Life between coffees.
I cooked too much.
I ate too much.
I drank too much.
I kicked the footy too much.
It’s 9.00 and Rae and I are exhausted.
It was a fine day, fine food, fine wine, fine friends, fine fun. You couldn’t ask for more – our one day of the year and now we’re looking forward to doing it all again in 2004. Hopefully without the rain, Brisbane and Collingwood; but with more people.
So, why hasn’t The Age got the news on its front page?
Why isn’t CNN leading with this?
Now I want more, want to know more, have to know more but that press release is all that there is.
I guess its only other fan boys and girls who can appreciate how wonderful this news is. The years of waiting, hoping, wishing have all been worth it. I read one comment that said ‘my generation will have a Doctor of their own’; and that’s what its all about. Your Doctor, your favourite story, your despised companion – a whole new generation will get the chance to create their own memories.
Doctor Who fans rejoice, our time has come again.
I’ve had two minutes to calm down now and I have realised I am infinitly more excited about the prospect of this than of Episode III.
I can’t believe he’s coming back.
After all this time. A new Doctor.
It can’t be real. It is. I can’t believe it.
Rae’s come up with an idea – while not hassling or annoying it’s going to be fun. The day they leave for good we’ll be sitting outside with a bottle of champagne watching them move, toasting each box as it’s loaded.
*UPDATE*
Even better – we’ll do it during the auction, cheer each bid! Feel free to join in – bring a deck chair and glass, we’ll supply the bubbly.
Our time has come. Some call it spite, I call it karma.
The front neighbours house is officially on the market (there’s a dirty great big sign on their freshly painted front fence), so all you good people start thinking seriously of harmless yet annoying things to drive them mad over the open days/auctions/time remaining for them here.
All things suggested that are this side of legal (no matter how close to the line) will probably be acted upon.
It?s more than I could have hoped for.
I have a convert. Phee is addicted to Dr Who. 6.00pm is now family telly time (and don?t tell my mum but every now and then we eat our dinner at the same time) where Rae, Phee and I sit down to watch Dr Who. Phee?s generally the first to remind me of what happened last night and then she?ll sit there glued to the screen. Tradition has it that Dr Who must be viewed from behind the couch, but Phee, being a modern girl, elects to view it through the safety of her fingers.
So far she?s been scared by the mention of a tiger eating people in An Unearthly Child and she thinks the Daleks are friendly but for 7, I?ll take it. By the time she?s 9 we should be up to Peter Davison so she will be able to fully appreciate the he, above all others, is the true Dr. In the meantime it?s just great watching her watching grainy black and white telly from 40 years ago and loving the stories as much as I did.
Slim Dusty passed away yesterday.
Slim will always hold a special place in my heart – he seems inextricably tied to memories of my Nana. Nana had a great collection of LP’s from the ’50s and ’60s, many of which were by Slim. As a young lad I often had the honour of choosing and placing the record on her old ‘radiogram (complete with station id’s on the dial) and phonogram’. More often than not I’d choose Slim. Then there was the highlight of my young life. Nana bought me tickets to see the Slim Dusty Show at the Shepparton Civic Centre. I must have been about 7, it was just Nana and me in the 3rd row at my first concert listening and watching in awe as the great man sang. I think I even scored a tape at the end and I must have been floating as we walked back to Orr St.
My music taste has changed a lot since then but I will always have a soft spot for Slim. Slim, me and Nana. A memory I never want to lose.
Driving home this afternoon an idiot a) tried to wipe me out as I merged in to traffic and then b) pulled in front of me so sharply I almost rammed him. He then c) flipped me the finger.
Well.
If you’re going to do this you really shouldn’t have your phone number on the back of your car.
If you’re awake in the wee small hours, or just want to annoy someone with irrelevant questions he has a hatchback for sale and his number is 0414 785 455. Just don’t forget to turn off your number display.
Please, go and hire a suit from Trevor West Formal Wear.
They need to pay me for their brand spanking new web site somehow.
Or, you could possibly conduct a clinical trial; they are about to get a bill too.
(I know, they are very similar. When you’re on a good thing, stick to it I say.)