Beck's Big Baby Bash!

Tonight my sister Mel co-ordinated and organised a baby shower for my sister Beck. Now as I haven't ever been to a baby shower before (I have been truly blessed), I really wasn't sure what to expect. I didn't really know what the etiquette would be - do you bring a gift and so on (personally I think that's a bit cheeky because everyone knows you already have to give a gift when the baby's born anyway, so this is a way to craftily double-dip) - are there even cards for baby showers? I didn't know. So, I hit my trusty local newsagent and discovered the one and only baby shower card they had there, stuck a bit of money in it, dolled myself up in my glad rags (bit stupid, there's only a load of women been invited, no men! Alas!) and head off to the lovely Sonomas of Sandgate.It was surprisingly a very pleasant evening, despite the fact that I really only knew about 5 people there - including my sisters, my Mum and my Grandma - and me of course...! Hehehe... No, I jest - I knew another 3 people on top of that!

The food, although a bit expensive, was actually quite nice, I enjoyed a lovely seafood risotto with actually fresh seafood, and although they didn't really know how to serve bread and balsamic vinegar (seriously, how hard is that - cut up fresh bread, pour a small portion of balsamic vinegar into a dipping bowl of olive oil, and hey presto! There you have it - rather than the seriously over toasted concoction the girl dished up!), the yummy lemon gelati more than made up for it. I don't know, though, how they think, as they state on the bottom of their menu, that they can cater for 3 - 300 people - we were only 19 people or so, and they still didn't get it right - they kept forgetting food, one table was served much later than the other one, and then there was a bit of confusion once desserts were served.

But on the whole, it was a very pleasant evening. I've made this little slideshow as a gift to Beck - but I should've thought of that in advance, and then maybe I could've saved myself the monetary contribution I gave in the card - after all, I've still got an actual present to buy when the baby comes!

Birthday Bungles at the Bonny View Hotel

Well today was my birthday, and I have to say, it was unfortunately the crappest day ever. Clearly I am not cut out to have a normal life. Or maybe I am, maybe its normal to have foul days for your birthday, its just that for the past few years, my birthday has usually been spent in some exotic location - this time last year I was sleeping on a bed of reindeer skin and ice in the Ice Hotel in Sweden, and the year before I was looking at Northern Lights in Rekjavik. This year my birthday was spent at school, enduring an awful meeting with the Head, a horrible lesson with my Yr 11s and finally, a very challenging meeting with my team after school. Oh well, I thought, I'll put it behind me - the whole family is meeting for dinner, it'll be good. And then, as if that wasn't enough, I then had to endure the complete incompetence of the staff at the Bonny View Hotel, Bald Hills.

I don't know how these people stay in business. I mean, it wasn't like they were rushed off their feet, but their service was, by anyone's standards, absolutely abyssmal. First of all, they 'lost' my booking (read: the dipstick young lad who took my booking over the phone a week ago didn't bother to actually write it down, hence they were unaware we were coming). That wasn't so bad, except that my two sisters both have wee little children, so me, being the thoughtful one, actually managed (by no mean feat, this) to remember that we might need high chairs, so I specifically asked for them. "Have you got that?" I asked the dipstick when making the booking. "Yes" he chorused back. Hm. I'm sure he did have that, but on a piece of paper which he promptly threw away afterwards, because there were no high chairs when we got there - they had been booked for other people. So Mel got up and nicked one that wasn't in use, and then the woman argued with her and said she had to put it back, because those people had a booking. And we don't? How about then, you give me back the money I paid for the phone call I made to make the booking eh?

Secondly, the food was, to be frank, very ordinary. The choice was poor - basically it was only steak - how does that constitute 'international' cuisine, as it states on the website? And also, you had to go up and order it, pay for it there and then move to a separate counter to place your drinks order. That's ok, unless you want to pay by eftpos (switch/maestro for the Poms) - because there's a $20 minimum or some such on cards - and my $3.50 doesn't cut it. How stupid is that? And then once the food arrived, it wasn't the most tasty - in fact, my steak was seriously dry.

About the only thing they didn't cock up was the birthday cake - kind of hard to mess that one up I guess, as they didn't actually make it - Mum brought it along. But I did hear how one year, on Kevan's birthday, the kitchen gave his cake away to another table that didn't even have a birthday, and the blighters ate it all up without saying a word. When Kev's table asked for the cake, all they got was tiny little slivers - they didn't even bring it out with candles and so on for him to blow out, whilst everyone sings and all. So when they enquired about it, that's when they found out the other table had guzzled the lot. Greedy blighters.

Anyway, it was just a relief when the whole evening was over. Although I will admit, there was more than the occasional tear in my eye when Miss Marcella started chorusing "Happy Birthday Tylie" at the top of her lungs! She is such a cutie...

The one good thing about the whole thing was that at least I got to spend it with my family - the first time in 11 years...

With Grandma

With Marcella

Bethany loves to swish her hair!

The cake is cutBethany just loves her hat!

Give Me A Home Among The Gum Trees!

After our adventures today in Mapleton, Montville and Maleny, Mum and I were happily making our way back to Brisbane when Mum received a call from Dad on her mobile, inviting us to stop in at my sister Mel's new place. My sister and her family have just moved to acreage out in Whiteside or something - some 3 acres or so I think, and their property backs out on to a creek.

So Mum and I pull in there on the way home. The property is huge, and stocked with avocado trees, passionfruit, and maybe guava? I can't remember. But they've got lots of lovely trees in their backyard, and lots of spaceAnyway, when we arrived Mel had spent the majority of the day unpacking, and Dad and Kevan had been designing some sort of gate and panelling to 'Bethany-proof' the back verandah. Dad, Kev, Lach and Haz took me down to see the creek, whilst Lach put a crab pot in, and then we headed back up to the house. I went back in to try to help sort out whatever what was going to happen for dinner (Chinese take away in the end) and suddenly there was a commotion outside - "Kyle! Bring your camera!" Dad whispered loudly to me. Turns out there was a koala in the gum tree in the back yard. A real cute one too. I managed to get some pretty good pics of it before it got too dark, as well as pics of the boys earlier on in the afternoon.

What do you think?

Lach in the avocado tree

Haz in the avocado tree

The cute little koala

Lach with a spot of Trombone practise on the back verandah

Bethany demonstrates how flexible she is in scratching her ear with her foot!

Musical Mapleton and Magical Maleny

So after yesterday's 'day at work', you'd think that today I would just, I don't know, take the day off, chill out, catch up with family / friends, maybe have a swim, or just relax about the house. Well yeah, I could do that, or - I could go to the school music camp. Huh?! You know what, I really debated with myself about this. It went something like this:

Me: Should I go to the camp? Me2: What for? It's too far to drive Me: Yeah, but it would look good if I went and gave some support Me2: Why? Its not part of my job description. Me: Yeah but it would go a long way to winning some kudos...

Yada yada, you get the point. The long and short of it was, I won, and decided to go. Or maybe it was that I lost, and decided to go. Kind of hard to know who wins in an argument with yourself... I decided though to drag - sorry, bring - Mum along for support. Basically I told her that we would make a proper day of it, and go out to Montville or Maleny or something to have a mosey around the shops, and a nice lunch. And essentially, that's what we did - except that before we did that, we went to the school music camp, arriving just in time for the camp concert - which we watched (I made myself busy by taking photos for the newsletter and so on), and then leaving just as everyone else was doing the pack up. Actually, the concert was very good, and provided a real insight into the various ensembles we run at my school, and their standard.

Anyway, afterwards we hit the highway and made our way into Montville - but enroute discovered a cute little town called Flaxton, where we had a gorgeous lunch - their mango, apple and pumpkin chutney was just divine! And to think, we nearly missed it, but for the fact that I saw this and decided to stop for a picture. Cool, eh?

George Torbay and the Hal Leonard Reading Day

Yesterday, seeing as I have only 101 things to do at the moment (as opposed to my usual 1001 - no wait, that's Arabian nights - 1 000 001 is more like it), I decided, in true self-sacrificial style, to give up my Saturday for the greater good that is my life at the moment - my job - and go attend a choral reading day at Somerville House. It was surprisingly good - firstly, because it gave me a good chance to catch up with my good friend Sue whom I haven't seen in like, 10 years - and secondly, because we did sing through some good repertoire which I may be able to use for my choir - if I can figure out the procedures for ordering stuff, that is.

The only downer of the day was, that unlike in years gone by when I used to go on these sorts of things, when they used to give you a copy of the sample music to take home and 'review' later (aka copy as many as you want and hope not to get caught by copyright laws) - now they don't do that. So you have to make your mind up there and then, or take very good, very detailed notes - and then order the minimum required 5 copies or whatever it is from the display stands at the venue.

Alas, I was so busy attending one of the optional extra workshops, led by some fella who kept going on about 'boomwhackers', which as far as I can make out, seem to be a heap of pipes you whack on the ground to make a noise (see my blog entry about the RFH), that I was running late to get back to the trade display - and they were packing up when I got there. This meant I had to hurriedly put in my order, and I'm sure I got some of it a bit wrong. Oh well. Time will tell, when my order eventually arrives and I find I have 10 copies of Fields of Gold for TTBB or something - very helpful for a girl's school choir...

The One When Cella Comes To Visit Part 2

My brother-in-law has been away on school camp this past week, so my sister Beck and her daughter Marcella came to stay a few nights.

On the first night I happened to show Marcella the video Lach and Haz and I made last week. After that, every few minutes it was "See Harry!" from the little Miss. Yes, she wanted me to keep re-playing that video. To be honest, there's only so many times I can listen to that awful Poker Face song! So I decided to see if I could get little Miss to make her own one... here are our results:

She's such a little cutie, isn't she? The cutest thing was the greeting she would give me everyday as I got home from school. I hadn't even gotten out of the car and she would come running outside, calling out "Hello Tylie" and then demanding I follow her back in the house. She's real talkative, and actually quite loud, but such a gorgeous little girl (and she knows it! - just like her mother was at that age...). She's a real scallywag, too... you should see her when we try to give her a bath. Water, water, everywhere - she thinks you need one too! And trying to put her to bed? I was supposed to read her a story whilst she stayed in her bed, but that is near on impossible. She listens for about 15 seconds and then points to various bits in the book and makes her own commentary, or turns the pages wanting to look at other bits of the book. Its virtually impossible to read to her! She's like a little jack in the box, she doesn't stay in bed while you read to her, she keeps hopping down and wandering around the room, looking at different things, picking them up and bringing them back to you, saying "What's this?". That's how the itty bitty booklight that was in the room got broken - she kept turning it on and off, on and off, and playing with the clip... and it broke. Then she wants you to fix it! And whilst you're fixing that, she's getting a few more minutes out of bed - and bringing you something else to look at - and it starts all over again!

Cash Converter!

I have gone over to the other side. I have become a dreaded "cash converter".

Don't be alarmed - I haven't gone there to hock stuff. Not yet, anyway. No, its just that, as we all know, Cash Converter's is Dad's favourite store on the planet, and so, the other day, when Dad suggested that he and I go for a ride on the bike, maybe stop for a coffee enroute - I shouldn't have been surprised that he meant coffee at Hungry Jack's (Burger King) - he gets a free coffee there with his senior's card - via Cash Converters.

In the end we didn't even make the bike ride, as time was fast getting away from us - you have to understand, my Dad is completely, bless him, the world's biggest "faffer" - it takes him absolutely ages to get ready to go out, or whatever, because he faffs about so much. Some would say it's an endearing quality - I would say they've never been kept waiting, and waiting, and waiting, as Dad answers phone calls, writes emails, has a shower, gets dressed, checks the crab pots, makes another phone call (cos its in his free hour)... yada yada.

So we ended up having to drive down there (in my car of course) and have a 'quick look' in cash converters (read: spend an hour or so in there). We never even made it to Hungry Jack's (which is next door) for coffee.

Anyway, whilst I was there in cash converters, I came across a few useful little trinkets which required purchasing. The first was an ipod dock with speakers (only little, but they work) so I can play my ipod at my desk at work. The rest of my building love that - not! Anyway, I picked up this little gem for $32 - after 20% was taken off the price due to a promotion or something.

The second was an external DVD-rom, which to be honest, I had been looking for for some time. The reason for this is very simple - my Macbook Pro was bought in the UK, and until now, had only been playing UK Region 2 DVDs. But now I am in Australia, and their DVDs are Region 4 - and unlike the PC, you can't hack a Mac. And certainly not the DVD drive of one - so my only solution has been to buy an external and plug it in. That way I get the best of both worlds - I can watch both Region 2 and Region 4 movies - and probably will be able to hack this drive so I can play Region 1 on it as well (as I have several Region 1 DVDs).

I had been looking for an external DVD drive for ages - and there it was, on some manky ole' shelf in cash converters for $49.99... just goes to show, eh? So now I, too, have become a convert to Cash Converters - quick, lock up my purse!

Panelbeating

Today was my first professional development opportunity for the school - I attended a panel meeting as an observer.

Now I know you're thinking - what on earth is the 'panel'? Sounds like the 'godfather' or something. I think in some way they think they are like that, anyway. Basically, because we don't have external exams in Queensland, our teachers write their own assessment items and tests. Clearly, this poses issues as to standardising results, so a panel of teachers meet twice a year to look at samples of work from schools. At the start of the year, they look at the previous year's work, to ascertain whether the course is being taught correctly (and flag up any glaringly obvious issues with regards to assessment). This is called the "monitoring" meeting - and this is what I was attending. At the end of term 3, they meet for the "verification" meeting - where they determine if the standards awarded are accurate and in line with the rest of the state.

Anyway, there are strict protocol rules about being an observer - rules which were printed off and handed to me prior to my attending the meeting. Stuff like 'you may not comment, you may not take notes, you may not take photocopies away from the meeting.... blah blah blah... you may not pass wind, you may not breathe in and out....' you know, that sort of thing. Just what exactly you are allowed to do, I'm not sure - because observing, whilst it is a useful tool, implies in some way that you will be privy to what is actually going on. So what actually happens is, a panellist receives a submission a few days before and must look at it at home. He/She then brings this is to the meeting, and is partnered up with another panellist. They swop packs, and look through the work. When they are ready, they discuss it together, and make their decisions. That's that. Observe this. Only problem is, observing someone looking through another school's work that they haven't already seen is very difficult if the person you are observing is watching a DVD of a student's musical performance on a laptop - but they are wearing headphones so you can't hear anything. A whole day of that. Great.

So I flitted about the groups as best I could, trying to glean from their vast expanse of knowledge and wisdom re all things classroom music, but to be fair, I really didn't get much from the whole thing. It was also a bit of a case of "wrong place, wrong time" as well, or maybe "not what you know, but who you know" - because there actually were two of us there as observers, but the other lady clearly knew the panel chair, because when one panellist failed to arrive, that observer was allowed to work with the panellist as almost like a full panellist (except of course, abiding by the 'don't pass wind etc' rules). I wasn't given that opportunity because it wouldn't be fair for that person to have 2 observers...

So I did what I could and wished the day to be over, because oh boy, was it giving me a huge headache! The only 'highlight', if you could call it that, was that I noticed one of the panellists had an unusual spelling of her relatively common surname, one that I had only ever seen once before - in my old piano teacher. So I queried her about it, and it turns out, yes, she is the daughter of my old teacher. Clearly though, she suffers also from the "which Moore are you?" syndrome (as I also do), as she was somewhat less than impressed by me mentioning this fact, and actually, spoke quite patronisingly to me and was a somewhat rude. There's a lesson in that for me - and next time I'm facing the "which Moore are you?" moment, I will be much more gracious in my response - I will be all sweetness and light, and not the least bit irritated, or rude, or condescending. Having now been on the receiving end, I realise it is not at all pleasant. My words for that woman? Good luck to you love...

So I have now experienced the joys of the panel, what fun that was. At least I got a day off from school...

Only Great Minds Can Read This

I got this email the other day - I don't normally forward things like this but I thought this one was good (mostly because it proves I have a great mind, thank you very much).

What do you think?

Only great minds can read this 

This is weird, but interesting! 

fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too 

Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55 plepoe out of 100 can. 

i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! if you can raed tihs forwrad it 

FORWARD ONLY IF YOU CAN READ IT 

So of course I had to forward it, if only to brag that, as I can read it, clearly I have a great mind - although I guess their logic of what determines a great mind is a little skewed - I would've thought that the odds of 55 /100 people being able to read it means that more people can read it than can't, and therefore more of the population has a great mind than doesn't - which doesn't make you out to be so special after all... bummer!

Things To Do On A Rainy Saturday

My favourite part of the week would have to be the weekend - for obvious reasons, of course.  After a long, hard slog at work during the week, the weekend is full of promise, potential, and great excitement.  My favourite day of the weekend is Saturday, because when it is over, you know there's still one more day of the weekend - so you don't have to stress just yet - unlike when you go to bed on Sunday, knowing that's it, there's no more - and the dreaded Monday blues set in.  I hate watching the sun set on a Sunday for that very reason.

But Saturday, well that's the best day of all.  Unless, like me, you wake up in the morning to the sound of heavy rain falling.  The rain in Australia is nothing like that in England - in England, you get a light drizzle for most of the time - but in Australia, there's no such thing as light rain - if it rains, you know it.  You will be drenched in an instant in Australian rain.

So imagine my sense of disappointment to wake up to the sound of that.  And knowing that two little boys and their sister will be coming round, because their parents have only a week to pack up their house due to some silliness with the contract (they sold their house but for some reason the contract is a very fast one, and they have to be out by Thursday).  What do you do with two little boys when its raining on a Saturday, and they've seen all the movies there are for kids at the cinema?

There's only so much walking around a shopping centre that little boys will do.  Even with the promise of McDonalds and a cold rock ice-cream - there's still only a finite amount of time you can spend there.  So then it came to me - I have in my possession one of the most powerful tools of creativity and entertainment - yes, I am speaking of my beloved mac.

So, so easy - out it comes, photo booth is opened up, and voila!  Instant entertainment as we create our masterpiece... Add Lach's current favourite song... a bit of a title (content selected by the boys) and there you have it... Shame it only takes minutes to create, but that's the joy of the mac for you!  Anyway, here it is, our rainy day entertainment...enjoy...

Apologies From A Very Tired, Very Slack Blogger

Dear Friends, Family and Any Blog Followers Who Haven't Given Up Now,

Just a little note to say that I'm very sorry I haven't been updating my blog recently.  I know how frustrating it is when you're sitting there at work, browsing the web (sorry, working real hard), checking your list of regular blogs that you read, and finding yet again, this one hasn't been updated.

It's not that I don't have things to say (well, actually, it is that I partly don't have anything exciting to say, Bris Vegas is a lot slower than London), its that I don't have time to say it.  The reason for this is simple - there are only 24 hours in a day, and I need 4 or 5 of them for sleeping.  At the moment, sadly, my whole life consists of the following daily grind:

5.15am   Alarm goes off (and snooze button goes on - for crying out loud, its 5.15am!)

5.45am-6.00am  Drag myself bleary-eyed from bed, cursing.

6.00am Get dressed, have brekky, try to open eyes

6.30am Get in car (praying that eyes are open now) and drive to work

7.45-8.00am Arrive at school having been stuck in traffic and pray desperately that there's a car park space left for me

8.25am School day kicks off

3.05pm School day finishes; time to attend meetings or rehearsals...

4.30pm Get back to desk, now try to catch up on all the work you should've done during the day but didn't get the chance to as you were spending too much time trying to figure out simple things like how to use the photocopier or where they keep the letterhead stationery

6.00pm -7.00pm Sometime in between try to leave school

After 8.00pm Arrive home absolutely shattered; have dinner; do more work

After 11.00pm Finally get to bed...!

Pathetic, isn't it.  Just pathetic.  Absolutely no time in there for a social life, or even for a little bit of downtime.  So you see, what with all the work I've been having to do, I just haven't had time to blog.  Or skype or even email - which is very disappointing when you look back and see that only a month or so ago, I promised to respond to all emails within 24 hours or some silliness.  And that proves my point of the time - New Year's Resolutions simply do not work.  I only had 2, and I haven't managed either.

I would love to make the promise that things will get better soon, but I seriously doubt it... for the immediate future anyway...

Anyway, please do keep checking this site though on the random off-chance that the hours in the day expand to 25 or 26, and I can get a chance to do something for me, like updating the blog...

It has to get better sometime, right?  Please...!

(oh and by the way, please keep checking because I have a load of blogs that I am working on, but haven't published yet - and when they get published, they will be out of order compared to this one - they'll appear earlier in the scheme of things - so do keep checking posts prior to this... You'll be looking for one about health, the Governor General and all sorts of stuff...)

The One Where Kylie Meets The Governor General

Last night, by some strange twist of fate, I found myself at the opening of Margaret Olley: Life's Journey at the UQ Art Museum, an event attended by some 1000 invited guests, and officially opened by Her Excellency Mrs Quentin Bryce, AC, Governor General of Australia.  For my English readers, you can find out what the position of the Governor General does here, but essentially, she is the Queen's representative in Australia, and exercises the supreme executive power of the Commonwealth.  So, to have the Governor General open your exhibition, well, that's a pretty big deal - a bit like getting Lizzie herself to declare open some little gallery in Dulwich or something - doesn't really happen, now, does it?

Basically what happened was this:  the Head sent me the invite with a little note on it saying that as she couldn't go, would I like to, or would I like to ask the Art staff if they would?  My instant reaction was, of course, I'll go - and then I thought, hang on, don't be so selfish, invite the Art staff to come too (hehehe)... which I duly did.  However, the Art staff were not able to make it (or rather, didn't get back to me to say if they would like to), so I decided it wholy appropriate that my school should have representation, if only that it might be a good chance to network with other Arts professionals.  So off I went.  By myself.  How brave.  Especially when you remember that it had been the school swimming carnival that day, and we'd had to walk down to the swimming pool (a 10 -15 minute walk in 30 degree heat), spend all day outside in the stinking hot (with no air-conditioning, how criminal!) and then walk back to school.  Then I had to clean up, have a shower, sort myself out for the evening.  And that's when I discovered I had left my jewellery at home - but wait, Heather gave me at Christmas a lovely silver necklace - 'emergency jewellery' for my office drawer - how perfect is that!  Anyway, all dressed, perfumed (yes, I keep some emergency perfume in the drawer too - plus a hairbrush, emergency straighteners, emergency make up and emergency deodorant - the only thing I haven't got yet is my emergency iron, but that will come - although I do actually have an emergency ironing board from Ikea, like I had in London) and ready to go, off I went.

Of course, I had totally misjudged the clientele.  Sure, I suppose there may have been some Arts professionals there, but it seemed that mostly everyone was academics or best buds of the GG.  It was apparent pretty early on that the concept or notion of 'networking' needed to go out the window, as (a) they didn't even check your invite, so absolutely anyone could've rocked up, and (b) everyone was in small groups of 2-4, so it was very difficult to shimmy on over to a group and start up a 'networking' conversation.  I therefore positioned myself in the best possible locale for the speeches - behind the chairs, but in front of the little chest high tables, sipped quietly on my OJ and tried to look like I was waiting for someone, rather than like an out of place wallflower.  

At one point though, a strange looking, wild-eyed and unshaven man appeared in the periphery, also looking a bit wallflower like, and I thought to myself, judging from his appearance, that this might actually be an artist, and therefore a network potential, and so I sprouted forth with some profound (in my mind) comment about the evening, art in general, and Margaret Olley in particular (what I had read on the internet).  Turns out this chap was a lecturer at Griffith University and he was in no way, shape or form an art professional.  He was, however, waiting for his partner, a lecturer at UQ, so we chatted amiably until she arrived, which was just before the GG arrived and the speeches commenced. 

The speeches, although delivered by UQ academics, were relatively light hearted and quite interesting, and then the GG officially opened the exhibition - although surprisingly not with those words - she just hopped up, and spoke very eloquently about UQ and about Margaret Olley.  The formalities over, the GG started to make her way down the aisle, chatting with various invited guests, and I turned back to my new companions, attempting to excuse myself and head off to see the art (via, of course, the trays of deliciousness that had now appeared in the hands of the waiters circumnavigating the room).  However, extricating myself from these people was more difficult than I had thought, so more small talk occurred - and then suddenly the GG herself made her way over to our little group.  Quick, check the hair is in place, no lipstick smudges on teeth - no, it wasn't quite like that, I didn't have time.  She was just there.

The UQ lecturer, it turns out, had attended a function with the GG earlier in the day, at Customs House, and I gather had met her there, because she felt comfortable enough, without giving her own name, to introduce me by name to her, outlining my position at my new school and so on.  My school, I should say, is a very prestigious one in Brisbane, and really needs no introduction.  Upon hearing I was at this school, the GG informed me that her own mother had attended there, and commented on the influence of this school on her mother's life and subsequently on hers.  She made specific mention of the excellent headteacher we have, and expressly requested that I pass on her warmest regards to her.  I was just blown away.

After a few more pleasantries, the GG made her way on to another group, and I was speechless.  How silly though, I mean, I've met Tony Blair, former PM of Great Britain, and stood in a guard of honour for the Queen - I can do this sort of thing - its just I didn't expect it here in little ol' Bris Vegas.  And not 2 weeks into my new job...!

After this, my new companions went on their way, and I headed off to view the art.  It was lovely in its own way, I guess its not the National Gallery or the Tate Modern (some might say thank goodness for that), but by Australian standards, its up there.  

I was quite flummoxed by my evening's experience, made all the more surreal by the fact that I ended up stopping off at my friend's house on the way home for a coffee  - how bizarre...

Margaret Olley:  The Brisbane River

Margaret Olley:  Port of Marseilles

Not exactly Monet, Picasso or Van Gogh, but not too shabby I guess...