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happy birthday to you
happy birthday to you
happy birthday, little crazybrave
happy birthday to you

art/life interface

I've written before about Ducky's beautiful handmade sketchbooks - and I have my own one now, a beautiful square green number she made for my birthday.

But Ducky's real books are another thing altogether. She showed me her newest one the other day when I popped in for a catch up after we hadn't seen each other for a week or two. It's like a sombre little old fashioned photo album, black pages. She's manipulated old family photographs to remove the flesh and add the words of her brother, who died tragically and young.

It was so very, very good that I was having a little weep after reading it. So sad, and so filled with her love and gentleness.

Unfortunately, this was when her mum and dad arrived from the south coast. I pretended it was my present horrible flu making me looking like a weeping idiot, gathered up my son and ran away.

What I did on my holidays

I touched elbows.

It was good.

There's a new kid in town

Chris is a newish Canberra blogger. He's a PhD student at ANU, originally from New Zealand.

It's always interesting to see your town through new eyes, and he writes a really snappy post. It's a nice mix of personal observations and the amusements (and otherwise) of the academic life.

Here is his history as a binge drinker, and here some observations on PhD students studying philosophy. Well worth a read.

"fine musicians, and even finer clowns"

Missed King Rooter getting evicted on Sunday night because I was at the Polish Club watching Mikelangelo and the Black Sea Gentlemen, whose new record is reviewed here. It was their last show for a while before they head off overseas, but just go and see them whenever you get a chance. It's not everynight handsome gyspy kabaret fiddlers go leaping across tables full of weirdy big Polish beer bottles.



The Polish Club itself is a gem. Beautiful stage, a tiny room - standing room only when I got there half an hour late - the White Eagle bistro for all your pre imbibing carbo-loading needs and an unmatched range of truly shocking vodkas. One of the weirdy beardy folk club types got the last of the cherry vodka, but he let me have some and it was delicious. Next time I shall not drink the honey vodka. Or the terrible shampagne in little tiny bottles.