Party like it's 1997

There's something about the current political situation in Australia that feels eeerily familiar. A right-leaning party, with a remarkably boring frontman, has just been exchanged for a left leaning party called "Labor" (forgive the American spelling, they don't mean it) with a very media-savvy frontman. The right leaning party has been pulled up on interest rates and other issues with mortgage holders. The leader of the left party takes great pains to appear good-humoured, friendly and trustworthy, and appears on every available TV programme. Anyone who knows politicians can tell he's having to try very hard.

Throughout this whole process I find myself trying to remember why I liked the idea of Tony Blair taking over in '97, and why I now find the man, and his legacy in the Labour (note correct spelling) Party so distasteful now. I wait with anticipation to see if I hate Kevin Rudd as thoroughly in 10 years' time as I do Tony Blair now. If anyone can summarise a decade of political history in Britain for me in the comments I'd appreciate it. Maybe we can warn Australia when the right time could be to rid themselves of their new Tony. On the other hand, maybe Rudd and Australia have a bright future together, and Tony Blair is a problem for Britons alone. I hope so.

Bumper stickers

A month or so ago, I was in rural NSW, and saw a bumper sticker on an enormous Ute. It had a picture of Australia, followed simply by the words "Fuck off, we're full." Personally, I objected to this on several levels. One, a semicolon would have been more suitable than the comma. Two, Australia is not full. If you want to write "Fuck off, we're racists" on your car, that's your call, but to claim that a country the size of most of Europe, inhabited by 20 million people, is full is simply inaccurate. Three, the more obvious objection that it's not a nice thing to say. I also have this theory that it's the stupid people who have this attitude to immigration, as it's their jobs that are most likely to be taken by people unable to speak fluently the language of their new country. Good.

In defense of my adopted nation, Australians are not a bunch of racists. This was in rural NSW, and country folk all over the world excel themselves in being racists. Australia's population is, I would guess, about 95% urban, so the moron in the ute is in the minority. Doubtless people in Sydney would be perfectly entitled to tell him to fuck off, on account of them being full. Anyway, this isn't the point of this post.



Another popular bumper sticker I've seen is that "Shit happens" thing. It's wonderful that people are able to use two words to do so many things. One, to put a rude word on their car, cleverly disguised as part of a cunning slogan. Two, to demonstrate the limits of their sense of humour. Three, to demonstrate the broad apathy that led them to be driving such a shitheap in the first place.



A third bumper sticker I saw today is below.

I think this is a lot more subtle. I am still trying to establish whether it means 'It could save your life' in the context of 'Brake for concrete walls: It could save your life" or in the sense of "Break for medical researchers: It could save your life". Perhaps the moose produces some sort of chemical that has medical applications?

The Legend of Zelda - Mobile Game

I spent last night looking for interesting things to put on my phone. As well as a seemingly-full version of Sonic The Hedgehog from the Megadrive, some new themes where I can pretend my phone is broken/an aquarium/a surveillance satellite, and a bunch of other rubbish, I came across this. Someone in Sweden is taking the first Legend of Zelda game and transcribing it for Java. It seems to be screen-for-screen, monster-for-monster, item-for-item, but with much prettier graphics. Who needs a DS when you can do all this on a phone you've got already?! You can find a copy of the newest version here, if the original site doesn't work for you (it didn't for me, I think he's getting a lot of traffic) and he is planning a full version by the end of the year (currently it's only the first 6 dungeons and about two thirds of the map). Much more fun than Tetris or Columns, if you ask me, and they're the only other games that I've ever been able to control properly using stupid tiny little phone buttons.

I continue to marvel at the fact that we now carry around in our pockets devices with more computing power than those great big chunky computers with the big floppy discs that were the best you could get in the early 90's. And we use them to send each other messages like 'k b there soon cu bye.x' to people we'll see in 15 minutes.

The Plan

It's official - I'm leaving Sydney, and Australia, on 7th March, until which time I expect to be all over the place. There's short trips to Canberra and the Blue Mountains that really should have been made by now, and then in a broader sense, the following:

12th Nov - 22nd Dec - Sydney, mostly working with Red Kite.
22nd Dec-24th Jan - Up and down the East Coast to Brisbane, Townsville and back.
24th Jan - 16th Feb - Sydney again, with my parents here for much of that time.
17th-22nd Feb - Cairns with my parents.
23rd Feb-7th Mar - In Sydney, frantically packing and figuring out what to do with my life once I get back to Britain. Meanwhile, Mum and Dad see Uluru and Perth
7th-12th Mar - Singapore. Again, with my parents around for a while.
13th March. Return to the UK.

Elissa and I are figuring out where we should be at New Year. I'm strongly in favour of hanging around the NSW-QLD border, so we can celebrate twice, because of the time difference. Elissa is strongly in favour of Miami, because of the Will Smith tune of the same name.

This is just getting spooky now...*

Back in the UK, I worked on three or four main areas where I used to work. Firstly I worked with budgeting, and spreadsheet issues. Secondly, I organised direct mailing, and analysis by postcode of our customer base. Thirdly I extracted information on demand from out database, in a broader sense, and summarised it for managers.

Somehow I've managed to end up in a temporary role incorporating all of these things. In fact, incorporating all of them in the last 24 hours! I'm half-expecting them to get me onto writing the newsletter next, or setting up an office fish-tank. And I'll be sure to send out an email to people on Friday, suggesting we all go for a drink.

*I realise this is a very boring post, for anyone who has never heard me complain bitterly about my old job (and probably for those who have). I will try to be more interesting in my next post.

Melbourne and 'The race that stops a nation'

7.30am is no time to get on a 12 hour coach ride. 7.30pm on a Saturday, on the other hand, is a very pleasant time to get into a new city. I had foolishly left my passport and driving license in Sydney, and so was turned away by the hostel I had booked. "What's your passport doing in Sydney if you're in Melbourne?" asks the self satisfied hostel receptionist. Not much, I think, but instead make weak references to having merely forgotten it, as I hadn't planed to cross any national borders or work during my time in Melbourne. "Is this authentic photo ID enough?" No. "Can I pay some sort of additional deposit?" I asked, feeling like I was offering a bribe. No. "I mean, the alternative for me is sleeping on the streets". Silence. "Is there anything I can do?" No. I leave, and nearly thank her, but stop myself realising it would be inappropriate - I didn't mean it, and it would probably come across as sarcastic, which hindsight says she didn't deserve. They weren't her rules, and I could have beena bit more thorough when packing.

After a pretty shaky introduction to Melbourne, things can only get better. I phone Minka, who is planning to meet me after she's had dinner with her friends. I explain my situation. She says her spare room is mine to use until Tuesday. We meet, drink far too much in three different and excellent bars, and then head back to her mum's place in Richmond. I mention that I'm kind of glad I forgot my passport - it's a lovely house.

Even with a hangover, the MCG tour is very enjoyable, and a wander through the information centre tells me about museums, galleries, parks and so on. That evening is spent watching dreadful DVDs, as Minka is feeling worse than I am, and the following day, aside from buying my Melbourne Cup ticket, I visit the Victoria State Art Gallery (bringing the count to 4 - NSW, VIC, WA and the combined NT Gallery and Museum), and the botanical gardens. The weather clears just in time, and I spend an hour or so surrounded by native and imported plants, and pretty laked, jam-packed with eels. Minka and I head to an Italian restaurant for dinner, which Minka occasionally works at, and so we receive lots of attention, additional wine, and a reduction on the bill. And a general assumption by all the staff that we're dating, which Minka quickly corrects. I say something insulting about Monty Python's Live at the Hollywood Bowl DVD, a foolish move. Minka quickly leaps to its defence and I try to remember some of the best bits, so as not to insult my extremely generous and gracious host.

Tuesday is cup day, and time to move out of Minka's mum's house. Bags are dragged down to South Yarra, and locked in the dorm room of the Hotel Claremont. I jump on a train and head to Flemington, with no idea what to expect. The sun is out again, it's a glorious day. I'm told this is unusual on Cup day. On entering, I'm queueing for an "I'm over 18" wristband that no one checks all day, when race 3 takes a turn for the worse. Two horses stumble, and while one gets up, the other is very badly injured. The gasp from the crowd is justified, and while I didn't see it for myself, I'm told by Wednesday's papers that the horse was put down where it lay on the track.

I've been set two challenges for the day; a photo of me with a horse, and a photo of me with a pretty girl. The latter seems pretty straightforward - on a big race day, Flemington is clearly bulging at the seams with beautiful women in beautiful hats and dresses. The former will be more of a challenge, as the recent outbreak of horse flu in New South Wales and Queensland means all measures are being taken to keep the public at arm's length from the racing stock. I check in with Elissa. A photo of me with a statue or other representation of a horse will do. I manage both challenges later in the day, beer being a wonderful social lubricant, and no racecourse being complete without some sort of horse themeing, beyond the live ones.

The few punters I talked to were betting with the green $100 notes (worth about 40GBP) and had lost a few of them. My grandfather's advice to me, when betting on horses, was "keep your money", and he should know. It seems rude not to bet on the big races though, when you're there in person. I would definitely throw a few pounds at the Grand National, for example. I bet $10. Predictably, I lost $10, although Purple Moon was a whisker away from winning the cup, which would have put me $15 up!

By the time the Cup arrives at 3pm, incidentally, I am sick of hearing the phrase "The race that stops a nation". Having seen Australians gamble serious money on everything from electronic poker machines to the flip of a coin, and having seen statistics on how much of a problem this can be, I would go as far as to suggest that the nation stopping for a horse race might be a poor reflection on the nation, not a good one on the race. That said, I have an excellent time, and the cheer from the crowd when race 7 starts is worth the $50 entry alone. All the people gambling around me have fun too, no matter how much they lose, so maybe it's unfair to try to take the moral high ground. I gambled too, after all. And the betting shops back home are all full on National day

After race 9 or so, I'm ready to head back into town, and out of the sun, so I check in with a few people. Minka is going home, having had plenty of fun already. Bianca is in a pub somewhere north of the city so I head that way. A couple of hours of catching up, and conversation about validating Metro tickets in your own slot, and an incident involving a feminine hygiene product (unused) and someone's pint of beer later, and it's time to go home. I sleep very well, as I usually do after 9 hours' drinking...

Wednesday was museum day, namely the Melbourne Museum in Carlton Gardens and the Scienceworks Museum in Spotswood. I recommend the Scienceworks museumheartily to anyone under 13 years old. That's all I'll say. Melbourne Museum was good though.

Thursday began with meeting Bianca again, for coffee as originally planned. I explored Prahran a bit first, stumbling upon the market and a couple of book shops, and killed half an hour waiting (my fault, I was ages early), reading The Wah Wah Diaries by Richard E Grant. We had coffee and fruit toast, chatted a lot about Abel & Cole and people we met there, and then went our seperate ways. During coffee, Reiko (from the Kakadu tour) had phoned, as she was in Melbourne for a few days. As I had planned to leave at 7pm that night, I phoned right back, and rushed into town to Victoria Markets. They closed at 2pm, so arriving at 1.45pm I thought I'd better take something in. Once everything began to shut down I called Reiko and we went for more coffee. I opted for a hot chocolate for my own well-being on the night bus to Sydney.

I spent an hour in the immigration museum, which is also worth a visit. It's another reminder of racial tension in Australia's history - and of course, where it was imported from. Informative and entertaining too, aside from those (rightly) more solemn exhibits. I chuckle slightly at the references to a senior figure in Melbourne's history with the surname Batman.

Then a quick circuit of the city on the free tram, and it's time to go home. Sydney I mean. Which is feeling more like home these days.