooh-ing over my sis-in-law's African Violet at her home when she deftly plucked a leaf and thrust it at me, saying :"There you go!" I took the leaf home, stick it in pot (with soil, of course) and waited for it to grow.

I waited.

And waited.

And for a long time, nothing happened. Zilch, zero, not a sausage.

And then . . . one fine day . . .

. . . . a growth!

I was so happy and wore a grin the whole day long, that is until John came home, took a look at it, and wiped my grin off with a cruel, " it's a weed, dear". He didn't know it then, but John was this close to being chopped into pieces . . .

With a heavy heart, I waited.

And waited.

And one fine day, the bona fide growth happened and . . . .

. . . . more and more leaves appeared. And then more and more leaves appeared.

. . . And for the longest time, there was just that - LEAVES.

Leaves, leaves and more leaves . . . @#$% . . . and I was beginning to entertain the idea of "give up" . . .

And guess what happened?

This morning, when I looked, there is a little shy flowering bud starting to unfurl . . .

I am so fucking happy.

I know the picture is not the best but at least you get the idea. And call me silly, superstitious, whatever . . . I believe this is a sign of our blossoming relationship with Sophia.

I do.

And here she is, Sophia.

Roman Emperor Day

2009-11-03T11:52:00.008+11:00

Yippeee, Melbourne Cup is here and all eyes are on the biggie at 1500 hr this arvo. I picked ROMAN EMPEROR to win!

Not this one lah . . .

THIS ONE !!!!!!!!!!

Isn't he gorgeous? Sure to win one!

I am so happy lor :-)

UPDATE 03.11.09

Bloody hell, Shocking won the bloody cup, can you believe it? I am shell-shocked. Roman Emperor came in 21st, out of a field of twenty-three. @#$% I need a drink.

Oba Mao - yes we also can!

2009-10-21T09:07:00.006+11:00

Oba Mao tee-shirt for you, sir?

via china news review

Paris, London, au revoir!

2009-10-19T11:55:00.012+11:00

There is only one reason why we went back to Paris before hopping off to London ~ le SHOPPING! John didn't have to know this and still doesn't, so please don't tell him.

While in Paris, we stayed at this cute little hotel called Villa Montparnasse. As it turned out, VM is charmingly quaint though it took us like forever to check out which sort of dented our fond memories of the place.

There is only one reason why we stayed at Villa Montparnasse ~ le METRO! It is only a slingshot away from the Denfert-Rochereau station where the RER B took us straight to Charles de Gaulle the next day where we caught the BA flight to London.

Villa Montaparnasse - une demeure Coloniale au coeur de Paris.

A colonial house in the heart of Paris.

We stumbled upon rue Daguerre quite by accident, thinking it would serve as a short-cut to a restaurant we spotted earlier. It turned out to be a short-cut and more - it was a market street in full swing. The smells, the noise, the bustling atmosphere . . . ooh la la

One night in Paris later, we find ourselves in London the following day. Hotel Indigo is within spitting distance of the Paddington Station, and a gem of a find. The hotel is well-appointed and nicely packaged and there are heaps to do in the neighbourhood, thanks to gentrification.

Hallway in the Indigo, the ceiling looked like a panel of floating clouds.

The bed is blissfully comforting. I slept like a baby.

Design philosophy of Indigo printed on the walls . . . very art gallery-like, isn't it?

A brass detail on the floor at the Indigo reception lobby. Very curvaceous, very sensual.

UFO-like lighting feature hovering above the reception area at the Indigo; you will see double but one is a mirror reflection.

We ate at the Indigo's brasserie called Phi. I had the duck's breast which turned out to be quite good, succulent and of the right temperature.

John had the salmon; one piece seared, the other smoked, both served on a thin piece of slate. Very interesting twist.

Dining area in Phi Brasserie, cool, collected and calmly quiet. We were the only diners during that time of the day. It soon got busy, by which time we were ready to hit London town.

Yes, Phi as in the mathematical golden ratio.

If you think this is the Food Hall in Harrods, you are right! This was where we stopped for lunch on day two in London.

Shark Fins Dumplings at Xin. They were very good.

Pork and Shrimp Dumplings. Also very good. The Venison Puff and Vegetable Spring Roll on the plate are part of the Xin Dim Sum Set ordered to share between the two of us. Nothing special.

Xin Dim Sum Set, all very good indeed!

Xin Dim Sum Set menu, in case you are interested. Price of meal? £41 which is approximately 75 aussie dollars. Rich in every sense of the word, no?

That evening, we found ourselves wandering into the Argyll Arms, a pub in Soho.

Upstairs of Argyll Arms where we dined, also to get away from the madding crowd of drinkers downstairs.

Alas, the grub is not that great. It filled the tummy but that's just about it.

And then we went on to catch Sister Act at the London Palladium. I hope SA will come to Sydney, it's quite fun and will be a hit with the chicks judging by the audience who turned up. The girls clearly outnumbered the boys. You won't get to hear those fabulous Motown soundtracks as in the original film although I thought the musical scores for the stage were quite good. Patina Miller is a competent Delores Van Cartier, but trying a bit too hard to be like Whoopi and Sheila Hancock as Mother Superior nearly stole the show. A fun night. A good time, what more can we ask for?

And no, the good things didn't stop there. We got an upgrade to Business Class on the A380 we were flying with back to Sydney.

The starter of roast beef and beetroot - okay but not great.

The mains on the other hand was quite good, rack of lamb with veges.

And the dessert, mmmmm - I will leave you to conclude.

But truly, it is good to be home.

Tours . . . and the Loire Valley of Chateaux

2009-10-19T11:00:00.003+11:00

We arrived in Tours and were promptly accosted by an affable tour operator promoting tour (not to be confused with the city, Tours) packages to the Chateaux. And why not, we thought to ourselves. Makes life a helluva lot easier, and doing our bit for the Tours economic well-being. So we signed up for a Chenonceau - Chambord - Amboise - Cheverny package. And here they are, in pictures as below -

Le Grand Hotel, where we slept while in Tours. It is literally a stone's throw away from the train station. You see the yellow awning? Beneath it, is a brioche-shoppe which sells nothing else but brioche and they have the largest brioche I have ever seen, in my life. Ever!

This is how our hotel chambre look like, as viewed from lying on the bed. And let me tell you, size does bloody matter when it comes to hotel rooms. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, unless they are lilliputian in physique.

That's the bed, with a view to the stars (celestial, not Hollywood). I didn't quite warm to the spartan look of the hospital-like, tucked-in-corners spreads, and thought the pillows were too WWI, so . . . .

. . . . I did a little fluffing and voila, what do you think?

And then we went out to explore the city. This is Cathedral St Gatien a 13th century built gothic-style affair, which is currently undergoing serious restoration works.

One of the many brilliant medieval stained-glass windows in Cathedral St Gatien, this one is of Jesus being baptised by St. John the Baptist, I think.

One of the restaurants we chanced upon in Tours was La Souris Gourmand. On that day of our discovery, nothing else was opened. In fact we were (also) too early for LSG but they happily accommodated us although we have to sit and nurse our drinks while watching the service team changed into their gear and have their dinner at a nearby table, before getting our orders taken. Tell you what, it was worth the wait. The grub was wonderful. The chef-owner is happy, chatty and sharing with us how it was his mother who strong-armed him to return from abroad to start the restaurant because she misses not having him by her side. And business has been good and he has not looked back since. Pays to have a mother who has strong arms, it seems.

My choice - magret de canard sloshed in Ambert cheese sauce, with potatoes, provencale tomatoes, garden salad. The duck breast were tender, juicy and on the right side of pink. Very delicious when paired with the sauce. And you know how I am a fan of cheese, not!

John had the Meal Complet which gives him a main and a dessert, this is the mains, piece de boeuf, a play on piece de resistance? John said it was very good, and I have no reason to doubt him. Nevertheless I asked for a morsel and it was indeed very good - smoky and sinfully tasty in a fatty way . . .

. . . and the dessert turns out to be a strawberry parfait, adorned with chocolate rice and a bikkie.

I had a nutella crepe and an espresso, to accompany John in his dessert pursuit.

The bill was presented to us on a mousetrap, how cute!

The first stop on our Chateaux expedition was Chateau de Chenonceau. This painting in one of the many rooms inside the chateau, is titled La Reine La Saba (The Queen of Sheba) and was painted by Tintoretto, and could have passed off as a work of Michelangelo.

I think this is supposed to be where Diane de Poitiers slept when she lived in Chenonceau. If she did I would have thought she has better taste than this . . . well, she looked to be, I have a bracelet which I purchased from the souvenir store in Chenonceau with her face on it and she looked like a Paris Hilton of her day. Okay, Paris is not the right objet d'comparison but you know what I mean, right?

Another bed for your viewing pleasure; the Five Queen's bed is named in memory of Chatherine de Medici's two daughters and three daughter-in-laws. I don't think they necessarily slept in the bed, whether at the same time or taking turns.

The Marques Tower on the forecourt of Chenonceau.

Some of the lovely flowers you will find in the garden of Diane de Poitiers.

A view of the chateau from Diane de Poiters' garden, I told John we could live here, quite easily.

We left Chenonceau and arrived at Chateau d'Amboise. Of course the bloody chateau have to be built on high grounds, which makes getting up there a chore. But you can't really complain about the views once you are up there though. Quite breath-taking, literally.

A stained glass window inside the Chapelle St Hubert, adjoining the chateau.

Tourists, meaning you and I, are told Leonardo da Vinci is entombed in the Chapelle St Hubert. I wonder what the locals are told?

Some architectural details of the Chapelle St Hubert.

Another perspective of the chateau. And if you look to the left, you will see . . .

. . . . this! Once a ford, it has been replaced by a bridge with Roman arches, you like?

The Loire river stretches on and on and on and . . .

. . . . and if you look down from the parapet, you will see these lovely houses with grey roofs and limestone walls.

All these chateau-ing makes us real hungry, so we stopped for lunch. John's grilled chicken with ginger sauce, you like?

I had the confit de canard du Sud Ouest, which looked like John's grilled chook but did taste very different. The legumes were a tad overcooked for my liking but I ate everything on the plate, not even the lettuce leaf was spared.

This sign was spotted in the candy shop where we got our sweet-fix. An attempt at humor, I suppose.

After a filled tummy, we went on to Chateau du Chambord. Size-wise, this chateau is a dream come true for me, as you know I do like big things. I was also quite taken by the French style of Renaissance architecture but I thought the interiors were a bit of a letdown. Perhaps it has something to do with the chateau being used mostly as a hunting lodge . . . *shrugs*

Some fancy architectural details on the Chambord.

The arvo sun coated the Chambord with a patina of reddish hue, tres romantic.

You might say it's only a drain pipe why bother but look what they've done; a serpent snout at the end of the drain pipe gives the impression of a serpent spewing out water when the rain comes! Brilliant.

Not clear in perspective but you can see my BapeSta sneakers on the steps of the double-helix staircase designed by Leonardo da Vinci, can't you?

Just a gentle reminder the Chambord is a hunting lodge. Don't play, play.

Another grim reminder of the hunting activities that were associated with the Chambord. There are even tiny ones, of fawns I suppose, which you have to take out if you have taken out the mommy. Eeurgh!

A tapestry on one of the wall inside the Chambord - would you have guessed if I didn't tell you it is of Cleopatra and Mark Anthony?

Finally, a commode. I was wondering how these royalty did their number twos as all the bedrooms do not seem to have ensuite.

This towering ceramic contraption is used for heating of the chateau interiors.

I don't think Laura Ashley would have approved of this. So OTT.

Looks tiny on a map, but the Chambord is truly massive.

The final stop of our chateau-expedition is Cheverny, a 33-room chateau and also one of the better preserved chateau along the Loire valley. The interiors are full of exquisite and beautiful details, this timber chandelier is one such example.

Arvo tea, good enough to eat but alas, they are only for display at the Cheverny.

One of the many paintings adorning the walls within the Cheverny.

This room in the Cheverny was built for King Henry II but apparently he has never slept in it. Doesn't quite look like a bed fit for a king, does it . . . I mean it is not exactly king-size, no? And what's with the plastic sheet?

Another painting in the Cheverny, forgotten what it was called but I find it strangely dramatic and thought I would share it with you.

My outfit at the next Sleaze Ball, whaddya think?

Yes, even the Cheverny has "no-go" zones.

Er . . . gaming room?

I love this console, but damn it wouldn't fit into my LV bag.

Apple tree, they grow for you and me . . .

Garden and fountain at the back of the Cheverny.

A tree in Cheverny, very ancient, very awesome . . .

We were completely chateaux-ed out by the time our visit to Cheverny was over. Dinner back in Tours was a cheap and cheerful affair at Tosca. We were simply too exhausted to care where we eat as long as they were serving food, and wine.

The pasta at Tosca - looks cheap, right? One out of two ain't bad.

Next day, refreshed and recharged, we took a bus to Chinon where we intended to catch a cab that will take us to the Abbey of Fontevraud.

Joan of Arc - the statue you won't miss in Chinon. It's quite impressive, it meaning the stallion.

Took us a while before we figured out that we have to ask the station-master at Chinon to ring for a cab, and it took another forty-minutes before the cab arrived. But finally, we made it to the Abbey of Fontevraud . . . .

. . . . Richard the Lionheart and Isabella of Angouleme. Hearsay the bodies have been ransacked during the French Revolution but present day government insists the bodies are still somewhere in the grounds of the Abbey; their refusal to find them I suppose is to retain the draw of the Abbey for tourists?

Eleanor of Acquitaine and Henry II were also supposed to be buried somewhere in the Abbey. These are only the sarcophagi.

One of the many cloisters in the Abbey, surreal isn't it?

Architectural details on the ceiling . . .

Carvings on the arches spanning the doorway to rooms . . .

Judas's kiss - not quite Continental.

Roman punishment - crucifixion. And they were easily crossed those days . . .

My job is done, let me sleep.

A courtyard in the Abbey, very tranquil.

Smoke gets in your eyes, not. It all goes up through this hole in the Roman kitchen.

The exterior of the Roman kitchen in the Abbey grounds.

A gendarme centaur?

All kinds of merry everything that makes the carousel go round.

The town square just outside the Abbey, where we caught the bus to S aumur in order to connect with the train back to Tours.

We stumbled upon this dodgy cafe in Saumur while waiting for the 5 o'clock train back to Tours, and trust me you want to be there - it has free wifi (pronounced wee-fee) courtesy of the (just as dodgy) hotel upstairs.

Our last supper in Tours before heading back to Paris.

All these tagliatelle for one person, can you believe it?

My very first French Onion Soup in France; well, for this trip anyway.

L'addition, sil vous plait.

I conquer, I SAW, I came

2009-10-19T08:59:00.003+11:00

''Is it wierd [sic] that I just got an erection after watching that?'' asks a fan posting on Facebook after viewing the trailer for SawVI.

Hmmmm.

I will leave you to ponder on that.

As for me, I have seen all the previous five SAW films and I swear I never ever have that kind of response. Instead I leave my balls at home in case I drop them while watching a SAW film. It has that kind of power, believe me. So why do I keep going back for more gore and gory? What do you think, for the scares of course. Perverse I know, but oh so addictive. Besides, if it's Halloween it has to be SAW.

Umm, see you at a theatre near you?

I also Wand one . . .

2009-10-18T11:40:00.004+11:00

It won't turn your enemy into a toad, but it will give you control over your TV, how's that?

You are looking at the Kymera Magic Wand which allows you to flip channels, adjust volume, that sort of stuff with a flip of your wrist. Ok, you have to train the wand to learn specific hand gestures but it sure beats pushing buttons on a conventional remote control, anytime. And you will be please to know the KMW does interact with other IR-related equipments as well, think slide presentations.

For now the wand can only be purchase online at thewandcompany.com and for a mere £49.95

via Springwise

Automatism? moi aussi

2009-10-14T11:58:00.005+11:00

I think this Penelope Woodbridge bitch should be found guilty as charged for manslaughter and aggravated dangerous driving.

Why?

Because I too, like Woodbridge, am having a bout of automatism and wasn't making my judgment voluntarily because I was in a dissociative state and incapable of reasoning or evaluating the risks of my actions.