Pencarrow Head This morning I took off on a walk. It was a gloomy morning but I took my camera because I finally bought a little backpack on the weekend, so's I can take stuff (lunch) with me on walks. The weather cleaned itself up and I stood on a point overlooking the entrance to Wellington Harbour after about a 2 hour walk in. I see this spot from my front window every day and got TSO to look through the telescope and check me out jumping up and down like something out of Flashdance from our front window, some ten nautical miles on the other side of the harbour. Nice morning. Still unemployed, then...

Menacing Nomenclature Needed The current carry-on with the gang murder at Sydney International Airport has highlighted one of very few things that I've picked out as wanting, here in my new homeland. See, the media here uses slightly childish common vernacular names for a few key groups that really, had they a choice, you feel would like to be described in slightly tougher terms. Drivers of trucks, a group seldom associated with womanly connotations, are commonly reported as "truckies". It just seems soft, eh? Childlike. And now, in broad daylight in the busiest airport in Australia, someone has been murdered in cold blood by what's being described as a "bikie"! Can you stand it?! Cute! (is it bikie or the slightly more cheekie "bikey"?) I think I would like to tickle a bikie. I think a bikie would be a cheeky little scamp. I solemnly suspect that a bikie might even be a little animated character with a beard and a scale-size little leather jacket, in fact. A bikER on the other hand - now a bikER threatens me. You can bet your shirt, Mac, I'm going the other way when a bikER comes in the frame! Brrr! BikER - RUN! Trucker! Jesus! Muscles! Moustaches! Arse-cracks! B.O.! Wild armpit hair! Truckie? Heehee! Hello, little fella! Who's a little driver man, then?!! Gerroutofit ya rascal! What's next? Might I be slain in my bed by a Murder-ie? Where's all my stuff? Am I the victim of some nasty little Burglar-ie?" "Don't write me a ticket, officer, I'm only a likkle speed-ie". It makes all the difference. Truly, it does. I may campaign for change.

Jaded? I found myself today, whilst reading an article about Jade Goody's impending date with the reaper, feeling sorry for her. I felt guilty and dirty too. It's a huge question that deserves a lot more room than I'm going to give it here, but why? Why do I care? Why do I feel rotten about her plight. I watched the series of Celeb Big Brother in which Jade, her raspy, haggard old mother and her posse of dimwitted co-tormenters made rather massive errors in judgment, apparently temporarily unaware that the whole nation was in the room with them, and racially bullied former Bollywood starlet Shilpa Shetty. Apart from the fact it made immensely enjoyable viewing for the likes of me - reality leches, it divided a nation. I do recall people actually defending her, saying it was just the kind of thing young people say and that the fact it was on Big Brother was the only reason to call bullshit on it etc. Be all that as it may, Shilpa Shetty herself, right to Jade's face and live on camera, cut right to the heart of the matter. It was only because Jade was of obviously diminished worldliness that she never got it and retired to her bed then for the rest of her natural. Shilpa Shetty, in response to a comment Jade made about her questionable "celebrity" status, said "yeah? well, you know what you're famous for? THIS" (sweeping with her hand around the shoddy set of BB). I felt a little sad for Jade then too - because "Shilpa Poppadom" (Jade's words) was 100% right and the truth was heartbreaking. It definitely put an unsavoury taste in my mouth for subsequent series' of BB. So, with a rake of cervical cancer running amok in her veins, A quick scan of the UK media sites would appear to suggest that Jade Goody is still making a show of her life. Even as it spills out of her and she counts the remaining days. I find it a little distasteful that it's been so very public an illness but you don't have to look too far to discover why that is. It's what we've trained Jade to do - as consumers of celebrity and enhanced "reality" TV. At the moment of negative diagnosis, you can almost hear Max Clifford's gear wheels cranking out the possible media deals and TV options. Jade Goody is a monster almost 100% created by us - no demand, no queue of hopefuls looking to be humiliated by production teams much smarter than them and adept at editing out anything intelligent that might pass their lips. Pass the auditions by being tragic enough and your reward is carte blanche to work your tits and stupidity out live on national TV. But anyway, yes. Affected, strangely, by Jade's hovering mortality. (You wouldn't believe how hard it was to find a decent picture of Jade Goody)

Today's Mood