tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-287004422024-03-13T19:49:09.866+11:00Melbourne Ramblingslife, love, food, wine and fun in Australia's cultural capitalMaireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-42733558437744899692009-06-15T22:24:00.002+10:002009-06-15T22:25:03.157+10:00moved to wordpressHi - this blog has now moved permanently to a wordpress platform:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.maireaddoyle.wordpress.com/">www.maireaddoyle.wordpress.com</a><br /><br />Hope you visit me there!Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-74973255340917946562008-10-29T21:50:00.000+11:002008-10-29T22:32:21.263+11:00Dingle Trip July 2008It’s not often that we get a chance to escape the Australian winter and get back to a northern hemisphere summer, but July saw Orlando and me flying off to Europe to the wedding in France of our friends Ariane and Igor. To make the most of our time, Orlando headed back to his beloved hometown while I went to Ireland to catch up with family. The summer had been a changeable one so we were not expecting great weather. After a hectic weekend trying to keep up with my alcoholic brother and sister on the red wine front, Mum and I jumped into the car with Bernard’s children Ashling and Connor for a road trip to Dingle. I had not been to Dingle in ab<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuDTJDjCZWXvj1GUldZlhOzSeKsyzdk9h2Qs9aSb54xnHbqDbISLow6zX1FiciNf0S5A4txxEBx9_MQxiliNwETUXu85QRuZS60pCFvUhEZLgBb3GIjgmAq5EnEpb5KFXoozquhA/s1600-h/2+Connor+Pass.JPG"></a>out eleven years.<br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div></div><div>Strangely for this summer, as soon as I arrived in Dublin the weather changed and we had nothing but sunshine most days. This happens quite frequently: Mena went home a couple of years ago for Annette’s birthday in May, and ended up in a heat wave. And I have been pictured in these pages sunbathing on the Antrim coast in April.Late departing Dublin, we headed out the Limerick road, which is motorway as far as Portlaoise these days. When I worked in Cork twenty years ago the good road stopped in Newbridge and it was country roads the rest of the way. The original two-hour drive to Portlaoise was completed in just under an hour.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaL5LP027VpUDwB1O-7T3bk97kEpCCGOEhFnoEk12HB9SFZXMJZ09gSL_39q-Do5EoIbNBHWgp9UEbTgrq54mBq4y_P6Aju8T5A1iZWFEzS3Z1IbleKsh0rriHmEKeOPrbD8KpA/s1600-h/1+Mountrath.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262527187643829874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaL5LP027VpUDwB1O-7T3bk97kEpCCGOEhFnoEk12HB9SFZXMJZ09gSL_39q-Do5EoIbNBHWgp9UEbTgrq54mBq4y_P6Aju8T5A1iZWFEzS3Z1IbleKsh0rriHmEKeOPrbD8KpA/s320/1+Mountrath.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />With my obsession with Irish ham at its zenith, the family had eaten half a pig the day before, and we had the leftovers with us for a picnic. Mountrath (Maighean Ratha – the fort in the bog) is almost exactly halfway to Limerick from Dublin, and we found a lovely picnic area beside the River Whitehorse and the imposing church of St. Fintan. We ate and drank; the kids played a game of football and checked out the playground while Mum and I rambled across a little footbridge to see the old church. They don’t make them like this anymore: high arches, imposing altar, plenty of God and gold on show. Peaceful, though.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Down through Munster we went, tripping past Limerick on the ring road like lightning, and stopping in Tralee for an ice cream. Blennerville’s windmill also warranted a stop: it is the biggest working windmill in the British Isles. During the Great Famine, the pier beside the Blennerville windmill was a major point of emigration for thousands of Kerry and Munster people. Thousands of people were carried on “coffin ships” to the east cost of the USA and Canada. Many did not survive the journey. Now, the coast of Tralee Bay boasts only beautiful views and seafood restaurants to serve the twenty-first tastes of sophisticated residents and tourists. Who’d have thought. </div><br /><div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTMpXxTl6FUCUxtBt6t2QUXYKCelPZdJg070kGsYmsjzsZaK3X-KKNhR48qZNCeSBv7ZhzG55BvIF4isT5wwg0np3KKbWqs2oT-WViOPN0Qzopameb592F5G0nuIWPI44ft1SKIA/s1600-h/3+Connor+Pass.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262527907237093714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTMpXxTl6FUCUxtBt6t2QUXYKCelPZdJg070kGsYmsjzsZaK3X-KKNhR48qZNCeSBv7ZhzG55BvIF4isT5wwg0np3KKbWqs2oT-WViOPN0Qzopameb592F5G0nuIWPI44ft1SKIA/s320/3+Connor+Pass.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div>By late afternoon we were approaching Dingle via the Connor Pass – well, what other route do you take if Connor is in the car? This was the only patch of bad weather we encountered. The mists and clouds descended in true Kerry fashion, and we could hardly see the amazing view back west across Brandon Bay.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div> </div><div> </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdnhTylD95rkolnYM_rU0vZjoMqggwb69f78xcDXZEJCK3SfIUji3xcczEpNok77hsqcZrGa2hjR5JRcPbDt6NpLawNHfxigH5JLR63No9PAplHBH_dlJJHczaP6mjBVHIICDCA/s1600-h/2+Connor+Pass.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262536539271810034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdnhTylD95rkolnYM_rU0vZjoMqggwb69f78xcDXZEJCK3SfIUji3xcczEpNok77hsqcZrGa2hjR5JRcPbDt6NpLawNHfxigH5JLR63No9PAplHBH_dlJJHczaP6mjBVHIICDCA/s320/2+Connor+Pass.JPG" border="0" /></a>We scrambled on rocks above a small waterfall, saw a heart-shaped kettle lake and a couple of text-book corrie lakes almost hidden on the side of the valley. Through the thickening fog we saw some old ruins, of which later we were told the legend.<br /><br />Apparently these had originally been the simple farm buildings of the O’Donnell Brothers, who had travelled south in 1601, like many Ulstermen, to join the Siege of Kinsale. They somehow decided to farm rather than fight, settled in the valley and led a quiet life. Until one of them killed the other with a shovel!<br /></div><div> </div><br /><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxk8yn3LAJH3ZWLOnJ4kcZ2tunZk0hQxNucyTqtNTz0H8U1i4dST91JlqcRYAxZhEIT1AgVRNpO84kSWRiwzQv4XJu-NjFTRVRIdg9Be7N7DmF5p_8qn3Or6lP5EOvDcJuZkhyphenhyphenw/s1600-h/12+B%26B.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262528729675772290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKxk8yn3LAJH3ZWLOnJ4kcZ2tunZk0hQxNucyTqtNTz0H8U1i4dST91JlqcRYAxZhEIT1AgVRNpO84kSWRiwzQv4XJu-NjFTRVRIdg9Be7N7DmF5p_8qn3Or6lP5EOvDcJuZkhyphenhyphenw/s320/12+B%26B.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div>Our B&B was simple but welcoming. Tom (the archaeologist who told us the above story) was a little hesitant but a lovely man, always ready with local information or help with our Irish vocabulary. I insisted that we all spoke as much Irish as possible as soon as we passed the Gaeltacht sign, and we didn’t do too badly.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF3ZV6JMNhdq_qxmMBDMjOvDY8X9QITtW8vmBeDVaoTnjCeXH9c3RMem0ijZkcwztjbmn5juC-D9To1R8zG7EJeORzrL7Eb99HzdOfuK6HIvGfGX99bPEPErYkugDbhF40sAoSQA/s1600-h/4+John+Bennys.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262529378853803010" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF3ZV6JMNhdq_qxmMBDMjOvDY8X9QITtW8vmBeDVaoTnjCeXH9c3RMem0ijZkcwztjbmn5juC-D9To1R8zG7EJeORzrL7Eb99HzdOfuK6HIvGfGX99bPEPErYkugDbhF40sAoSQA/s320/4+John+Bennys.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div>We had dinner in John Benny Moriarty’s, a famous bar on the harbour front. John Benny is a well-known local accordion player, and his wife a renowned singer. The bar food was simple but delicious, and the live music when it started was excellent.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjy7R8f9qxJHqg04tJtg9-QcEHYdIFrzPyxeB1YIYnf_ERmsWkHBXjY4aCzA-vTK_2dN8yLqUQ6P5r2jTyRGrAMSurx6iznxdnJ66SIw2r86tyEI7OLofBHAceh1UzhM0xP2biQw/s1600-h/5+Dingle+by+night.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262529579195367522" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjy7R8f9qxJHqg04tJtg9-QcEHYdIFrzPyxeB1YIYnf_ERmsWkHBXjY4aCzA-vTK_2dN8yLqUQ6P5r2jTyRGrAMSurx6iznxdnJ66SIw2r86tyEI7OLofBHAceh1UzhM0xP2biQw/s320/5+Dingle+by+night.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /></div><br /><div>We wandered down to the pier after dinner, taking photos at 10.30pm in broad daylight. Love it. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div>Next morning I had a date with the <a href="http://www.divingdingle.ie/" target="_blank">local scuba diving shop</a>, so I was up and out by nine. Eric runs a friendly dive shop, helped by two English girls. I kitted myself out and chatted to the other divers. Padraig was a young local lad who had just qualified as a teacher, and was off bungee jumping the following week. </div><div></div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkalmruzBcXkIp5jCVStE28z3QgHVlS0FYmLw3TAKzpaQOkwRs1cjMiYHTgT2o_Sbd_R9V3IX00VT2UgNn25Hc7QsGKO8uPsxsBPcaJ_c296na8EYvlcYTd9zGQ-_CovztVs9zCw/s1600-h/6+diving+family.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262529854380981506" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkalmruzBcXkIp5jCVStE28z3QgHVlS0FYmLw3TAKzpaQOkwRs1cjMiYHTgT2o_Sbd_R9V3IX00VT2UgNn25Hc7QsGKO8uPsxsBPcaJ_c296na8EYvlcYTd9zGQ-_CovztVs9zCw/s320/6+diving+family.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />May (second from right) was a Cork woman about my own age, who had learned to dive with her three children the previous year, and they were all there for the dive: Matthew who was working as an intern in the shop, Caoimhe, a chatty young teenage girl, and Ruairi, the youngest at twelve. What a great thing to do as a family. Two of Eric’s friends from Belgium made up the boatload.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><div>We hopped in the rubber dinghy and set off at alarming speed out of the harbour and into the bay. I was sat up the bow, hanging on for dear life like it was an episode of Miami Vice. It was sensational. We sped along the rugged coastline as if on a roller-coaster for what seems like ages until we stopped at a small headland called Parkmore Point. We broke up into smaller groups and backflipped into the water.Sadly, visibility was not great, but I had an enjoyable dive with Padraig and Sophie our dive master. No great marine life to speak of, but a good wall and lots of sea grasses. And after all my worry about the cold, I was a lot warmer in my double wetsuit than I had been in the dry suit in Melbourne!<br /></div><br /><div>The second dive was back in Dingle Harbour itself, an incredibly shallow dive but worth it nonetheless. We anchored up and the first person to backflip in simply stood up to talk to us – we were in about five feet of water. Then almost immediately, Fungie, the local dolphin, arched up out of the water not twenty feet away. We all squealed with delight, and those in the water tried snorkelling to catch a better glimpse.I don’t think I could have done a better dive in such shallow waters. The official name for the area was the Gravelly, but it was better known locally as Thornback Alley. I soon found out why. I must have seen over fifty thornback ray on that dive. They were simply everywhere – floating past one minute, rising suddenly out of the sand below you the next. They were all sizes, up to about a metre wingspan, with the long, thorny tail that gives them their name. Between that and the forest of seagrass we found ourselves in, it was one of the most fun dives I have ever done.Turns out that despite the overcast day, I got seriously sunburnt on my face! So much for Australian education on the dangers of the sun. </div><div><br /> </div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs0rq7DLHuDQiH-XiCAz-DpYGAlyBb8NVhWahGS8yzLEM6nfVcNOjsuYN9KE7XrU5TKCX1dUac2F67X74717MqGAxN1qruMTqAgFGCbo1InEoESFGpQI6KRDdfSDCQM-P0fVqWhA/s1600-h/7+Ventry.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262530320273092402" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs0rq7DLHuDQiH-XiCAz-DpYGAlyBb8NVhWahGS8yzLEM6nfVcNOjsuYN9KE7XrU5TKCX1dUac2F67X74717MqGAxN1qruMTqAgFGCbo1InEoESFGpQI6KRDdfSDCQM-P0fVqWhA/s320/7+Ventry.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>Back at shore I was so uplifted and excited by my dives. The rest of the family was at the harbour to welcome us home, and as soon as the paperwork and chores were done we headed off to explore the rest of the peninsula. By this time the sun was out and it was a really lovely day.<br />We meandered along, down to Ventry Harbour where a small caravan park seemed an idyllic place for summer holiday – as long as the weather was good! </div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZPrQnpXy7J40WhDMDvHiAV4GW-u0OsBo_v6-sJCNg2EKvCGYKWYVVNApjXJjvrtvzHCKWdP9x1XiGYsJ8N1Y3C7nh1Ndfx20XUxLC6zhhe_zpXzyBfybHbuHwJjrZjzc5jew4g/s1600-h/8+Slea+Head.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262530959729068674" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZPrQnpXy7J40WhDMDvHiAV4GW-u0OsBo_v6-sJCNg2EKvCGYKWYVVNApjXJjvrtvzHCKWdP9x1XiGYsJ8N1Y3C7nh1Ndfx20XUxLC6zhhe_zpXzyBfybHbuHwJjrZjzc5jew4g/s320/8+Slea+Head.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div>Out further along the coast road, every turn in the road gave us another spectacular view. Slea Head, one of the most western points in Ireland, presented a panoramic view of the Blasket Islands, with a glimpse of the craggy Skelligs away on the horizon. Further along towards Dunquin, the dry stone walls and tiny houses spoke of earlier, poorer, simpler days. And still the sun shone.<br /></div><br /><div><br /><br />A pilgrimage to <a href="http://www.louismulcahy.com/" target="_blank">Louis Mulcahy’s pottery shop </a>was a must. Years ago as a young engineer I visited Louis with a colleague: his kilns used a lot of our gas. I was struck by his unique style even then, and bought myself a small vase. We wandered around the shop twenty years later, Mum and I trying in vain not to buy any jugs...<br /></div><div>I gave in, buying a beautiful little white jug in Louis’ new Japanese-influenced style, and Mum bought me a lovely little bowl to match. I was happy. Later in town I bought a beautiful orange-red shawl from his <a href="http://www.lisbethmulcahy.com/" target="_blank">weaver wife, Lisbeth</a>. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgazHjZsMyXQziR7J55_fGb9IHREVPgg5rd1RGUSkWiliEwOcK_JaojRPiP1IbDpHYmpmdEn1kT6gp5hzqJN790yIyK2dTiD2oCPYfo2howGNBvaeyNGHdqkr2L7_5PZ8DT_iCBQQ/s1600-h/9+Sylvan+Point.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262531252935872690" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgazHjZsMyXQziR7J55_fGb9IHREVPgg5rd1RGUSkWiliEwOcK_JaojRPiP1IbDpHYmpmdEn1kT6gp5hzqJN790yIyK2dTiD2oCPYfo2howGNBvaeyNGHdqkr2L7_5PZ8DT_iCBQQ/s320/9+Sylvan+Point.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Stopping off in Tig Áine, a quaint café near Ballyferriter on the Atlantic coast, we watched as the sea mists rolled in and just as quickly disappeared. It seemed the weather was going to last.<br />Back across the peninsula on the Bothar Fada, the rear-view mirror now offering spectacular Atlantic views, it was hard not to stop every few hundred yards to take another look. Truly, this country (and I know I am biased) is one of the most beautiful in the world, and even more so when the sun shines.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQSx406ZAzFyutFUB91zgatCD7xBKBehvgrluqrX0pnhQqTB-59lPhod4szXJiIrnMu3v2hZlvGQj9aXZfqIE4lGTKsRSAi2sLvhBd-2oi0zcewC_Ed93dyYLzzSfLZgbZ4wuNiQ/s1600-h/11+musicians.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262531524480288386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 218px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQSx406ZAzFyutFUB91zgatCD7xBKBehvgrluqrX0pnhQqTB-59lPhod4szXJiIrnMu3v2hZlvGQj9aXZfqIE4lGTKsRSAi2sLvhBd-2oi0zcewC_Ed93dyYLzzSfLZgbZ4wuNiQ/s320/11+musicians.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Dinner this evening was further along the harbour-side, in Paudie’s Bar. Again, the place was thronged with locals and visitors alike. Again, the food was fresh, simple and delicious. My mackerel was to die for. I ate slowly. Again, the live music when it started, was skilled, casual and entertaining. Makes you proud to be Irish. </div><br /><div><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvxWAFlmlsToLqex5FJjenLFxcDqgaNTbMRKD2lDinMQz1WkQDy7PJhWueC-46R6JCeCN2_dSRogOVSJSkqDhhuKzX9ptVPgHEUJko9NmHE9M-GUXEk8xsgqecglwfp6O59wFEQ/s1600-h/13+Dunquin+strand.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262531801314004770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvxWAFlmlsToLqex5FJjenLFxcDqgaNTbMRKD2lDinMQz1WkQDy7PJhWueC-46R6JCeCN2_dSRogOVSJSkqDhhuKzX9ptVPgHEUJko9NmHE9M-GUXEk8xsgqecglwfp6O59wFEQ/s320/13+Dunquin+strand.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div>Next morning the day was even more sunny and warm than before. We took another trip around the peninsula, anti-clockwise this time to pick up Ashling’s sweater she’d left in the café. If it were possible, the views were even more spectacular, the waters bluer, the countryside more rugged. We drove slowly, savouring our last hours in Kerry.<br /></div><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgirK5Z5v7YJqnJTEq8Fhhh132AOx-XvBW185r5sX8bxnKUbP_ojwBPXb2_CxaioErNak3Br-XswKUvtr-Qm_sEo_KsTNA3UiLia9YLHNGMNUFn3zLNwhCpYAyZj0n89IWsZFPUWw/s1600-h/15+Inch.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262532112208676210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgirK5Z5v7YJqnJTEq8Fhhh132AOx-XvBW185r5sX8bxnKUbP_ojwBPXb2_CxaioErNak3Br-XswKUvtr-Qm_sEo_KsTNA3UiLia9YLHNGMNUFn3zLNwhCpYAyZj0n89IWsZFPUWw/s320/15+Inch.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div>Back through Anascaul along the coast of Dingle Bay this time, we could not help but stop at the spectacular Inch Strand (what is the difference between a strand and a beach? The Irish would tend to use the former).<br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEkqdR3PKqiIdUzPhexdLF2CvZ9Y0a3KRvKqmohiGZva_CIum_EE23rRLlh5bTXnKOnEoi_RMcgX8lV9CH9jF9X7ChyZOnEam59Kj4-E6lqQHNNSPfIZtYQfLiAh40cnuTxJgTpQ/s1600-h/16+Inch.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262532719439952258" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEkqdR3PKqiIdUzPhexdLF2CvZ9Y0a3KRvKqmohiGZva_CIum_EE23rRLlh5bTXnKOnEoi_RMcgX8lV9CH9jF9X7ChyZOnEam59Kj4-E6lqQHNNSPfIZtYQfLiAh40cnuTxJgTpQ/s320/16+Inch.JPG" border="0" /></a> Three miles long, this beach was used for the filming of “Ryan’s Daughter” years ago. Now, in summer, it is a holiday place, with surfing lessons, cars on the beach, lifeguards perched ridiculously far from the water’s edge, kids in wetsuits, and a little café you can sit outside and watch it all happen.<br /></div><br /><div>Ashling and Connor had to go in for a swim. Mum and I ate lunch and watched them from afar. It was after three o’clock. It was a sunny 26C - a rarity in Ireland. It would take seven hours to get home. I needed to be up at four in the morning for my flight to Paris. Do I leave them in the water on the one tropical summer’s day of the year, or do I cut the day short and get us back on the road again? .... No contest. We sat back, relaxed and didn’t leave till after four.<br /></div><br /><div><br /><br /></div><br /><div><br />Almost back in Limerick I was flagging. We had just spent half an hour trying to find Matrix Castle (Connor reckoned it was an interesting name) to no avail. I spied a sign for Adare, and turned into Adare Castle instead. At least we could see inside this castle. The gateman let us in and we parked outside one of the most spectacular buildings in Ireland.<br /></div><br /><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HKEgV61Jl-wyX1cY_uV3lUKBYUWb9o2KP0NhnL7BaVUOdJNYzGK3V57slv2ubsM4bWkphV40rTbAgW90CrAICPI-gsxill7atBEBDfu24Armgnoq7aERox3blFp8GsCtid1SDA/s1600-h/17+Adare.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262533061978627490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6HKEgV61Jl-wyX1cY_uV3lUKBYUWb9o2KP0NhnL7BaVUOdJNYzGK3V57slv2ubsM4bWkphV40rTbAgW90CrAICPI-gsxill7atBEBDfu24Armgnoq7aERox3blFp8GsCtid1SDA/s320/17+Adare.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><div>Built in the 1830s, Adare Manor has 53 chimneys, 75 fireplaces, a minstrel’s gallery inspired by the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles, 850 acres of garden, one 350-year-old cedar of Lebanon… and a championship golf course on the other side of the river.<br /></div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOVeCp7hEzN4UW4aa-SghQZdi4QWRb4V3vzBxHYpfHUoox_r7oZKGtPOU_rx8Gyy1goH2osOzHBhdmuigog2vYI1ZenrjkEPjTE8Ae0l4B5VtMD7FvHVyvl2eK0J026kB3zKHTWw/s1600-h/18+Adare.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262533175173034658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOVeCp7hEzN4UW4aa-SghQZdi4QWRb4V3vzBxHYpfHUoox_r7oZKGtPOU_rx8Gyy1goH2osOzHBhdmuigog2vYI1ZenrjkEPjTE8Ae0l4B5VtMD7FvHVyvl2eK0J026kB3zKHTWw/s320/18+Adare.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>We sat in the lounge overlooking the manicured gardens, drinking coffee while Ashling and Connor explored. The bar menu was pretty good value – actually not much more expensive than the little beach café we’d eaten at on Inch strand. We will definitely come back another day for high tea, which looks particularly appetising.<br /></div><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Stopping off in Portlaoise for a late dinner, it was almost midnight when we finally got back to Dublin. A pit stop for me: the children helped me unpack and re-pack for the trip to France next morning, before I fell into bed for the three hours sleep I hoped would revive me for a few more hectic days ahead. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Kd7I_8UG8L_c_On_BnyaGtxlMQuL5R5yj1b8JgYJEvBfW782kBuvcOiy6fq9w7wzWQDQKr3bav1gJpNuyae-4HMx30apGO2fiL6SBcSjITUg9o_bZtnJXZgWZlYBYbPcBHF_5g/s1600-h/14+Dunquin+strand.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262533285242131458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Kd7I_8UG8L_c_On_BnyaGtxlMQuL5R5yj1b8JgYJEvBfW782kBuvcOiy6fq9w7wzWQDQKr3bav1gJpNuyae-4HMx30apGO2fiL6SBcSjITUg9o_bZtnJXZgWZlYBYbPcBHF_5g/s320/14+Dunquin+strand.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-39586373055258137812007-02-05T13:28:00.001+11:002008-10-29T20:47:06.650+11:00follow this linkThis blog is no longer being updated regularly - follow these links to my <a href="http://www.maireaddoyle.com/">website</a> and <a href="http://www.filluponbread.blogspot.com/">food blog</a>.<br /><br />Cheers!Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1164280069184021522006-11-23T22:06:00.000+11:002008-10-29T20:49:54.018+11:00Forty Amazing ThingsMy sister Annette wrote on her birthday card to me that I should do forty amazing things this year.<br /><br />I have taken her advice, and this year, before I turn 41, I plan to fulfill that dream.<br /><br />I have gotten off to a great start too. In the three weeks since my birthday I have managed to experience four amazing things, so I am well on the way to success.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.maireaddoyle.com/102558/index.html">Follow this link for the chronicles of my adventures</a>.Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1164279944113024122006-11-23T22:04:00.000+11:002008-10-29T21:34:09.943+11:00Do It Now<table>Breast cancer is the most common form of cancer in the world, and the second biggest kille after lung cancer.<br /><br />Routine screening is recommended for those over 50, but can (and should in many cases) be done once you are over 40.<br /><br />I have made my appointment: you should too.<br /><br />Australia<br /><a href="http://www.breastscreen.org.au/" target="">http://www.breastscreen.org.au/</a><br /><br /><br />UK<br /><a href="http://www.cancerscreening.nhs.uk/" target="">http://www.cancerscreening.nhs.uk/</a><br /><br /><br />Ireland<br /><a href="http://www.breastcheck.ie/" target="">http://www.breastcheck.ie/</a> <br clear="all"></p><p>USA<br /><a href="http://www.breastcancer.org/testing_mamm_where.html" target="">http://www.breastcancer.org/testing_mamm_where.html</a><br /></p></td></tr></tbody></table>Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1164279820464413942006-11-23T22:01:00.000+11:002008-10-29T21:00:14.537+11:00Pat IngoldsbyPat Ingoldsby is an Irish phenomenon. Poet and playwright, people of my generation also knew him from his children’s TV programmes such as Pat’s Hat.<br /><br />His poetry is wonderful: simple and honest, the poems vary from hilariously funny to painfully sad. He is one of my favourite poets, and my favourite of his books is called “Welcome to my Head: Please Remove your Boots”.Ten or so years ago, Pat withdrew from the Irish mass media. He set up his own publishing company, Willow Publications, and appointed his cats to positions of authority such as CEO and Head of Accounts. He sells his books through a small number of bookstores in Ireland, and also sells directly to the public on the streets of Dublin.<br /><br />His books carry a note that they are protected by the "Bratislava Accord 1993, section 2 cre/009 manifest-minsk", the terms of which allegedly protect his book's content from being included in school textbooks, examinations, elocution classes or anything with the word "Arts" in it.<br /><br />My mother and I came across him on the corner of O’Connell Bridge in Dublin, when I was over there in October. He was sitting on an upturned milk-crate with his books laid out in front of him. In his trademark Drizabone coat and wide-brimmed hat, he looked comfortable watching the world hurry by. I was star-struck: “That’s Pat Ingoldsby!” I whispered to my mum over the traffic noises. I tried not to stare too much as we walked past to cross the bridge. Then I came to my senses, and retraced my steps.<br /><br />Shyly I stood before him, pretending to look at the titles of his books. He caught my eye and I asked if he had a copy of “Welcome to my Head”. We got talking and I told him I was a huge fan. He was such a lovely, gentle man, speaking about his books as if they were his children. I introduced myself to him and he said “God, I’m delighted to meet you Máiréad”.<br /><br />He was charming to my mum. When I told him she was about to celebrate her 80th birthday, he gallantly told her she only looked 64 (later she complained he was three years out as the lowest number she’d been quoted so far was 60).<br /><br />I bought one of his books and he signed it for me. Mum took a photo of us standing there on Westmoreland Street, and I shook his hand and said goodbye.<br /><br />If this had happened to me after 25 October, it would certainly have been included in my 40 Amazing Things To Do This Year. But it was about ten days too early. I will have to include it in the Twenty Or So Amazing Things I Did Last Year.Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1163592680428745182006-11-15T23:10:00.000+11:002008-10-29T21:38:31.501+11:00More Sad TimesThis past week has been a sad time for Orlando. As many of you know, his dear mum passed away peacefully on Friday 10 November. He is in London right now for the funeral, and I am holding the fort here at home.<br /><br />If you see him, give him a hug from me.Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1163592634477990152006-11-15T11:10:00.000+11:002008-10-29T21:28:03.169+11:00One Aussie YearExactly one year ago today, Orlando and I stepped off a plane from Shanghai into our new Aussie life.<br /><br />The weather was disappointing - chilly and blustery - much like it is today. But within days it heated up and we had a wonderful summer.<br /><br />When we arrived, we knew very few people not related to me. We had a lovely house, thanks to Lee, but not one stick of furniture. Our belongings got stuck in Customs and we wore our backpacking clothes for a month. We slept on cardboard boxes on the floor, boiled water in a saucepan for tea, and for the first few nights we had no electricity. We had no jobs, and no interviews lined up. But we had funds in the bank, good resumes and a determination to succeed.<br /><br />One year on I won't say we are completely settled, but we have come a long way. Our house is now a home, filled with our own things and furnished comfortably. We have a small circle of great friends we can rely on to support us. We were both working within a week of arriving, and both got pretty good jobs within a couple of months.<br /><br />We miss our family and friends back in Europe so much, and it always seems so far away. But our life here is good: our quality of life has certainly improved. We live a Mediterranean lifestyle in a beautiful city famous for its good food, great wines and burgeoning cultural life. We eat out a lot, and I certainly enjoy living so close to some world-class wineries. We work with great people and Orlando gets to see a lot of the country through his job. We rarely experience dreadful cold, or bad traffic, or even bad pizza. Life is good.<br /><br />Here's to year two.Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1163592585155790182006-11-14T23:09:00.000+11:002008-10-29T21:15:32.417+11:00Billy JoelBilly Joel came to town at the weekend, and Eileen, Kelvin, Mena and I went along (you didn't think Orlando came with us, did you?).<br /><br />The Rod Laver Arena was full: fifteen thousand fans, some of whom have been coming to see Billy Joel perform here for over thirty years.<br /><br />The concert was fantastic. From the moment the grand piano rose from the belly of the stage he had our complete attention. He played for a solid two hours, hit after hit, jumping from the nineties to the seventies and back again.<br /><br />He engaged with the people in the "bad" seats behind him, and those in the cheap seats right at the back of the auditorium. He gave the audience the choice of what he would play next.<br /><br />But most of all he played and sang and entertained. His voice was strong, his backing group awesome, and the light display theatrical. Highlights for me included Allentown, My Life and Movin' Out. He didn't get to play some of my other favourites, but he had so much to choose from.<br /><br />In a surprise performance, the lead singer of AC/DC joined him on stage (introduced as a guitar roadie getting his first break) and belted out Highway to Hell. The Aussie crowd bellowed its appreciation as Joel took his guitar to the back platform of the stage and did his best impersonation of Angus Young, AC/DC's school-boy lead guitarist.<br /><br />New York State of Mind was a poignant but powerful memory of the time he performed that song with the helmet of a fallen firefighter on his piano, days after the World Trade Centre attacks.<br /><br />For me, the pinnacle had to be his final encore - the song we'd been waiting for all night. As he placed the harmonica holder over his head the crowd cheered in anticipation, and the first notes of Piano Man were heard. Fifteen thousand fans sang quietly along with him. word perfect through the first verse. It was just a man and his piano, and he held us all in the palm of his hand.Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1163592354913590892006-11-12T23:05:00.000+11:002008-10-29T21:10:25.802+11:00Desert Island Discs<a href="http://www.desertislanddiscs.blogspot.com">www.desertislanddiscs.blogspot.com</a>Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1163592519136528772006-11-07T23:06:00.000+11:002008-10-29T21:28:03.171+11:00Bollywood Movie Stars PartyIt was the party of the year (well, in my diary it was the only party in the year). A Bollywood Movie Stars bash to celebrate my 40th birthday: it doesn’t get any better than this.<br /><br />Twenty or so of my family and closest friends gathered on 4th November dressed in what can only be described as Bollywood-tastic outfits to dance the night away.<br /><br />Eileen and Kelvin won the Most Fabulous Outfits award with their stunning outfits from Little India in Dandenong.<br /><br />My family made a great effort too: Lee looked sophisticated and graceful in a black and silver sari, and Mena had more Bollywood Bling than the rest of us put together.<br /><br />Orlando looked rugged and handsome in his all-black kurta pajama, and has made such a fuss of me throughout all my birthday celebrations. He is a superstar.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.kodakgallery.co.uk/Slideshow.jsp?&localeid=en_GB&mode=fromsite&collid=40720078633.214029313133.1162858168819&conn_speed=1" target="_blank">Photo Gallery</a><br /><br />Other highlights of the evening included:<br /><br />Paul Curran as a Bollywood Bad Guy, complete with maximum eyeliner, dark glasses and shark’s tooth medallion<br /><br />Damien’s Derby Day extreme facial sunburn including a rather fetching white band where his sunglasses had been (it turns out some people thought he'd made himself up to look like that)<br /><br />The Irish contingent doing the entire (it seemed) Riverdance, then Mena and Mairead’s solo reel, finished by Mena, Mairead, Eileen and Carmel in full Indian regalia doing a full set of the Walls of Limerick<br /><br />Mena leading the soca dancing into the wee hours (“Follow me – I’m the leader of the parade!”) ("This is the music of my soul!")<br /><br />Sam’s amazing bum-wiggling dance which reduced all women present to tears<br /><br />Sam and Paul's talented dance interpretation of the song "A-E-I-O-U" by Freeez: popular consensus is that Paul's "E" was particularly impressive and rendered all audience members helpless with laughter<br /><br />The main conversation in the back yard about which song you want played as the last song at your funeral (and if you didn't make a choice it was going to be November Rain by Guns N Roses)<br /><br />Kelvin dancing, full stop<br /><br />Kelvin almost being tempted to sip some rum instead of red wine<br /><br />Mena at 5am having a smoke: "I am the oldest one here, the birds are singing and I am the last one partying"<br /><br />Mena about the Irish dancing - "You are all doing it wrong, here let me show you"<br /><br />Eileen about the Irish dancing - "You are all doing it wrong, here let me show you"<br /><br />Lee talking to Orlando - "Now let me guess which food you put out: the cake and the popcorn"<br /><br />Lee - "The thing I like about this sari is that I can breathe out and it hides my belly"<br /><br />Carmel - "The thing I like about this sari is that I can breathe out and it hides my belly"<br /><br />Orlando - "I am going over there to act as a buffer between Sam and the TV"<br /><br />Paul's AEIOU - " I am not happy with my 'E' I have to rethink this"<br /><br />Sam about raising children "I have a secret weapon, it is called music"<br /><br />Mairead talking about cooking for the party - "...So I said to myself, I will show him, I will make the Tandoori chicken red..."<br /><br />Paul takes off his sunglasses "I thought it was a bit dark in here, and I could not work it out..."<br /><br />Sam dancing with Carmel - "Grab me from behind"<br /><br />Paul talks to Orlando about dancing with Sam's wife -"I don't think it is your hands that he is worried about"<br /><br />Orlando teaching Sam and Amanda soca - "Get in closer, don't be shy, you are married"<br /><br />Mena (a number of times in the evening) - "I'm back!!!"<br /><br />Mena (a number of times in the evening) - "Why is it that every time I go to the toilet, all I can hear is people calling 'Where's Mena?'"<br /><br />The delicious food that everybody brought<br /><br />Mairead and Eileen trying to do their much-awaited Party Piece, drunk, unprepared, and with at least one Achilles tendon injury; but their smiles never faltered: divas to the last<br /><br />Paul and Carmel vainly trying to teach Sam and Amanda to twirl properly like Irish dancers<br /><br />Thanks to all my friends for making such a huge effort on the night. Nobody knew more than one or two other people but you'd never have known it - the noise of the conversation was deafening and the dancing spirited to say the least. Thanks for all my beautiful cards and gifts too - it was the most special birthday for me and I am delighted you could share it!Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1163592294247540032006-11-06T23:02:00.000+11:002008-10-29T21:11:10.479+11:00Back with a VengeanceYes, I?m back after a lengthy absence, but I guess most of you have seen me in one place or another in October so you all know what I've been up to!<br /><br />After almost exactly a year, it was fantastic to spend a couple of weeks back in Dublin with the family. It was my mother's 80th birthday so there was plenty to celebrate. Joe, Elva and I also got to celebrate our joint 40th - one just past, and two impending - with a wonderful Thai dinner and a glass or two of red.London, on the other hand, was a blur.<br /><br />I hardly stopped from the moment I arrived, and was glad of the little sleep I got on the flight back to Aus. Fiona was a gracious hostess, even laying on lunch for my visitors, and I loved getting to know her two daughters Harriet and Lottie all over again.<br /><br />Thanks to all the LAS crew who came to see me in the Stage Door and beyond on the Thursday night. It was really like old times to be back amongst you again. I did panic when the night was over: it was something I had looked forward to for months and suddenly it was all over. There are no photos yet (am waiting for Huggy) but I am sure there will be one or two memorable ones!<br /><br />The Friday night was no less enjoyable - twenty more close friends ate, drank and talked the evening away in Mar i Terra. I feel as if I didn't have enough time to talk for long enough to everybody, but your presence was so much appreciated. Mo, don't forget the photos!<br /><br />There are links to the photos of the various nights on the front page so I hope you enjoy going through them.<br /><br />Finally, congratulations to Lee and Fi on the safe arrival of baby Jake, who completes their trio of beautiful boys. He arrived on 27 October and so joins the ranks of the most powerful beings on earth: Scorpios.<br /><br />Back here in Melbourne, it has been a hectic but amazing weekend celebrating my Big 4-0 with the Bollywood Movie Stars party on Saturday night. Check out <a href="http://www.maireaddoyle.com">www.maireaddoyle.com</a> for links to the photo galleries.<br /><br />Normal service will now be resumed, and I promise more website and blog updates in the coming weeks, including the much awaited Desert Island Discs compilation. To those of you who are still outstanding (you know who you are): GET WRITING!Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1159271464829502122006-09-26T21:44:00.000+10:002008-10-29T21:09:55.114+11:00Desert Island Discs<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/1600/albums%20small.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/400/albums%20small.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Well it all started with a conversation I had with Nick Lawrance after the Top Eight Books were published. It went along the lines of:<br /><br />Nick: So, can we do top ten albums next, then? Can we?<br />Me: Oh, go on then.<br /><br />So, here we go then. The rules are:<br />1. No greatest hits or compilations or various artists except for item 2 below.<br />2. Soundtracks are allowed (I relented after a serious onslaught by Orlando over a full weekend away in Brisbane).<br />3. Where possible, be specific about the version of the album you are talking about (eg, the original on vinyl, or the 2004 remastered edition).<br />4. Albums don't have to be in order (ie favourite at number one), just the ten last albums you would like to be left with in the world.<br />5. Give a reason as to why it makes your list.<br />6. List your favourite track on each album if you have one.<br /><br />Answers by email or comment please. You have until 31 October 2006 to respond, then I will collate the responses and publish here.<br /><br />I have created my top ten for starters. <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Top-Ten-Albums/lm/R2KKTE4BKN6E7M/026-9426385-5812421" target="_blank">You will find a link to my list on amazon.co.uk here</a>.<br /><br />1. Boz Scaggs Silk Degrees 1976<br /><br />This album reminds me of my brother. More specifically, it reminds me of my first ever trip to new York in 1989. I stayed with Bernard and Naomi in their house in Amityville, Long Island (it was right around the corner from the Amityville Horror house) and played his records for three weeks. Almost twenty years later – and a full thirty years after its release - I still listen to this album in its entirety probably every month or more.<br />Favourite track: Harbour Lights<br /><br />2. Buena Vista Social Club Buena Vista Social Club 1997<br />I first heard this album on a hot summer’s afternoon in a friend’s London garden. Even now, the first bars of “Chan Chan” make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Pause and allow the richness of the music to transport you to Cuba. A genuine masterpiece.<br />Favourite track: Chan Chan<br /><br />3. Earth, Wind & Fire All ‘n’ All 1979<br />This was a toss-up between I Am and All ‘n’ All (in the absence of a Greatest Hits). In the end I simply counted the tracks on each I couldn’t do without, and this album won by a hair. EWF make joyful, intelligent, soulful, uplifting music capable of lifting anybody’s spirits.<br />Favourite track: (if I must) Jupiter<br /><br />4. Maxwell Urban Hang Suite 1996<br />This is one of those albums I played on constant loop for months after I bought it. Maxwell’s voice is angelic, and the full-band, heavily-produced R&B sound is rich and sweet.<br />Favourite track: Whenever Wherever Whatever<br /><br />5. Michael Jackson Off the Wall 1979<br />Probably one of the best albums ever made. Destined to make you get up and dance, this was, in my opinion, the best album Michael Jackson ever made. The depth of emotion he conveys in this soulful, funky album is complete: his unselfconscious whoop of laughter in the middle of “Get On The Floor” is completely infectious, and contrasts with his tears whilst singing “She’s Out Of My Life”. The remastered version you can buy now has interesting interviews with Quincy Jones, and a couple of demos where you can hear Michal bickering with his siblings.<br />Favourite track: sorry, can’t choose<br /><br />6. Missy Elliott Under Construction 2002<br />This was the first Missy album I ever bought. I’m not a natural hip-hop fan but I love Missy’s in-your-face attitude, her confidence, her humour. Under Construction is a lot mellower than most of her previous work (she was grieving for her friend Aaliyah at the time) and there are some great old-school-sounding songs on there.<br />Favourite track: Work It<br /><br />7. Planxty Live 2004 2004<br />Never mind U2: Planxty was Ireland’s very first super-group. They broke up in the early 80s and we thought we would never hear them play together again. Twenty years later, they got together for some low-key sessions in Lisdoonvarna, and finally played the tiny Vicar Street in late 2004. It wasn’t enough. The Point Theatre was booked and six nights sold out in one day. Hearing these men play again is like a homecoming for most Irish people: we are privileged to have lived when they collaborated. When Liam Og O'Flynn chimes in with the uileann pipes about a minute into the first track, it's magic.<br />Favourite track: The Starting Gate<br /><br />8. Prince Sign o’ The Times 1987<br />It’s hard to pick just one Prince album when you possess his entire back-catalogue. This is one of his most eclectic albums, from the pure funk of Housequake to the pure romance of Adore. His humour shines through, he doesn’t take himself very seriously, and, above all, his musical genius is all over this album.<br />Favourite track: Housequake<br /><br />9. Talking Heads Stop Making Sense 1984<br />The 1983 movie Stop Making Sense played a midnight show in Dublin’s Ambassador Cinema for years. This was break-through New York conceptual art meets the Top 40 and we loved it. The album (re-released in 1999 with almost all movie tracks on) is still a classic. David Byrne’s reedy voice adds a weirdness to the already complex funk of the melodies. And who can forget the Big Suit?<br />Favourite track: Girlfriend is Better<br /><br />10. Luther Vandross Give Me The Reason 1986<br />Ah, Luther. What will we do without you? This was almost the point at which I broke my own “no greatest hits allowed” rule. How do you choose when considering an artist who was better known for his individual hit singles than his albums? How do you select only a tiny handful to listen to for all time, and forget the rest? This was almost an arbitrary selection in the end, but as seven out of the nine tracks were released as singles, it was the best value I could find. Nobody will ever sing a love song like Luther.<br />Favourite track: So AmazingMaireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1157938523740218612006-09-11T11:32:00.000+10:002008-10-29T21:38:31.502+11:00Roy Webb MBE 1945 - 2006<div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div align="center"><strong>A great friend, a trusted mentor, a bon vivant</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>and a sharply-dressed gent</strong></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">It is a year, almost to the day, since I last saw Roy. It was my last day at London Ambulance Service. Not tr<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/1600/Leaving%20Do%20026.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/320/Leaving%20Do%20026.jpg" border="0" /></a>usting even our CEO do to the job, Roy delayed one of his early chemo sessions to give the official farewell speech at my leaving do in the boardroom.<br /></div><div align="left">As usual, he held the audience in the palm of his hand while he spoke off the cuff, regaling us with tall tales, most of which had Roy in the starrin<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/1600/Leaving%20Do%20025.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/320/Leaving%20Do%20025.jpg" border="0" /></a>g role. He loved the limelight and he was a natural showman. He would have loved the big fuss being made of him today. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">At work Roy was no less of a superstar. When Roy said he was passionate about patients, you believed him. He broke all the rules over the years, in the name of better patient care. He often exasperated the rest of us who followed along behind, tidying up after him, and doing the necessary paperwork. But you could never question his motives.He knew more about excellent patient care than anyone, and was known all over London for it. Once we did a survey of hospitals whose contracts we had lost, and asked what they missed about the LAS. One hospital simply replied “Roy Webb”. To many in south-west London, Roy Webb <em>was</em> the LAS.<br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Last July, we had a managers’ away day which conveniently coincided with Roy’s 60th birthday. Roy turned up in his new Porsche, baseball cap at a rakish angle, grinning from ear to ear. <img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/320/Roy.jpg" border="0" />He looked every inch the man who had decided to grow old disgracefully. Roy continued to be the star of the show that evening at a formal dinner in his honour, complete with champagne and birthday cake. Naturally, he lapped up all the attention, and was one of the last to bed.<br /></div><div align="left">Two days later was the 7th of July, the London bombings. Roy was the lynchpin of the PTS response. He spent all day running up and down to Gold Control in the boardroom, offering PTS up for anything he thought we could do, then relaying it to us for execution. He was personally responsible for the broad role PTS played on the day, volunteering our ambulances to rescue stranded schoolchildren and elderly people, to get HQ staff home at night and to ferry equipment all over London. He was the one who suggested putting PTS ambulances alongside A&E in the response cells we set up. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">He worked over 14 hours straight that day, finally leaving for home at almost eleven o’clock at night. <img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/320/098.jpg" border="0" />It was for these actions, and many more like them, that Roy was awarded an MBE in the Queen’s New Year’s Honours List. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/1600/roy14.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/320/roy14.jpg" border="0" /></a>Here he is with Sue on the day.<br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Outside work, he was a great friend. Most of all I will remember Roy’s tremendous support when my own father died: Roy was in constant contact, sending me daily, sometimes hourly, text messages, helping to get me through the tough days.<br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I will always remember Roy’s infectious laugh – he somehow managed to sound roguish and sheepish at the same time.<br /></div><div align="left">I will also remember Roy Webb, the Michael Caine impersonator – recently Roy chose a Mini as his new car just so he could pretend he was starring in a remake of The Italian Job. His favourite line was “You were only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!” and he worked it into every conversation. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/1600/roy4.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/320/roy4.jpg" border="0" /></a>He even took a photo of it at Buckingham Palace the day he got his MBE.<br /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I will remember Roy as the ultimate sharp-dressed gentleman, his taste in clothing getting more and more expensive and exquisite as the years progressed. He wasn't above doing what it took to hide the baldness, though. <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/1600/royshats%20052.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/320/royshats%20052.jpg" border="0" /></a></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">But most of all I will remember Roy’s resolutely upbeat and optimistic take on life. He wrote to me a few months ago telling me how he was getting on. He quoted his doctor who had said “Roy, you know I can’t make you better” to which Roy’s response was “But you can make me better than today”.</div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">The Roy Webb Appreciation Society has a worldwide membership. Sue’s daughter Jo, who also lives here in Melbourne, will be lighting a candle for Roy round about now, to commemorate his life. As for the rest of us here who knew and loved Roy, we will be marking the occasion exactly as Roy would have wished. We have booked a table at an expensive restaurant. We will get all dressed up in our designer gear. We will order a ridiculously expensive bottle of red wine. And as the sun sets across the bay, we will raise our glasses and toast the most wonderful bloke in the world. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Goodbye, mate – we will miss you. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/400/Roy%20and%20Me.jpg" border="0" /></div>Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1157937523522049322006-09-11T11:17:00.000+10:002008-10-29T21:28:03.172+11:00New Food BlogContinuing my obsession with all things food and wine, I have started a new <a href="http://www.filluponbread.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">food blog </a>where I will be keeping a record of all my favourite recipes, and my epicurean adventures. I would love to hear from you with your signature dishes. We spent this weekend at the Slow Food Festival here in Melbourne, and you can <a href="http://www.filluponbread.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">read all about it here too</a>.Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1157689536565531922006-09-08T14:25:00.000+10:002008-10-29T21:01:32.958+11:00Sad NewsWe learned this week of the sad loss of my friend Keith’s wife Jan to cancer. Keith was our Director of PTS at the London Ambulance Service for a number of years, and he is a great guy. We have kept in touch since both moving on, and he dropped me a note yesterday to tell of his very sad news. Many of you who read this website will have known and respected Keith – if you wish to drop me a note I will make sure that any messages of sympathy are passed on.Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1157689505187993832006-09-08T14:24:00.000+10:002008-10-29T21:28:03.172+11:00Food & WineWe have the annual Taste of Slow festival on in Australia at the moment, organised by the Slow Food movement. It all culminates in Melbourne this weekend with a Slow Food event over two days. There will be a market place, a honey room and a tea room. There will be an Ark of Taste Crypt, where we can go and taste foods that are in danger of becoming extinct, and learn how to save them. There will be a wine library and a cheese tasting area. There will be a slow food canteen and a beer garden. There will be a Generations Room dedicated to the sharing of inter-generational stories, foods and recipes from across the country and across all cultures.<br />I will be there of course, with an empty backpack to fill with food, and I will tell you all about it when I return.<br /><br /><strong>More Food and Wine</strong><br />I have updated the website's <a href="http://www.maireaddoyle.com/37886/39087.html">Melbourne Living </a>pages with more restaurant listings, for those of you who live local to me.Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1157689446675461462006-09-08T14:22:00.000+10:002008-10-29T21:28:03.173+11:00Brisbane, Bollywood, Opera & JazzOrlando has been away interstate (Brisbane and Sydney) for the past month, and you would think I would have found time to update these pages. But no, my diary filled with dinner dates and more. I haven’t had a minute for weeks.<br /><br /><strong>Brisbane</strong><br />It’s all good, though. I took the opportunity to fly up to Brisbane one weekend instead of Orlando flying home. It was a bit like going to Spain or Italy for a spring weekend in terms of weather, but of course no matter how far you fly you are still in Australia when you get there.<br /><br />We had great food, and wandered the tiny city on foot (and on river catamaran) seeing the sights. Unfortunately Sunday lunch with friends resulted in a bout of food poisoning for me, but despite this set-back it was good to get out of Melbourne for a few days.<br /><br /><strong>Opera and Jazz<br /></strong>Culture-wise we have had opera at the State Theatre: Porgy and Bess performed by an all-American cast. Dianne Reeves last Sunday evening was probably a little more accessible to me. I have finally soncluded that opera is not really my cup of tea, not even Gershwin. The Diane Reeves concert was brilliant; she was backed by a simple trio and sang a broad range of songs, from the ones made famous by her in the movie Good Night, and God Bless, to a handful of Ella tunes and even a bit of Marvin Gaye. Easily the best gig I have been to all year.<br /><br /><strong>Bollywood Nights<br /></strong>Meanwhile, Eileen and I have taken up Bollywood dancing on a Wednesday night. Somehow I thought it was going to be all form and style and carefully-placed feet. However the focus seems to be on grand extravagant gestures, especially with ones hips, eyes and head, and the whole session is more barefoot high-impact aerobics than dance studio. By the end of the hour we are drenched with sweat, breathless with exhaustion and laughter, and applauding ourselves wildly having vaguely managed to follow the teacher. We have even signed up for performances! Afterwards we go to the little Indian place around the corner for supper and put the world to rights. I love it.Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1155468985822703842006-08-13T21:35:00.000+10:002008-10-29T21:39:22.839+11:00Food & Drink I Miss<strong>Food & drink I miss about Ireland</strong><br /><p>Decent sausages<br />Decent brown bread<br />Smoked cod from the chipper<br />Tayto and King crisps<br />Corned beef<br />Red lemonade<br />Liga!<br />Irish cheddar cheese<br />Decent apple tart (preferably made by my mother)<br />Decent fruit scones<br />Bernard’s meatballs and spaghetti<br /><br /><br /><strong>Food & drink I miss about England</strong> </p><p>Egg mayonnaise ready-made from the supermarket<br />Kettle Chips sea salt and back pepper<br />Walkers roast chicken or prawn cocktail crisps<br />Diet ginger beer<br />Diet ANYTHING (it’s not that easy to find unless it’s Diet Coke)<br />Moet & Chandon champagne at UK prices<br />Diet tonic water for my gin!<br />Proper toasted bacon sandwich from a proper London caff<br />Decent hummus from the supermarket (with the number of Greeks here wouldn’t you think it would be everywhere?)<br />Spotted dick and custard<br />Clotted cream<br />Real Cornish pasties<br />Suzanne’s mushrooms on toast<br /><br /><br /><strong>Food & drink I miss about Europe</strong> </p><p>BANANAS (when we get them here we don’t have to worry about Fair Trade bananas – they are all Aussie-grown – but at $15 a kilo I don’t think so)<br />Kit Kats (haven’t had one here but Orlando says they are not the same chocolate as European ones)<br />Spanish manchego cheese (you can get it here but it is more expensive than bananas)<br />Spanish Vina Albali or Pata Negra red wine<br /><br /><br /><strong>Australian food & drink I Love! </strong></p><p>Cherry Ripe chocolate bars<br />Fat-free semi-sundried tomatoes<br />Shark from the chip shop<br />Red Rock Deli lime & black pepper crisps<br />Fresh healthy food for lunch anywhere (I work in the equivalent of Blanchardstown or Watford and can get gluten-free fat-free dairy-free anything at my local caff)<br />Proper fruit toast (the one with more fruit than bread)<br />Lemon lime and bitters<br />Decaf coffee and soy milk EVERYWHERE!<br />All the Australian wine they keep for themselves and don’t export<br /></p>Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1155189698796020402006-08-10T15:57:00.000+10:002008-10-29T21:19:30.015+11:00Blogging by MailI came across something really interesting on another blog today.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.bibliocook.com">www.bibliocook.com</a> is a great food blog by a woman in Dublin. Following her link to <a href="http://www.thehappysorceress.blogspot.com">www.thehappysorceress.blogspot.com</a>, I have signed up for Blogging by Mail.<br /><br />Here's the idea:<br /><br />Food bloggers from all over the world swap treats and baked good, recipes and more, sending care packages to new friends. Cookies, breads, preserves, condiments, teas and coffees, music, cookbooks, photos...anything you want.<br /><br />Everyone who joins is paired up with a swap partner to whom they'll send a package.<br /><br />I'm in... are you?<br /><br />I'll keep you posted on the outcome!Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1155189457706110162006-08-10T15:47:00.000+10:002008-10-29T21:39:22.840+11:00Culture Shock Update<strong>Language</strong><br /><br />The equivalent Aussie terminology for "like O'Connell Street/Piccadilly" is "as busy as Bourke Street Mall". Of course, as soon as Aly and Mena pointed this out to me, I remembered it.<br /><br />Another great phrase I heard in a meeting today (I had to stop the meeting to ask the context!) was "get a guernsey". The bloke was talking about something being put onto an "urgent" list by a government department, and said we wouldn't know until later in the month whether it got a guernsey.<br /><br />What the...?<br /><br />Apparently, it comes from getting a place on the footy team, i.e. you are definitely on the team so they give you the guernsey (jersey/shirt) but you still don't know if you will get to play in the game.<br /><br />Love it.<br /><br /><br /><strong>Car Maintenance</strong><br /><br />Another thing I have noticed is the water in the car for washing the windscreen. Back in Ireland or England you have to remember to top up the washer water fairly frequently, especially in winter. There is nothing worse than driving through winter rain in bad traffic with mud flying everywhere, and running out of water for the washer.<br /><br />We have been here almost exactly nine months, and bought a car two weeks after we arrived. <em>I have not topped up the washer water once.</em> The car was serviced one time and maybe the man topped it up then, but one would expect the reservoir to empty a lot more than that. It just doesn't really rain a lot here, and when it does, it doesn't seem to turn into a mudbath.<br /><br />I mean, I haven't washed the (white) car all winter and I reckon it will be a month or two before it really needs cleaning.<br /><br /><br /><strong>Internet</strong><br /><br />Broadband internet here is less than 10% the speed of Europe. It's almost quaint waiting for pages to load. That means for every minute it takes you in the UK or Ireland to download something, it takes almost two hours here. Perhaps not so quaint.<br />Think of me here trying to update these very pages...Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1154868789082317712006-08-06T22:52:00.000+10:002008-10-29T21:28:03.174+11:00Pellegrini's<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/1600/pellegrini%202.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/320/pellegrini%202.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />They say Pellegrini's has had one paint job in over fifty years, and it left the place looking exactly the same. I wandered in there one cold Monday night, walking the length of its 1950s bar to the cosy kitchen at the back. The red leather barstools are comfortable enough for a weekday lunchtime or an afternoon macchiato and slice of apple strudel, but the dark evenings make the big communal kitchen table beckon.<br /><br /><br /><br />There is no menu as such; an old wood veneer menu hangs from the ceiling above the bar. It lists a handful of dishes but there are no prices. Over time you get to know the daily specials - spinach and ricotta cannelloni makes a guest appearance on Tuesdays and gnocchi cameos on Fridays. The waiters charge you whatever they like, but it is always great value.<br /><br />I sat with a man and his young son to one side of me, and the owner himself on the other, trademark silk kerchief at his neck, apparently being interviewed for an article. The young boy chatted comfortably to the woman at the cooker about his recently deceased pet rabbit, while she cooked him his “usual” and taught him a few more words of Italian.<br /><br />The cooker was simmering with pots of bolognese and napoli sauces whilst the oven opened briefly to display an enormous lasagne. The cook lady turned out plates of pasta ordered in shouted Italian from the bar beyond, whilst seeming to talk away to herself in between times (in Italian too, so I couldn’t eavesdrop).<br /><br />My plate of steaming ravioli bolognese came with two freshly buttered doorsteps of bread and a cold glass of water. No alcohol here in Pellegrini’s, but the food is good enough to entice me to eat even without a glass of red in my hand. When asked, the lady happily heaped lots more parmesan onto my already loaded plate from her bowl by the cooker.<br /><br />I ate slowly, taking in the surroundings. An ancient poster of the Chianti region and an old advertisement for Besana pannetonni adorned the walls, darkened by years of grease and heat. Beyond a hatch in the wall the bar was half-full of diners but it felt sleepier than daylight hours. The oak table was about eight inches thick, and the stools about an inch too low for it. The forks were bent and the white crockery dull and chipped in places, but my supper was sublime.<br /><br />Later, as I sipped my long macchiato, the cook lady silently left her position at the cooker and came back with a saucer of home-made biscuits for me. I dunked them in my sweet coffee, feeling even more at home. They didn’t charge me for them.Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1154509716334247022006-08-02T19:08:00.000+10:002008-10-29T21:15:32.420+11:00OverworkedAfter almost six months of stretching my workdays out at times, things just got interesting. I've been co-opted onto a suite of projects for the Victorian Air Ambulance wing which we also manage. My contract has been extended for a year, and I shall henceforth by known as Project Manager - Major Projects (there's posh). So I've experienced a few weeks of 10-hour days and frantic deadlines, plus got to work with a few great new people. It's all good.<br /><br />Orlando meanwhile spends most of his time interstate, leaving me alone in a huge bed at night listening to our wooden house rattling and creaking. I am pretty used to it now but it's weird to be separated so much. We will take the opportunity of his full three weeks in Brisbane in August, and I will fly up to join him for the weekend.<br /><br />We had a night at the opera last weekend: Don Giovanni in the wonderfully old-fashioned venerable Athenaeum Theatre in the city. There was everything from tuxedos and cocktail dresses to people in tracksuit bottoms, but the interval sparkling wine was chilled and you could take your drink back to your seat. Marvellous.<br /><br />Meanwhile most of you will know by now that the flights are booked and I shall be back in the northern hemisphere in October. I am looking forward to a couple of weeks with the family, my mum's 80th birthday, and a couple of days catching up with the London crowd. Then it's off to the Whitsundays, Australia's answer to the Greek Islands: an archipelago of white-sand beaches in the tropics off Queensland, right beside the Great Barrier Reef. The plan is to celebrate my 40th birthday with some scuba diving and magnificent sunsets. What's not to like?Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1154509669222422622006-08-02T19:07:00.000+10:002008-10-29T21:39:22.841+11:00Culture ShockMost people here think that moving to Aus is not such a big change to living in the UK. But, as I explained to my friend Aly the other night, in some ways moving to Australia is more of a culture shock than visiting India or China. Just because The Bill and Neighbours are on TV, the food looks the same and everybody speaks English, many aspects of ordinary life are completely new or sometimes completely impenetrable to foreigners. Here are some examples of what I mean.<br /><br /><strong>Food</strong><br /><br />Yes, the food is similar. We have fish’n’ chips, meat pies and pasties, takeaway pizza, sausages on the barbie. So far, nothing spectacularly different. But on top of that there are so many new things. Melbourne is a gastronome’s paradise: there is even a permanent newspaper segment called Epicure dedicated to all things gourmet.<br /><br />There is an infinite number of places to have breakfast in Melbourne, even out in the suburbs. Whilst now and again we miss the honest fare of a good London-Greek caff or a full Irish breakfast (aah, how I miss Irish sausages and decent brown bread), even close to work I can sample divine French toast, fruit-laden raisin breads, omelettes, eggs benedict, home-made muesli, porridge with banana, and of course good coffee.<br /><br />Melburnians take their coffee extremely seriously. Not for them a Starbucks at every corner: the local cafes and even train stations serve the very best espressos, macchiatos and café lattes. Starbucks is here, but tolerated rather than revered.<br /><br />Good delis and markets are never far away. Footscray Market is our local, dominated by Vietnamese and Chinese food but boasting the very best fishmongers and butchers not to mention fresh fruit and vegetables. It is mentioned in Rick Stein’s “Food Heroes” book as an excellent source of fresh produce. Victoria, Prahran and South Melbourne Markets are just as good, with famous dim sims at one (larger versions of Chinese dumplings) and a great organic produce section at another.<br /><br />Melbourne also has a burgeoning Slow Food culture too. The state of Victoria alone has five Slow Food convivia, and coming up soon is A Taste of Slow, two full weeks of quality food and wine, with a focus on seasonal, regional and traditional foods and boutique wineries.<br /><br /><strong>Wine</strong><br /><br />We live surrounded by vineyards. It is heaven to live in a country where wine is a locally-produced item. Nowadays, even buying a South Australian wine seems pointless when there are so many Victorian wineries I haven’t tried yet. My personal favourite is Candlebark Hill up in the Grampians, in Hanging Rock country (about an hour’s drive from here). But the Yarra Valley and the Mornington Peninsula are no more than an hour’s drive from home, and we haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of these regions or Geographic Indications, the Australian version of “appellations controllées”.<br /><br />Grape varieties I have never heard of are enthusiasically embraced by boutique wineries. Petit Verdot, Arneis and are wines I could select by the glassthe other night in a small wine bar. Even grape clones are heralded as varieties in their own right: for example the MV6 pinot noir clone so beloved of the Hurley vineyard on the Mornington Peninsula. However I don’t think I will ever be able to bring myself to order a glass of “cab sav”, preferring to give cabernet sauvingnon its full title always, despite not being understood by many waiters.<br /><br />All in all, food and wine here in Australia is so different in many aspects as to be a completely new experience. I cannot think of one way in which our lives have not been enriched by this aspect of Australian life.<br /><br /><strong>Traffic</strong><br /><br />No matter what traffic jams we experience here, nothing is as bad as Dublin on a bad day or London on any day. Dreadful traffic here constitutes a ten minute delay. Anything worse is headline news on TV that night. Most of the time at weekends we don’t even bother switching on the car stereo as we are hardly in the car long enough on any journey to bother.<br /><br />Australians do love their cars, though. I admitted the other day to not having washed our car for over four months: I was confronted with a wall of incomprehension by colleagues who religiously valet their cars every weekend, usually driving to the local car wash where they pay to have somebody else do it while they have a real coffee while they wait (see Food and Wine above).<br /><br />Personalised number plates are ubiquitous. People of every age soup up their normal suburban hatchbacks and saloons: under-car purple neon lighting, blacked-out windows, huge decals, “sports” exhausts (meaning specially designed to be noisy) adorn the vehicles of forty-comething blokes who should know better. There is no age limit to burning people off at traffic lights or doing spectacular U-turns on dual carriageways. It is a nation of boy racers (and that’s only the shielas).<br /><br /><strong>Language</strong><br /><br />The old adage about England and America being two countries divided by a common laguage could also be said about England and Australia. Yes, they speak English here, and mostly it is understandable, especially when you get used to the so-called “high-rise terminals” – the ubquitous interrogative tone that make every Australian sentence sound like a question?<br /><br />People really do use G’day as a greeting, and the phrase “fair dinkum” is commonly used, even by politicians in speeches. But it takes a while to understand words such as sook ( a softy or sulk), rapt (delighted), bogan (somebody who is perceived as being an unfashionable "lower-class" person, typically of British Isles ancestry and living in deprived urban areas), and shonky (dubious, underhanded).<br /><br />Once you have figured out that shortening any word and ending it with an “o” will make you sound like a local, you’ve made it:<br /><br />Ambo paramedic<br />Arvo afternoon<br />Servo petrol station<br />Reffo refugee<br />Rego vehicle registration<br />Milko milkman<br /><br />One also has to learn where Woop Woop or the Back of Bourke is (very far away), how to handle a stickybeak (tell them to mind their own business) and find the alternative local phrase to”It’s like Piccadilly/O’Connell Street” when trying to emphasise how busy somewhere is (still looking for that one). One of my favourite alternative local metaphors – the same as a few sandwiches short of a picnic – is “kangaroos loose in the top paddocks”.<br /><br />On the other hand, if you use a phrase familiar in England or Ireland like “starter for ten” or “I amn’t” or “it was great crack” you are also likely to get mystified looks as if one was speaking a foreign language (which of course one is).<br /><br /><strong>Clothes</strong><br /><br />It’s Melbourne. Seventy percent of all clothing is black. Get used to it.<br /><br /><strong>Sick Leave<br /></strong><br />Being well used to EU regulations it never dawned on me that you would have to earn your sick leave. Over here you accumulate sick days at a rate of around one day per month worked. Down side is that many people use them like an extension of their annual leave.<br /><br /><strong>TV and Celebrities</strong><br /><br />Celebrity TV shows and gossip magazines are totally lost on me. We have no idea who these people are. There are famous people doing TV and billboard ads for stuff like All Bran and Nurofen but we didn’t realise they were famous people – we thought they were just actors. There is a “Fifty Years of TV” exhibition on in the Australian Centre for the Moving Image. Everybody is talking about it. It might be nostalgia to Australians, but it is impenetrable to us.<br /><br />We don’t know who the famous people in Torvill & Dean’s Dancing on Ice are (is that a show in the UK too???). Celebrity Big Brother will no doubt also be lost on us. We have no idea who the ex-Big Brother housemates are (although a friend of the family is going out with one).<br /><br /><strong>Popular Music</strong><br /><br />We have not found any radio station we can listen to on a regular basis as we recognise about 20% of the music (and that’s stuff we would switch off anyway). Spicks and Specks is the Aussie version of Never Mind the Buzzcocks: because we don’t recognise either the famous contestants or the songs they are being quizzed on.<br /><br />We were in the city on New Year’s Eve and the big midnight fireworks display was accompanied by what sounded to us like random anonymous heavy rock music. We were baffled until somebody told us much later that it had actually been a medley of some of the most famous and best-loved Australian hit songs of recent years.<br /><br /><strong>Wildlife</strong><br /><br />Everything in the country is trying to kill you. Crocodiles, jellyfish, man-eating sharks, baby-eating dingoes, not to mention the six species of stinging tree, five of the world’s seven most deadly snakes and the nine most poisonous spiders in the world.<br /><br />Spiders come as big as you like. I have discovered that the three most frightening words in the English language are as follows:<br /><br />Bird Eating Spider<br /><br />A friend of ours once saw one. He mistook it for a crab. The female of the species can grow to about 60mm (2.5 inches), and that’s just the diameter of its body.<br /><br />Funny enough, the smaller the spider, the more deadly it is. Mena tells me that Huntsman spiders (typically 2 inches in diameter) are not really scary as they are more like small furry creatures than spiders. Apparently, it is the tiny redback under the toilet seat I should be more worried about. Now, why did she think any of that would comfort me?Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28700442.post-1152269480144662612006-07-07T21:00:00.000+10:002008-10-29T21:38:31.507+11:00Two Minutes' SilenceWe're still not afraid.<br /><br />But we will always remember.<br /><br /><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/7454/2981/320/_41799188_car_michaelhughes_416300.jpg" border="0" />Maireadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06684998867186171471noreply@blogger.com