August 30, 2007

Lorgues



Images courtesy of www.planeteprovence.com

I'm in France baby!! To be more precise, a small village called Lorgues in Provence, au pairing for Florence, François and their very cute baby boy Batiste. God, I've forgotten how awesome the food in France is. I had a white peach this morning and just about died of tastiness. Not to mention the very delicious meals Flo has been cooking, or the strawberry tart and champagne we had last night ... well although they say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach -- I guess it's one of the ways to my heart too!!

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August 24, 2007

Kvidinge



In the early 1800s the King of Sweden died without leaving an heir (how irresposible) and a distant relation from (I think) Denmark was appointed the Crown Prince. On his way to the captial for his offical coronation, he suffered a stroke and died in Kvidinge and there is a monument there erected in his memory. The Swedes, having no one now to be their king, solved the conundrum by requesting one of the lesser nobility from the France to take the position, and the royal family today is directly descended from that line.

Well, that's the official story. The unofficial one is that, overweight and unfit, Carl August suffered a heart attack from the strain of the horse ride (I don't know why he didn't take a carriage, isn't that what the nobility do?) There are alternative rumours of him being poisoned, but the heart attack story is much more amusing...

Today, Kvidinge has a population of just under 2000 but it's hard for me to feel as if it's some isolated little backwater village because there's a couple of other towns that are about a five minute drive away and the nearest city, Helsingborg, is about 20 minutes away. In Australian terms, Kvidinge seems more of a suburb than a village, although there's a cursory amount of geographical isolation because of some farmlands in the area.

Besides boning up on local ancient scandal, I've also read the last installment of Harry Potter (the "happy ever after" epilogue made me feel a bit nauseous but otherwise it was a quite entertaining read), indulged in some very deluxe, gourmet Danish chocolate from a little place in Helsingborg, watched a LOT of Monty Python (Henrik has the entire series on DVD), shaken my fist at bureaucracy because there are problems with my visa application for France, cooked -- mostly dinners but also some fruity desserts (Henrik has raspberry bushes in his back yard!! Bliss!!) and put in the final touches on my plans for world domination ... er, I mean I've taken lots of bracing and healthy walks around the village.

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August 20, 2007

Sharpshooter?



I'm crashing at a mate's place in the south of Sweden at the moment, and this arvo we visited his shooting club. Best score of the day -- 47/50 points but on average I shot around the 40/50 mark. I've graphed my scores for the 11 rounds I shot below:

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Laughing Matters

How much can you tell about someone from their laugh?

For example, the type of person who laughs to themselves, in the absence of company. That's someone with something going on upstairs. It could be a sinister plan to hold the world ransom for one billion dollars or it could be Monty Python reruns [as an aside, most people find Monty Python funny, but how many people actually get it?]. But the point about the solo laugher is, they're someone interesting, someone whose entertainment is not dependent on others.

How about the type of person that laughs a split second after everyone else? They either have no idea what is or isn't funny, or they don't have enough self confidence to show that they find something amusing on the off chance that no one else finds it funny. Moronic or spineless, neither case is appealing.

Another example is the creationist who was my host in Charlottenberg. I didn't hear him laugh once during the two months I stayed there. Admittedly, after I realised how odious his company was, I spent most of my time avoiding him, but when forced to associate with him, I noticed that the most evident sign of experiencing hilarity he showed was a half smile. What a fucking misery guts.

By contrast, his son in law was a guffawer. I quite enjoyed his company. It was nice to have someone to share a laugh with. I envied how he could seemingly get along with just about anyone, until I realised his guffaw was his magic trick. When you laugh loudly at more or less anything, people will find you somehow quite amiable.

I know someone else who fake laughs. It's kind of a "heh, heh, heh" deal but there's no conviction. Maybe he doesn't think the jokes I make are funny, but is putting it on to be polite. He's too eager to please. The unfunny should not be rewarded with laughs [even if I'm the unfunny].

And then there's the person who sort of laughs, in a refined and socially acceptable sort of way, but never really lets go. Yeah, great. You find something funny, but you won't really enjoy it for fear of interrupting the stodgy dining experience of the family at the next table? Inhibited.

I suppose I'm being a little harsh about laughter. After all, different strokes for different folks and all that. But people who don't laugh? People who laugh indiscriminately? People whose laughter sounds fake? People who only laugh when someone else does? People who only ever titter? Fuck them all. Live it large and laugh it loud.

But only at the funny stuff.

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August 15, 2007

Multiple Screens

A [now defunct] illustration I did a few months ago for a guy writing a book about his travel adventures...

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August 12, 2007

The Window In My Room



The Swedish have a penchant for really broad window sills and decorating said sills with a variety of knick knacks. The sill of my bedroom window is as wide as the length of an A4 piece of paper, and I can stand on it quite securely. I do this on a fairly regular basis because I like to open the windows every day to get a bit of fresh air, but the handles on the windows are higher than I can reach...

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August 08, 2007

My Dodgy Haircut


I've been cutting my hair incrementally for the last fortnight -- nothing too adventurous, just taking out some of the bulk at the back and side, although I got really brave one afternoon and tied the longest bit in a tiny tiny pony tail and then cut it off -- THAT was scary, I had visions of walking around with my hand at the back of my head, trying to cover up my shamefully crooked hairline, wishing desperately for a qualified hairdresser, or at least someone who can see the back of my head ... but it all worked out ok. Until today. When I cut my fringe too short. Oh well, at least it'll grow back eventually

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Sun, Son and Laffs

It's been weather vaguely resembling summer lately -- woohoo!! I'm only wearing a t shirt and jeans (plus of course the usual under-accoutrements) and it's currently slightly cloudy but there's definitely sunlight -- OH YEAH! -- and the temperature is 23°-- ALL RIGHT! My hosts have a son, daughter and son-in-law visiting at the moment, so it's been a bit livlier around the joint lately, but mostly because of the son-in-law, who is a Pom, likes a politically incorect and inappropriately loud laugh and sympathises when I rant about why I hate the Transformers movie even though I haven't seen it. Most awkward moment during their visit thus far (but funny in an Office kind of way) -- son-in-law compliments the father-in-law on his drawing abilities, and the reply is, "We have all lost so many skills or have been unable to develop them because we've been just so materialistic for the last thousand years." What the hell ever happened to just saying thanks when you get a compliment?! Wanker.

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August 05, 2007

SATISFACTION [The Stones --Part III--]



These guys are just FUCKING AMAZING!! This concert rates right up there on my list of Cool. Fucking. Things. I've done during my life, right behind going to Tibet. This is what the stadium looked like at around 7pm ...



This is what it looked like at 9pm, 60 000 people later...



And the boys didn't come onstage until just after 10pm. They kept us waiting for nearly three hours (longer if you were in the standing section and arrived nice and early to get a spot close to the stage) but they were TOTALLY worth it!!

If you were sitting where I was, this is what the stage looked like about halfway through the show when the stage was moving forward into the middle of the standing area of the audience...



But if you were in the standing area of the audience (or a press photographer with a gigantic zoom lens) this is what the stage looked like...



And the name on everyone's lips as we left that night was MICK JAGGER. If he were thirty years younger, I'd wish for him to be on my lips quite literally...The man is amazing. Magnetic. A master of performance. I was sitting so far away that he was the size of my fingernail, but the size and clarity of his gesture was amazing and the energy he gave to the performance and the audience was just phenomenal and he had us enthralled. It doesn't matter that he's over sixty, the man has still got it in scads (and in his pants).

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Gothenburg



A pretty little city with a bustling canal, and, succumbing finally to the skinny leg trend, I found a pair of jeans that actually fits me here [in a shop in Gothenburg, not in the canal, you git] -- yay!! The hostel I stayed a was filled with friendly Stoners and across the road from this cool little forty/castle thing.

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