Cooking fantasies

I spent half an hour exploring Ban Ban Homewares in Victoria Street, Abbotsford this week. It is an Asian cookware store, with shelf upon shelf of cheap items. There is a whole section devoted horrible plastic things, you know, the kind that will discolour within a few weeks of use. The store attendants seemed to spend the whole time I was in there screeching violently at one another. Of course I don't speak their language so it is presumptious (and maybe gasp...culturally insensitive) of me to presume they were screeching. Nonetheless their tone was so intense that I hesitated to ask them questions such as "You see this lovely looking metal thing here, what does it actually do?"

I spent my time there in a bit of a daze, imagining myself as some sort of Kylie Kwong cook, with a whole kitchen full of interesting utensils, dazzling my friends with dinner parties. The reality is however that I have a tiny kitchen which is already crammed full, very modest cooking ability and I hardly ever host dinner parties. I also have an aversion to cooking any animal which resembles the creature it once was. As a result I'm great with mince and chicken breasts, but not much else. So after my flight of fancy, accompanied by background screeching, I left with a tiny purchase of six chinese soup soons - perfect for those not very frequent occasions when five friends join me for takeaway Asian soup! A bargain at 90c each, but not when you consider that it could be years and years before they get used (if ever).

Gasp. Does this photo make it justifiable?

Well my dear little neglected blog - I love you.

I normally abhore the habit encouraged in the coffee shops of large chain bookstores of reading books or magazines that you have no intention of buying . The coffee is usually terrible, the food is overpriced and I hate to think that someone might later purchase a book with my crumbs in it.

I did however, overcome my moral objection yesterday when in Borders I spotted Clive Owen on the front of a US GQ. Ten minutes later I was enconsed in the mag, sipping a not great hot chocolate and eating a piece of so-so cheesecake. I might add it was a very very pleasant experience!

Yikes, do I give up on my principles that easily, just to gawk at photos of an extremely handsome British actor? Apparently, yes.

An insult to all Batvillians

I live in an inner Melbourne suburb. I am female. I work in the CBD. I am originally of pale Anglo-Celtic stock. Ergo I wear a lot of black.

There are three supermarkets in and around my suburb. Two of them stock "Dynamo Dark Clothes Wash" which is perfect for keeping the dark side suitably muted. The one nearest to me does not. Why? They are all the same chain. Arguably the one nearest to me is also the most edgy or is at least closest to both the student housing and the clothes shops . However, if I want to preserve my blackness I must traipse to one of the other supermarkets.

Why this local anti-black bias? It is an outrage

Question - If Melbourne was nearly called Batville (and Batmania) is it correct to call Melbournians "batvillians" or "batvilliagers"?

Why blog?

Why is it that a person suddenly feels the need to start a blog and (hopefully) share their thoughts with the world? Is it that they are lonely? In need of attention? Maybe in the middle of a busy world, in what seems to be a perfect job, surrounded by self-important folk, I need a space to be truly honest.

Seems to me that the older we get, and the more successful we are, the only time we are truly honest is when we are with kids. I don't have any of my own, but I am lucky enough to have two small friends with whom I can really be myself. The rest of the time I have to 'put on a face' - the "professional" face, the "boss" face, the "good daughter" face or the "god I hope I am hiding how bad this date is going" face.

So let me know - how honest can you really be in a blog? Do you self-edit? Does a fear of being identified limit what you say? Guidance for the newbie welcome....

Melbourne