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seems that there’s a sudden rash of submarine film interest in melbourne. The Squeeze has a long standing interest in the genre. which i will foster as it allows me to ‘watch’ a film while crocheting that subtitled flicks do not. plus there’s lots of audio-centred content (ie being very quiet so we don’t let other subs know we’re there; and ‘pinging’ other marine vehicles) to cue you in on the narrative development.

personally, i don’t care much for submarine films per se, but they have their place.

Today I went to the doctor on Sydney road. I usually go to the uni doctor, pretend like I’m still going to unimelb so I can see the excellent doctors there. But when I’m too sick (or lazy) to ride the 20mins to Carlton, or ride the annoying tram 15mins then walk 20 slow minutes across to the clinic, I go to the medical centre on Sydney road. It’s where I go when I want antibiotics and a complete lack of patient-doctor rapport. I’d never go there for anything important, like a pap smear, or an ongoing problem. I go there when I want a Quick Fix. And I know this cold. It needs to be Fixed, or I’ll be sick forever. Just like last time. I’ve been sick since last Thursday – that’s a week of sickness. I’m finally riding my bike again (though, as I learnt today, it’s a slow, coughing-my-guts up and arriving really exhausted sort of riding), but I’m not properly well yet. My voice is weird, I’m coughing and snorting up discoloured goobs, I’m run down, etc etc etc.

So I went to the doctor. I donÂ’t want to fly with buggered Eustachian tubes. Pain really isnÂ’t my thing.

I saw a nice Indian lady doctor (rather than the somewhat disturbingly overweight middle-aged man doctor), for oh, about 10 quality minutes. I’m usually all about booking double appointments with doctors so I can actually get some useful communication going – I don’t really feel that 10 minutes is sufficient time for a discussion about, oh, contraceptives, say. It took the doc, what, five years of study to figure out contraceptives. I think I’ll need more than 10 minutes.

But because I was at the clinic, I was prepared to spend 10 minutes. It was a nice 10 minutes. We talked mostly about that Moulin Rouge program thatÂ’s on the ABC at the moment. It’s about these Australian dancer girls who go to France to dance in some can can show (the actual Moulin Rouge may be involved, but IÂ’m not sure). I think we talked about that show because I said I needed to be well to go dance in Europe. IÂ’m not sure exactly what she thinks IÂ’ll be doing in Europe, and I didnÂ’t really want to disappoint her. Though that quick look up the back of my shirt while she plied her stethoscope should have cued her in on my actual status as a Dancer. Maybe she though I was sporting some fashionably European curves for the new season. Or maybe she wasnÂ’t really paying attention when she watched the naked dancing episode.

We did, though, spend a fair few minutes discussing the naked episode. I was assured that it wasnÂ’t just nakedness. It was well, you know, dancing nakedness. I assured her in return, that I understood. We talked very much in subtexts.

Seems the doc (whoÂ’s name I donÂ’t know) is mighty keen on the Moulin Rouge show, that she works long, hard days on Tuesdays (hence the programÂ’s appeal) and was interested in the ethical dilemma posed for the girls by the naked episode. And by their living conditions in Europe.

Well, I guess it was far more interesting than the content of my lungs.

I will have to go see the inestimable Dr Flowers to discuss this ongoing cold situation, though. Wonder what sheÂ’s been watching lately

p>I’m almost through the horrid admin stuff for the trip. Well, I was until I remembered that the scholarship people demand to know your whereabouts at all times. Now, as per pgrad usual, I’d not bother filling in this form. But seeing as how the bureaucracy will know I’m gone (via the sneaky grants people), it’s best to cover your bases. So I will. With about three weeks to go, I’d better get a wriggle on with that form – requires signatures from supervisor and head of school (whose name I’m yet to learn, despite having spoken to his PA and a number of other people)

Still no word from the grants people re the dosh. When it arrives I’m dashing into the uni to pay my ticket

And my only other real business is paying for the savoy camp

More sewing has taken place. A couple of cute little dresses to go over pants and a nice pair of trousers.
The cold is easing
. Well, it’s gone south, and is now smeared all over the bottom of my lungs. Interesting vocal effects from stuffed up sinuses remain. My cough is impressive, but I’m finally feeling a bit more alert. Still very tired and quite dull to be around, but definitely more alert.

And I’ve noticed that this blog is very dull at the moment. Well, that’s a natural consequence of my own dullness. I will try to be more interesting. Do more interesting things

There is an interesting question percolating in the back of my head, though
to do with doing online research and ethics of fan-scholar research
hmm

ok, so i leave on the 26th of june. and i’m still wading through bureaucratic bullshit. you wouldn’t beleive the work involved in actually getting this grant thing sorted. i had a run in with the insurance people (arseholes), met about half a dozen very useful people in grants, the finance office and the faculty office, spent at least two hours in a travel agent trying to get my itinerary sorted, and sent a jillion emails.

it’s insane.

but finally, the flights are booked and i’m going. i’ve had to ditch the french bit of my trip, unfortunately, so i can’t go to the sea, sun and swing camp in la grande motte. that utterly sucks, as it was the one bit i was really looking forward to.
otherwise, i’m going to a wedding in wales, i’m (hopefully) going to see some of the countryside there, i’m doodelly dooing around england, i’m spending time in london, doing dance and other stuff, i’m going to Herrang in sweden for the camps (for a week and a bit), i’m going to a savoy camp in england after that, and then i’m stopping off in bangkok on the way home, where i’ll arrive on the 8th august.
i really liked bangkok the other times i’ve been, but unfortunately, i will once more be limited by time and $$ to only a few days. oh well.

so i’ve a busy trip ahead of me. i’ve mixed feelings about herrang – it should be fun, but i’ve never been all that keen to go there for my own sake. too much crazy cult action. and while there’ll be some arseholes from australia there, i’m sure i can avoid them. it’ll be a chance to catch up with dancers from all over the world, and to meet lots of new, excellent people as well.
and from a research a perspective, it will be facinating. i’m trying to sort out some interviews as well… i will be buuuusy.

major jobs left to do:
– contact family in england and wales to secure accomodation and lifts to the wedding
– sort out some rail passes for the uk
– plan the london bit more thoroughly
– confirm bangkok
– actually pay for ticket – hurry up finance dept!

there are also about a million other things to do as well. my to-do list is huuuge.

so of course, i’ve responded with some compulsive sewing. under the pretense that i’ll need lots of dance wear, so i have to whip up some things. but really, probably more an opportunity to Indulge.

meanwhile, i’m coughing up goobs, blowing out goobs and sneezing out goobs. tres sexy.

am i illiterate? i think so. must be this early morning bullshit. apologies for previous, unintelligible crapposts.

The Squeeze did stills photos for a friend’s film project on the weekend, and took some utterly awesome photos. when i have time i’ll ravage his collection and post as many as i can on this site before he gets shitty with me. some are utterly fabulous. some made me laugh so much i thought i was going to die. this sequence is great, though the joke is probably lost on non-dancers. at the very least non-dancers’d be thinking ‘ok, i see the joke, but i ain’t laughin’. but i nearly wee’d my pants when i first saw them.

ok, things are really getting complicated. i’ve got about a month until i leave, and i’ve yet to book my ticket (can’t do that til i get the $. which i can’t do til friday, so i’ll probably not book the ticket til a week from friday, unless i book it and pay for it all later…
i have yet to ring and sort out insurance with the uni, get the head of school to give me ‘permission’ to go overseas with a brief letter, and get him to send similar letter to the insurance people.

and it turns out that abbie and co are moving to australia at the beginning of july. great. so i’ll miss her by a whisker.

i’ve yet to sort out london, but i can’t say i’m fussing that much. i should get onto the british dancers via the intynet…

blahblahblah.

meanwhile, The Squeeze is making a wonderful website for my surveys…

is such a strange word. i keep thinking i’m spelling it incorrectly.

well, i’ve finally received the official Werd from the grants people. i’ve been given a wad of cash to go dance all over europe. kewl.
and today i spent another fat lot of hours figuring out the logistics of four countries in one month, with different dance camps in three of them. then there’s the wedding, visiting a friend’s new baby, catching up with assorted relatives and making time for expat friends. phew.
PLUS i’d also like to get to hay-on-wye for the first time ever. it is, of course, the home of a jillion book shops. and half way between wales and england (two key points on my itinerary)… in fact, i’d really like to go… might see if i can collar a likely cousin into taking me, as it’s not exactly the most convenient place on earth. and i’d like to go to the brecon beacons which really blew me away last time i was there…
maybe i’ll do some hostel-hopping in the uk… sidestep london (and the swingers there) for some loveliness…

aren’t i cool?
this is me when i’m between 4 and 7 years old. probably at the 4 end. we lived in fiji during that time, and we were hippies. well, sort of. that van covered in hindi advertising was our family car. it was eventually painted red, and was notoriously unreliable. it was small and had brown seats. i’d like one now.
note my blonde hair. i haven’t been blonde since puberty hit.

we were in fiji because dad took a contract at USP, and we left england to go there for three years. mum was a social worker, but there weren’t jobs for her in suva. so she was a housewife til she went nuts with boredom and started running playgroups, teaching people to ride horsies and so on.
i have quite clear memories of fiji, aided by photos like this one. my uncle ziggy was in fiji, visiting from england for a while when this one was taken.
that fence in the foreground was built by my dad to keep my brother in the garden. he was 3 when we left fiji, and for the first 3 years of his life he was an escape artist.
he had to be caged in because he’d escape, go wandering all over the neighbourhood by himself. not so safe. increasingly unsafe for a white kid between 1980 and 82.

Here we are together, on a beach in fiji, a bit older. i remember that day – we were on a little island with The Mother and a photographer/graphic design friend of the family. just a day trip for a bit of beach time. i loved those green togs.
this last photo is of us in brisbane. i was somewhere between 11 and 13. probably at the 11 end of things. he was between 7 and 9. it was a school photo day – why else would we be wearing our uniforms?
that’s all i’ve got to say – just showing some photos…