tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75772142024-03-15T04:51:36.843+11:00Yellow BrollyDaily FollySarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-78199218784496414242007-05-29T13:32:00.000+10:002007-06-13T13:37:31.271+10:00Business meeting of Horror!Since the beginning of May, I have had a business trip either interstate or international every week. That's a lot of inane taxi trips, tussles for overhead locker space, time spent gazing at one tarmac or another and lonely hotel rooms. This may have contributed to my feeling a tiny bit fed up when I dragged myself out of bed at 5am yesterday morning for an early flight to Melbourne and a crucial meeting.<br /><br />At the club lounge I made a B-line for tea and some breaky to improve my frame of mind. The hot water dispenser was on the blink and squirted its steaming contents far beyond the bounds of my tea cup. Yes. Onto my shoes. The muesli was like mouthfuls of grainy sugar and could not be finished. Deciding to see what delights Qantas would serve up for breakfast in the air, I was bitterly disappointed with my egg and bacon muffin - soggy bits that should have been dry and dry bits that should have been soggy.<br /><br />My boss handed me the crossword that I so enjoy when killing time in transit but a search through my bags revealed NO PEN! Those wonderful blank squares winking at me and seducing me with their tantalising clues and I was powerless to act! A quick internal tantrum ended in an involuntary snooze in nasty economy class seating. So much for respectable corporate-appropriate hair.<br /><br />Boss and I arrive at client's building, go up to level 45 where 15 senior people are scheduled to hear me present. No response from our contact to let us in. Where is she? 5 minutes till presentation start time... A kindly woman walks out towards the lifts and asks if we are ok.<br />"Yes, we are waiting for blah blah to take us through to a meeting."<br />"Oh, blah blah is in our other building for another big meeting with ECA."<br />"Oh really? We ARE the ECA meeting! When did we change venues?"<br />"Oh, didn't Blah blah tell you?"<br />"No... ... ..."<br />"Well I'm going to that meeting so why don't we all go across together? Let's just step into this sophisticated, hi-tech, safe-as-houses 21st century lift to take us down the 45 stories to the safety of the ground level and within minutes we will be at the meeting where 15 senior people are scheduled to hear you present. Everything is still on track for a smooth meeting."<br /><br />As we step into the sophisticated, hi-tech, safe-as-houses 21st century lift to take us down the 45 stories to the safety of the ground level, I make a relaxed joke about the secret fear I had when I felt the lift bounce under our footsteps. Doors close and before we have even had time to politely fix our gaze on the floor-number display monitor, BANG!!! The lift suddenly falls a couple of meters. I just manage to keep adult-like composure as the realisation sets in that the lift is stuck, hovering between floors, 44 stories from the ground. And the doors won't open and we are buzzing for help and suddenly there is a high pitched squealing noise that won't shut up!<br /><br />I happen to love wide open spaces. The opposite of wide open spaces is small enclosed spaces. The opposite of love, is hate. For the next 30 minutes, I had the chance to work through my feelings of 'hate' (read: irrational fear, panic, nausea, desire to cry like a baby) in the company of my boss, an important client and a fourth woman from the client company who also happened to be claustrophobic, like me. Once the security guards were finally able to get through on the intercom, they asked us our full names (to save the cops precious time identifying our oxygen starved, unrecognisable mashed bodies once we hit level G?!) and told us that the technician was on his way. From ALTONA! In the mean time, he commenced a textbook distraction conversation technique to prevent any incidents with the two claustrophobics imprisoned in the tomb of steel. We could also listen to the distorted voice of a woman mournfully calling to us through the impenetrable lift doors from level 45. "What did she say? I can't understand her. She'll tell our families we love them?!!"<br /><br />The four of us were sprawled on the floor of the lift, layers of clothing stripped off, with smiling brave faces - the feigned cheerfulness of long-suffering comrades, sharing my crossword puzzle (obtained a pen!) to take our minds off the thinning oxygen and IMPRISONMENT ALMOST LIKE BEING BURIED ALIVE WHERE YOU CAN'T SEE DAYLIGHT OR EVEN A WAY TOWARDS DAYLIGHT AND NOT SURE HOW IT IS THAT YOU CONTINUE TO BREATH EVEN THOUGH YOUR CHEST FEELS LIKE IT HAS CAVED IN ALONG WITH YOUR SUDDENLY VERY TIGHT WORLD when without warning, we felt the lift rush downwards. Not a drop, but definitely an unsettling rush.<br /><br />A spill out onto ground floor, concerned security guards, replace shoes, coats and scarves, incident reports then onward to very important meeting, where the 15 senior people had been waiting for considerable time, white-faced presentation, grueling meeting afterward and in a stunning turn of luck, a big success to take home with us to Sydney.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-52305103652763576422007-03-31T14:30:00.000+10:002007-06-13T13:44:54.064+10:00Franky bags the Professor<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8eNCm57PHnrj6xixHeBBcg9HBjqUtmZXFxnBQ6Da2ZsWLT2c-Lr-uRBdT8i4iTq-YlvwNhJvzuiHpfxnddKLWCSPCAaw9pyzasYW5AfSwZjbVuC6eVLbw5thcujYQwqqV7RLJ6Q/s1600-h/wedding.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075389634614349634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8eNCm57PHnrj6xixHeBBcg9HBjqUtmZXFxnBQ6Da2ZsWLT2c-Lr-uRBdT8i4iTq-YlvwNhJvzuiHpfxnddKLWCSPCAaw9pyzasYW5AfSwZjbVuC6eVLbw5thcujYQwqqV7RLJ6Q/s400/wedding.jpg" border="0" /></a>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-71065053747529139932007-01-03T13:54:00.000+11:002007-06-13T14:00:23.704+10:00VB NYEThere was nothing high-falutin' about our NYE celebrations this year which we took in Tumut. It was a weekend all about blood, sweat and beers. Matt, an old uni mate, accompanied my folks and the Professor to the family farm for the long weekend where many an ambitious task was planned. There was a pool to demolish and a veranda to errect. The boys brought their tool boxes, Pa brought the heavy equipment and my Ma brought the tea.<br /><br />It was a weekend of blue open skies, seering sunshine, beers in the rain (yes RAIN!), work boots, builder's cracks, power tools, grunted converstaions, endless homecooked meals and little bit of Buble on the stereo.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZlfFdTB0OFTQRQTwcku1kSR8PiDVfeySbHpx9GpWZoZOtUwwxhsUPwJWvmZCSFPbLSZmFVBPtrVeGag0Ezdou1WOxdJMmaTVP5d20Yin2LBz17fjbOgbVHCGi5aMkC5h7fyWkLQ/s1600-h/Post+hole.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075392572371980130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZlfFdTB0OFTQRQTwcku1kSR8PiDVfeySbHpx9GpWZoZOtUwwxhsUPwJWvmZCSFPbLSZmFVBPtrVeGag0Ezdou1WOxdJMmaTVP5d20Yin2LBz17fjbOgbVHCGi5aMkC5h7fyWkLQ/s400/Post+hole.jpg" border="0" /></a> The fellas, d<span style="font-size:85%;">igging a hole 'big yellow toy' style.</span><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoUYGRg7_rOewgMzQX0IB7bzhHVez-WEN_Gh_tkGIgz67sVipa6aiG8PGNgaQl47HL_O4Q71wUbmx9X_BGaEMf4l0m7hILOl8DhT4y0ZOba-pEz_rxkmRmkgCTXf2j3knoLkTBIw/s1600-h/dumpy+level.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075392486472634194" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoUYGRg7_rOewgMzQX0IB7bzhHVez-WEN_Gh_tkGIgz67sVipa6aiG8PGNgaQl47HL_O4Q71wUbmx9X_BGaEMf4l0m7hILOl8DhT4y0ZOba-pEz_rxkmRmkgCTXf2j3knoLkTBIw/s400/dumpy+level.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />We discovered a new 'crumble' recipe, two toads and Pa's reo penchant. We spotted a few deadly animals, watched Pa cut willow branches for hungry cattle and ate corn chips shaped like Christmas trees.</div><div><br />There was many a chat about cricket, rivets and concrete setting.</div><div><br />Really, it could have been an ad for VB.</div><div><br />Ma tells me that Pa is now suffering from blokey-conversation withdrawal. </div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1147229351020391752006-05-08T12:47:00.000+10:002006-05-10T12:49:11.020+10:00A wee bit bitter...I would now like to revert back to my original stance on the Logie "Awards". What a depressing piece of rag-whoring junk. And boy did Joan Rivers make sure she wouldn't be asked back again!<br /><br />Congratulations to Chris Lilly though. A worthy opponent to out-logie my little brother, twice.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1144206231610939322006-04-05T13:01:00.000+10:002006-04-05T13:03:51.620+10:00A Logie in the Family?<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/logies4406_wideweb__470x312,0[1].jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/logies4406_wideweb__470x312%2C0%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" /></a>My little brother and his cast mates were invited to the Logies nomination breakfast on Monday morning. Lucky he changed his pants for it- he was nominated!<br /><br />A new category starts this year, the Graham Kennedy Award For Most Outstanding New Talent and my little brother is nominated for it, along with Adam Hills (Spicks & Specks, ABC), Chris Lilley (We Can Be Heroes, ABC), Matt Shirvington (Beyond Tomorrow, Channel Seven) and Kat Stewart (Supernova, Foxtel). With Adam Hills and Chris Lilley there, the competition is pretty stiff I guess.<br /><br />His show has also been nominated for the Most Outstanding Comedy Program. Not sure who else they're up against there.<br /><br />Both awards are industry voted and the Australian public has no say (thank goodness.)<br /><br />My little brother, pictured above, front left.)<br /><br />BTW- I'm back in Oz. Hello cheese!Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1144199508782515992006-03-31T19:10:00.000+11:002006-04-05T11:11:48.783+10:00Having a rotten timeOh boy, am I glad to be getting out of here soon.<br /><br />Frankly, I don't really care much for this country. The lush and misty rice paddies, sandy beaches, ramshackle temples and colourful market places are all a bit dull really. All the history, the mysticism, the humanity. The shopping!<br /><br />I'm not charmed at all by the brightest smiles and wildest waves 'hello' of all the excited little children we pass, or the soft sing-song voices and gentle manners of our local guides, or by the poise and serenity of the school girls gliding by on their bicycles, beautiful oi zais rippling in their wake.<br /><br />Really, when have I EVER got a thrill out of pretty little calves, puppies, piglets, ducklings or chickens? Or elephants for that matter. And quite truthfully, I'm sick and tired of the endless parade of wonderful local specialities that have crossed my table- fresh, tasty, surprising, cheap and satisfying. Add to that the monotony of the constant supply of great coffee, fresh fruit, baguettes and spring rolls to die for and I'm going to be coming home a few sizes smaller!<br /><br />As the wobbly texta lines on my map creep ever northward, the climate softens, friendships deepen, wallets lighten and belts loosen, I wonder, why on earth did I ever come to this bloody country?<br /><br />Back in OZ oh so soon.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1144199299488845472006-03-23T23:07:00.000+11:002006-04-07T15:06:48.146+10:00Out of the WildernessOne word:<br /><br /><strong>ELEPHANT!!!</strong><br /><br />My few days in the wilderness of the Central Western Highlands was, as you guessed, FANTASTIC. Beautiful countryside, wonderful people, more tasty food. My big highlight came after a triumphant tramp down the last mountainside in our big trek, descending on our tiny little village, marching along the rice paddy walls when my eye was caught by the saggy grey bottom of a munching, lumbering elephant! Nearly fell into the rice paddy with juvenile giddiness. Got to meet her later on and fell in love, very very quickly.<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/Sarah24996.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/Sarah24996.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">My old girl</span></strong> </p><p><br /></p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/Rice.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/Rice.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">Arriving in Nam Ka after our trek</span></strong></p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/Sarah24997.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/Sarah24997.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">Dinner at our second long house home stay</span></strong></p><p>From wooden floors for beds, wake-ups at 5am (care of rude roosters, birthing puppies & propaganda radio) and a distinct lack of running water to... heavenly Hoi An. This place is THE BEST. Fighting my materialistic urge (badly), giving in to my greedy side, wallowing in the charm of this beautiful old place. Certainly no cure for my new coffee drinkers' tick, gluttons' elbow, motorbikers' bum or dancers' blisters.<br /><br />I should leave it there this time. You all should try to make it here sometime. Beautiful Hoi An.<br /><br /><br /></p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/Sarah24895.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/Sarah24895.jpg" border="0" /></a><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">Penny & me at our office in Hoi An</span></strong></p><p><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/Sarah24879.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/Sarah24879.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">View from our office</span></strong></p><p> </p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1144198860582787162006-03-18T22:58:00.001+11:002010-11-22T15:44:26.973+11:00Xin ChaoI am LOVING this!<br /><br />It seems like a while ago now, but my time in the Mekong was terrific. Rice paddys, stilt homes, water buffalo (can we get a water buffalo?), boat trips swinging in hammocks and watching the watery world slip by. Also some sobering moments like the killing fields in Ba Chuc where 3157 Vietnamese were slaughtered in just a few days by the Khmer Rouge. There were three survivors, one of whom, a quiet pensive old woman that sold us water and snacks, saw her husband shot, her 6 daughters raped horribly and killed before she was raped and shot. She lost close to 100 family members that week. This country has seen so much violence.<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/Mekong.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/Mekong.jpg" /></a><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">Mekong Delta, near Chau Doc</span></strong> </p><p><br />I was very lucky to have a local friend in Saigon, Tuan, who looked after me and showed me the sites from the best possible vantage- the back of a motorbike, swirling along in the swarm of surprisingly calm fellow bikers. He was the perfect host.<br /><br /></p><p></p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/Saigon.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/Saigon.jpg" /></a></p><p><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">Saigon</span></strong></p><p>Now? Nha Trang for the most delicious seafood cooked on street corners clear blue waters, long sandy beaches and manicures/pedicures for less than $2 Australian!<br /></p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/Fishing%20villiage.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/Fishing%20villiage.jpg" /></a><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">Fishing Villiage near Nha Trang</span></strong> </p><p><br /></p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/Private%20Beach.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; DISPLAY: block; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/Private%20Beach.jpg" /></a><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">Beach bliss- Island off Nha Trang</span></strong> </p><p><br />I have landed myself in a great group of travellers who have taken care of me and been thrown together with Penny from Brighton. A better room mate you could not find. Apart from my glamorous eye patch (a bug flew into it and left it pretty ugly but don't worry, I'm FINE) and a little hangover this morning from too much local beer and dancing and way too little sleep, I am well and having a fantastic time. </p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1130457273619323132005-10-28T09:45:00.000+10:002005-10-28T10:16:56.603+10:00Another Day at the OfficeI know, I know. You've been DYING for me to post a nice long review of my working week in paradise- the sunshine, the picture-perfect beaches, the glorious swimming, the snorkeling. Well, unfortunately for you all, I only took a work camera with me and was unable to capture any illustrations for that side of my holiday. I MEAN WORK.<br /><br />So as to give you a little taste though...<br /><br />It began with some real quality time in which I got to know Auckland airport.<br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/1Auckland.0.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/1Auckland.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>On some level, I think we formed a very deep seated friendship.<br /><br />But on to Rarotonga with all it's natural beauty.<br /><br /><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/2Rarotonga.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/2Rarotonga.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p>Of course, I was there to work and couldn't spend ALL my time on the beach. It's not like you can sit in a banana lounge with a laptop. You could get sand in it. You might drip salt water onto it after a little dip. I had loads of data entry and meeting notes to get through so I had to set up and work from my room. Here.<br /></p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/3Rarotonga.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/3Rarotonga.jpg" border="0" /></a> </p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/1Auckland.jpg"></a>Luckily I could set up out at the table on the deck. For fresh air. To help me work.</p><p>I investigated quality and availability.</p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/4Quality.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/4Quality.jpg" border="0" /></a> Most essentials were readily available.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/5Availability.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/5Availability.jpg" border="0" /></a> Schools are suitable for expats, until highschool.<br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/6School.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/6School.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><p>Work did not stop at 4pm though. At night I had to explore the top local restaurants and see if they deserved their reputations.</p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/7Meals.0.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/7Meals.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>I managed one night off. I spent it with Pauline, my resort assigned partner for 'Island Night.' Pauline is 42 and likes cooking, travelling and long walks on the beach. Sadly, I was not her Mr Right.</p><p align="center">THE END</p><p><br /></p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/8Resort.0.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/8Resort.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1126518473948606722005-09-12T19:42:00.000+10:002007-06-13T09:42:19.433+10:00Funerals...<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/Funerals.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/Funerals.jpg" border="0" /></a>aren't the very worst thing in the world.<br /></div><p><br />We buried one of my Dad's oldest and closest friends today. He died suddenly two weeks ago while staying at our farm on the Riverina where he had been blissfully happy feeding the wrens, fixing gates, tinkering with machinery and nursing two poddy calves.<br /><br />Today, we all looked over at the simple wooden coffin and wondered how such an enormous man could possibly fit into such a small space.</p><p><br />Today, people came from across the country and across the world to share stories of the man as father, husband, friend and colleague. We all learned something more about someone we felt we knew so well. We smiled at each other and poured champagne. We ate chocolate cake and learned about the other people in his life and how he had effected them. Bewildered strangers arrived at our home after the service and new friends left it hours later.<br /><br /></p><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Maybe funerals aren't the very worst thing in the world.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/Funeral%202.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/Funeral%202.jpg" border="0" /></a>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1125273582192316552005-08-29T09:50:00.001+10:002009-09-01T15:46:22.659+10:00Doing evil with Good<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/Chocolate1.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/Chocolate.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,0,0);font-size:85%;" >Suckao- Max Brenner's idea of hot chocolate...</span><br /><br />It was a natural choice really. Good Nick (as opposed to our evil one) was the obvious companion for my reckless morning chocolate adventure.<br /><br />A beautiful blue sunny day stole in yesterday morning as I cruised over to collect my partner in crime and make our way to Paddington. As if by use of special built-in radar, we had no trouble finding the spot. <a href="http://www.maxbrenner.com/">Max Brenner</a>’s Chocolate Bar. My little sweet tooth’s home sweet home!<br /><br />Perhaps foolishly, I let Good Nick order. As the plates arrived, one by one, baring all manner of wonderful ways to present fat & sugar, each drizzled generously in melted chocolate, I rolled my eyes calling it a mistake to let him loose on the menu. But really? I got to indulge greedily and blamelessly in as much of the wonderful stuff as I could handle. And I did. Maybe even more than I could handle...Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1124707774467908292005-08-22T20:47:00.000+10:002005-08-22T21:03:40.633+10:00Cocktails Anyone?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/DinnerParty.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/DinnerParty.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>A wonderful way to wile away a Friday night, with 10 great friends, a 7 course meal and 1 brilliant cocktail. It was a real shame we all agreed to help the boys move house the following morning...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/Conversation.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/Conversation.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:85%;">Civilised conversation early on...</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/CrunchTiger.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/CrunchTiger.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Add several 'Crunchy Tigers'- a sexy sake based cocktail...</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/PainGame.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/PainGame.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:85%;">Good Nick plays <span style="font-style: italic;">HIMSELF</span> at the Pain Game...</span><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/PartyBoy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/PartyBoy.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><span style="font-family: times new roman;font-size:85%;">A less than spritely moving crew for Saturday!</span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1123913824773752412005-08-13T16:15:00.000+10:002005-08-13T16:35:19.943+10:00Sticky Black Rice- Finally!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/1600/StickyBlack.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3435/473/400/StickyBlack.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a>It has been a full year since I first spotted a sack of sticky black rice and snapped it up to take home and try in any number of curious looking recipe's that I'd been eyeing off. It's been sitting handsomely on the shelf in the pantry ever since.<br /><br />It occurred to Ma that perhaps now was as good a time as ever to pop it open and give it a whirl. Perhaps she was in the mood for something black and sticky. Perhaps she was just sick of moving it around the pantry. Either way, the hint was dropped and cleverly caught, by me.<br /><br />So after a night soaking in it's own rich purple stain, I snuck down stairs in slippers and dressing gown to put my bubbling brew on to cook. May I say, it was quite satisfying stirring away at the purple-black gloop. It cooked away until it resembled a grainy porridge than I stirred through some palm sugar and served it with coconut cream to a slightly confused dozy lot who had staggered out of bed with eggs in mind...Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1115428276679296982005-05-07T11:11:00.001+10:002005-05-07T11:30:08.830+10:00Pink Fit<style>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000;}.flickr-yourcomment {}.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px;}.flickr-caption { font: 75%;/* color: #666666; */ margin-top: 0px;}.flickr-buddyicon { margin-right:5px; vertical-align:middle; border: solid 1px;}.flickr-postedby { font: 75%;}</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/12706961/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://photos10.flickr.com/12706961_27f6f04749.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /><span class="flickr-caption"><br /></span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> </p>I believe that it is bad luck NOT to squander the first pay packet of a new job. If ever there was a time to 'treat' yourself and splash out on a few unnecessaries, post job-hunt high is it!<br /><br />As always, my recent indulgence has mostly been focused around my feet. Apart from 2 new pairs of work shoes and an array of silky 'professional' new stockings, I became proudly united with my shoe destiny- the pair of pink Spanish Mollinis I was born to own.<br /><br /><style>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000;}.flickr-yourcomment {}.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px;}.flickr-caption { font: 75%;/* color: #666666; */ margin-top: 0px;}.flickr-buddyicon { margin-right:5px; vertical-align:middle; border: solid 1px;}.flickr-postedby { font: 75%;}</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/12706962/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://photos11.flickr.com/12706962_87e0d662a0.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /><span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/12706962/">Babies</a><br /><br />Then there are my cute little chocolate flats and the crowning glory of my impending-winter wardrobe- the powder pink pair of <a href="http://www.peteralexander.com.au">Peter Alexander</a> ugh boots that arrived by courier ready for the months ahead.<br /><br />I love being a girl!<br /><br /></span></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1114081840664519872005-04-21T21:10:00.000+10:002005-04-21T21:14:05.813+10:00Big Windows<style>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000;}.flickr-yourcomment {}.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px;}.flickr-caption { font: 75%;/* color: #666666; */ margin-top: 0px;}.flickr-buddyicon { margin-right:5px; vertical-align:middle; border: solid 1px;}.flickr-postedby { font: 75%;}</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/9757718/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://photos6.flickr.com/9757718_9a73949051.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a> <span class="flickr-caption"><br /></span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> From our bright little office perched up on the sandstone ridge we can look down at the bustle of the circular quay ferry terminal or up to the glassy towers of the CBD, up at the shiny black windows out of which one of our clients may well be peering right back at us.<br />What YOU can see, is just how lovely this Sydney autumn has been so far...<br />Lucky city!</p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1113819609854251412005-04-18T20:20:00.000+10:002005-04-18T20:29:02.503+10:00Tap Tap Tap<style>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000;}.flickr-yourcomment {}.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px;}.flickr-caption { font: 75%;/* color: #666666; */ margin-top: 0px;}.flickr-buddyicon { margin-right:5px; vertical-align:middle; border: solid 1px;}.flickr-postedby { font: 75%;}</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/9757719/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://photos7.flickr.com/9757719_e86c4eeda9.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /> <span class="flickr-caption"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/9757719/">Cumberland St</a><br />My fabulous new career is set in the area of the oldest British settlement in Australia- The Rocks.<br />Once ejected from the train in a surge of CBD commuters, I take my walk over cobblestoned paths past old pubs, dormant archaeological digs and the occasional dazed tourist to our bright new office at the base of the southern pilon of the Harbour Bridge.<br />On my way, I give a little wave to Princess Mary's empty hotel room at the Shangri-La and a nod to the towering landmark bridge. I revel in my imagined sense of belonging to the club of sophisticated corporate city types. My leather shoes tap tap tap along the ground and I swing my smart back brolly.<br /></span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> </p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1113374461365508852005-04-13T16:41:00.000+10:002005-04-13T16:52:41.303+10:00Here Goes...<style>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000;}.flickr-yourcomment {}.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px;}.flickr-caption { font: 75%;/* color: #666666; */ margin-top: 0px;}.flickr-buddyicon { margin-right:5px; vertical-align:middle; border: solid 1px;}.flickr-postedby { font: 75%;}</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/9289247/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://photos8.flickr.com/9289247_6dc04f9b50.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br /><span class="flickr-caption"><span style="font-size:85%;">Old Franky</span><br /><br />What a naughty girl! It's been a little over a month since Franky took the hot seat and prattled on about her daily jollies. What happened?<br /><br />JOB! -Got one.<br />Spent the last month trawling job ads, tweaking resume and cover letters, sitting politely in front of recruitment consultants and HR officers answering the same old questions about my career aspirations, times when I resolved conflict in the workplace, times when I improved a system, times when I showed professional perfection!<br /><br />Seems it all paid off... I was finally offered the job I'd had my heart set on since I first read the ad and couldn't be happier with my new career!<br /><br />So here goes a new direction, a new lifestyle.<br /><br />Out with old Franky, in with new!<br /></span></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> </p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1110335823490749012005-03-09T15:37:00.000+11:002005-03-09T21:44:10.160+11:00Fun with Guns<style>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000;}.flickr-yourcomment {}.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px;}.flickr-caption { font: 75%;/* color: #666666; */ margin-top: 0px;}.flickr-buddyicon { margin-right:5px; vertical-align:middle; border: solid 1px;}.flickr-postedby { font: 75%;}</style><div class="flickr-frame"> Ooh yes, I like the feel of it in my hand, the power, the sexiness of a loaded gun, heavy and dangerous.<br /><br />I like the thrill you feel as you gently squeeze the trigger, the moment of fear that makes you flinch quickly before you look to see the effect…<br /><br />Little biscuits. Hundreds and hundreds of pretty little biscuits!<br /><br />Bang- a little kiss. Bang bang- some daisies. Bang bang- delicate little ringlets. I could do this all day and all night- stand in the kitchen with my bowl of dough, my greased tray and loaded gun, squirting row after row of slightly wonky little treats until dehydration and exhaustion knock me out completely. It is SO satisfying!<br /><br />My favourites so far:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/6162186/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://photos7.flickr.com/6162186_2c69164870.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><span class="flickr-caption"><br /></span>Little kisses with chocolate bottoms.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/6162187/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://photos7.flickr.com/6162187_88c1ea19db.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="" /></a><br />Flowers smoodged together with boiled blackberry jam.<br /><br />But this is just the beginning! I need more practise, more biscuit dough, more baking trays, more time! I want to dip, spread, sprinkle, wedge! Give me chocolate, sprinkles, crushed nuts, ganash, boiled jam and butter filling! Give me an army of sweet-tooths with gallons of tea who can deal with the sugary aftermath of my frenzied biscuit making battles.<br /><br />Professor, draw your snacking weapon!<br /></div> <p class="flickr-yourcomment"> </p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1109806446330820352005-03-03T10:34:00.000+11:002007-06-13T10:21:25.013+10:00Birthday Pie<div class="flickr-frame"><a title="photo sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/5774532/"><img class="flickr-photo" alt="" src="http://photos6.flickr.com/5774532_0f893af697.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I am a great advocate for the propagation of the ‘birthday festival’. I think that the privilege of being birthday boy or girl should carry on from the first birthday gesture to the last, bringing with it all the spoiling, feasting, toasting and ribbing such a title affords!<br /><br />Pa’s birthday festival began on Tuesday with the arrival of the first birthday card in the mail. Yesterday, his actual birthday, our family (including my little brother's fabulous girlfriend and, of course, the Professor) kept with our tradition, taking him out for a low-key dinner at one of our favourite restaurants before bringing him home for present time and coffee (including the Pecan & White Chocolate Pie I baked yesterday).<br /><br />Now, the festival will extend all the way to Sunday when we meet up with some extended family for a sailing day on Sydney harbour. Let there be champagne, smoked salmon, crusty bread and birthday cake till the sun sets on the last day of Pa’s 56th birthday festival! </div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1109644874240771102005-03-01T13:41:00.000+11:002005-03-01T14:05:05.893+11:00Double IdentityI make no apology. It has been four months since my last shoe purchase when I happily brought <a href="http://yellowbrolly.blogspot.com/2004_10_01_yellowbrolly_archive.html"> “Big Reds”</a> home to meet my clan. I think I have demonstrated great self restraint and stoicism in the face of temptation. This is why I am not ashamed to announce that <b>the drought has broken!</b><br /><br /><br />Here are my vampy sexy new work shoes- ready for power walking into interviews and impressing potential employers with my sassy, take no prisoners approach. I call them my "corporate butt-kickers"!<br /><style>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000;}.flickr-yourcomment {}.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px;}.flickr-caption { font: 75%;/* color: #666666; */ margin-top: 0px;}.flickr-buddyicon { margin-right:5px; vertical-align:middle; border: solid 1px;}.flickr-postedby { font: 75%;}</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/5630093/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://photos4.flickr.com/5630093_ac02824aa2.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt=""></a><br /> </span></div><br /><br /><br />But by night, I prefer to be a demure little oriental princess, eyelids battering away, blushing at the attention my darling little shoes bring me. My sweet-as-daisies "ballet slippers". <br /><style>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000;}.flickr-yourcomment {}.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px;}.flickr-caption { font: 75%;/* color: #666666; */ margin-top: 0px;}.flickr-buddyicon { margin-right:5px; vertical-align:middle; border: solid 1px;}.flickr-postedby { font: 75%;}</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/5630094/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://photos3.flickr.com/5630094_54b9edb8be.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt=""></a><br /> </span></div><br /><br />Ah happiness! How easily you come to me...Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1109028711927244222005-02-22T14:10:00.000+11:002005-02-25T11:26:29.390+11:00Love TriangleThis morning as I flumped about in bed, rolling from one side to another and trying to snuff out my dull churning mind, I realised that the battle to get to sleep was not going to be an easy one. I’ve heard that in these frustratingly unending bouts of insomnia, it is often a good idea to get up, do something for a while and then have another crack at getting those Zs. So last night, I did just that and shuffled out to the TV where I found Ma doing just the same!<br /><br />It was quite cosy really, sitting together at 1am with the white flicker of the TV the only illumination on our soft and saggy faces. Ma made us Chamomile tea (something I refused to subject myself to for the last 7 years and found only last night that I can quite enjoy!) and we switched over to the ABC for their late movie- always a black and white British number with plenty of tweed and good manners. And what do you know? It was “Mary of Scotland” starring Katherine Hepburn!<br /><br /><img src="http://www.tudorplace.com.ar/Pelicula/Mary_of_Scotland(Hepburn).jpg" width=337 height=250><br /><br />Now, it just so happens that my favourite Monarch in history is the great Queen Elizabeth I of England. I’m fascinated by her character, her success and all those slightly creepy paintings of her that make her seem a little supernatural.<br /><br />My aforementioned favourite starlet, Cate Blanchett actually truly came to fame for her stunning portrayal of Queen Elizabeth, the archenemy and cousin to Mary Queen of Scots.<br /><br /><img src="http://www.rediff.com/movies/2000/feb/26eli4.jpg" alt="Example" /><br /><br />Most recently, I saw her as another of my favourites, Katherine Hepburn, in “The Aviator” and now here is Katherine Hepburn playing Mary Queen of Scots to a strained and unfortunate looking Queen Elizabeth on my early morning movie!<br /><br />Well I thought it was cool anyway…Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1108975862058193112005-02-21T19:51:00.000+11:002007-06-13T10:50:32.806+10:00She Crush...<div class="flickr-frame"><a title="photo sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/5165411/"><img class="flickr-photo" alt="" src="http://photos3.flickr.com/5165411_b6fb9c59b9.jpg" /></a><br /></span></div>She's just so beautiful!<br /><br />The Professor and I stepped out the other night and saw "The Aviator".<br /><br />While my school girl crush on DiCaprio did not make it past his time on Growing Pains, my current fascination with the Aussie luminary grows every time I see her perform. Add the striking character of Katherine Hepburn, the glamorous trimmings of the1930's and I'm sold on Ms Blanchett! Too sexy. <p></p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1108897599675678022005-02-20T22:06:00.000+11:002005-02-20T22:32:32.566+11:00My New Old Hardware<style>.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000;}.flickr-yourcomment {}.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px;}.flickr-caption { font: 75%;/* color: #666666; */ margin-top: 0px;}.flickr-buddyicon { margin-right:5px; vertical-align:middle; border: solid 1px;}.flickr-postedby { font: 75%;}</style><div class="flickr-frame"> <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/5102648/" title="photo sharing"><img src="http://photos3.flickr.com/5102648_5ef59a031c.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt=""></a><br /> </span></div><br />Yes, be afraid.<br /><br />Not because Franky has acquired a state-of-the-art torture tool complete with the capacity to switch between 14 different levels of horror with a quick change of sinister attachment. No, accounts payable has not yet driven me close enough to the warped state that would have me rolling up white sleeves and snapping on the laytex gloves.<br /><br />Instead, with thanks to my Nanna, I shall be inflicting endless batches of biscuit experiments on my dieting friends and family, churning out dozens of mal-formed, sugar loaded cookies, now that I have been properly armed with my very own vintage biscuit gun!<br /><br />On Ma’s recent trip to Perth, I sent a batch of homemade Melting Moments biscuits I made, first squeezing the dough out into un-appetisingly crooked little piles using a piping bag, then rolling soggy, blobby little roundish shapes with my fingers, once the piping bag had burst open.<br /><br />Upon receiving the sorry batch, Nanna, yoda of my baking world, remembered her old gun she’d once used to turn out tray after tray of delicacies when she ran a beach side kiosk in South Australia. After a little foraging, she produced the 40 year old contraption and it’s fittings and home they were sent, to be delivered straight into my hot little hands.<br /><br />Baking, John Wayne style.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1108522842602035442005-02-16T14:00:00.000+11:002007-06-13T10:59:18.226+10:00Nigella's Chrissy Cakes<div class="flickr-frame"><a title="photo sharing" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/frankyframes/4880678/"><img class="flickr-photo" alt="" src="http://photos3.flickr.com/4880678_6074abcd8f.jpg" /></a><br /></span></div><p class="flickr-yourcomment">Always a sucker for pretty little cakes, I could not resist popping a pic of these little beauties up- I baked them for a Christmas party a friend threw on the weekend. (Yes, better late than never...)<br /><br />The recipe is one of Nigella Lawson's and produces distinctly Christmassy flavoured cakes- a cross between ginger bread and speculuus. They were well received after a course of turkey and ham, vanishing from the serving plate on the first trip round the crowd.</p><br /><br />Nigella's Christmas Cupcakes:<br />1 cup plain flour<br />1 tsp baking powder<br />1/2 tsp bicarb soda<br />1 tsp ground mixed spice<br />100g soft unsalted butter<br />160g brown sugar<br />2 eggs<br />3 tbs sour cream<br />75g dark chocolate, broken into pieces<br />1 tsp instant coffee<br /><br />Cream butter and sugar with electric mixer. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each. Stir dry ingredients together (excluding coffee) and add 1/3 of the dry ingredients to the butter mixture followed by 1 tbs of sour cream. Repeat twice more with remaining flour and sour cream. Melt chocolate with 1/2cup boiling water and coffee in a small pan till just soft. Fold through the batter gently. Pour batter into 24 little lined cupcake tins or 12 lined muffin tins.<br />Bake at 200 degrees C for 10-20 mins (depending on size) until firm and moist.<br />Allow to cool before icing with royal icing and decorate with a glazed cherry. (Nigella also cut sexy little green holly leaves from ready to roll icing but I didn't have a cutter to do so with.)Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7577214.post-1107476218898176922005-02-07T23:00:00.000+11:002007-06-13T11:05:29.899+10:00Not LostNow. I am back on the big brown island once again and full of energy for 2005, I can give you all a little rundown on my "choice" kiwi holiday, eh.<br /><br />Firstly, may I point out that I took my old fashioned camera along, so no digital evidence of our wonderful trip exists. It just so happens that other people have been to the same places before me, so that I have been able to borrow some of these pictures for my tale...<br /><br />In order to cut my gloating short, I shall give you a few highlights:<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#33cc00;">Scenic & Wildlife:</span>(In chronological order)<br /><br />1. Royal Albatross colony at the Dunedin peninsula.<br /><br />I LOVE albatross. This is the only main-land albatross colony in the world and it was great to sneak up on them and have a peak at the teenagers flirting and playing house. With wingspans of around 3m, it's pretty spectacular watching them glide above then swoop in for a graceful landing.<br /><br />2. Milford Sound<br /><img height="245" src="http://danny.oz.au/travel/new-zealand/p/1669-milford-sound.jpg" width="340" /><br />We took an early morning cruise on the sound as the mist was rising and waterfalls gushed down the steep rock faces. We pootled past lazy seals sunning on rocks after a hard nights fishing and had a pod of dusky dolphins breakfasting right under our bow.<br /><br />3. Waiatoto River Jetboat Safari at Haast<br /><br />We caught brilliant samples of rugged West Coast wilderness from the water.<br /><br />4. Fox Glacier day walk<br /><img height="350" src="http://www.caingram.info/NewZealand/Nz-pix/Fox-2.jpg" width="300" /><br />We spent a whole day with a guide who lead us through the temperate rainforest onto the glacier, then we followed in the ice footholds he carved for us as we forged up the south side to the spectacular unstable section of jutting ice. Jelly legs that night...<br /><br />5. Seal swim, Kaikoura<br /><img src="http://new.tourismdata.net.nz/images/6E477D7C-E0C0-A026-8EB7E9997B8A6044sskkseal_jpeg.jpg" /><br />Now I may have said before that these were in chronological order, and they have been. Earliest to latest. However, there was a clear number one highlight in my trip and this was it! I LOVE seals. Throughout our trip we had loads of great opportunities to stare down onto rocky outcrops and see mother seals watching their pups romp in the water or see lazy adult males soaking in the sun. If the Professor thought the gurgles of delight I uttered then were something, he should have heard the noises emanating from my snorkel as magnificent New Zealand fur seals swam up to me to investigate, to try to engage me in swimming games, tumbling around me and eventually realising what a fat useless seal I am and showing off all their best diving moves to impress me. I was in freezing-water heaven. I was. End gush.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#33cc00;">Culinary:</span><br /><br />Enormous and juicy green lipped mussels from Havelock.<br />Sweet and tender crayfish from Kaikoura.<br />Marlborough wine.<br />All manner of goo-ood Kiwi beers. (Did they learn from us?)<br />Cookie Time Cookies!<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;color:#33cc00;">Special Thanks to:</span><br /><br />Princess Billie Bay- Our hard working little red car who did not let those steep winding roads put her off.<br />NZ Sandflies- You really taught me the value of head to toe clothing and strong insect repellent.<br />James & Marion- a couple who drove in the opposite direction to us. Some good laughs with them in Queenstown where we met for beers.<br />Mreen- the old school friend of mine who battled Christchurch public transport to meet us for a farewell beer before we packed to come home.<br /><br />Lastly and most importantly, to my lovely Professor who turned out to be the perfect travel partner. I would recommend his skills at driving, navigating, tent pitching, camp stove cooking, emergency tea making, beer choosing and sulky girl cheer-uppering- but I want to keep them for myself. Find your own.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13223160193159036810noreply@blogger.com1