Category: Diary Page 43 of 47

Tonight brings a rare outing for Rach and I. Our good friend, and awesomely talented musician, Clay Bolger is doing a Fringe Word Festival gig with his band, The Wesley Goodlet Jamboree Scouts: who are bringing us an entire show devoted to covers of one hit wonders. I love covers! I love one hit wonders! (… sometimes, mostly …) It’s too good a chance to miss.

I get the usual anxiety about going out, which manifests itself in a thumping headache late in the afternoon. I leave work early in the hope I can rest for a while. I indeed rest briefly, and refuse to let the headache defeat me. Rach is still ailing from a migraine, and refusing to let that defeat her, so obviously I’m pretty impressed with my brave stoicism in the face of this massive adversity.

First stop is V Burger, which I’ve yet to sample. En route we determine that this is the first proper, child-free, night out we’ve had since going to see Garbage last November. We agree that we should do this sort of thing much more often.

At V Burger I’m somewhat dazzled by the choice. I’m not overwhelmingly hungry, and don’t want to spend the rest of night feeling like I’ve eaten a small child. Or maybe Rach’s vegetarianism is proving mildly infectious. I opt for the Teriyaki Chicken (grilled chicken breast, teriyaki glaze, caramelised onion, lettuce, tomato, house aioli & wasabi mayo) – admittedly with some caution, as I’ve yet to have a chicken breast burger that didn’t feel like I was eating a huge chunk of dried out meat between two slices of damp bread.

It turns out to be amazing. The chicken is juicy and tender, and the combination of flavours is a revelation. It’s an easy contender for the Best Burger I’ve Ever Eaten.

Luckily, the Victoria Park Hotel turns out to be a longer walk from V Burger than we had expected. Lucky because it gives our food plenty of time to go down. Yes. So lucky. Really. Lucky. I could be so.

We get to the venue, look around, see lots of people, but we don’t see anything that looks remotely like the Wesley Goodlet Jamboree Scouts preparing to perform an awesome night of one-hit wonders. Just … lots of people. People drinking. People chatting. People eating. We start to genuinely wonder if we’ve managed to go to the wrong Victoria Park Hotel. I even check the Facebook page. It says “Victoria Park Hotel” (among many, many other words). Then I spot a single A4 poster on a stand, next to a staircase. It’s a flyer for the gig! We’re in the right place after all.

We make our way up the stairs and quickly find Clay’s equally awesome wife, Rhona. It’s pointed out to me that The Safety Dance was playing as I entered the room; the song and I have a sort of history, so I guess this means I’ve finally figured out how to make an entrance the way they do in the movies.

I was half expecting a tiny, crowded venue – the sort of place where I would need to find a quiet corner to hide out in, but there’s not only plenty of space, there’s even a comfy leather couch at the back of the room. We quickly claim it, because we’re now the sort of people who require a comfy leather couch in order to properly enjoy a live music event.

The Wesley’s play gigs around Perth almost every weekend, but occasionally they do special one-off shows. I’ve been to see them perform David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust album for the Newport Tavern’s Record Club Roadshow, as well as Bowie’s Hunky Dory. Both gigs comfortably rank among the best live shows I’ve ever been to. It’s safe to say I’m pretty excited, and they don’t disappoint: kicking off with a medley, getting in one-hit wonders from across the decades and genres, and even throwing in a bit of trivia here and there. I’m equally awed by the way Clay and the rest of band work the crowd. As someone who literally prefers to hide at the back of the room, it’s inspiring to bask in a bit of expert showmanship.

The gig is over all too soon, and we retreat to the balcony, which is about a thousand degrees more refreshing than the inside. After enjoying the breeze, and catching up for a bit with Clay and Rhona, it’s time to head home and let Beryl, Rach’s Nan and our babysitter, get to bed.

It’s been a good night. I’m glad I ignored that headache after all.

Rach and I spend the evening completing the job applications we started the previous night. It’s gruelling work. The closing date for applications is tomorrow: and we have three of them to finish. We finally get it done by about 11pm. I go to bed amazed at how long and tiring the process was – but still mighty pleased that we got them done.

Yay us!

One of those days that barely warrants a diary entry.

I get up. I go to work. Work is fine. Rach recovers from her migraine enough to take the Elderbeast ice-skating. I come home and take an inordinately long time to prepare miso ramen. Carter comes home having bashed his knee and, oh boy, does he let us all know about it. I help Rach put together some job applications and then, suddenly, it’s time for bed!

It’s Valentine’s Day! Which is really just an entirely meaningless thing to Rach and I. In fact I only mention it at all because it turns out to be just about the least interesting aspect of the day.

More importantly, it’s the Elderbeast’s first day of PEAC (Primary Extension And Challenge) which is pretty exciting. I have high hopes that this will inspire him enough to really start using his brains. Less excitingly, Rach has a migraine, but she still manages to come for the introductory session.

So we start the day by driving to PEAC, which takes place at an entirely different school than the usual one. Then I drive back home again to drop Rach off. Then I drive to work … and manage to have  a car crash.

It’s not a bad one. I’m driving along and a level crossing comes down. The car in front of me stops. I’m perhaps not quite paying enough attention because I have to hit the brake hard, but I stop in time. Unfortunately, I see in my rearview mirror that the car coming up behind me isn’t going to be so lucky. Thump.

We pull over (once the train has gone by, of course) and I find myself feeling pretty bad when I see the damage. The front of the other driver’s car is caved in, but there’s barely a scratch on the back of mine. She’s gone right into the tow bar. I feel even worse when she tells me that she’s only just bought the car. Then she says: “And on Valentine’s Day too!” which seems an odd thing to say, as if a car crash is the precise opposite of a romantic night out … which I guess it could be. Either way, I’m glad she didn’t crash into someone who felt like giving her a hard time about it. I feel pretty good about that. We exchange details and move on.

And it’s still only 10am. I drive back to work, where we’ve got a major software release type thing happening, so I have to coordinate that. Then I have to leave again an hour later and collect the Elderbeast from PEAC so I can take him back to his regular school. The good news is he loves PEAC and seems truly inspired. I return to work and sustain myself on cake, donuts and banana bread during the day. When I finally get home I realise I forgot to eat lunch.

The Elderbeast helps me make a pumpkin and coconut dahl for dinner, which turns out super delicious. Over dinner we make the random decision that we will head down to Albany for my birthday–which is in May–and start making plans.

Seriously though – what a day!

Yay, it’s Fucken Monday! This is how all my Monday diary posts will start from now on.

I start writing a new story for my morning shift today. It’s the one that I was looking up remote Scottish hotels for. As part of that research I found a handful of travelogue type reviews of suitable locations, and started reading through them. These articles always convey an almost mythical status upon the places they cover–at least they do to me. The more interesting locations I then looked up individually, and was amazed to find one of them up for sale. Obviously I won’t be putting an offer in, but there’s potential for a whole other story in there … I’m intrigued by the possibility it offers of inserting yourself into local history: buy the place and you will always be the owner of one of the most remote hotels in the world. It’s like The Shining, but for local people …

It was a hot as bastard day today–that’s the official meteorological term. One of those days where stepping outside is about as relaxing as sticking your face into an open oven. The weather often gets hots around here, but this was something else.

Rach was heading off for Galentine’s Day shenanigans, so I get her to drop the kids at work on her way. They sit obediently in a meeting room (with an iPad for company) while I wrapped a few things up. I remember often visiting my Dad at his work place. For some reason I found it the most fascinating thing, especially all the office machinery (telex machines in those days!). I think the Elderbeast may have adopted this strange obsession, as he was enthralled by the huge laser printer we have sitting by our door.

We pick up one of the Elderbeast’s friends on the way home (we ride with the windows open, and it’s like someone attached a legion of fan heaters to the outside of the car). The boys make way too much noise. Then the alt-Elderbeast’s mother comes along and takes the pair of them to the beach. Suddenly it’s just me and the Kinderbeast surrounded by a silence so sudden and perfect it can only be an illusion.

Meat sauce for dinner. Damn good it was too.

I manage a huge editing session first thing. Nearly 3,000 words. This brings my short story almost to a publishable state.

Feeling the cabin fever from being shut in all day Saturday, and without even a storm to provide an excuse, I suggest that we head out for coffee. We know a place that does great coffee, and has plenty of space for the kids to run around. While there we are also secured by the Cheesus Crust toasted sandwiches. It’s only when Rach speaks the name out loud that I get  the pun, as I’m chewing down on my Dear Gouda.

We’re determined to do a few more family things with the day, so we set up a game of Pandemic Contagion when we get back–not too good for the Kinderbeast, but he plays a round of Story Cubes with us first and then occupies himself with his iPad. Then it’s time to make banana bread, and then it’s finally time to build the LEGO Yellow Submarine that we bought ourselves for Christmas, in the middle of which project we have a surprise visit from the in-laws, who bring lemon tart and therefore are allowed to stay.

I make an enormous cauliflower curry for dinner and we catch up with Luke Cage. I’ve got a new story buzzing around in my head, which needs a remote setting, so I go to bed to do some research on isolated Scottish hotels. This proves suitably inspiring.

Saturday is Designated Lie-In Day, and yet no one has told the Kinderbeast, who awakens me at at 5:30am. He declines my weak entreaties for him to return to bed, and instead settles on the sofa in front of the TV. Yes, we parent the best. I return to bed. It seems that everytime I drift back to sleep he returns: “Daddy, I want some breakfast.” “Daddy, can you tuck me up please?” “Daddy, I’m thirsty.”

After some hours of this I admit defeat and get out of bed.

How To Train Your Dragon.

Roasted veggies for dinner.

Watched The Martian.

I finish the new first draft of When The Darkness Comes (which is actually a fourth draft, but has enough new material now that I’ll consider it a first). I’m excited to read it and see how the bits affect the shape of the story. But first: to work.

The week seemed to be lasting forever, but suddenly it’s Friday! It’s a fairly low-key day, not least because another office plague has torn its way through the team. I’m feeling particularly lacking in energy and wonder if I’m to be the latest victim. Nevertheless, I survive the day.

We make the very wise decision to have takeaway pizza for dinner (the joys of a 50% off incentive) and then it’s time for Fridate. We finally catch up with Melissa McCarthy’s Sean Spicer sketch from last week’s SNL and it’s every bit the classic that the internet has made it out to be. The evening is capped off with Tash Sultana’s astounding Like A Version from earlier in the day. I may have found a new favourite artist.

I desperately want to finish my week by wrapping up my reread of The Martian, but I’m only slightly over halfway through. And I am very, very tired. It’s not to be.

Today it rained.

A lot.

I added the forest library dream I had the other night to my short story. It definitely feels right. Now I will forever wonder if the dream was some form of subconscious editor at work, or if it was simply a fortuitous case of random inspiration. Either way, I’m not knocking it.

It’s Wednesday, which for the next ten weeks means Rach and the Elderbeast disappearing for the early evening for their ice skating lessons. You might imagine this translates to a few hours of post-work peace and quiet for me. You might imagine that, but you’d be wrong. In between wrangling the Kinderbeast and trying to coordinate a dinner that needs to be edible somewhere between 7 and 7:30pm there’s little respite to be had.

It doesn’t matter though. The family have enjoyed their return to skating lessons. Nobody has starved to death, and we end the evening with a bit more Luke Cage. At the pace we’re going with this show it’s almost like being back on terrestrial TV. Binge-watching is no longer something our packed evening schedule allows.