Archives

At this time of year, thoughts tend to drift towards The Ultimate Christmas Gift.

This blog promotes the presentation of a Box Set. It’s more than a gift – it’s a lifestyle, a way to say ‘I love you’, something to place upon the shelves, an item to quieten a talkative friend/relative/lover if they are getting on your nerves over the Aussie summer.  Or Northern Hemisphere winter.  Hours of viewing pleasure in a slim plastic cover while you’re sipping some beer (us) snogging some brandy (north) or chugging on eggnog (in between)

Our television stations hibernate in the heat of Dec-Feb period.  Perhaps you have been enjoying Glee or Flash Forward?  The distressing news is that they get pulled for the Christmas holidays, stuffed with turkey and fattened up for new year.  The problem arises when the Australian nights are long and hot (much like some people!) and bed just compounds the length and the heat -

literally, maybe?

To cut a very convoluted entry short, I’d like to recommend FIVE box sets that you could purchase online and give to loved ones this festive season.  You don’t even have to go to a shop, which is a huge bonus from where I’m sitting.

These are in no particular order.  Adult warnings do apply to some but who doesn’t love a bit of swearing, sex and full frontal nudity with their left-over rum balls?

1. Six Feet Under: I’m extremely biased where this show is concerned.  It’s my very favourite and you must buy all five seasons and watch them until your eyes fall out of your head.  It’s a difficult programme at times.  It’s raw and confronting, dealing with each and every aspect of grief.  A couple of friends I’ve recced this to couldn’t ‘like’ the characters as much as they wanted to – and it’s true.  They err and their flaws colour the story to its completion.  Amazing television.  Controversial and complete.  Buy it NOW.

2. Mad Men: This is my latest obsession.  If I could, I would morph into the Mad Men set, change my hairstyle to a red French knotty thing and smoke like a chimney.  I’d sing with Sinatra or watch unusual art presentations out of Manhatten and inhale incense while listening to Peter, Paul and Mary.  This show is an absolute masterpiece.  It’s stunning and beautifully shot.  The entire cast resonate from 1960 into your home.  It is my aim to introduce the entire family to Mad Men before the Christmas season is over (and we are only at the end of season 1)  There are 3 full seasons and more being made!

3. Dexter:  Dexter, Dexter, Dexter.  How I love you.  The basic premise of this show is (in the words of my Sydney mate, Sarah) so ‘out of the box’, you can only sit back for the ride.  It’s almost impossible not to fall in love with Dexter (serial killer) Morgan, his sister Deb and the gang at the Miami PD.  Season 4 is almost finished in The States, so only the box sets of Season 1-3 are available to purchase at this stage.  This is a violent show, but the layers of morality, character dynamics and family make it easy to almost ‘ignore’ the blood and focus on story telling.  Wonderful stuff, but adult warning applies to this one and Six Feet Under.

4. The Sopranos:  Chatting to a lady about Tony & Co. at school the other day, she said ‘the mafia thing really puts me off watching The Sopranos.’  I totally agreed with her.  The idea of sitting through six seasons of Godfather-like tv didn’t appeal until I was encouraged to watch it.  The Sopranos is riveting viewing.  Again, its strength is gained through story telling.  The characters involve the viewer (and they evolve) and the standard of acting is supreme.  The big ‘themes’ are dealt with – ethics, family, religion, crime.  Fabulous television, with a language warning as well.

5. The Tudors: I wrote a BSB edition about The Tudors here.  Gorgeously filmed, fabulous costumes, attractive casting and (mostly) accurate historical content reward the viewer over three seasons.

So why put up with free-to-air television that never runs to time, reeks with advertising and is about as fresh as last year’s plum pud?  I hope the five ideas have helped to inspire some creatively fun small-screen viewing over the silly season.  Don’t sit too close to the screen!  You’ll get square eyes!

Veronica Lord, Guardian.

When Veronica was almost 20, she was given an exciting opportunity. Her favourite pop group, The Eurythmics, were in town and she scored some tickets that were eight rows from the stage. On the floor, among the true fangirls and boys, in an era when a ‘mosh pit’ was simply a sweat box.

The year was 1987.

After much encouragement, Veronica’s mother O’Meh Lord allowed her youngest daughter to attend the concert too. Laura Lord was so excited. She had the perfect hairstyle for the day (self-cut, mohawk-buffed, with long, swanky sides) and a fabulous over-shirt that could be belted at the waist above her jeans. Massive earrings, chunky costume jewelry and the white court shoe for dancing.

She was set. Veronica took considerably less time to get ready, choosing a lurid blue silk shirt (over-sized, belted, of course) to wear with her groovy white pants. They were going to see The Annie Lennox.

In the tradition of Mothers & Daughters, O’Meh spent considerable time schooling Veronica about the fact that Laura Lord was only sixteen, hadn’t been out much in large groups and would be the youngest attendee in a concert-going mass from Veronica’s part-time job at Pizza R Us.  In other words, ‘you are her older sister and you need to look after her.’

Now I’ve mentioned before that O’Meh Lord is a smart woman.  However, there are several aspects of Laura Lord’s social life that she didn’t know at that stage – and probably doesn’t know now!  It’s not to say young Laura Lord was sneaky!  No.  Merely creative. While Veronica Lord was too busy playing netball, touch football, spinning records and enjoying her own social life to worry much about her younger sister and her habits.

Being the responsible near-20 year old that Veronica was, she listened to O’Meh.  She nodded, eyes glazing over slightly when curfew, alcohol and transport were discussed – Veronica assured O’Meh she had it all down pat.  Taxi to Pizza R Us, share a lift into the venue, see the concert, get a lift back to the restaurant, find a cab.

Released of parental guidance and homely surroundings, Laura Lord went mad.  As temporary guardian, Veronica found she had little control over a younger sister who was more worldly than her – so Veronica being Veronica went along for the ride.

As soon as The Eurythmics hit the stage, Laura Lord was one of the first out of her seat, rushing forward in front of a crowd of thousands!  Ok, it may have been hundreds, but she was VERY assertive.  Veronica followed her, fearing that she would be taking a Sister Pancake home to O’Meh and Lordy that night.  Showing signs that she wanted to mount the stage with Annie, Dave and the band, Laura was cautioned by beefy security, so Veronica went in to protective mode.

Fearing a reprisal of Altamont, Veronica buffered her body between Laura’s, the stage, the surge of the crowd and the bodyguards.  She was almost like Kevin Costner, although not so receding of hair!  Veronica and Laura stood and danced like that the entire concert – sweating – but Laura nearly pulled Annie Lennox off stage when she bent down to take a flower from someone in our group.

Veronica was wishing she had left her guardian duties at home.

After the concert, Veronica spoke to her work colleagues, suggesting she couldn’t ‘party on’ due to having her younger sister along.  In 1987, there were no mobile phones to call home, night clubs/bars had a strict (ish) over 18 policy and Veronica was still a little afraid of the Wrath of O’Meh.   Apparently, she is in 2009, fictionally speaking.

Laura Lord stamped her feet.  Sort of.  She demanded to be invited along to the closest nightclub – the salubriously named ‘Drongo’* – and Veronica, fearing a tantrum of hair-gel proportions, had no choice but to acquiesce.

This was turning out to be a harder gig than Veronica Lord had anticipated.  No wonder O’Meh and Lordy had such passionate interactions with Laura on a regular basis.  She was a handful.

The group boogied for hours on the dance floor of Drongo.  Arms were flung in the air, heels clunked against the parquetry floors, perspiration sizzled from streaks of diamentes and eventually wrecked the BOOF of all hair styles.

It was a huge night, but by the end of it Veronica knew there would be a shite/fan interface – 80s style.  O’Meh would be furious about the time and the ‘state of her girls’ – sweaty, disheveled, a tiny bit intoxicated *hiccup*, but home in one piece and happy . . .

until they met their mother at the door.

In Veronica’s defense, she didn’t let Laura pash a boy (or a girl) against the wall in Drongo.  Nor did she let her younger sister drive, strip, inject, have a fist fight or tattoo her face.  She was perfectly safe!  Even if, as older women, Veronica and Laura discovered that Drongo had been an ‘underworld’ venue during the 80s, and was the site of a fatal stabbing sometime in 1987!

Veronica Lord, Guardian!  An oxymoron?  Or just a moron?

* The real name of the night club has not been used to protect the miscreants.

Some family members have commented that Fiona from Squirt Baby achieved the impossible by getting me to agree to Fabric Shop* with her.  I mean, what the hell?  My only association with materials of pretty cloth involved (the mandatory) attendance at a quadrangle of sibling weddings during my youth.

Even then, I broke out in allergic rashes when mum forced me to wear dresses.

Seriously, I’m not a fabric type lady.  It’s not a genetically-inherited thing, it’s just a thing.

But now, something equally extraordinary has happened in this Ongoing Process of Turning a Sporty Spice into A Layday!   Consider the evolution:

• I went the fabric shopping last November (will do anything to get out of that this year, but luckily Ms. Squirt Baby seems too busy)

• Becoming a Dance Mum.  Costumes, gaudy make up, sequins, pantyhose, hair gel, prancing about.

• AND working on a clothing market stall!

Yes, that’s right.  This womanly woman has been lucky enough to be invited to help oversee (run, manage, sell, chat, work the room) the fabulous Squirt Baby market stall this weekend.  Obviously my bud has seen that I’m a very feminine, petite sales assistant, thought to herself ‘this gal is wasting her talents NOT working in retail with pretty things,’ and decided to give me a go.

I’ll be proudly representing SB at Mathilda’s Market on Sunday.

It goes without saying that I have a veritable database of knowledge regarding sizing, patterns, cottons, bobbins, overlockers, poplin or gingham questions and/or washing instructions.  Obviously I will be the Go-To sales rep at the stall and I am expecting most of the difficult questions to be handballed (see, sporty) from Fiona over to me.

Initially, I intended to buy a heap of Fangirls!!!!!! and The Deleted Scenes and set up my own Micro-Stall next to Squirt Baby.  Just so the shopper looking for a groovy, beautifully made designer piece of children’s clothing could have something to read as well?

Um, NO.  Apparently this very specific, highly-sought after market space is only open to the collective creative geniuses wot makes kids cloves.  Would-be writers can go to buggery, apparently.

No, that’s not true either!  I do wonder if the Squirt Baby stall would take on my dance costume efforts and sell those in order to bolster the Christmas coffers?  At reduced, previously-loved rates, of course!  Now if someone were to ask a question about the ‘Beach Baby’ floral dance outfit or the sleek ‘Crazy Little Thing Called Love’ leotard with aqua trim, I would definitely be the Go-To Gal then!

The market stall?  It should be loads of fun!  And some of the family readers out there who may be skeptical about the Ongoing Evolution of Turning a Sporty Spice into A Layday process, just remember:

I brought my wedding dress within an hour of looking

Happy weekend, and good shopping everyone!

* Fabric Shop has been capitalized to emphasize importance