I know it’s not polite to talk politics, but I couldn’t help but feed my family $2 sausages for lunch yesterday thanks to the sausage sizzle down at the local polling booth. Despite his qualifications as billionaire, professor and prime minister hopeful, there was something about Clive Palmer that said ‘Big Kev’ to me.
I had a catch up with my blogging posse recently. They were talking about something the young people are engaging in- insta something or other… Something about uploading photos to an audience who congratulates and praises you. Sounds radical to me. I don’t have an iPhone, so am posting this weeks photos on my blog for an instagram effect.
I don’t know if instagram allows you to have captions???? Here I am sabotaging paleo diet devotees with vanilla cupcakes from Burrow, West End.
And artful cappuccino froth from the Coffee Hut, Indooroopilly.
Don’t tell my Edinburg Chrystal, but according to Georg Riedel, Riedel wine glasses offer optimal opportunity for the wine to exhale and breath, showcasing the qualities of the aroma. Apparently, it’s all about the complexity of the aroma. The next bit is revolutionary- according to Riedel we should be drinking our red wines cooled so that we get the full mouth feel and the freshness of the wine.
Fortunately, my au pair was in on this, and kept putting my red wine in the fridge.
Thankfully, my husband has returned safely from his stint in Papua New Guinea. Despite his reassurances that the bus he was travelling on was equipped with a gun, I was a little nervous about his wellbeing. Particularly knowing that the travel guidelines recommended he speed directly to an airport should he accidentally bump into a car whilst driving- given the risk of retribution.
According to my husband, when he approached a PNG government employee for information he required, the employee suddenly shouted ‘fire’ before hitting the fire alarm button, and exiting for the day!
I was born in Papua New Guinea. My parents worked there for several years in the 70s and 80s. My memories are minimal. I remember my mother donating her freezer so that our housekeeper could freeze icepoles to sell streetside. My mother recounts stories of frequent robberies and danger, and the requirement for a guard 24/7 (my husband informs me that now the politically correct term is ‘guide’).
My husband brought me this ‘Gucci Premium’ perfume home from his recent visit. It’s hard to imagine that this perfume equates to about 50 days of a local wage.
So did anyone else indulge in polling booth sausages? Anyone on instagram who doesn’t have an iPhone? Should I get in on this? Are you drinking your red wine chilled?