the diversity and similarity

A quiet Friday afternoon in an open plan office is generally never that controversial. Except, for when colleagues, unaware that an Australian interloper, sitting in their midst, are giving their views on Australians and its respective cities. Of particular note was the shellacking given to our dear Melbourne. It is "nice" and "cosmopolitan", but full of people who are "so far up their arses" and "pretentious" and "boring". Why, I disagree with you, kind sir. It's only because we live in a more liveable city than London are we allowed to become "up ourselves" about our little city. So Melbourne has its flaws such as being rather boring at times and irritatingly insular when the football season is on, but I'm damned if I'm going to sit here and cop a beating on behalf of my fellow Melburnians. I will rise up with courage... and write about it in my blog.

Whimper.

Now that I am unsure what else to write in my blog, I will fill it with inane chatter about the weather. (In fairness to me however, an English friend has told me that it is absolutely a cultural trait of the British to talk about the weather when filling in gaps in conversation).

There are some beautiful chestnut trees just inside the gates to the residential complex where I live. In the autumn, little soon-to-be-hooligans would throw fallen chestnuts at each other, and I've watched the trees turn into a magnificent mass of yellow leaves. More and more, the yellow leaves would scatter itself around the ground, until this morning, the frost shrivelled up the leaves and left the ground bare. In defiance of the cold, I have now unpacked my thickest winter jacket, and discovered that I have a ridiculous number of jackets. I have the jackets which I had brought with me from Melbourne which are laughably inadequate for an English autumn. In addition, I have 2 new jackets which I bought - 1 which would only survive an early autumn here, and another which would survive a late autumn. Some people collect stamps (Err... me circa 1990). Some people collect bags. And I collect jackets. (And speaking of clothing, I have since been informed that referring to "pants" here means underwear. So when I said to someone about me wearing black pants, I was certainly not referring to my underwear. 'Scuse me. My black trousers.)

But enough of the weather and pants/panties. Last week after having a coffee with Rob and his girlfriend, we decided to go for a walk and found ourselves at the red-carpet launch of a movie at Leicester Square. I dare say it will be my first and last time I ever join the throngs of stupid people to go to watch crowds of stupid people taking pictures of crowds of stupid people. Screaming girls, screaming older women, screaming older women complaining about screamings girls being hoisted on the shoulders of screaming girls, moronic "I'm so fabulous that I'm on the red-carpet" hosts on big-screen TVs, crowds of tourists jumping over barriers, etc etc etc. Horrendous. I am living in the land of Shakespeare (yawn) and Churchill - and this is what I get?

And speaking of democracy, I have finally been sent my postal vote ballot papers in the mail. I will sit down with a nice cup of tea and mark all my Senate preferences below the line. All 68 of them.

In another beauty contest, I was able to catch the National Portrait Gallery's exhibition of The Photographic Portrait Prize one evening before a nice Chinese dinner with my cousin and aunt. I quite enjoyed the small exhibition, but given the narrow terms of reference - that is - you take picture of a person to enter the competition - there was a limit on what there was to see. What was not limited however was the diversity of issues and types of people that were captured in these photos. In one review of the Exhibition, the critic noted that there seemed to be an abundance of ginger-haired people in the photos. Perhaps the judging panel at the Photographic Portrait Prize had the same thinking like the rest of us 20 million Australians. We're going to replace a short, glasses-wearing, nerdy, economic conservative with another short, glasses-wearing, nerdy, economic conservative.

A somewhat tenuous link, I know. And just for the record, the short, glasses-wearing, nerdy, economic conservative does not refer to me. If only.

the non-stop fireworks

Tis the season for fireworks.

In the lead up to Guy Fawkes day, Guy Fawkes day itself and now the aftermath of Guy Fawkes day, there have been non-stop fireworks going around London. Being conveniently located on the banks of the Thames, we have prime views of fireworks that people are lighting up across the Thames. On Saturday night we could see literally the entire north side of the Thames light up with about 4 lots of fireworks going on. At one point we couldn't decide where to look - east? west? east? - it was ridiculous the abundance of fireworks going on.

I think I have now been way overexposed to fireworks. I can hear enormous ka-booms happening all around, and I sit here at my table with the curtains drawn, ignoring the festivities outside. Yes, I have been incredibly spoilt. I guess you need to be here to understand why I find fireworks rather boring now.

With London getting colder and a growing inclination to hibernate indoors with a glass of red and a good book, it has been an achievement every time I force myself out of the house to do the grocery run or gasp! go and check out what London has to offer. Frances and I went to see Ratatouille on Saturday afternoon which was great fun. Highly recommended - it was very cute and very witty, and being the sap I am, I love a happy ending. Only in movies mind you - I'm way too bitter and twisted to enjoy such sacharine nonsense outside of reality.

Of course, there were plenty of good morals for children in the movie - don't steal, be loyal to your friends, have a good attitude to life, keep your mind open, etc etc etc. Worthy sentiments. What was not so worthy were the little shits that were running up and down the aisles during the films. Disgraceful. As I complained to my boss today, I didn't yell at them, lest I get stabbed in the back. It's quite bad nowadays where people are fearful of standing up to disrespectful youngsters behaving antisocially - everyone is afraid of being attacked with a knife.

Anyhow. Back to frivolity (hang on, this dried up old prune is going to check out the ENORMOUS fireworks that are happening outside my window). What made me almost cry with laughter however was the short Pixar animation before Ratatouille started. It was about a little green alien sitting a test for spiriting away a human to their UFO. The expression of the examiner and the sweaty desperation of the alien candidate had me in hysterics. Another Pixar great (along with the "For the Birds" short which is also worthy of your viewing).

To prevent my brain becoming pickled I went to the Imperial War Museum on Sunday to check out a new exhibition they have - "Weapons of Mass Communications: War Posters". It was a fascinating collection of posters used to spur people to join the army in World War 1 and 2 - displaying not just British posters, but German and French and Austrian posters as well. The collection interestingly also contained anti-war posters of today to provide a balanced viewpoint.

The Ministry of Justice also keeps on sending me out into the field to continue my education of the justice system. I was sent to meet the Chief Inspector and Duty Prosecutor of the Newham Borough police station today which was another eye-opening experience. Unfortunately most of the time was spent in meetings, but I do intend to go back to tour the station and to meet with some of the officers to hear their views. I am quite privileged to be able to gather different viewpoints on what makes the justice system tick. Are defendant witnesses being looked after adequately? How does the relationship between the Crown Prosecutor and the Crown Court assist to get the case to trial? What can the department do to better equip information sharing between different justice agencies?

These are all questions that deserve time and effort and I finally feel like I can help to make a difference. And it's a good feeling.

Just like watching a brilliant display of fireworks, really.