Stings in the tail

I had one of my standard eventful weekends, so I was looking forward to a peaceful ocean dip last night.

But, as I drove through Narrabeen, the radio announcer informed me that Sydney’s Northern Beaches had been inundated with bluebottles and would continue to be plagued with them for the rest of the week,

Damn!

There were only a few of the blue bastards scattered on the shore when I arrived, but I wasn’t willing to chance more than a quick sploosh.

Still, it was nice to feel a little salt on my skin.

DD decided to stay on the sand because he had no skin on the tips of his fingers after crazy paving without gloves on.

Ouch!

Anyways, let me rewind.

Like the tentacles of a bluebottle, life raised a few welts over the past few days.

First, a ghost from my past floated into my inbox and gave me a fright. I’m still contemplating the whys and whats of that one.

Then my lemon of a car gave me another sour scare.

I’d driven to Newcastle to see my parents on Saturday and had a lovely lunch, followed by a trawl around Gardo, my old local shopping centre. It is much transformed since its Kotara Fair days and features all the mod chains. The youngest had a fabulous time in H&M, while her mumma got a lovely snakeskin print number on sale at Witchery. No matter that we have a H&M and Witchery at our local shopping centre …

We had so much fun trawling the boutiques that we were a little late on our return to Sydney. As I hooned down the expressway, my farking dud of a car started flashing a “Check auto gearbox” message at me.

Check auto gearbox? WHAAAAAAAAT?

I had no freaking idea how to check an auto gearbox, so I just kept driving, while putting DD on speed dial until I finally woke him from a jetlagged slumber to ask his advice.

He wasn’t much help other than to offer a conciliatory “Oh no!” and suggest I turn the car off and on again.

I snarked that I didn’t see what good that would do, plus I wasn’t keen to get myself stranded on the side of the freeway.

Once I turned off the freeway, the car went totally nuts and kept revving itself senseless as it tried to change gears and my stress levels went through the roof.

So I parked and headed into Harris Farm for some fresh herbs to break the tension. When I got back in the car and turned it on I was chastened to discover the on-off suggestion had actually worked and the car was fine again.

Well, other than being a total shite box with four wheels.

Yesterday, I headed to the theatre to see David Williamson’s play The Big Time. My friends Alice and Emily asked me along and, while I’m not a huge theatre fan, I thought why not? 

It was lovely to be invited and the fact it was a “clever, stylish and sophisticated comedy set in the ruthless world of celebrity” was also a draw card considering my background in the ruthless world of celebrity.

The play turned out to be quite fun and fascinating … I’m still pondering a few of the moral issues it raised. I also found the vindictive piece of work that was one of the lead characters, Vicki, very much like a few real people I’ve encountered over the years.

I noticed as we left the theatre that Zoe Carides was one of the stars of the play … which gave me the opportunity to regale Emily with the tale of Zoe’s sister Gia screaming at me because my magazine had called her then-husband “Anthony La Pudgy-er “.

Going to the theatre also stirred the memory that not going to the theatre was one of the things my ex held against me in the last years of our marriage. He wanted a wife who read serious fiction and accompanied him to plays so we could discuss them earnestly together afterwards.

I’m not a live theatre buff, so I’d stopped going years before and suggested he take a theatre fan friend instead.

I probably should have made more of an effort. Ah well.

And so another week begins, feeling a little tired and a lot 50.

Thankfully there’s a long weekend coming up – can’t wait!

Have you got something fun planned?

Song of the day: Peter Gabriel “Big Time”

 

2 thoughts on “Stings in the tail

  1. Live theatre is fun, but earnest discussions afterwards are generally not. And I can’t think was “serious fiction” is. I mean, seriously?

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