And so this is Christmas.

G'day and merry christmas!

I hope it feels more festive where you are as there is a distinct lack of Christmas spirit in Australia. Maybe it's the weather. Or the Ashes (more later) but Christmas came and went and I barely noticed. Still I made the most of the time off work and, yes, I have photos to prove it.

Christmas Eve
Busy, busy, busy at work but come the evening it was time to relax and head to the Botanic Gardens and the Moonlight Cinema. The film, rather tongue-in-cheek considering the day, was Life of Brian (one woman I got talking to was only there because her son was working at the bar and she wanted to spend time with him while avoiding the film because she was a good Christian - I was going to explain that the film isn't really blasphemous but life's too short to bother with Christians).

Christmas Day
Weird. Very weird. Opened a few presents (thanks Fiona, Sally and Imogen) and then went for a walk along the beach to St Kilda.

Next Christmas I'll be asking Santa for Botox

Weather forecast was wrong and it wasn't as sunny or warm as predicted, but I paddled in the sea and the atmosphere in St Kilda (the Barmy Army cricket fans had arrived) was good.

Santa forgot he still had presents to deliver. And the elves were looking worse for wear.

And then back to Christmas lunch. What to have? I tried to keep it a bit traditional but wanted a twist so ended up with Quorn pasties, potatoes, carrots and broccoli - with satay sauce (worked better than it sounds), followed by a Crunchie and a Flake.

Cliff's Christmas lunch - the two turtle doves were impressed (partridge in pear tree just out of shot)

And that, more or less, was Christmas Day.

Boxing Day
Australians call it Boxing Day too (but they don't know where the name comes from either). I'd planned to get out of Melbourne for the first time since I arrived and had booked a daytrip along the coast to Phillip Island. It's famous for the Penguin Parade (hundreds of penguins coming up the beach at sunset to return to their nests) but photography's not allowed (unless you're Asian and pretend you don't speak English) so you won't see any of the little guys here, but they were cute as anything (it was the day for cute Aussie animals), waddling more than usual because of very full bellies (to feed the chicks) and largely oblivious to the crowds.

Taking us on our day out was friendly driver Laurence who had a tale of doom about every section of road and beach on the trip (either someone had died in a car crash, or been swept away by a wave, or fallen off a cliff). The food was bad (worst pizza EVER - it had carrots on it!!) and it was cold (wind straight from the Antarctic) but some great sights made up for it.

First was a mini Australian zoo.

Koalas - cute but lazy

Wombat - cute but sad looking

Wallaby and Cliff - cute and hungry (the wallaby and Cliff)

Wallaby, Cliff's hand and (another) wallaby's tail

Er, what the sign says. No sign of Rod Hull (think he was busy with a TV aerial or something)

Kangaroos - not that cute and not that interesting, just lazy

Tasmanian Devil - not very cute but endangered so be nice

Then we had a look round Phillip Island (it's about two hours southeast of Melbourne).

Cliff and Pyramid Rock (my hair was trying to copy the shape of the rock I think)

The Nobbies (?) - bird-nesting site and seals (neither visible)

South shore of island - wild

Rainbow over Phillip Island (maybe the title of a book I write)

And then it was back to Melbourne, getting back around midnight.

Monday 27th: Cliff falls in love - with the Ashes
A year, nay, a month or two ago, I would have bet everything I have against me ever watching cricket, never mind paying to watch it, and yet I have to say that the day I spent at the Ashes was one of the best things I've done here. It was freezing cold (well, not freezing, but there was a cold wind all day) and even that didn't stop me loving it. And no, it wasn't just because England were winning or because the Barmy Army created a good atmosphere (in fact, they got a bit annoying after a while). There was just something about it that was highly addictive.

The 'G' as it's known by Melburnians

Pietersen batting (he's very very tall - or maybe everyone else was very very small)

The crowd (mostly Barmy Army)

Best song by the crowd? The one about Mitchell Johnson, Australian bowler:
He bowls to the left.
He bowls to the right.
Poor Mitchell Johnson -
His bowling is shite.

I was there from 10.40 (just after it started) until 6pm when they stopped for the day, and would have gone again if I could have got a ticket. Doesn't look like England needed my support though...

And so that was Christmas. Not what I'm used to but still fun.

G'bye for now.
Cliff

Landmarks of Melbourne: part 3 - and bowling

G'day

It's a bit embarrassing to mention the bowling in the same sentence as illustrious landmarks of my adopted city so let's just get it over with, shall we?

In the on-going series of Christmas events I've been lucky enough to be asked to at work (rainy funfair party; team drinks and meal) last Thursday was the Melbourne publishing team's outing and they decided to go bowling. Yes, those crazy commissioning editors chose to celebrate the birth of Jesus by bowling, and not even ten pin bowling. No, lawn green bowling. Still, I was pleased to be invited along and good fun it was too.

First there was lunch and once the veggie burgers and meringues were polished off we were introduced to the art of bowling by Lenny.

Lenny explains what a bowl is - red face courtesy of either too much sun or too much beer

 After a brief run-through we were let loose and while some of the team seemed to have had secret lessons they were so good, this blogger shamed the good name of Wilkinson (apparently my grand-dad was selected for the English national bowling team).

Some of the better players (Glenn and Geoff)

The worst player - I blame the glare from my two bottles of milk

And so moving on....

Having recently become a convert to markets (to visiting them, rather than actually shopping in them) I decided it was time to visit Melbourne's most famous - the Queen Victoria. Just north of the city centre it's pretty big and has everything you'd expect from a market including (my favourite) a huge cheese, bread and chocolate section.

Souvenir stall

Snags (aka sausages) - I didn't buy any (unsurprisingly) but I thought northeners might enjoy this shot

And so after buying some mini peppers stuffed with feta (sooo good) and some nice bread, I headed off (in the rain - again!) to the National Gallery of Victoria.

You may remember a previous photo of the outside of this place (not sure why I didn't go in that time) and me wondering what exactly is 'national' about it given that Victoria is a state, but anyway, this time I went in and spent an hour or two wandering around. It's split into two main sections - Asia and Europe and has a small but decent collection.

Chinese cup and statue

Old Chinese art mixed with modern elements - worked pretty well

It's Veronese darling. Obviously.

Australian fashion is a bit behind the latest European styles

No wonder rabbits caused so many problems when they were introduced to Australia 

And so to some miscellany.

Tattoos - I thought the British were bad at having tacky tattoos but wow, the Australians like getting inked. And not just a small bird or even a celtic armband here and there. Oh no, we're talking whole arms and legs covered in tats. Pretty grim in my opinion.

Bruce the dog - and here to finish is my housemates' dog, Bruce. Cute isn't he?

Bruce the cute dog (he charges more to look directly at the camera)

And that's it for now - Christmas, penguins and cricket to come soon!

G'bye

Cliff

The results from the UK jury are in

G'day

Very quick post to say I got my MA results. For those of you who have spent a year listening to me ramble on about it it will be a relief to know that it's all over now and that I got a distinction (meaning average marks over the five essays of 70+%). Am quite pleased and will think of some suitably Australian way to celebrate.

And rather than dampen the joy of this news by talking about my bowling yesterday (abysmally bad) I'll leave it there.

G'bye.

Cliff

Drop bears and rangas

G'day

I've been wondering whether to share this or keep it a secret but have decided that I'm no good at keeping secrets so here goes. As soon as you arrive in Australia you start talking to people about the wildlife. It's only natural as the country has lots of unique and amazing creatures. Koalas, kangaroos, wombats, platypuses and, though you may not have heard of them, drop bears.

"Watch out for drop bears," they say, "they fall out of the trees and hit you on the head."

"Really?" you say, "But I've never heard of drop bears. Are they like koalas?"

"Kinda," the Aussie will say, "but they fall out of trees and hit you on the head."

And so for a few weeks you wander around, looking out for these drop bears, telling your new Aussie friends that you've been lucky so far to which they always reply "But be careful because they fall out of trees and hit you on head." It's the same sentence every time as if everyone in the country had been programmed to say it - which is sort of what happened as the whole thing is one big Australian joke. There are no drop bears. They don't fall out of trees because they don't exist. They were invented by Australians to give them a laugh at the expense of visitors and everybody seems to be in on the joke. To be honest it is pretty funny and I'll definitely join in if someone from the UK comes over and starts talking about the wildlife. Unless it's one of you, dear readers, as now you know the truth.

And so to rangas. What's a ranga you ask? Well this time they do actually exist. I'll give you a clue. I'm one. Julia Roberts is one. Chris Evans is one. Bonnie Langford is (was? is she still alive?) one. Have you got it yet? If I tell you that ranga is short for orangutan does that help? Yes, that's right, rangas is the delightful Australian term for ginger people. Insulting enough and when said with a strong Australian accent - well, words can't describe it.

And speaking of indescribable things, I'm at a loss to understand the excitement generated by the visit of Oprah Winfrey to Australia. She flew over (with 300 US audience members and her whole production team) to spend a few days here (Sydney, Great Barrier Reef, Uluru, Melbourne) and you'd think Jesus had shown up. There were women crying on TV screaming "I love you Oprah!" and thousands queued to be audience members at outdoor recordings by the Opera House. Who knew she was so popular still? Not me. Plus $5 million were spent on her visit which means that I, as a current tax payer here, helped pay for this over-hyped circus. Apparently, to quote Oprah "Lots of Americans have never even heard of Australia but will watch the programme and want to visit". Seriously Australia, if someone is so thick that they haven't even heard of your country, do you really want them visiting?

And that's enough musings for now (especially given the lack of photos. Again. I know, sorry). Don't worry though - I've got more Christmas dos (crown green bowling - we know how to party), trips to see penguins parading, and the England v Australia Test match all coming up so there'll be plenty of pics for those.

G'bye for now.

Cliff

What the hell's an esky? And some generalisations.

G'day

What the hell's an esky indeed? Or for that matter a ute? Or bonbons? I grew up watching Neighbours (and occasionally Home & Away) but that didn't prepare me for Australian English in all its glory. Some grammatical points for those interested in conversing with the locals:

1. abbreviate any word you can and add an 'o' to the end eg arvo for afternoon. This is especially important for people's names eg Clifton becomes Clifto. If a person's name is already short add an 'o' to make it a bit longer eg Nick becomes Nicko.
2. as above but end the word with an 'ie' eg barbie for barbecue.
3. don't waste time saying long words, reduce them to their initials eg Australia's rolling out their version of Freeview which features an EPG (Electronic Programme Guide) and a PVR (Personal Video Recorder).
4. don't be so dull as to maintain the same intonation throughout a sentence, a sentence should always have rising intonation so that it sounds like a question even when it isn't?
5. swear. A lot.
6. realise that 'Good on yer' isn't necessarily a compliment eg "I'm sorry but I didn't do that thing you asked me to do", "Oh, good on yer!"
7. say "Aw yeah" as much as possible. It's possible (and sometimes preferable) to have a whole conversation using just this one phrase.
8. 'Grouse' doesn't mean a type of bird shot by posh people but 'cool'.
9. Don't say 'bonza' or 'ripper' - out of date now. Say 'grouse' instead.
10. know that an esky is an icebox (for keeping your tinnies in); a ute is a utility vehicle (basically a truck); and bonbons are Christmas crackers.

And while I'm on the subject of Cliff's Observations on Australia I've noticed that people here have a very different work ethic to the British. There is a real sense of 'Work Hard, Play Hard' here whereas the UK's attitude to the whole thing would best be summed up as'Work a bit, Go to the Pub'. If an Australian didn't get up at six to go to the gym, cycle into work, put in a nine-hour day, run home and then have a barbie with some mates he wouldn't consider it a day well spent. And notice that there's a lot of sport going on there. Some might say that's because the weather is conducive to outdoor activities. Some might say it's because there's a lack of cultural pursuits to indulge in. Some might say nothing for fear of offending Australians reading this.

And while I realise this is a rather ranting, photo-lite post, I can't go without mentioning what I'll label the Three Ts - TV, Transport and (T)radio.

• TV - having bought a new TV for my room in the new place I found out I also needed to buy an aerial as there was no cable from the one on the roof. Unfortunately, and despite buying the best indoor aerial available, I'm only able to watch three channels, two decent but rather worthy public service stations, and a very random Croatian channel which no-one has even heard of - but which my TV picks up with remarkable clarity.
• Transport - so bad it makes London look like a world leader. Trams are a nice idea but in practice are not so great when you run old-fashioned, one-carriage, non-airconditioned ones in the rush hour. People need to get on the trams to be able to use them, transport chiefs. And then once you get to the train station and have headed to the platform from which your train is soon to depart (according to the notice boards), there's nothing worse than then finding they've changed the platform but you have no time to run up the escalator and down the other one to the new platform. Instead you stand there, sighing/sobbing/swearing as your intended train comes and goes while you remain at the station.
• (T)radio - ok, so I cheated a bit on this one (it doesn't begin with 't' in case you hadn't noticed) but I had to mention that if TV is full of adverts (even the Croatian channel) then radio is even worse. Not only are there ads betwen songs but traffic reports, weather reports and even the news are all "brought to you by..." someone or other. And if you get to hear a song in amongst the inane ramblings of the presenters it's like Christmas has come early (but without the bonbons).

And there, reader, I'll leave it for now. More photos, less generalisations next time.

G'bye

Cliff

Hot in da hood

G'day

After last weekend's cold and wet weather things have heated up over the last couple of days and I've had a chance to check out my new neighbourhood, Middle Park. Named with a nod to logic rather than romance, it's the area just to the west of and, obviously, half way down (ie the middle of, geddit?) Albert Park. The park is big and has a huge lake but is not particularly pretty, with a main road running through the whole of it on which the Australian Grand Prix takes place every year (so loud that most of the residents here move while it lasts!). Luckily the neighbourhood itself is far more attractive and quieter, full of quaint Victorian (?) cottages with beautiful ironwork balconies and overflowing jasmine bushes.

A quaint cottage

There's a little row of shops, cafes and a pub, with lots of rich couples (you have to be rich to live here - average price of those quaint cottages is A$1.3 milion, about £800,000) brunching with their kids.

Da hood

Five minutes in the opposite direction to the park is the beach and Port Phillip Bay.

Da beach

But what you really want to see, admit it, is the house I've moved into. Everyone likes a good nosey round other people's houses so here are a few shots.

Da outside (used to be a corner shop)

Da living room

Da other living room and da garden

Da parrots

As you can see, the decor is original, to say the least, and as you'll have realised my gangsta stylings and ridiculous use of 'da' to describe everything is very much tongue-in-cheek given the very middle class air of Middle Park. Makes a change from southeast London, that's all I'm saying. Oh, and if anything exciting ever happens here I'll be sure to report it here - just don't hold your breath!

And a couple of questions to finish off with.

Question 1: Why is Australian toothpaste in longer tubes than UK toothpaste?

Exhibit A m'lud

Question 2: When Melbourne properties are described as 'Georgian' what exactly does that mean? Not wanting to 'get all history on your arses' Melburnians but the Georgian period ran from 1714 to 1830, before your city had even been born, so what exactly is Georgian about these houses? Or is it some other George that I'm unaware of? Maybe a famous Aussie? Answers on a postcard...

And now the heat's getting to me (31 today!) and I'm gettig fatigued so I'll sign off.

G'bye.

Cliff

The Lonely Planet Christmas party - and Cliff gets arrested!

G'day

I know, I really must stop with these sensationalist post titles, but I couldn't resist - and when the weather's been as bad it has been this whole weekend I need every bit of fun I can get. But you'll have to read on to find out what on earth I'm talking about.


So Friday 26th was my last night in the LP flat on Melbourne's Southbank. Rain stopped play and I needed to pack anyway so the last few hours were spent indoors. I certainly know how to rock a Friday night. At least the sunset was spectacular in amongst the monsoon showers.

View across Melbourne toards the port

And then Saturday it was goodbye Southbank, hello Albert Park (so posh I have ex-Neighbours actor Guy Pearce as my near neighbour! Is that actually posh?). More soon on the new place.

Saturday was also the day of the Christmas party. I'll let the photos do the talking...

Luna Park, St Kilda - scary entrance

Normally busier than this I'm guessing on a Saturday night

The Lonely Planet employees band - loud!

Cliff's party shirt - louder (the band asked me to turn it down as they couldn't compete). The glamorous cabin crew is friend and colleague Marg (somehow not deafened despite close proximity to the shirt - and now I think I've milked the 'shirt/loud' joke as much as I can).

The other cabin crew members

Apart from loud bands/shirts and colleagues dressed like slutty stewardesses (their words not mine) there was also the chance to have 'fun' on the rides. Given the still-torrential rain it didn't look promising but I headed for the dodgems as they were at least under cover. My excitement was slightly tempered by the dodgems controller guy who certainly didn't see his role as putting the fun in funfair and warned us at the start that deliberately bumping other dodgems was not allowed and he would stop the ride if anyone did it. Somebody should explain the point of dodgems to him. Driving a dodgem car without bumping other dodgem cars is just driving!


And so to Sunday and my arrest. Ha ha! Actually it was a visit to the Old Melbourne Gaol, something I'd been saving for a rainy day and so Sunday was perfect!

And when I say arrested what I really mean is that as part of the visit you get to be pretend 'arrested' and processed in the original holding block where those arrested but not charged yet would spend the night. This place ran until 1994 which is a bit scary given the conditions.

No, I hadn't used this.

Prisoner Wilkinson: convicted of crimes against fashion

The rest of the gaol (not sure what the olde worlde spelling is all about but that's what they use) was excellent if a bit gruesome, with cell after cell telling tales of nineteenth-century murder with accompanying death masks of the murderers. Most famous of these masks (and of the gaol's former prisoners) is Ned Kelly.

The main corridor and cell doors

Kelly's death mask

Kelly, a folk hero or vicious murderer depending on your point of view, evaded the police for years, holding up banks and even whole towns, until eventually being captured in 1880. He was sentenced to death and hanged on the scaffold below - his mother, also a prisoner, was working in the laundry nearby when he was executed.

Trapdoor under the rope; release lever to the right near the door

Just round the corner from the prison is the equally excellent State Library of Victoria.

State Library with statues of St George killing the dragon and, er, Joan of Arc (?)

As well as being open to study even on Sundays (take note British Library!!) it has a beautiful domed reading room...

And some interesting exhibitions including one on famous Victorians which includes Ned Kelly's fairly effective but cumbersome (it weighed 50 kilos/7 stone 8) metal armour. I say fairly effective because, as you'll notice, there were no full leg coverings and this weakness is what the police took advantage of, shooting Kelly in the legs so they could arrest him.

So, all in all, and despite the best efforts of some truly awful weather, it was a pretty good weekend - unless you were John Brumby, leader of Victoria's Labor (sic) party who did really badly in the state elections and looks likely to lose power. So it's g'bye from him, and g'bye from me.

Cliff