I take pictures of this place around with me, in my computer, my Facebook, my Twitter account, my Blog, my wall is covered in them. Pictures of a place that is heaven on earth to me, Mallacoota. They give me peace and courage, when life seems too difficult.

You know you shouldn't be wasting time on a Blog Post darling- you have 2 essays to write in 8 days, during which time there is the Brownlow Medal count, and a Grand Final, or "Granny". You also have to attend lectures, do your readings, submit an online quiz... come on luvvy, you are only human and why do you think you have all the time in the world to just blab on and on and on and on and on?
god I'm really craving a good go at a Scrabble Board or Words with Friends by Zynga or something.... crave it  like I used to crave sex really... but that's another sad, sad story and we won't go there... not right now anyway...
Look you're writing a damn fine essay, your lecturer thinks you're fantastic, wants to offer you a scholarship in Computer studies or some such bullish, (as if) and anyway, you KNOW this particular piece does not have to have the "Knock-em-dead" power that the Anthropology one does, (Scares the pants off me it does.) This time next week I should be a piece of blubbering poo...

New Horizons

I neglect to write, and it does me no good!
I am torn between sharing my life and not sharing it- there is a part of me that is a very private person- but I am often having imaginary conversations about things in my my head anyway... so why not write them down? Maybe I will get the feedback I long for...
Ok, so what is happening?... I am now in the last three units of my degree, and what a wonderful feeling it has been, knowing that it is about to be finished- fancy Briar actually finishing something for once! I have also felt a bit lost, bereft and without aim not knowing what the future holds for me, once I have finished.
I have briefly looked into and toyed with the idea of doing further studies.
I kept that idea in my head, and then had some things dawn on me over the last week or so...
 I have undertaken an essay in one of my favourite subjects, Philosophy, on other favourite subjects, Films and Literature. I have also rediscovered a love for writing and reading about such things. And an ability I had forgotten and neglected.
 I had seriously considered a future in studying/teaching History- I am also passionate about this, particularly where it pertains to the History of Aboriginal peoples in the colonised Pacific, including Australia and New Zealand. This is what this blog is supposed to be about, to a degree. I specifically wanted this to relate what I found out about Histories of  food and food cultures. I am still very interested in this, but as you can see I haven't made one single step further in this regard.

Anyway, while these ideas about History/Food/culture remain on the back burner, I am pursuing the idea of doing an MA in Writing and Literature, as Coursework. (as opposed to Research).
I have taken a huge step, and have made an appointment to speak to a past lecturer of mine, in itself a scary thing for me, and have spilled my guts to him in and in turn received some very positive feedback. I was in one of my very fired-up, enthusiastic and full-of-hope manias. I have now sent an email to a person responsible for this course, to ask for information. I am making steps toward committing myself to this path. Further study. Brainy Briar. It used to be my nickname. I was initially really excited. Could I really be fulfilling a long-held dream of mine to immerse further in academic study, and see it through to it's end? could I be a published author? lecturer? speaker? It seemed too good to be true, just to me, to hear that the possibilities were real and achievable.

Today, however, I am full of trepidation. I am full of self-doubt. I am seriously wondering who am I trying to kid? What makes me think I can do this?
The Lecturer said he believed I could. I really am trying to believe I can. I just doubt I can.
 I am not satisfied with the idea of "just a degree", but I also wonder if I am as good as I dream about being.

Hello Hallah

Right then,
So I signed up for one of those deals where you get 2 cheap meals, and wine, side dishes, starters etc and then I wondered, will this place will be OK?
It was at Hallah Korean restaurant, in Victoria st, opposite Vic Market.
A quick check of the website before I parted with my credit-card details re-assured me it would be OK. I wanted to take our daughter and her boyfriend out for tea cheaply, so that her father wouldn't complain about how much money he spent on them, and thought this was a good option- better than simply going to a cheap restaurant with dubious fare.
We had been to the Footy at Etihad, and so it was an extension to the fun day we had planned for ourselves. We caught up with our daughter at her new place of residence; a Victorian terrace in North Melbourne, a gorgeous dingy, labyrinthine time capsule. It is unheated, unloved, and very much a purpose-built party haven for students these days. I love it. But I would love it more if someone would please take a squirty bottle of bleach to the bathroom.
Our daughter looks well settled already, and the inconveniently placed bathroom and general disarray in the common living areas I'm sure will be nothing to cope with compared to the proximity to the market,city, the lack of security gates and the ugliness of  the shared courtyard she had in her newly built unit prior to this.
We only had a few minute's drive to Hallah from her place, another plus, and another reason to be glad to have chosen to eat there.
 I should have booked, but didn't. Tried my luck, and thankfully they were happy to accommodate, but did mention to us on our way out that it would be good to book next time.
I had not eaten a real Korean meal before so it was an experiment, but being very intrigued and adventurous when it comes to new things, I was looking forward to it. I knew I loved miso, chilli, sesame, garlic, all commonly used ingredients in Korean food, so I was quite confident I would like it.
 We ordered  BBQ meals for 2 and the obligatory 2 "Famous Chicken Dinners" from the voucher. This included 2 starters, so we ordered dumplings and noodles, and both these dishes were delicious. The BBQ meat came in neat slices, raw, and was cooked in the table set BBQ grill in front of us. We had pork belly and steak, which was delicious on both counts. The steak especially was really good quality, marbly, tasty and juicy.
The side dishes, pickled vegetables, salad (coleslaw), the dipping sauces, of miso, sesame, kimchi, were fresh, with sharp but 'friendly' flavours. Korean food could just as easily become as much of a "comfort food" cuisine as much as I find Chinese and Japanese food to be, I think.
 The starter dishes were beautiful and light and flavoursome; we all dug into the beautiful glassy noodles, (but almost impossible to serve, so elastic were they), with gusto, once we realised how wonderful they were. They had an almost vegemitey, soft, savoury flavour, were enhanced by grated sweet potato, spring onions and what I thought to be enoki mushrooms in them, which were meaty and juicy. I could have happily sat with a bowl of those noodles- and what a perfect thing to have for lunch they would be.
 The chicken was really the highlight of the meal, although the beautiful BBQ meat was not simply incidental at all- it was just out-shone by the gorgeous crispy battered portions of chicken, 1/2 of which glistened under a mild chilli sauce (the marinated version), redolent of kimchi flavours, and half of which drowned in a garlic sauce. (Took us a while to work out what we were ordering, ie the combination of chicken flavours, the serves etc. We substituted the wine for soft drinks, as we were all underslept/partied out, and it was Sunday night.)
 Best bloody bottled Lemon Lime Bitters I ever drank.
 We were enjoying ourselves so much, we forgot to feel guilty for ordering so much food, but actually ate every bit of it, (maybe didn't do all the condiments justice.)
The best part of the evening for me was when my husband, (after being a bit of a pill during the ordering, nearly ruining the evening for us all), snatched a piece of kimchi to taste before the meat was cooked. I straight away knew what his reaction would be and giggled almost uncontrollably- and sure enough he was shocked and awed by it's sharp flavour. Hilarious. The other best bit was hearing my daughter oohing and ahhing and Mmming as she ate- I love that she has a palate nowadays; she was a hell of a difficult kid to feed as a child.
 I gave her the other 2 meal voucher I bought, because I knew after this response to Korean food, she and her guy would value it, and hopefully have another great meal together sometime. I thought the meal would have been better value if the wine was substituted for something else in the food department, otherwise it was quite good for what we spent, which would have been, all up, about $80-$90 I think. Not bad for 4 people.
And delicious.
The decore in Hallah is really nice, probably close to something of the traditions of Korean restaurants, although I can't compare it to anywhere else. Pale bamboo/wood fittings, wall prints in fan-shapes, wooden booths, clean, and cosy, not too brightly lit.The Korean music piped out a little too loudly at first, but actually made for a better ambience I think. Meals using the table built BBQs are optional, and you go upstairs to dine if you want to order from this selection (it does get a little smoky). Downstairs is straight menu food. Lots of people in the place appeared to be Korean, and there was a family in the downstairs part, enjoying their glass noodles, I observed as we left, cutting them on the lip of the serving dish with a spoon. Will remember this next time.
 The service was friendly and attentive, if the language difficulties made it a little tricky to order- but I always relish the challenge of this- to me it makes a more authentic experience. I'm a little weird like that. Our waitress coped very well with our confusing requests, and kept her sense of  humour when my husband lost his. (With me).The kimchi incident was justice : )
 Go to Hallah- try it, you'll love it.

Food...#2

2. Lately I seem to be spending inordinate amounts of time in my small and grimy kitchen labouring over the stove. But it's a good thing- and I enjoy it- especially that sort of cooking that allows me to be creative, experimental - it gives me a source of recreational pleasure. It is cathartic when things go right, and very frustrating when they don't. Tonight I am riding on a culinary wave of pleasure- although not everything went to plan I still managed to make a beautiful three course meal.
We started with chicken and spinach soup, (from a recipe my Mother gave me, which is basically chicken thighs, garlic, coriander and spinach, and is really delicious), then had the braised veal shanks on cous-cous, which were beautifully fragrant with lemon-rind, garlic and parsley, (we ate one between us), and finished with pears poached in red wine and custard. Tea and cherry-bite pods to finish.
 While I was cooking the veal, I also threw together a bolognese sauce, for easy meals through the week.
 The veal was an absolute triumph- unctious, melting in the mouth.
But the red wine poaching liquid was nothing short of a coup. I strained and reduced the cinnamon and vanilla flavoured ruby liquid once I had removed the pears. It turned syrupy (once I added a bit more sugar) and I felt as though I had become an alchemist discovering that I had made gold. It was sublime. But way too powerful to use more than a few dribbles on the dessert. So now I know why chefs only smear the smallest amounts of such essences of pungency: for effect, and for balance.
 The flavours nearly knocked me out, and yes I had served myself way too much, but I know I will wake up tomorrow wondering when I can justify eating it again, and probably stress all day wondering if my chef son will get to taste it.
 (This is so ironic- I am watching Julie and Julia and Julie and her husband have just had the big fight scene, after her grand obsession has caused their relationship to be put under tonnes of pressure). I am fortunate to have married a man almost like Julia's husband and therefore an appreciative supporter of me when I get a cooking mojo on. I am also unfortunate enough to have more of a disposition like the "Julie" of the movie, and am more than a wee bit self-involved at times...
 Hey it's all good, we ate really well tonight, and it's good for our home environment...
I am feeling rather chilled and fulfilled right now
 Thanks God for food...and for grand obsessions.
Ps I am going to use the other poached pears and make a proper pear tart tomorrow. To serve with a blob of cream. Can't wait.

Food

Ok, so what does this foody write and talk about when she has left it several months and can hardly remember what has gone on worth writing about?

...Let's see...

1. Back in April I went with my family to a little roadside cafe, to celebrate my birthday, called the Elkhorn roadhouse - it was a lovely little rural eatery, on the Bellarine Peninsular with a small but tasty menu. The service was great, and the food well executed. I had the ham-steak and braised cabbage sandwich- it was not too salty at all- but juicy and sweet, made with the beautiful Istra Ham. The local wine from the nearby Leura Park Estate was a very crisp young bubbly, which suited our occasion well. Johnny and Sam both had really generous and well dressed hamburgers, and the girls, pumpkin and prosciutto pizzas. We also shared really good herbed potato chunks, and a tasting plate. The delicious pate was a generous and moreish serve. We didn't even try to resist dessert, and my Tipsy Pudding was a delicious, sweet, whiskey soaked treat. Sam's creamed sponge was probably as good as my mother-in-law's, and that's saying something. We left there stuffed full but quite happy- and thanks go to Sam's old boss for giving us the heads-up on this place.
 Elkhorn Roadhouse make their own range of preserves as well as run the well patronised cafe, and these look very tempting-- Berry, peach jams- I didn't get any but will be back for some I'm sure.
The food at Elkhorn warms the cockles and has that cosy home-made quality, but also has that gourmet touch- it is made with the best quality local produce, and is done well.
I was really happy to find an out of town place to have a little family birthday. I didn't want anything flashy that trumpetted it's own merits- so Elkhorn was just the ticket. It's decor reminds you of a roadside cafe, and nothing more ostentatious than that. I needed to fulfill that desire to go somewhere away from the "Burbs" and somewhere as a family we could be that would treated like valued guests.
And so we were~!

Briar's Golden Vegetable Lasagne

Sounds yummy much? Well even though I invented it myself- I'm here to tell you it is really good : )

I thought I would just publish this and get it all out there since my son, who's a chef, is going to share it with his boss. For goodness sakes, credit where credit's due : )
It IS delicious, and I'll be eating it for a couple for days. Lucky me.

This dish has a lot of stages, and can take some time to prepare, especially if you have a normal small oven like mine- but I find if I am stuck at home I can cook this over the course of the day, and achieve many other things as well. At the end of the day is the reward of all the lovely smells in the house and the creamy golden lasagne. It is not a dish to be rushed, but if you have the vegetables and bechamel pre-prepared, it just takes a few minutes to assemble, then 30 mins baking.

Ingredients

Sweet potato, 1 large or 2 medium
2 medium eggplants
2 med red onions
3-4 large field mushrooms
4 -6 home-grown or vine tomatoes
2 small-med zucchini
Fresh thyme, a good bunch
3 lrge garlic cloves (if using small, cook less time in oven)
Olive oil
Macadamia oil (or other light oil)
balsamic vinegar
tomato paste
red wine
salt, pepper (Freshly cracked black, and white milled)
sugar
lasagne sheets- (I prefer fresh, only because you can use different shaped dishes then- but use dried if you want, only make sure your filling is quite moist.)
grated mozzarella
shaved parmesan
Bechamel sauce
milk (I use skim)
plain flour
butter (please use real butter!)
tasty cheese (I use a 25% less fat variety)
nutmeg
s & p

Method
Prepare vegetables- cut eggplant, sweet potato in rounds of approx 1 cm thickness. Brush the light oil on the sweet potato and the olive oil on the eggplant, place on trays lined with baking paper.
Bake in a moderate oven for about 15 mins. Test with a skewer, it needs to be tender, but not overcooked.
Slice red onions into rounds and sauté in olive oil, adding a good splash of balsamic and sprinkle of salt once they have begun to soften. Continue to cook slowly, for up to 20 mins, to caramelise.
Slice zucchini, (1 cm thick), peel mushrooms and cut into roughly 2 cm by cm chunks, oil and bake on baking trays in a slower oven for about 30 mins. Use a skewer to test for doneness, don't allow to become brown or tough.
Slice each tomato into 3-4 rounds, depending on size, de-core, place on trays and sprinkle with a good amount of the stripped thyme. Splash a little balsamic over, and salt. Place slit garlic cloves around the tomato pieces. Bake in a slow oven for a good 45 mins.
As the vegetables come out of the oven, keep the sweet potato and eggplant separate. Put the other vegetables in a bowl, cutting the tomatoes up smaller, peeling and chopping finely the garlic, add the onions, cut zucchini smaller if you need to. You want 1 cm sized chunks, with the exception of the slightly larger mushroom pieces.
Whilst the vegetables are cooking, you can make your bechamel, if you haven't made this before there are easy recipes everywhere. Make at least 3 cups worth.
Grate or add ¼ tspn nutmeg (don't go overboard on this!)
season well with salt and white pepper
add 1 cup of grated tasty cheese. It must taste cheesy.
In a small bowl, place a good tablespoon or two of tomato paste, a slurp of red wine, and some (a 1/2tsp at a time) sugar and salt to taste. Mix to dissolve sugar, and taste this mixture. It must be sweet enough to complement the other ingredients. As Nigella says, “trust your tastebuds!”! You need this mixture to moisten the vegetables as you assemble.
Now begin layering, firstly with a little of the mushroom /tomato mixture, 2-3 tablespoons of wine mixture then lay the pasta.
Now place the sweet potato rounds neatly over the pasta and cover with the eggplant rounds. Sprinkle mozzarella around, filling gaps and a thin covering on top. Now another layer of pasta.
Next add the remainder of the mixed vegetables, sprinkling some of the red wine mixture, and plenty of cracked black pepper. Distribute the vegetables out evenly making sure that there are chunks of mushroom, onion, tomato, zucchini in all quadrants, and plenty of moisture- try to fill gaps. Sprinkle more fresh thyme. Add a layer of pasta.
Now the topping, which is a good covering of about 2 cms of the Bechamel sauce. Finish with a good handful of mozzarella and parmesan, spread evenly across to the edges.
Bake for 30 mins in a low-moderate oven, till bubbling and light brown about the edges and golden on top.
Let sit for 20 mins at least before serving.
Serve with a green salad

I am a Pear therefore I am a Woman who can't wear certain things?

Ben Pobjie's Wonderful World Of Objects: One for the Ladies



I hope the author of this doesn't mind- but I had to share- it got me laughing so hard.
And do we do this name calling to men I wonder?
I know my mother (God Bless her), being from different generation, also living in an environment where bodies are SO very very important, as they are on show always, (ie the Gold Coast) is always going on about her son's and grandson's physiques- their broad shoulders, narrow hips etc. No-one gets to own their own body out in the public eye it would seem.
I like to call some men "pregnant" because of their beer bellies, and am impressed by an athlete's firm muscles etc, as I am confused and repelled by the over -done body-builder's. Some guys are built like a brick dunny, others are weeds.
I am immensely attracted to a man with a flat stomach, nicely developed arms and legs and body hair in certain places. And I'm sure I'm not alone in this.
Can I call him a Michaelangelo? Why not?
I honestly still do believe that it is mostly women who want to perpetuate the names of body shapes, and that this links in with many different attitudes and ideas- some due to the Dr Cabot diets for different body shapes and hormonal conditions, some of it because of terrible fashionista reality TV shows and magazines and some of it because women want to be able to identify with someone or thing, to help them love their own particular shape more.
How do I KNOW this? because I am a Pear, and Pears need reassurance. A big botty is a lovely one, Mum always told me, and I do believe it now.
But I didn't when I was young, and they only made Levi's jeans for girls with no hips. Now they make them for Pears, and I'm so glad.
Ok Ok, OK,
I hear that I am again demonstrating behaviour that the feminists chant: that I have been socialised by male stereotyping, male desires for females to 'be' something, female desires to conform to these desires etc etc.
Then show me how, make me and let me be a woman in a vacuum, who doesn't need to see and like what she sees in the mirror and feels good in her own bones.
Meanwhile call me anything you want, or call me nothing at all, but I know who/what I am and ultimately, that is a "woman".

I Bottle, therefore I am.

      This is just a little tribute to my beautiful Nana, Amy Cowan, who lived  through the depression and raised 3 of her 5 children during WWII, and died a long time ago now- in 1988. But recently, I feel as though she is very close. You see, she was an orchardist's wife and as such was a great preserver, bottler and baker. It came with the territory. Nana would have pastry rolled out and an apple pie in the oven before you could even find your car-keys and get down to the shops to buy Sara Lee. Her shelves were lined with huge bottles of pears, peaches, apples, and relishes, jams, sauces and such. All made by her. Visits to her would often involve taking lamb sandwiches (adorned with mint sauce, made by her of course), to Grandpa out in the orchard, who would eat them sitting on a packing case, and swig it down with billy tea- then we would go blackberry picking. We were always foraging, peeling, baking, or watching Nana do it.

      Thanks to this heritage that Nana instilled me at such a young age, I happen to be a bottler and preserver type too. And a forager. I didn't realise how much it was a big part of me, until I started growing herbs and tomatoes again this summer, and the constant rain awoke our sad fruit trees and they started producing edible fruit again.
I hate waste. I love to savour, and enhance. And so, I've got bottling fever. Now I have the internet, I'm scouring for great recipes. But I have Maggie Beer's Harvest and the trusty old Edmond's Cook Book to help me along too. And I'm a littl bit inventive.
 So far this summer, I have made chilli jam from my own Jalepenos, Tarragon Vinegar, and pickled Beetroot Relish. We have just finished a pot of homemade rhubarb/raspberry compote as well.
 The beauty of these condiments, is that I have, or my mother-in-law Kath (another Great Depression child) has, grown all the fruit and vegetables ourselves, without chemicals.

      I didn't realise how addicted I was to preserving until I recently looked way up into the cupboards to find ancient plum jam, olives and peach nectar, all 10 or more years old. Possibly inedible- but what a testament to my dedication to the art of preserving! My tomato sauce never goes uneaten, but Kath's pickles sadly just don't have the right flavour, and often sit there for a couple of years before I give up and throw them out. I didn't do much in the way of preserving through the main years of this 10 year drought, but now that veges and fruit are again in surplus watch out!

      My aim this year is to hit on that perfect piquancy in pickles- Nana had it nailed. Her tomato sauce too, was just right- a spicy kick of I don't know what at the end- cayenne maybe? Meanwhile, it's off to source jars... I know where I can get my zucchinis and rhubarb in abundance at least- at Kaths!

Picnic food Paranoia

The scene-
A picnic at a well known outer Melbourne suburban picnic spot- an annual gathering of employees of a private health provider. Theres at least thirty of us. Several children, a few teenagers, a few young couples, singles, and a majority of middle aged couples. We have amongst us, a majority of Asian origin people, from the Chinese mainland and from Hong Kong and Thailand; we have English, Canadian, Croatian, French, Polish, Indian and of course Irish. Notably absent are our Egyptian and Russian friends, and more's the pity.
We're all looking forward to each other's food, tasting exotic cuisines.
But where does that leave me- An Australian English descendant with about a 32nd part of Maori in me?
 Do I even have a cuisine? One of my favourite styles of food is Asian- so I'm not going to do that- and just as well, Flora from Thailand brings Tom Kha Gai, piping hot in a huge pot, a delicious herb salad with Thai Dressing, and a plate of beef carpaccio adorned with olives, feta and capers. Wei makes skewers of beef, chicken, chicken wings in delicious salty and spicy flavourings. Marie-Lau makes a buttery rich quiche, served in a traditional earthenware fluted tin, and a banana cake, flecked with chunks of chocolate. It looks high and proud like a brioche, tastes amazing and I am instantly jealous of this young woman's heritage and baking prowess. Kate brings an deliciously simple salad of coarsely grated beetroot, onion, carrot and coriander.
I quickly wizzed up a frittata, early in the morning- a variation on the tortilla/zucchini pie- mandolinned potato and zucchini, sweated off in olive oil with onion, then added to whisked up eggs and cream, some torn smoked salmon and lots of parsley and chives. I buy dinner rolls, grab chicken chipolattas and my home made chilly jam, and off we go- but my cooking confidence is low, considering the field of experts I know I am sharing with. And yet what I have made is automatic- it's from this huge repertoire I'm gathering- and I'm not even a very adventurous cook, compared to the likes I see on  'reality' TV cooking shows.
But I do like food; and I love it especially when it is of good quality, well thought out, quickly thrown together, rustic, wholesome, tasty, full of texture. Low fat, high fat, vegetarian, meaty, preserved, fresh- I don't really care, as long as it's been made with the best ingredients money can buy, or hands can nurture in a garden. I don't have a 'cuisine' as such, and I guess, like my own nationality, somewhat flecked with Polynesian, enriched with having lived in urban New Zealand , in 'alternate' rural NSW, country Victoria and in cosmopolitan Melbourne; I am in a broad church, culturally speaking. I love it and won't fight the outcome- a confused but happy mish-mash of things I've found and loved along the way.
 I can't lay hold of a specific food tradition I want to identify with as an Australian or a Kiwi- I really don't want to be tarred with any brush. A bit like my tastes in music and Literature, I am an eclectic appreciator of all.
Take me to a hangi full of pork and fish and I am in raptures, as I am in the company of Chinese people serving up traditional home-made delights. I can cook a mean scone, I can ice a cup-cake, and I can do a roast lamb to a turn- but I will spike it with Mediterranean delights, I will "French-ify" a chicken, and I will never, ever, ever, EVER serve a piece of steak or a chop with plain cooked vegetables.
I doubt very much that I am a rarity- I think I am very much an average cook, in an average experience, if there is such a thing. And I suspect my friends at this picnic don't think anything very different to me- I think enjoying each other's food and cultural uniqueness is as enjoyable for them as it is for me.
Sunday's picnic allayed my fears of incompetency, the relaxed and carefree sharing of each other's tastes was only a vehicle to a further end- that of friendship and common understanding after all.

Breakdown Town

   Recently I spent weeks on the north coast of NSW- where my brother and I had a few good days together, something we hadn't done in many years. I have lived in Geelong for twenty one years now, and he has lived in and around Byron Bay all this time. We drifted into our own lives so much we found it hard to connect again, but now in our mid-40's find ourselves enjoying just hanging together, and most importantly we get each other.
   This little blues flavoured number was inspired by the number of broken down vehicles on the roadside as we drove from Brunswick Heads to Mullumbimby, which caused us to throw a few phrases together. We had fun.(It actually doesn't have a tune, but it really could go with any bluesy, sad progression of chords. Harmonica would be good. Even Banjo could work).
   
Driving down the highway, there's a break-down and another
Stranded people standing
helpless, by their broke-down cars....
Driving into
Breakdown city, and there's a man without a woman
There's a house without a roof and view through to the stars

(Chorus)
Breakdown Town, Breakdown Town
I'm heading back to familiar ground
Breakdown town

Coming back to Breakdown there's my kids without a dad
Sister's man has lost his marbles
and the school got burnt away
The vines and weeds are growing, the dog's without a bone
The town has got no mayor, and the hens forgot to lay

(Chorus)
Breakdown town, Breakdown town
I'm on familiar ground,
here in Breakdown Town.

(Bridge)
Where there's a girl without a boy, and a child without a toy
The heart has got no beat, the footpath has no street
Where the head has no thought, the school no lessons taught
the wall has no mortar, the father's without a daughter,
the wire's lost its spring, the Queen has misplaced her King
my mum's without her phone, my ice-cream has no cone
the grass has got no edge, the window has no ledge
I'm eating without a dish, and I've only got one wish
….
(Chorus)
to turn my back on Breakdown Town, Breakdown Town
that old familiar ground
Breakdown Town

In Your House

I began this blog, believing my life would just flow off my 'pen' as it were, such is the culturally rich series of events it is. To be honest, it really is, that is, rich, and I do write a lot, and I am happy in this. I guess the living of it doesn't just naturally flow out into readable stuff, blog-gable stuff. Certainly not with any regularity.
I would journal as a kid, and it was so cathartic, so helpful. Now I chat about this, that, solve the problems of my life and my world on facebook, with my closer friends. I tweet, some days endlessly. Saying everything but nothing to no-one in particular. Just a little steam vent, a "Blaaaaahhhhhh" to the world.
So where is my inner life? The intelligent observations and intense analyses of a woman obsessed with everything that makes life interesting- people, food, culture, history, arts, love, war, death and life?
They are there, in the stratosphere, disjointed and organically shifting shape, like a cloud.
 Not here, so much, in this blog.
 But I will try to rectify that.
There, a belated New Year's resolution, which I am loath to ever do- but I think, this time I must.
 So watch this space.