Friday 14 September 2007

No need for applesauce

I just consulted my almanac, and it's been six months and four days since I forsook the motherland for the Deep South. HMAS Earth has made 'alf a blooming orbit around the Sun in that time, and what have I got to show for myself? I've seen 0 (zero) giant East Gippsland earthworms, spearheaded 0 (zero) revolutions, published 0 (zero) novels, learnt to play 0 (zero) sitars, been to 1 (one) biology lecture, drunk 3 (three) bottles of cider (2 [two] in pubs), 2 (two) pots of shandy with far too little lemonade in 'em, lost my oregano (one) to the green caterpillar (one) of doom, achieved a tram trip/essay marking ratio of approximately 2:1 (two to one), learnt to pronounce "rascal" as "rassc'l" and "castle" as "cassel" (when I remember), and borrowed 4 (four) dining chairs from my esteemed colleague. Thus the State of the Nation. Things had better perk up soon.

13 comments:

Martin Kingsley said...

I've lived here all my bloomin' life and have yet to achieve even that much. I think it's something in the air, or the water. Stay too long and you run the risk of being converted into yet another drooling Melbournanian zombie, mindlessly consuming chicken parma and running headlong into walls.

Though I have, I must say (in a totally-non-self-congratulatory way), consumed rather more cider and shandy-sans-lemonade, commonly referred to as 'beer' in these here unsophisticated parts. Yes, this is my way of admitting I'm a shameless cirrhotic drunk, what of it?

In other words: I wept, for I had no shoes... :-P

Martin Kingsley said...

And how else is one to pronounce 'castle', anyway? Don't tell me the North has gone ahead and produced an alternate pronunciation without giving us adequate right of reply.

Bloody typical.

lucy tartan said...

Apparently they say "carstle", like in some blummin Thomas Hardy novel or summat.

Anonymous said...

Why have you been called upon to verbalise 'castle'? Does Melbourne secretly possess crenellated moat-surrounded structures with ramparts and towers and portcullises?

Consider your answer carefully, because if it is 'yes' I am relocating immediately. The United Kingdom's scattered battlements have made it difficult to appreciate a good Paddo townhouse.

(Caterpillars ARE rassc'ls, so at least you have consolidated your achievements somewhat.)

TimT said...

It will always be a carse-ell to me. What's the fun if you can't get that 'arse' sound in?

Unknown said...

Have you taken care of the green caterpillar? Broke up the oregano this week so have plenty to start you up anew. Trouble is I'm out in the wilds of Upper Ferntree Gully. Do want? If want, how connect?

JahTeh said...

Here, there's a grogblog missing in there where you met a witch and a brownie. I'm crushed.

Shelley said...

Ugh, Victorians speak like Queenslanders. It's carse-ell, damn you! They don't say peanut paste, do they? Hideous. Absolutely hideous.

Martin Kingsley said...

Pfft. Pfft, I say. No, we still say peanut butter, things have not yet deteriorated that far. Cassel it is and castle it will stay.

Alexis, Baron von Harlot said...

Sorry about that, team. I got carried away with the not-internet for a day or twain.

So, just to clarify, up in the Evil Empire, we say cahsel and rahscel, which I would like to think sounded piratical or Wessex yokelian, but probably just sounds all lah-dee-dah, 'cause we don't actually vocalise the arrrs.

Jennifer, if it's castellation you want, you're best to stay in Sydville, where the gargoyles abound. Here the mid-Victorian architecture is Imperial (with a capital-I), rather than Gothic revival.

Jahteh, yes! Too sacred an experience for me to trivialise in my post. High time there was another of those, I reckons.

Miss Eagle, you're a dear gel to offer your oregano spawn. I've filled the pot up with portulaca (less tasty but more caterpillar-proof), and my garden's squeezed onto a balcony so there's not much room at the moment for additional triffids, but thank you. I do like the sound of maybe venturing out to Ferntree Gully one saturday afternoon. There's a station, isn't there? Maybe I could invite myself round for afternoon tea in a month of two, at everyone's convenience.

Unknown said...

Dear LH, Herself and I do afternoon tea at The Trad Pad at Upper Gully rather well. Special requests for special teas can be taken - just a pop up the road to Tea Leaves in Sassafras will get us all the supplies we need - and if it is coffee then that is a visit a couple of doors up. Then there is the repast: you sound like the cucumber sandwiches and caraway seed type - or would you prefer a luscious chocolate delight? Please enter into correspondence at your leisure off any of my blogs.

Blessings and bliss and good times ahead

Unknown said...

'Tis I once more and again. Yes there is a station at Upper Gully: quaintly and originally called the Upper Ferntree Gully Railway Station. The Trad Pad is only five minutes away by vehicular conveyance and such conveyance is easily arranged for ease of transportation. If a Brownie and a Witch come too, perhaps a little co-ordination. Should warn that the trip from Flinders Street to Upper Gully is approx one hour but easily smoothed with a good book, boon companions, and a picnic basket.

Do you think Lucy Tartan might want to come? The Trad Pad is an animal friendly household containing FootFoot the Mini Foxie, Rose the SpartaCat, and Rodney Green the Pinny-Gig

Blessings and bliss and looking ahead to the good times

Unknown said...

Oh, and another thing, Miss Eagle is a born and bred Queenslander and considers herself a Territorian too - so you can audition the accent. Cahstle; demahnd and commahnd; dance not dahnce. And then there are the colloquialisms/dialect: port; camp; duchess; washer; and from the NT "mobs of" and gamin. And there is always the linguistic argument - which Miss E thinks is tosh - that there are no regional accents in Australia.

Blessings bliss and good times ahead