Art & About

Despite me being down on Sydney and chastising it for being so damn ridiculously uber expensive, it is a beautiful city.

I had the smalls all to myself on Sunday afternoon, Matt was studying, so we ventured out into this pretty city of ours.

First stop - Art Gallery of NSW. They hold a whole host of kids programs - some of which are free. Definitely worth checking out. It only goes for around 1/2 an hour - which is such perfect timing to hold the attention of the smalls. And the Doctor chose his favourite painting. He'll be saving up a while for that one.

After the gallery, we meandered our way through the Botanic Gardens. Man oh man, a slice of heaven - aye aye aye! I always fall in love with this part of Sydney - and wonder why I don't visit it often enough.

And of course - the smalls loved that crazy travel-ator thing at Domain carpark. Maybe next time we'll just ride on that all afternoon.

God Can Be Funny

Regina Spektor's new album comes out at the end of this week (23rd). This holds great excitement for me. I think she's brilliant. Here's her new clip.



And while we're here, this song made me think about times when God must be giggling at me.

- When I was 19 walking up Oxford St wearing a skirt just above my knee with a split in it. Nothing outrageous, trust me. This slightly nutty dude yelled in the middle of the lunch time crowd at the top of his voice, 'I can see your f*nny'. The letter I've bleeped out is not a 'u' either. And he didn't say it just once. It was twice. I went scarlet red and hurried back to the office.

- Or when I'd just had all my wisdom teeth yanked out. It was a Friday and I decided to go to the movies by myself. I came out, it was still mid-afternoon. Oxford Street again. Harry, a slightly nutty guy who frequents Oxford Street - perhaps you know him? Calls out - top of his voice 'Hey spaghetti legs, spaghetti legs'. Everyone turned to look at me. Me with the slightly sore mouth. Thanks Harry.

- Or the time when I woke up in my little Paddington apartment to find a hand reaching through the window and pulling things out. Looking at them. And then returning them. I stood up on the bed, and said in a deep, gutteral voice 'Get the **** outta here'. Hand and body scurried away. I was freaked. I told my flatmate I was calling the police - straight after I had spotted her stuff out the window. And to cut a long story short, they found this dude in our roof. With a pile of our clothes at the bottom of the man-hole. Oh and did I mention he disconnected the electricity?

- Or the time I went out to meet some friends, they didn't turn up and I wound up at the bar waiting for said friends only to be forced to hang out with a short jockey-esque dude who came up to my shoulder and kept telling everyone he was my boyfriend. Wrong-goes.

God can be funny. But sometimes I don't see the funny side until much, much later.