Glastonburriedinmud

We have survived Glastonbury but only just. Our backs ache after trudging in mud for 5 days. It's incredible to think that a city of 180,000 people can spring up over night and still provide decent sanitation for everyone. Glastonbury really is a wonder to behold.

Here pictured is our second favourite DJ in the world, after El Hornet from Pendulum, DJ How 'Ard. He is a monster on the decks, spinning wicked tunes. We were so lucky to catch his set.

Highlights:

Iggy Pop
You know when you get a piece of steak, and there's a big chunk of hearty meat, then there's a little line in the meat followed by a smaller piece of hearty meat. Well, Iggy Pop is that line. I tell you, the man is all sinew. He is mental. He comes out on stage wearing jeans only and starts Madonna dancing on the speakers, pointing at his nipples. It's incredible - the man is nearly 107 years old. During his set he asked fans to come up on stage, so 300 stormed the barricades and for twenty minutes Ig wondered round chatting to people then begging them to get off the stage. No-one moved until the 50,000 strong audience started shouting "get orf, get orf". Madness. I loved his concert but can't tell you a single song he sang because it was all too crazy.

Billy Bragg
I was lucky enough to meet Mr Bragg because I was in the Union caravan display when he came in. We had a twenty minute conversation about the new patriotism sweeping the UK and the use of the St George flag. He signed his book for me. Billy's gig was utterly fantastic. He is a genuine all-round entertainer. An absolute highlight. If you get the chance to see him - do it! Here he is doing U2's One Love but making the audience do actions to "Let's drop the debt and it will be all right"...

Random Meetings

There were around 20 of our mates at Glasto which we randomly met trudging though the mud. What fun it is to bump into mates when there's 180,000 others in your way!

Pendulum
Regular readers of this blog will know that Jock and I are mad Pendulum fans. To see them live rather than DJing was electric. What made it even better, was that you could have been listening to this Scarborough band at the Hyde Park Hotel - the were so Oz, so Rock! We had to get into the East Dance tent early to avoid disappointment, which meant listening to Mr Boring Pants DJ for an hour. It was like watching the test pattern before your favourite TV show. The crowd was so amped by the time they came on.

Chemical Brothers
Who never disappoint. After Pendulum it was a walk over to the Other Stage to see the Chemicals. What a way to finish Glasto. Their set included this evil looking clown that stared down at us through the torrential rain. What I love about the crowds at gigs in the UK is that they have flags and other things on poles, like blowup kangaroos, so their mates can find them in the crowd.

Hot Chip

"Over and over and over and over....like a monkey with a miniature cymbal". Hot Chip are the Math Club who were given instruments. I have never set eyes on such a geeky group of musicians. That's another thing I'm loving about music at the moment - anyone can do it and the cool kids are the geeks. Great set - check out this vid - it's fantastic.

Michael McGibbon's T-shirt
My mate Mike flew from Sydney to be at Glasto. He wore this shirt with a pic of George Bush and one of his Bushism quotes about cloning.

Lassies
We kept going back to a hippy Indian stall to re-fuel on mango lassies. YUM. Actually, the food at Glastonbury was top notch. There were so many hippies there that we were spoiled for choice when it came to vegetarian options - which is the way forward when you are surrounded by mud and long drops.

Wellies
We simply would not have survived without them.

The Secret Pub
There is a secret pub near Lost Vagueness (where we caught a glimpse of Fat Boy Slim dressed as a bumble bee doing a DJ set). By the time we got there, our friends Jamie and Shane had beaten us, as had the bouncers to let people in. So we ran down the brae and were lucky enough not to get caught entering this little garden paradise surrounded by elms, where I spent the rest of the evening until sunrise, long after the boys had gone home.

What a weekend. Thanks Michael Eavis and Worthy Farm!

The International Prototype

Back by popular demand is the How to be Smart segment of Invisible Inkblot. You can read this little missive and by the end of it, impress your friends at your next dinner party. Memorise and store the following sequence in your left breast dinner jacket pocket and be ready to pull it out at the next Young Liberal Party fundraiser at Kirribilli House.

Are you aware that an international search for a new kilogram is on? The old French one is disintegrating as we speak, and may now only weigh 996.314159265 grams. Ce n'est pas possible! I hear you cry - how can I possibly ask for un kilo de pomme si vous plait next time I'm at a French market if the International Prototype for the kilo is falling foul of the air and elements. I knew égalité, liberté, fraternité was a front. They've been ripping us off with their fancy euro, soft cheeses and dodgy scales for years!

Lucky then some Aussie scientists from the Australian National Measuring Institute are inventing a new kilo. Before anyone accuses me of making this up, this is a real institute, where breakthroughs in Australian measurement have been made (like reinventing the metre) and young prepubescent boys can line up on a Friday afternoon and get themselves checked out before uploading their profile onto Bebo or MySpace.

Personally, the recipe for jam in the Country Women's Association cook book where it says "place a kilo of sugar into a heavy based saucepan" has always done me fine.

In short, Aussie scientists are "...doing everything to really create a perfect object. It's not only near-perfect in roundness, but also the crystal purity, the atomic species and so on"...to create the perfect spherical kilogram.

I don't know about you, but I marvel at scientists. Being the bachelor of art type, science alludes me, and I have been known to impress friends by simply saying, "y'know how if you drop your toast and it lands vegemite side down, well, that's science".

Go Australia go! Get that kilogram and those French sorted out!

If you would like to visit us at Glasto 07....

The red circle is where the tent will be pitched. Thanks Shane for doing the map....

Monkey Magic

What will they think of next? Pop outfit Gorillaz have joined forces with the Manchester Opera to bring back to life that '80s classic - Monkey Magic (which actually was a Chinese folklore from hundreds of years ago). So welcome back Sandy, Pigsy and Triptaka (a boy or a girl? The arguments never ceased). I remember watching this on the ABC...... It was actually a Japanese production. I think I'd like to see the Opera....

I just re-watched the first episode - I'd forgotten how clever, camp and funny it was!

Vale George Burarrwanga

Jock alerted me to the death of George Burarwanga who was lead singer of the Warumpi Band, best known for songs such as My Island home, Blackfella-Whitefella and Stompen Ground.

You can see George perform by clicking here and here or here

or you can watch Peter Garrett, MHR, sing with them by pressing play!



I didn't know his name until Jock pointed it out, and I'm embarrassed about it, because I've heard his music many many times on Triple J.

One week to Glastonbury Festival!

Here's the weather forecast for the Glastonbury Festival. It's gonna rain....

Discipline Urgenly Required II

The recent leak from the ACTU is another notch for Howard's belt in his relentless march to remain in power. There's part of me that wishes I was in Australia to fight this battle, and another that feels as though I have gone AWOL leaving my comrades to defeat the tyrant. Stories like this make me feel that Labor's grip on the election could slip for potentially the third election in a row because of stupid mistakes. It's so easy when you're on the other side of the planet. Keep up the fight fellow Aussies!

Interestingly, the bigger news story of the day is not the ratting of the "how to" manual, or the bargain basement bash at Kirribilli, but the disgraceful figures that have come out regarding who gets what government money. The poorest of the poor continue to miss out under Howard, while the top end reaps the benefits of welfare for the wealthy. What a disgrace.

But that's a much tougher argument to win. Much easier to have nasty, vitriolic, "celebtocracy" stories that make the front pages of tabloids so middle voters don't have to think long term and political activists don't have to explore with and move voters to actually think and believe differently. Remember - it was Howard that said Australian voters remember nothing other than the last two weeks of an election campaign.

See Tony Blair's recent speech on the role of the media or David Marr's piece in Quarterly Essay about how democracy and debate has been on the demise since Howard's rule. Both Blair's speech and Marr's article hit the spot when it comes to reporting of silly stories in the media and the lack of public debate.

"Ooohhh.....look Big Ted, it's a big phat tax cheque for middle and high income earners! Hello middle and high income earners!" .."Hello middle and high income earners! Little John, can Little Ted join in with the middle and high income earners?" ..... "Oooohhhh, I don't think so Big Ted. He's working a double shift on minimum wage cleaning the toy box tonight, and anyway, he couldn't afford to eat at this restaurant".

Sunni Side Up

I am at a loss to understand why the American bunker commanders have given their GI Joes the OK to trade, sell and supply guns, ammo, cash, jeeps and fuel to Sunni insurgents who are "disenchanted" with al-Qaida. Apparently, bunker chiefs have decided it's up to each commander on the ground to decide if their insurgents are worthy of such gifts. I'm wondering what tests the insurgents have to pass in order to gain the goodies. Do they simply front up at a meeting point and declare that they promise to stick a needle in their eye should they ever pass on the guns to al-Qaida or other insurgents intent on killing Americans?

I'm sure the CIA once gave weapons and money to al-Qaida to sort out those peski Ruskis in Afghanistan twenty years ago. And look how that worked out.

Bizarre. I think at the heart of all of this lies governance. There is corruption at every level of governance in Iraq - the Sunni speaker was just expelled by the Shia-dominated parliament yesterday for various scandals and the army and the police corps are riddled with sectarian violence.

This governance transcends to more than just Iraq. Iraq I believe, is a symptom of a wider problem of governance - state and corporate - that is a virus chewing its way throughout the planet. Just look at the recent G8 summit. Mountains of money (and still not an acceptable amount to forge positive and everlasting change) pouring in to Africa, but knowingly being put in an abyss of stink and corruption.

And it's not just African nations. BAE Systems - the massive weapons manufacturer in Britain - and possibly the Ministry of Defence, have been caught out bribing Prince Banbar of Saudi Arabia to the tune of "one billion pounds". Worse, the British Labour Government prevented an inquiry from concluding because it could test the friendship of the two nations. A billion quid - think how many school lunches that is....

Twenty-first century governance...sunny side up? It's a scrambled mess.

Please enjoy this video clip of Fat Boy Slim's Weapon of Choice. Remember - if you walk without rhythm, you won't attract the worm.

Our own orange revolution...

I love GetUp!



Feel free to spread this around as much as possible! I'm sure there will be more to come closer to the election.

Joof and Trev elope!

Congratulations to my sister Judith and her partner Trevor on their recent tying of the knot. This they kept secret - they didn't even tell Hayley - and their witnesses were the photographer and the bed and breakfast landlady, who brought along her best friend to blow bubbles during the ceremony.

The photo is soooo Oz! Just look at that bush in the background...makes me a bit homesick! Well done you two.

On other matters:

The Glastonbury lineup has come out. For those of you who are into your music, click here and get jealous! An aural sensory overload is coming my way! Fabulous!

Yesterday, we caught up with Lord-in-waiting George, whom we keep seeing at gigs around town. I asked him at the last gig if he wanted to be real friends and he said yes, so we went to a lovely pub for a drink of real ale (Lusty May it was called) and whisky. He went to Eton college (that most poshest of schools, where parents send their children to be fine upstanding citizens of the empire) along with Prince Harry (yes, George very young) and he's studying art history in order to gain knowledge of the art in his family's manor. I asked him if he was upset that he would be unable to don a red robe and take his seat as an hereditary peer. Lord-in-waiting George said he would have done his best to serve his country in that way, but was glad that there was no burden on his shoulders. Interesting chap, slightly misguided - but who isn't at 21?

And this weekend - we have not one social engagement! Lovely!

Discipline Urgenly Required

Discipline is urgently required in Labor ranks if we are to win the federal election. The recent stories regarding Therese Rein (Rudd's wife) and union leader Dean Mighell are going to be exploited by Howard to stem the decline in his popularity.

Howard is a master at tapping into perceived fears about the "bad ole days of unionism" (yes, well, those were the days when the gap was smaller between rich and poor, young workers could afford to buy a house and there wasn't nearly so much unpaid overtime).

Dean Mighell could have been smarter about his comments. Like so many union leaders of his ilk, it's all about ruffling up their peacock feathers and saying "look at moi, look at moi!". There's no doubt that Mighell's comments will wind up on a national Liberal Party ad deliberately used to mislead workers about unions.

Mighell and the likes of Kevin Reynolds et al must be brought into line. The people in the ALP's bunker in Canberra need to urgently get these union leaders on message (although, I suspect it'll be like be herding cats). Combined with their giant sized egos, giant sized bellies and their medium to small sized declining unions, they have the ability to derail the ALP's campaign to victory. In saying all of that, bosses have regularly stolen money from poorly paid workers and are given awards for it, but when a union leader does the same thing, he's branded a criminal.

But, I still believe there needs to be discipline. Spouses and any other outside interests that include the employment of workers need to be vigourously checked. How hard would it have been for Big Kev to say over dinner - "listen, love, we're going to be doing a little campaign on fairness at work. Can you make sure your employees are paid correctly".

Discipline discipline discipline....Howard will be closing ranks and will run the most vitriolic, negative campaign of his life because he is losing his grip on power. He is a desperate man and his henchmen will be out to uncover every bit of dirt possible. Kevin Rudd must pull people into line. The ACTU must pull people into line.

“The hope of a secure and livable world lies with disciplined nonconformists who are dedicated to justice, peace and brotherhood.” Martin Luthar King Jr.

PS - thank god for Get Up! It's doing such a good job! If you're not already a member, click here.

Oor Wee Hoosie

At long last - you can view oor new hoose on google videos. We've settled in nicely - I even made stovies for dinner (made from left over roast beef and potatoes). A true Scot would eat stovies with oatcakes and dip a spoonful of stovies into a mug of warm milk. Blech...I chose red wine and no dipping. It was my first attempt at stovies and while they were cooking, it brought back memories of home. It's funny how smells do that. Here's Jock looking wistfully at his oatcake...

and here's a virtual tour of our house:

An Indian Superman‽

Here's what happens when an Indian Superman meets an Indian SpiderGirl. There are so many questions - like, if they're saving the planet, how did they learn to dance like that? And did they ever appear on Telethon and the Connie Vidos School of Dance?

You'll also notice that I've decided to use an interrobang as the punctuation for the title of this entry. It has been introduced to me by Jamie Osborne and I think it's fabulous and well fitting for this bizzarre little filmette courtesy of YouTube.

I wonder what their children would look like should they decide to breed‽

Pulling a rabbit out of the hat

I don't know Mr Hat, what do you think? Do you think Mr Howard is a big fat loser breath stinky shit?

From The Australian

"Howard warned his troops that the Coalition could be “annihilated”, and that he has no rabbits out of hats.

It was blunt, dramatic and will have to be effective. Howard wants people to realise that if Labor is elected, there will be changes of policy and personnel that will “change the country’”."

Yes, Mr Howard. That is correct. We want to change the country, don't we Mr Hat.

Happy Birthday to Me!

The great thing about being 34 is when a boy in a nightclub thinks you're 23, you think you don't actually need the expensive Advanced Signs Stop Ageing Cream from Clinique anymore and that all is rosy and well. Until you remember that you've been in Blanche DuBoisesq lighting and you're wrinkles aren't showing. This same boy, who was dancing next to me, went to Applecross High, a bizarre coincidence given we were in a dank and dingy dance hall in Glasgow. There ended our similarities as he was born in 1987. A true child of the Howard era.

We went to see Groove Armada for my birthday at the Barrowlands, an old fashioned ballroom in Glasgow's east end. An epic concert - I pinched the poster (pictured) off the lamp post at the end of the night because "it was my birthday". It seemed like a good idea at the time...

iPod in your Pants

Apple and Levis, you have simply gone too far.

How are you going to clean these jeans? Is this a joke?

Meat Craiglea

Craiglea likes Reef Oil sun factor 2, drinking a bundy and coke by the pool on the Gold Coast and hanging out with the girls at the Mudgeeabra Cutting Shoppe in the Wallaby Hotel Complex, where she gets a semi perm and bleach. If she wants her hair done, then that's a different matter entirely - she prefers her mum to do it on the verandah of her Nan's house, where she runs a small business setting the hair of recently moved Victorian retirees.

Her ultimate fave rock star is Craig McLachlan and she especially likes the song Mona, which was his only hit actually. Craiglea was the chick in the video clip, when her name was originally Jenny. She got slightly obsessed with Craig so ate seven Chef Jay's Tri-O-Plex Duo Bars a day for fourteen months until she was satisfied she could play the guitar on the back of a ute as well as Craig.

Craiglea is currently single.

Amazing!

We finally got broadband from our ISP! It only took 6 weeks this time instead of four months. Rather than tell you our tale of woe, which included a cross line with a Mrs Joyce Bowes, I thought this little piece from Trigger Happy TV is symbolises how I felt during this process.

The BlairDitch Project

I thought the day that Blair was to resign would have fan fare and much waving of flags, but it seemed, such as the life of a lame duck president, that it came and went, like any other day, disposable like a takeaway Chicken Treat Hawaiian Pack - a sweet and short lived sensation that left a greasy after taste.

Did Tony's New Labour experiment over promise and under deliver, and will Gordon Brown ditch the project or continue it against the will of the Labour die-hards and the nonchalance of the nouveau rich?

I believe his legacy will be the quagmire in Iraq, spin and mistrust, instead of a social legacy of a minimum wage and union rights, the reinvigoration of the NHS (although the opposite is the perception) and the public service, better maternity leave and frankly speaking, good looks and charm. His mantra of "Politics may be the art of the possible; but, at least in life, give the impossible a go" may have robbed him of the legacy as a People's Prime Minister or as a Prime Minister of Hearts. For the very nature of what he was trying to do, by being heroic and tackling the impossible - fix the NHS - in effect, became his downfall.

Curing the NHS is an impossible task. It is a giant leaky bucket that can never be sealed and there will always be a story the opposition will find about an 80 year old grannie who stayed in the corridor for 4 hours in emergency, or an outbreak of a super bug that claims the life of a healthy man in his prime.

So many Brits had faith in Tony, and were stripped bare, along with Labour's membership and activist base.

The people can't pin all their hopes on one man - it will take more than one generation to fix the broken country that the Tories left - yet the general malaise that has enveloped Britain has a country drunk on consumerism and yearning for a spot on reality TV. The reality is, that the people who pinned their hopes on New Labour will be the same people that are needed to lift New Labour into the next decade of the 21st century. Those people have been left scarred and cynical by sound bites and lies, and can't see beyond the 80 inch wall mounted telly at the positive things ten years of Labour has done.

I will remain forever angry at Blair's decision to go to war. But I mustn't become cynical. He said in his closing remarks: "Hand on heart, I did what I thought was right. I may have been wrong - that's your call. But I did what I thought was right for our country".

So, dear reader, I will leave you with this quote from Glasgwegian artist and architect, Charles Rennie Mackintosh, for whom I have much admiration:

There is hope in honest error. None in the icy perfections of the mere stylist.

Recipe of the Month!

Fiona, Jock and I went to this tres fabulous French restaurant last night and ate a three course meal for ten quid each. The dessert was so yummy, I got the recipe from Chef so I don't have to eat there again (actually, that's a pile of merde, I think I will become a regular). So, here is the recipe for Lemon Something French Thingy (I can't remember its name):

You will need:

• 2 pints of double cream (that's 1.2 litres for my metric friends)
• 300 grams of castor sugar (that's a lot really)
• Juice of 5 lemons (don't cheat from that lemon squeezy thing you can never find at the supermarket)
• A bowl, whisk, pot, stove and some moulds
  

You will do:

• Bring cream and sugar to the boil stirring constantly
• Keep it bubbling for a further 3 minutes and keep stirring
• Remove from heat and whisk in the lemon juice
• Pour in to individual moulds or Vegemite glasses
• Bung in fridge to set, or window sill if you're in Glasgow.

And voila! You have a fabulous French dessert. It's creamy and sticky and tangy and deliciously rich. Nigella Lawson would probably like this dessert and deliberately drip it down her satin dressing gown so she can seductively lick it off with her fingers...."Oooh, I just love Lemon Something French Thingy. It's the most astonishingly easy dessert to make and I just love the way it oozes off the spoon representing the end of your dinner party and that lovely slide into beaujolais induced stupor before you fall into your satin sheets" (camera cuts to uber fabul-arse-looking friends of Nigella laughing and wiping up drippy Lemon Something French Thingy from corners of mouth, camera pans back to Nigella's chest), et cetera et cetera.

Have fun making and eating it!

PS - photograph may not actually represent what this dessert looks like.

PPS - still no broadband, even though they assured me it would be yesterday.