Some Sunday Culture

I dragged my son into the city today for a little bit of culture.

Initially he was so reluctant and unpleasant about the prospect of being away from his Xbox and having to get off his behind and walk around, that we had a heated argument which resulted in me calling him a "shit". And an ungrateful one at that. Yes folks, I used that word to my son and meant it at the time. Feel free to report me to the authorities.

Although, I am thinking my son is going to report me to my husband and there will be lots of eye rolling from me and frowning from husband.

However, I apologised, he apologised and we did hug and make up. He also made the supreme effort to drop his hostile mood straight away and came along willingly and had a good time.

Off we went to the gallery.

There was an exhibition on by Ron Mueck.

It was all rather fascinating. The realism was quite astonishing and almost creepy. The figure above is quite small. You could fit the entire thing on a pillow.

The figure below is called "Dead Dad" and it certainly is an apt title. Again, it is small. Maybe no more than 36 inches in length. The realism is rather disturbing.

This figure of a new born girl is HUGE. So realistic. It is quite impressive.

This angle below gives another perspective of the size of it. The surface of the skin is very much like that of a new born.

The figure below is called "Wild Man". Very large and very detailed. If he stood up it would be rather confronting. When you get close up you can see the hair on the arms in such detail. What a change from seeing the naked body constantly air brushed.

The sculpture below of the woman carrying a bundle of sticks is not very tall. Ron Mueck must have such a knowledge of the human body and how it falls and shapes itself with every movement. Even my son noticed the accuracy. He said that if you were to carry a parcel of branches and were naked then this is what you would look like.

Even her expression is what you would expect.

These two little ladies below look like they are having a lovely little spiteful gossip about someone.

Not one of the sculptures are looking directly at anyone and it feels as though you are intruding on their space.

Fantastic giant size plucked chicken ready to prepare for consumption.

The whole exhibition was really refreshing and a little uncomfortable perhaps for some people.

Both my son and I loved it and really liked seeing something that seemed beyond realism.

We then went over to the Australian part of the National Gallery where there was an exhibition by Ricky Swallow. Again, a level of realism to admire. No photos to upload as it was not allowed. But the work was beautiful.

Then off for coffee and snack. Sitting in a wonderful Egg Chair each.

I am very tempted to buy one. However, if I bought one then I would have to share it. So I need to buy two. Or three.

But they don't really match my house. Something would have to go to make room for them also and I am not sure what piece of furniture I would have to let go of.

A meander through Federation Square.

There was loud music playing and not very good music at that. Even my son had to cover his ears to shut out the offending sound.

He then took a photo of me and said "your bum does not look big in this photo".

Okay, thanks for that!

Then we were home by 3.30 pm.

Where my son immediately sat on the couch and played his Xbox.

My husband, who had been at a classic car show for the day, sat on the couch and closed his eyes for a nanna nap.

And I was ready to attend to all my household obligations.

Soon.

Ciao

LC

Sunday Morning Yawn

Another week has gone by and I don't feel I have much to show for it.

Although I did go to book club on Thursday night which was a good break in the week.

Hmmm, and I did go out for dinner on Friday night, so that is something.

Plus, did so much bookwork and had so much computer trouble that by Saturday night I was completely over it all.

Maybe the week was just too full of things I felt obliged to do.

This whole working longer hours thing is all a bit much some days. As much as I like my work and I have a particularly good working environment there are some days where I just don't want to work.

I just want to skippity skip out the front door and down the street to nowhere.

Just run off and have a fun day all by myself.

All my life I have had that constant feeling of wanting to be somewhere else. Not sure where that somewhere else is and it is not a bad feeling or one that I actually feel the need to act upon, but it is there like a little bug crawling around.

I think the feeling is freedom. Just no responsibility. Not financial, not relationship, not sleep time, not eating time. Just a "run around for a few days and do what you like" feeling. Just doing what feels right at the moment.

I found a little notebook that I had written in when I was about seventeen. There were a few pages that outlined the sense of outrage that came with familial obligations. It then went on about obligations in general and what a burden they were.

So if I felt that at seventeen then it is no wonder that I still feel that now.

The other day my son was asking why he had to go to school as he knew enough to make him happy now.

Ah, the "I know it all" teenage mindset is coming into play.

I gave him the usual and obvious reasons as to why school is important.

"Apart from the educational side of it, school also prepares you for the routine and responsibilities of being an adult," I added.

"Why would you want to be an adult?" he replied.

"Want has nothing to do with it. It just happens and you can either choose to do it well or do it badly," I said, wondering if that made any sense at all.

I suppose you can extend your youthful behaviour to a certain point and get away with it. Isn't that what a Kidult is? Someone who indulges in the youthful culture to extend their own childhood?

I don't want to be a kidult. That is not a place of freedom, that is a place of denial.

I just like the thought that every now and then I can just spend the day so alone and doing exactly what I want without having to acknowledge anybody but the person who will make me a coffee in a cafe or something like that.

Oh, do you know, I think I just might want a day off.

And I am analysing that urge in detail.

Sheeeesh!

Part of being a responsible adult.

Analysing everthing.

Ciao
LC

Holiday Romance

When I was growing up some of my school friends would go away down to the coast for the Christmas holidays.

I never did. I just hung around the house or caught the bus to the shopping centre. Watched television. Worked part time.

Actually, not entirely true. Our family did go on a couple of holidays together but they are vague and distant memories in my head now.

My friends would come back from a few weeks of beach living and tell me all about it.

Most would stay in a caravan that was in a permanent spot in a seaside caravan park. Some would camp amongst the coarse vegetation that hugged the sandy beaches that they would spend the days on.

For teenagers, evenings were spent walking the streets eating fish and chips and making eyes at each other. There was always a fairground to visit and it seemed as though everyone had fun when they went down there.

When they told me about their holidays there would always be a story of a holiday romance.

One girl, Debbie, told me all about Tony, the slick Italian she lost her virginity to on the grassy sand dunes of Rye back beach. They would send letters to each other for a while after that until she dropped him for someone else. I loved listening to her graphic description of the event. She was so very grown up after that.

She tried to match me up with his best friend Enzo but told me that I had to say I was sixteen because Enzo was eighteen. The match never went ahead. There was no way that I would go on a blind date behind my parents back. It was an act fraught with danger, particularly because at the time I was only about fourteen, if that.

Once at school a boy in my class came back from the Christmas holidays looking different. His hair was bleached blonde and he had a swagger to his walk. He had lost his virginity when on holiday down the beach and it had turned him into a man, albeit a very young one.

Over the years I have heard people talk about holiday romances. Brief, intense and poignant couplings in far away places. Coming home with a heavy heart and sunburnt skin. Coming home with a new awareness.

I remember when I was living on my own the song 'Boys Of Summer" by Don Henley was released. The whole tune just created the most visual thoughts in my head of what it must be like to have experienced a holiday romance.

Somehow I always felt I was missing out on something. Some sort of rite of passage. Or a secret story to nurture in my later years.

I have had a few delightful beachside trysts with the odd regular boyfriend or two in my younger days. But they always came home with me and continued to be in my life. So, they do not really qualify for the traditional holiday passion. When those relationships ended there were no enticing memories I wanted to take with me into my old age.

The opportunity for a holiday romance has long passed me by and I am perfectly okay with that.

But the other night I was outside and it was late afternoon. The air was so warm with the wind blowing madly around. The smell of the sea was in the air and it sounded like the wind when it rushed across the sand on a wild surf beach many years ago.

It was the sound of a memory that I didn't really have but felt I may have almost had it.

I know I was on a windswept beach once. Alone, just looking at the water rushing in to the sandy edge, curling over and rushing out.

And it was warm.

And it was a long time ago.

And I wished that someone loved me right at that moment.

All those years ago and still I can recall that very wistful moment. That unrequited longing and the loneliness that came with it.

That is what my holiday romance memory is.

The wishful thoughts of a young girl many, many years ago.

Ciao
LC

Feeling Watched

Sometimes I read the newspaper online.

When I click on a particular article and start to read it there is a little bit of writing to the left that says something along the lines of;

13 people are reading this now.

Which kind of makes me feel like I am being watched.

Or that there are 12 other people who have nothing better to do.

Or 12 other people who are avoiding doing something they should do.

Then, just below that comment is a little link you can click on that says;

People who read this also read.......

And then you can click on the link and see what they read.

Just in case you want to join a lot of like minded unknowns and read what they read.

I just don't like it.

It is a bit creepy.

I mean, I know that once you go on the internet you leave big dinosaur footprints all over town.

But I don't want to be told about it when I am sitting in my lounge room winding down at the end of the day.

I just want to pretend I am all alone and reading the paper.

In private.

Ciao
LC

A Bit Of Sunday Twaddle

Last night my husband and I went to a wedding. I had to go clothes shopping on the Friday night as I truly had nothing suitable to wear. It took four stressful hours to come up with something that looks like I stepped out of the 1970's and just may be pregnant.

Still, the shoes I bought were the most funky dress clogs in town and I was able to stand up all night long with nary any pain. I noticed all the other girls in their high heeled shoes had opted for bare feet.

Unfortunately as nice as the warm summer night was, the lack of food to eat was not very nice. It was a finger food event and had I known beforehand I would have tanked up on food before I got there. I was starving and finished the night off standing next to a chocolate fountain dipping marshmellows into hot chocolate to stave off hunger. Sadly it splashed all over my new pants which I have now handwashed today.

Having had that whinge about it all it was nice to see these two people get married. It was a happy event for everyone.

Today is a sunny day. Too warm to do anything too active and my son is just plonked on the couch playing Xbox and then television. I made him go for a ten minute walk in between it all and he will have to go again once I finish this post. My husband is on a music job.

I went outside and stood under my favorite tree looking up at the branches, leaves and blue sky. This tree is not that old. I remember buying it when my son was a baby. It was not much taller than me. Almost like a stick with some leaves on top. Now it is starting to look gnarly and old and I love to sit under it. It is a weeping Dutch Elm and some years I trim the branches up so that I can walk under it. This year I am letting the branches touch the ground which leaves it all shady underneath.

My dog is getting old. He cannot hear very well. Unless I am opening a packet of food and then his ears prick up. His life revolves around eating and sleeping and regular visits to the vet. I think he must be almost fourteen. When he comes into the house he walks straight to the pantry hoping for food. He has become a food thief and a sly one at that. Silent and quick when my back is turned. Fortunately he can no longer jump up and put his paws on the kitchen bench to see what may be on offer.

My little Danish monkey sits on the shelf in the studio with my favorite books. He has been with me for ever and a day. He is by a designer called Kay Bojesen and I believe the monkey is quite collectible. Not that I would ever part with it.

I bought this little retro paint brush holder on EBay a week or so ago and hung it up today. My son hammered the nails in and I put my few brushes into the purpose made slots.

Then I took a photo of me with my lovely new camera. Today I am in my weekend mode. Minimal make up, hair dried from the warm wind and sun and wearing my oldest clothes. I love just scruffing around now and then. I feel relaxed and happy.

I have spent the day doing lots of little things.

Put a load of washing on and then hang it out in the summer sun to dry. It is almost all folded up and ready to put away. In between all this I make lunch, have a cup of tea, do some blogging and read the newspaper. Now and then I sit on the back step and look at the back lawn that needs a mow, pat my dog and drink my tea.

Sometimes I don't want to plan my Sunday. I just want it to be. If someone dropped in on me I would welcome them and not feel as though my plans had been interrupted. And if nobody drops in on me then that is good as well.

I like that there are days when I can just be happy in my own world.

Ciao

LC

Paris Art

Before we came to Paris I did not look into anything that there may be to see there. I was so caught up with work, Christmas, S starting high school and all the other daily happenings that I figured that when we arrived there things would just fall into place.

So it was actually by chance that, when in the open topped bus, we passed by the beautiful Musee d' Orsay and I knew that there was a place I desperately wanted to visit.

It was on day two of our short stay in Paris that I was able to walk around this beautiful museum full of glorious works of art. Outside the sky was grey and the rain was a gloomy drizzle, inside was full of light.

The building itself was purpose built as a railway station and hotel in 1900. Over the years, as trains became electrified, its role changed from train station to mail sending centre for packages to prisoners of war and even as a film set for a number of films. In 1973 the hotel part of it closed its doors.

It opened as Musee d' Orsay in 1986 and houses a collection of art that came from three other museums. The collection of art work is from the 1850's to around the 1950's, give or take a decade on either side.

Below you can see some of the wonderful architecture so faithfully considered during the change from railway hotel to museum. The original railway clock is still there.

There were a great many paintings to feast my eyes upon and feed my mind with. I know I did not get to see everything I wanted to but hours are limited and you see what you can when on holiday.

Below is a painting by Claude Monet. I know there are two paintings there but they were once part of one large one. It is called The Picnic and, if I recall the audio information correctly, Monet had to pawn it to raise money. It was a number of years before he was able to pick it up again and when he did he noticed that it had been damaged by water. He cut it up into three sections and these are two portions of it.

The painting is quite large and so fresh and bright it may well have been painted yesterday.

There were numerous paintings by Gustave Courbet. One was called "The Cliffs at Etretat after The Storm". When you stood in front of it, you can imagine the salty cold air and the sound of the water.

There was another painting of his there called The Origin Of The World. You can view it by clicking here.

Although I did take a photo of it I am not uploading it in case I offend someones sensibilities. A friend of mine introduced me to it because of its beautiful and confronting sensuality. Commissioned by a Turkish diplomat and finished in 1866 it shows that although the Victorian era may well have been publicly prudish, it certainly knew the allure of the female body.

When my son saw it he shuffled around and then said something about not knowing where to look. A painting worth gazing upon I think. It must have been quite controversial when it was first viewed.

I also think the title of the painting is very apt.

When I was first really into art I had many favorites that I would read about. Monet, Manet, Pissaro and Salvador Dali. Two of my favorites are always Vincent Van Gogh and Gustav Klimt.

There was one Klimt painting d' Orsay which I was unable to take a photo of as, by this stage, the battery had died on me.

But there were many Van Gogh paintings to gaze upon and I was mesmerised by the whole experience of being able to stand close to each painting and study his brush strokes and think that his hand held a brush and created such works because of the need and the want inside him. Whatever it was that drove him to do such work, I am eternally grateful for it.

Van Gogh. The love of my life despite the fact I have obviously never actually met him. I have a number of books about him, two in particular have details of the correspondence between himself and his brother. These letter show his troubled, creative and beautiful nature. The letters are full of intelligence and passion coming from a mind full of angst. Seeing his work in the flesh is always a moving experience for me.

Here I am standing in front of the Francois Pompon sculpture by the name of The Polar Bear.

It was not long after this photo that I was aware that my son was nearing the end of his art appreciation experience. We had been there for a few hours and for most of the time my husband and son had been having random sit downs while I walked around looking at everything.

So it was time to make our way out of the building and back to reality.

There are some days in my life I remember with great fondness. The first time I stood in London in 1994 on my inaugral overseas trip. The time I ate my first BLT in Bath in a small cafe on the third floor of an antiques centre. The time I walked down the road towards the market in Portobello Roadand viewed more antique store than I could ever have imagined.

Spending a few hours in Musee d' Orsay will join that little group of wonderful days.

Ciao

LC

Saturday Bliss

After a long work week that did not see me getting done what really needed doing, I was looking forward to my Saturday morning.

I love Saturday mornings. They are the moment I relax and plan what I will do on the weekend. Not that I have much planned in the end. It usually just means I can hang around the house and relax.

It first starts with going out the front door and picking up the Saturday morning newspaper the I now have delivered. My husband hates having it delivered as it is wrapped in plastic which is very hard to unwrap without using a knife. Which of course, I never use until I get frustrated with the plastic wrap. There are a few suburbs (affluent ones) that get the same newspaper delivered and it arrives in plastic slip case that has a side zip which keeps the newspaper nice and flat.

After the unwrapping process it is always unwilling to open so I then have to roll it back in the opposite direction.

This morning my husband was out for his Saturday lycra bike ride and my son was still fast asleep. The house was lovely and quiet. I made breakfast and coffee using my favorite cup and bowl.

Yes, me in my morning scruff ready to start reading.

Then I naturally turn on the computer for a total chill out session.

Who needs a massage when you can have coffee, food, newspaper and the computer.

Sigh....

Ciao

LC

Teenage Talk Two

Each night after my son goes to bed I check his time table for what subjects he is doing and then get his books together.

My husband says I should not do this as my son will never learn to do it himself. My thoughts are that S needs to learn to organise what he has on his plate for now and I am just helping him.

Organisational skills don't come about naturally to everyone and have to be learnt.

In the morning my son and I double check he has all that he needs and then he heads off to school.

However, this morning things were a bit hectic as my son had to have a shower first. Now I know I have posted about how long it takes for him to have a shower so having one in the morning is fraught with stress. I don't know why he got away with not having a shower before he went to bed but that in itself is another story.

Anyway, while S was drying himself after the shower he happened to notice that his school things were not yet packed.

"Mum, you haven't packed my bag yet," he yells to me as I eat my breakfast. I naturally set him straight on how lucky he was that I even did it and to NOT use that ugly voice to me again or he would be packing his own bags.

I was reminded of this post when I forgot to get his clothes ready for him.

I see a pattern happening here.

I am still getting his clothes ready for him each night.

Hmmmmm.

Maybe my husband is right.

Ciao
LC

Teenage Talk One

Last night I came home from work and my son was playing around on the computer.

I asked about his homework and he said he had some but that it was not due until Friday so he would do it later.

I told him that it was best to do it get it done straight away so that he did not have to worry about it for the rest of the week.

Needless to say he objected and we had a "discussion" about it. I explained the benefits of getting things like homework out the way as soon as possible and he explained the benefits of doing it later.

In the end I just said "You are doing it because I said so".

To which he replied "That's all you had to say Mum. I did not need a life lesson".

Oh, well, that should make the next six years easy shouldn't it?

All I have to say to get him to do things is "You are doing it because I said so".

Got that everyone!

HA!

Ciao
LC

Paris Crepes

One of the best things to do if you are in a city for a short time is to use one of the open top buses that drive around the main tourist spots.

You pay for a one or two day ticket and this allows you to jump on and off the bus throughout the day. With the ticket comes a set of earphones which you use to listen to all the historical facts about each point the bus is passing by.

In Paris there are three different bus routes to go on and each one takes you near many interesting places.

We hopped on the bus just outside The Louvre. It was freezing cold but we decided to sit up top out in the chilly air anyway. The view was too good to miss.

However, you do end up taking lots of photos on the go and I have absolutely no idea where each photo is from. Although I do know I took this one because the buildings in Paris are so delicious to look at. Who wouldn't love to live somewhere here?

Then I took some random shots of random spots. The streets are lined with beautiful street lamps.

Another street lamp.

And some more. Think yourself lucky I am not posting all of them up here!

The other thing that appealed to me were the gorgeous little balconies that adorned the buildings. So you had a constant display of beautiful buildings, quaint balconies, colourful awnings and lovely lamps. It really was visually delightful.

In case you wonder just how big The Louvre is, here is a photo with my son and husband standing in front of just part of it. The building is breathtakingly huge.

At the end of a day of being a tourist it is always great to get back to the familiar yet unfamiliar hotel room.

My son took the photo below and I think it is quite funny.

One thing we discovered in Paris were the lovely take away crepes.

They were big, soft and delicious.

I would order one, move about five feet from the van, eat it and then wonder what was a suitable period of time before I could go and get another one.

We finished off the second night in Paris sitting in cafe eating more crepes and drinking hot chocolate.

Although you could get the crepes filled with chocolate, banana, cream or icecream we kept it simple. Lemon and sugar for K and myself. Sugar for S. Mmmmmm.

When we got home from the trip I made crepes at home. My son ate nearly all of them.

When I was little my dad would cook crepes once a week. He had once been in the merchant navy and his job was to help cook so he would make hundreds of crepes every day so he knew how to make them so well.

So at home my dad would make them. Thin and buttery. He would flip them and they were perfect. As fast as he cooked them we would eat them. Sometimes he would make extra for us to eat the next day. I loved them with lemon and sugar.

I make nice crepes. Thin, not too big and tasty. Not too often though. If you make them too often they lose their treat factor.

But never have I had a crepe as nice as the first one I had in Paris, standing with a hot coffee in one hand, warm crepe in the other and the Eiffel tower in the distance.

Lovely.

Ciao

LC

Working Week And Ironing.

I am now working a forty hour week. Last year I would generally work a six hour day. Sometimes more, sometimes less. It depended on whether or not I had to pick my son up from school.

Now that he is at high school, walking home and letting himself into the house, I work later. Nearly every time my son gets home from school my husband walks in the door within half an hour so I don't worry about S being alone for long.

When I think about what I did as a child and how often we were left alone I figure that kids manage well enough on their own for an hour or two once they get to high school.

The difference it makes working the extra hours at work is fantastic. I manage to get almost everything done each day and no longer feel under pressure or overwhelmed. It is a good feeling and long overdue.

I have made a few changes around the house to compensate for the extra hours. I now no longer iron anything apart from my son's school uniform. I wash, dry and fold up the clothes and my husband puts them away. It takes minimal time.

Then iron my things on an as need basis.

Well, after years of being an ironing goddess I just want to say what a relief. Every time I walked into the laundry and saw the huge pile of ironing awaiting me my stomach would sink like a stone. It was out of control.

I was ironing everything. Tea towels, bed linen, towels, t-shirts and anything with a crease in it. Or should I say I was planning to iron everything and it never got done. It was a burden in my mind and I am so glad to have dispensed with it. Laundry is tidy ALL THE TIME!

I also make a little list of what I would like my husband to do to help out. He reads it and does it. Trust me, nothing on that list is a big deal and takes only half an hour or so but it stops me feeling like nag and he likes lists so we are both happy.

I use a calendar properly along with my diary. Everyone in the house makes notes on it. Things like what good show is on television, what appointments there are, what homework is due and other day to day things.

When on holiday we had a talk about the small things we could do to make life a little less stressed. It was interesting what each person came up with and the changes were all so little and yet have made a big difference. I know it sounds a bit organised but it was not like that. It is more that we all talked about what annoyed us and how we could change things for the better.

I think I stopped thinking I had to do it all and enlisted the help of those I live with.

Or maybe the holiday was all I needed to work out what way to go.

Whatever it was, it is working.

Although, once again I had to pick up the wet bathmat from off the floor in the boy bathroom. I swear I do that five days out of seven.

And in return, my husband had to put away the jar of jam and Vegemite that I once again left on the bench after having toast for breakfast.

As for my son, well, let's just say that three pairs of his shoes seem to be nesting around the perimeter of the couch on a regular basis.

Plus I did have to reload the dishwasher after K loaded it like a two year old might.

Oh, yes, well, I also had to pick up a pile of dirty socks (his) from half under the bed.

And take out the dirty cups from the office.

Hmmm, and pick up all the dirty washing from their bathroom floor.

Yeah, come to think of it.....

Some things have not changed and.......

All is just as I want it to be.

Ciao
LC

Paris The Pretty City

After about two weeks in snowy England we made our way to Paris.

We caught the Eurostar from St Pancras station in London.

We were there about two hours earlier than the departure time and as we had made our way straight into the international section I missed out on having a good look around the interesting shops and architecture of St Pancras. Once you cross over to the area from which the Eurostar leaves it is like being in transit and you cannot go back out.

So we waited. There is so much waiting to be done when you travel and you just have to get used to it. Often when you travel you make the effort to be at a place earlier than needed as there is nothing worse than the prospect of missing a train or plane.

We read some books. Drank some coffee. Mosied around in the newsagent. Walked around and then walked around some more.

It is a fast trip from London to Paris by train. Straight under the Channel it goes. My husband wanted to go on a ferry from Dover but time was against us and because it was Winter I did not fancy the idea the weather making the trip rough. Sea sickness is not my favorite holiday experience.

Paris, pretty, pretty Paris. Even in the middle of Winter with grey skies above and naked trees, this city is beautiful. It is a city that just offers so much to anyone who loves art. Or loves food or just loves to look at beautiful surroundings.

My son took the photo below which is just a path leading up the The Louvre. Our hotel was just a five minute walk from The Louvre and I was astonished at the size of the building. Now, everyone has asked if we actually went inside but the answer is no.

The Louvre is a place to go if you have plenty of time. You need a few days to make your way around the vast interior and see what is on offer. So we made a decision to visit Musee d'Orsay which I will post about in the next day or so. It was the most wonderful day I have had for ever by the way.
There is a lovely atmosphere in Paris. Nearly everyone, with the exception of the tourist, dresses beautifully. So that is not a myth about Parisians. And everyone we came in contact with was polite and very helpful which I believe dispels that myth of Parisians being rude.

People live in Paris. They have their apartments amongst shops and above shops. Their life is interwoven with the hustle and bustle of city life. It is a mix of business and pleasure always going on.
The photo below is the view from the hotel window. We stayed in the most gorgeous little hotel in a busy street. It was close to everything. The staff were delightful and friendly.

The breakfast room was small and personal. Each morning we would make our way down and fill up with fresh rolls, coffee and croissants. Quite different from the English breakfast, but it was very much my style of breakfast.

Here I am saying hello from the hotel room. If you look beyond me you will see what appears to be a string of Christmas decorations behind me. These were empty plastic bottles that were strung across the street. At night they lit up all green, red and white. It was clever way to recycle. Further down the street and around the corner they had even created tall Christmas trees from the same sort of bottles and each night they glowed so brightly. It was a while before I noticed that they were actually bottles.

A view down the other end of the street.

I love how the buildings are not tall and therefore don't shut out the natural light.

The shops in Paris are exciting. The streets are full of people being busy. Some having coffee, some shopping, some just looking fabulous.

And loads of them smoking. Perhaps that is why I saw not one fat person in Paris. I kid you not, the only overweight people I saw in Paris were tourists. I am not saying that to be mean, I am stating an obvious fact. It was the same in Italy.

You see, in European countries they have a different attitude to food than perhaps England, America and Australia. They respect food. The enjoy the intricacies of food and they embrace good quality food. They saviour what they eat. Even the appearance of the patisseries and restaurants shows the appreciation and respect they have for the entire process of consuming food. It should be fresh, it should be visually appealing, it should be of a small size and should be made with thought and care. Very different approach I think.

We did not eat out at a restaurant as there was no way either my son or husband would eat the food on offer. A bit fiddly for them, especially the boy child.

But I ate on my own the night we arrived at the most wonderful place I have ever, ever eaten. It was called Vapeurs. It consists of a huge range of meals on display (behind glass) from which you make a choice. The ingredients are served in a cardboard box after being steamed until cooked. Everything was fresh and the flavour was so defined and clean. Presentation was faultless and the service was so friendly. What you see on the website is what you get. This is one franchise that I hope makes it over to Australia.

I did not get any shopping done in Paris for a number of reasons. Firstly, we were only two nights there and secondly, shopping with son and husband in tow kind of puts me under pressure.

Besides, there is much more to Paris than shops. There is art, parks, museums, Eiffel Tower and many other places to visit.

I would love to spend a week in Paris. Or maybe two weeks.

More Paris posts coming.

Ciao

LC

Dumped

I have been dumped.

No longer am I interesting to a couple of followers.

They dumped me.

But I don't know WHO actually dumped me.

All my regular readers still like me.

So, some unknown people no longer find me interesting.

Does anyone else notice when a follower no long follows them?

Or has nobody been dumped?

Or, have they every been a dumper?

Hey, I just realised, a "dumper" is slang for something else.

Okay, yes, I am avoiding work right now.

Sigh..

Ciao
LC

Things And Thoughts

Remember Viewmaster? When I was little we had a black bakelite Viewmaster and a small collection of great reels. The photos were of Denmark and I would peer at them all the time. I still have them somewhere. Stored away.

When we went overseas in 1994 we visited a lot of antique fairs. I bought all sorts of little bits and pieces to take home.

One such purchased was a pair of fantastic stereoscopes that came with a huge stash of photos.


We got back to the hotel room where I then spent ages peering at each photo. The theme was predominantly WW1 pictures. I am sure most of them are propaganda for the day as the Germans are doing things like jumping over sandbags and getting shot in the most staged manner.

However there are other photos of young men standing in muddy trenches with half smiling, half fearful expressions on their faces. I wondered about what they were thinking as they stood in the wet trenches with sounds and smells of war all around them.

Photos of Piccadilly Circus. Royal parades. People just walking in the park. A time capsule of many moments long gone.

Sometimes I forget just how many bits and pieces I have hiding around the house. Years of collecting odd things and then packing them away only to forget about them.

Last year I took the stereoscope to work just for the fun of it. Nobody had ever seen one before and had a great time studying the fascinating pictures.

Sometimes when my son has a friend over I might show them the stereoscope or some other weird thing I have squirreled away in a cupboard. I don't go out of my way but they may see me with something unknown and interesting and then one question leads to another. I like to think that now and then a little obscure education goes a long way, piques an interest or something along those lines.

Recently I spoke to one of my nieces. Although she is now thirty years old, in my mind she will always be the little girl who spent time with me when she was young. She gave me a great compliment without knowing it. She said that she remembered going to the art gallery with me and that she had me to thank for her interest in art.

It made me think about how a small comment or throw away line can have an impact on the recipient of that comment. Why is it so easy to recall the mean things people have said (either deliberately or not) and yet somehow forget the good things that have been said about us? I know the mean things hit the spot like a poison arrow but why is it we cannot so easily dismiss or forget those words and yet just ignore the good stuff?

Is it because we are somehow conditioned that to accept kindness and compliments suggests an ego and that having a healthy ego means you are "up yourself"? Or are most of us looking at others thinking we have to meet some benchmark?

On Friday I was speaking to the guy who does our computers at work about this. We have known each other for years and have all sorts of conversations about all sorts of random thing.

He asked if lack of confidence came from upbringing or were we wired for it and we have to work on it? I wondered about the difference between lacking self confidence and having low self esteem. Because if you have the two combined you really have a battle ahead of you.

If you just lack self confidence but know you are kind of okay as a person then you may look to others for inspiration and thus develop more as a person. That is all about developing as a person isn't it?

Yet if you lack the confidence and also think you are shit then you look to others and think they are good and why can't you be that way? Then all the negative self talk happens and that can be a bit habit forming.

Combine that with a difficult upbringing or experience and it makes it hard to imagine ever being out of it.

Having too much confidence can be troublesome too don't you think? I mean, could being too confident prevent a person from developing further because they think they are just great the way they are? But then, maybe you need a big ego sometimes if you are to succeed in certain fields. I am just guessing here.

I have been wondering about the whole self esteem thing and how low self esteem is a hindrance to allowing a person to break free of the cycle of negative thinking.

This "wondering" has come about because something developed so very slightly while I was away on holiday.

Last year I did a post about my son telling me that he was fat and that left me wondering whether my habitual denigrating comments about my body were possibly making him feel inadequate about his own physical self worth. Was I infecting his brain with my own body issues? Even though I asked him and he reassured me that I was not affecting him I was left thinking about how my behaviour affects those around me.

So I made a decision from there on to say nothing negative about my perceived body flaws. I just shut it up. I also made the effort to say the odd positive thing about my body. Things like "I feel so fit today" or "I love how strong I am". And I meant it. Because I did feel fit and I did feel strong. So I just said the positive and kept the habitual negative quiet.

The thoughts kept tumbling in my head though. Fat arse, cellulite, soft thighs, stretch marks, not thin enough etc. I mean, they tumbled and I spent a couple of weeks secretly binging on laxatives as I tried to control the thoughts.

Then I had just had to focus on going away, Christmas, high school, work and other more important things than the size of my arse. My husband was under great stress and pressure as his own sister was in hospital and he had to facilitate the sale of her house and the settlement of her new house. It was much more complicated than that, but it meant that a lot of stuff was left to me and I had to just rise to the challenge.

So the thoughts got pushed aside. Then suddenly we were on a plane and heading off for a holiday.

When I got back from overseas I felt really good. Relaxed and recharged.

But one thing that dawned on me the other morning was that for the first time in my life I was not thinking negative thoughts about my body.

I was just actually fine with it.

I was pleased that my body took me up thousands of steps and down again when I was on holiday.

I was pleased that it walked miles and miles.

I was pleased that it recovered so well after I cracked my ribs half way through the holiday.

I was pleased that it enjoyed the crepes I ate on the Paris sidewalk.

I was pleased that it did not complain to me about the cold wind or the chilly air.

I was thankful that I was healthy.

Not only that, I am still fine with it.

It is a new experience for me and a bit of a relief actually. I did a post about 18 months ago which can give you an idea as to where I was at with my body. You can read it here.

I don't know about anyone else, but everyday I am swamped so much crap about how we should look, how we should age, how we should feel, how we should eat, how bad the world is, how many bad people there are out there, how much pollution there is and other negative crapola that just floats around us like miasma.

When I was on holiday and totally absorbed in other much more interesting things I realised just how big the world is. Just how everyone just wants to get along and do their very best. How there are polite people and rude ones and how some old people are frail and others are fit. The diversity is mind boggling.

Well, apart from the fact that I seem to be having a long earned break from disliking my body, I noticed a change in the way my son perceives himself.

For the past two weeks he has started asking me to show him a few exercises to do to build up his muscles. He used my resistance bands and I gave him a few tips. Then he dug out my weights and used those. Today I will buy him a skipping rope to use (as he asked for a treadmill and I said I did not need another thing to hang my clothes on).

He told me he felt good about himself.

He also said he wanted to build muscle and look strong.

"That's great. But don't go overboard just yet as you are still growing," I explained.

In the back of my mind I wondered what his motivation was behind all this.

"Don't do it to lose weight though, just do it get a strong body. You don't need to lose weight," I told him.

"Mum, I know I don't need to lose weight. I want to build muscle to impress the girls at school," he showed me as he flexed his biceps.

Did he think differently about himself because I stopped going on about my body? And by taking that negative talk away from his head, it allowed him to relax about his own personal self awareness and enjoy being himself.

Maybe.

Although, judging by the motivation behind his muscle building urge I think the answer is probably maybe not.

It is just interesting how my shutting up about my negative body image issues seems to have been good for me and my son.

Ciao
LC

Hyde Park

As you may know, we went to London in March 2008.

The photo below was taken during that trip.

Now, see that little boy sitting so near to me. Happy little smile and sweet peachy cheeks. See how nestles close to my shoulder.

Now, take a look at the photo below that was taken during this most recent trip.

See what a dose of hormones do to a boy child. See him move away from the mother.

See his silly facial expression.

See what a teenager looks like.

When we were in London we went to the wonderful Natural History Museum where I took a collection of shadowy photos of dinosaur skulls.

Along with some photos of fossils. I know it seems strange but I love close ups of stones, shells and branches of trees. For something so inert they look so smooth and alive close up.

I took a couple of photos of a mechanical dinosaur that moved using sensors that reacted to the movement of people in front of it.

It had a roar that was quite realistic and a few children ran out crying. I am so glad the T-Rex is no longer sharing the planet with me. Imagine having to watch out for that big lizard.

Some eggs to gaze upon. Aren't they fine looking things? So smooth. Who needs a Picasso hanging on a wall when you could have a load of these lining the lounge room wall.

The next two photos are not particularly good due to the level of shadow and glare. I don't know enough about photography to take a great photo of something that is behind glass and below spotlights.

This case was full of stuffed humming birds. Taxidermy was a popular interest during the Victorian era. It was not uncommon to see a show case of stuffed animals in the lounge room during that period.

As distasteful as it may be, I do like the look of these birds all suspended on the branches.

The museum uses original taxidermy animals and birds, some of which are faded due to the age of them.

Bird below has one mean beak on it.

More stones.

We made our way to Hyde Park and were surprised to see it covered in snow.

It was so beautiful. Snow makes everything look so clean and fresh when it first falls.

It was almost like walking in a fairy land.

My son took the photo below.

Another pretty photo.

We were enjoying the whiteness of our surroundings when suddenly two little squirrels came scampering across the fresh white snow.

They were obviously hoping that we would have some food.

I think that one thought I was a tree in my brown coat as it ran up my leg and half way up my coat.

You can just see its little body clinging to my jeans.

Unfortunately, no food was to be had and they ran away in hot pursuit of prospective food source.

Squirrels are the cutest little wags out.

I love the way their little bodies move so quickly. Almost like a stop motion video.

I know people see them as pests but we loved them.

So, just a few photos for the viewing.

Ciao

LC