I go to sleep and think of you.
June 28, 2010
April 26, 2010
A beautiful piece of graphic work from the travel agent we use at work who arranged my trip to Australia and handled everything while the volcano was erupting. Design like this doesn’t happen as often as it should these days. I long for when every business in the state involved a map of Tasmania some how and their intials stamped across it. There is a really good roofers van in Tufnel Park like this too.
Anyway then after Mum and I talked about it for a second, I stopped thinking about it and went and had a shower. I picked up the shower gel and couldn’t stop laughing – everything now in Australia seems to have these really stupid names for everything. Instead of whatever flower it was, the shower gel was called “Japanese Zen” with this bottle covered in swooshy brush strokes and waterlilies or something. What is this?
There is some coffee drink in the kitchen called “French Liasions”. I can assure you every French liasion I have had I have not been able to swallow all too smoothly – too much huffing and puffing, agnst and hand wringing agony [on their part] and definitely not the name for a drink. A French Liasion sounds more like something to choke on to me.
It was the same on the airplane. We didn’t just get a muffin, we got “healthy seeded something stupid muffins”. Once you read the name, there was no suprise left and appetite totally spent imagining it all swirling half chewed in your stomach, knowing what it would all eventually become when you flushed the toilet.
In other news, I woke up in the middle of the night crippled with freezing. My sister and I call Mum’s house the iceberg. I lay there for a while almost crying thinking “I wish there was someone to call out to! I want a blanket, a tea and a hot waterbottle.” I had to get up an do it myself. It really makes no sense that central heating is not a bigger deal here in Tasmania for the winter.
Here I am on Mum’s sofa looking a right state this morning, still freezing. In horrible little fleece lined lesbian coloured ali baba slippers of my mums. The shame.
A bit later though I went out into the garden and pruned roses, cut back plants, chopped down these weird tree things, pruned two apple trees and filled the trash pack for Mum. Then we had sausage sandwiches under what was left of the apple tree in the sun.
September 6, 2009
From: John Davidson [mailto:XXCENSOREDXX@XXCENSOREDXX]
Sent: 06 September 2009 04:48
To: Emma Davidson
Subject: RE: the cardinal and i at the spatisserie at the dorchester
‘ere’s me, walked passed the Dorchester 4 million times in my earlier days, never put me foot inside the door. Never had the dosh, and me father would have kicked me arse for having thoughts above my station.
No wonder that Cardinal is a mate. Except for being slightly thinner faced she looks very much as you do. Long hair, brown?, good looking complexion, etc.etc. won’t continue. YOU will only accuse me of being a ‘dirty old man’
Anyhow, the tucker(can you call food of that standard ‘tucker’?) It looks fabulous. Seems a good place to move out of the daily tribulations of earing a living. You ought to take Hobart with you? Don’t be mean. slip him in yer carry bag/large purse and let him have a wander. Sorry HER. W.K.O.F. name is Hobart for a female?F.C.S.
Got an Email ex Sars today and she tells me there’s a parcell in the post, which I’ll prolly get to-morrow. She doesn’t know I know it’s seeds so I can plant things to remind me of you lot. I have planted cuttings of Roses, Iceberg and Bridal shower for your reminder. BIG Sharpish tasting radishes for me. Can’t tell wot I’m putting in for the kids and Sars till I get the package tomorrow.. The prickles on the roses will be for Pussie!.
Look after yorself Kiddo. Winter’s on it’s way. Keep away from any fukka who has a runny nose or is sneezing. Swine Flu is a bastard. Bad for yer health.Cheers from yer old Dad. Since The Cardinal makes you happy, say hullo to her from me.
From: John Davidson [mailto:XXCENSOREDXX@XXCENSOREDXX]
Sent: 06 September 2009 04:55
To: Emma Davidson
Subject: RE: my cooking – macaroons
P.S. Your cooking you faggot? You nicked them from them from the Dorchester. You ought be doing Nigella Lawson’s job on T/Vif that’s really your cooking. Fark. They look delicious mate. Cheers again. Poppa.xxxx
August 7, 2008
Here is a reproduction of a webpage that I made some years ago about how to eradicate slugs featuring Paul B. Davis.
SLUGS – rid your garden of these foul pests!
check the newly transplanted herb garden, featuring mint and bay leaves.
but shit, we got a problem. it seems we aren’t the only ones enjoying nature. someone UNINVITED is eating the sweet leaves through the night.
okay players, education certainly is the key and this cracker is here to show you what to do with some about the house ingredients.
all you need is a bottle of stale flat beer. any brand will do but we have chosen one that is the favourite of lazy fat lay-abouts.
then fill a bowl with this beer and leave it in the garden a small distace from the ravaged plants.
THE NEXT DAY. the little fuckers had their last party and drunk themselves to a grim death.
CHECK IT OUT CHICKY BABES!! [tm] – daisy d
the head count after just 12 hours is roughly 21 slugs and two snails. you can leave the beer a little longer but be warned too long and it turns to a stinky rotten pool of yuck.
and so back to enjoying the garden like a hero with a fresh bottle of beer.
Anyway – this photo series is a set form better days when we would have jolly japes and do things like kill slugs.
December 21, 2007
Ahhh yes… two little lesbians. Me about 4 and my sister. This may or not be the same day that a goose but my hand. I have to say, getting goosed is really painful. Their jaw is really strong and they have almost got things like teeth. And I was just a delicate infant afterall.
I went into town today and had a look round in the antique shops there. Loads of old china [my new obsession] and in every corner it seems was another Golliwog!
I don’t know what you are allowed to say or not in the UK about Golliwogs. I’m guessing nothing – tho I have seen them for sale in a special cabinet in Hamley’s [Obvs the owners of Hamley's have issues. What do they think is gonna happen at night when all the lights go out? The Golliwogs are gonna race upstairs and steal Barbie's gash and make a Brats Doll?]
Before I get shanked for talking about Golliwogs I better start talking about something else… [FYI I used to have a girl black Cabbage Patch Kid and a white boy one.]Above is my new Paris brooch which is a little book with the postcards of Paris in it. The only thing that could have made this brooch better would be if it was scenes of Tasmania – then it would have had Mount Wellington, The Botanical Gardens and mini Mount Fuji, Port Arthur [where that nutter shot eveyrone], The Salmon Ponds [where they breed fish and there is slime on all the water and you can feed the salmon Twisties and they go crazy for them!], The Shot Tower [where they used to make bullets in the olden days], The Derwent Bridge [the day a boat crashed into it and people died when they drove over the edge of the bridge] and The Casino.
Then Mum and I spent the arvo gardening. I dressed for the occasion in a pale blue cotton sailor dress and leather gloves. I looked so amazing. I was out on the street pruning back this massive elm tree that was hanging too far over the fence.
Normally I would never allow myself to be photographed with my hair tied back – however this was for work purposes. I hate the idea of getting spiders in my hair. And of course we are talking about Australian spiders.
After hacking back the tree, Mum instructed me to rip out all the vine she didn’t want from the side fence which isn’t as easy as it sounded. I had to identify the outcast that was growing through the ivy from the jasmine which was also all mixed in and rip out the right kind. Then I had to rake the nature strip which sounds like something Swedish people do in the forest, but sadly no – in Australia some houses have the garden outside the fence we have to take care of too which really belongs to the council. Then I had to rake all the lawn where Mum had mowed it – and she is verging on being like David Beckham mowing the lawn in rows. By about this point I starting to feel very Christmassy and was thinking “Yeah this feels just like a normal Christmas. WOO HOO!!” I was quite excited. Then I had to bash in these stakes to tie back these plants. I told Mum I was going to whack her in the back of her head with the mallet for a joke. How we laughed. Then I had to use bits of rag not unlike Victorian strips [joke for Reu and Paca then! Good Times!] to tied back the apple tree. Then Mum made me cut all the dead heads off all the lavender which was amazing – the smell was incredible – not like a Granny’s knicker drawer at all but really sharp and fresh lavender. I was telling Mum what a good time I had working in the garden – I grew up doing this stuff. I was really happy. So today for one moment I knew who I was.