This week I have been

Reading

The 2011 Tour de France race guide.

Watching

An Idiot Abroad

Listening to

The xx

Discovering

(Or rediscovering) Hamlet - Nicki Greenberg's beautiful new version, thanks to the fabulous Snarkattack, who invited me along to see Nicki talk about the creative process behind the book.

Eating

  • An enormous serve of bangers'n'mash and a nourishing pint of Kilkenny at the Town Hall one dismal Tuesday evening.
  • A "Chachi" - chianina meatball sandwich - another brioche donut and some amazing chocolate tart at Beatrix, which Essjay has reviewed.
  • A lazy Sunday lunch at The Crimean. The Polish hunter's stew (bigos) was just the thing to revive me after a chilly bike ride.
  • Generous piles of fried food with oodles of chillies and sichuan peppercorns at Sichuan House
  • Succulent suckling pig at Liberteene.
  • An array of bright, zesty flavours at Chin Chin, where the only problem was having to choose only some of the items from what looks to be a menu that is all hits, no filler.

Links

Gasp! Banksy went to a private school!

I’m not sure why it is deemed important to uncover the “identity” of somebody who has chosen to be anonymous.  A Google News search brought up 141 articles from the past 22 hours on the search term  Banksy.  I’m at even more of a loss to understand why it is considered interesting that the artist known as Banksy might have been privately educated.  The tone of the various “public school education” revelations seemed to suggest that this rendered his work somehow inauthentic.

Huh?

Graffiti

When it’s painted on a wall I consider to be mine, I don’t like it. Perhaps I’d feel differently if the teenagers who regularly vandalised our laneway were using interesting stencils, or making some sort of political comment, but all we get are tags, derivative of a US culture these kids have only experienced via You Tube and Punk’d. Probably.

Continue reading Graffiti

The walk home

If I had this cat

I wouldn’t let him wander around Gertrude Street. I mean, any crazy passer by could pat him, talk to him, take photos of him and post them on a blog, plan play-dates with her own cats…

Continue reading The walk home

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