Missing

Staying in Adelaide for two weeks is making me wonder how I ever lived in the country. And reminding me that I will never, ever go back. In particular, and in no particular order, I am missing:

- My house, and Anna and Merrin.. (but not Australian Idol sessions. Sorry guys.)

- My bike, Park St, and this house:


- Poker. In fact, I AM MISSING POKER TONIGHT!! Grr, I was feeling lucky, too. I miss Adge and Ty and even the weird guy who's poker face is slightly undermined by his shaking hand. Poor that guy.

- Cool places, like rooftop bowling greens. And East Brunswick Bowling Club. And the Empress. And Bimbo's.

- Having a fish and chip shop, and an op-shop, and a coffee house, and the Empress, all just around the corner from my house. Oh, and a Samurai. A biscuit factory just isn't the same.

Really, apart from a cute sister and a cute baby, and that one awesome shop, all Adelaide has got going for it is that I was allowed to bring this laptop. Oh, and that Glenelg is a palindrome. And has a ship monument.

Adelaide could be worse..

Thanks to here. I have a new dress. Woot! (Anna Lovest, how much does this painting look like you? At least.. a bit.)


(I realise you can't actually see the dress much, but I was working out how zoomed the camera needed to be to get in the dress when my camera died. I had to go to Marion to get a new charger, and then got distracted by other shops on the way, and now I'm sick of trying things on. But the general gist is, it's blue. With records printed all over it. AWESOME.)

Baby

Places you never thought you’d be #572:

In the back of a Commodore at 1.30am in Adelaide, while your little sister and her boyfriend are in the front and arguing about what’s a safe speed to drive to the hospital labour ward. I’m leaning towards pretty fast, but I don’t buy into it.

If I were Bec, I would have been taking more issue at the chosen soundtrack for her excruciating pain – lame top 40 R’n’B circa five years ago, including such hits as Sorry Ms Jackson, and that annoying It’s Your Birthday crap. Actually, I guess at least that one was going to prove appropriate for someone.

At the hospital, a midwife filling out a form asked Bec: So, why have you come here today? I spent the next few hours thinking up possible answers. "We told the police we were speeding because I was about to give birth, so they escorted us here and now we're here. Got any coffee?"

The next few hours were long. And painful. Particularly for Bec, but I maintain I was feeling sympathy pain. I got kicked out of the birthing room when they decided to break Bec's waters, and had to hang out in a waiting room, where "Adelaide's Greatest Hits" were being piped through a soundsystem. I gritted my teeth through Savage Garden and Ronan Keating, before I decided to go and wait outside the door and listen to Bec screaming.

At about 6am, she stopped screaming and Zoe started screaming. But then she stopped too and everyone was happy.

The next morning, before we left to go visit Bec and Zoe at the hospital, her boyfriend Steve was bouncing around the house to the Offspring. He really does have the knack when it comes to surprisingly appropriate music.

Which way is south?

When I moved to South Australia at the start of year 12, I was a bit confused about those crazy Croweaters referring to us Victorians as “Mexicans”. I know it’s common practice for New South Welshmen, but something didn’t seem to add up when it was coming from our closest western neighbours.

When I asked one of Naracoorte High School’s finest for an explanation, he was condescending. “Duh, because Mexico is south of the border”. Firstly, I was in year 12 in 2000, so I’m not sure why any student would be harking back to the early 90s with “duh”, but secondly, I KNOW MEXICO IS SOUTH OF THE US BORDER, BUT HOW DOES THAT RELATE TO VICTORIA, WHICH IS EAST OF THE SOUTH AUSTRALIAN BORDER?!

Really, if South Australia is to be involved in any Mexican name-calling, THEY should be the ones getting it FROM THE NORTHER TERRITORY!

It was all very concerning.. and don’t even get me started on the South Australia superiority complex about not having convicts as ancestors. (Adelaide didn’t start out as a penal colony, it was settled by over-zealous Christian types, hence the City of Churches.) It seems a pretty second-rate claim to fame to me. And believe me, hang out in Naracoorte for five minutes and I reckon you’ll develop your own opinion about criminal histories..

Anyway, I’m back in South Australia for the next two weeks, and fighting hard against my state prejudices. So far, not so good. Went jogging in Marlestone today - home to both an Arnott’s factory AND the ETSA Electricity Plant.

Some call it the Festival State, others "a festering petri dish of weirdness". Either way, it's going to be a long two weeks..

South Australians wear orange, comfort each other after realising there's a design fault in their really small car.