Forget Bad Santa…this is bad Nora. Bad Nora has hit the 22nd of December and failed to meet the Christmas card postal deadline. To my overseas readers I would like to add special remonstrations of regret and embarrassment, having gone to the particular effort in November of purchasing Amnesty cards, OS stamps and airmail stickers. They are coming…and so is Christmas and obviously we know which will arrive first!

I was driving the streets of Canterbury yesterday evening – along the Ridge to be precise – to once more glimpse the amazing circuitry created by a local resident. According to the statistics he used 30, 208 lights, 9km of wire and 72 digital channels to create an incredible sequence which includes house interior/exterior, roof of house, garden shrubs and tree. There is a collection tin on the fence, not for the power bill but for the Lighthouse Foundation – a charity in aid of troubled youths. I believe this has been reported elsewhere on the blogosphere but do get out of the car if you go!!

Finally I would like to wish my readers a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. If my own Jack Russell Terrier would only pose nicely I too could be sending these out.
Ciao for Now.

What's the Color of Your Blog Personality? Quiz at About Web logs and...

My Blog Personality's True Color Is... RED It's all about passion, heat, and intensity. I take pride in my strengths and I learn to deal with my weaknesses. I like to blog about things that really matter to me.

You are Charlie Brown!

Which Peanuts Character are You?
brought to you by

It completely slipped my mind that I hadn't reported my most recent theatrical adventure. I went to a matinee with my mother (which seems apt) and we were both dazzled by the Melbourne cast. It was the kind of show that as soon as you walk out you want to see it again, and even weeks later I feel the same way. Obviously many of the production values came straight from here but the local cast gave it a certain cred that really worked. Reg Livermore, Tom Burlinson, Tony Sheldon and Grant Piro performed brilliantly as did Bert Newton and Chloe Dallimore. I had seen the movie as a child but I recently hired the video and saw the mastery of Mel Brooks as if for the first time. It is definitely worth another look to see Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder as Bialystock and Bloom. Read about it here

Norabone has not jumped on the Olympic Games bandwagon. I have always been indifferent to the games and in the past, tried to avoid them, apart from an occasional swimming final here and there. I shunned the self-congratulatory medalists (of all nations) as well as the new found patriots who obnoxiously trumpeted the latest metallic achievements on every airwave.
"Citius, Altius, Fortius"...than what? Or whom? I am still baffled that an Institute of Sport was set up in this country to achieve success after a team returned home without gold one year. To give us more credibility as a sporting nation? Is that important? And if it is so important why hasn't it filtered down from the elite, effete athletes to the wider population which struggles with childhood obesity and increasing death rates from diseases caused by insufficient exercise, not to mention an excessive intake of calories? I was dismayed (but for some reason not surprised) at the level of corruption involving officials, that is required to secure the games by host nations. In my own lifetime I have probably never witnessed a drug-free Olympics competition, so in the end what's the point?
Well someone seems to think there is one, and if you're living in Australia you can see coverage on this network or over here. My personal entree to the games, since Sydney 2000, has been via Roy and HG. For those seeking news without the taint of national pride the official Official Olympic games site may be more appropriate, and informative. Disappointingly for the organisers, attendance seems to be well down despite the magnificent venue and near-perfect weather conditions.
On Athens. Australia's media circus, government spokesmen, ex-athletes and Olympic officials were all very keen to say the venue would never be ready or suitable or match the level achieved by Sydney and were, of course silenced by the success of the opening ceremony. I have one tiny criticism myself. The person responsible for the design of mascots Phevos and Athena toying with various drafts, accidentally submitted this to a desperate merchandise department, who in the absence of an alternative went with it. Brave. Greek deities, eh? Okay...
No Norabone has definitely not jumped on the bandwagon...just a short ride on the tailgate.

A site I am drawn to for all the wrong reasons is Albino Blacksheep. They seem to specialise in Flash animation and if you follow the links you need the sound on. The first is one boynton sent to me some years ago. Seems harmless enough...
This next one has certain crass appeal but one of my particular favourites is Pie Hole. Browsing around Albino Blacksheep you'll find some bizarre animations not to mention the 30 second Titanic, The Shining and The Exorcist - starring bunnies. Most diverting - particularly if you've got broadband connection. I wish!

I had a particular reason for watching the telecast of this on Saturday night having got wind that important family members were going to be there. Chuh. I watched in vain. The telecast didn't happen due to bad weather but I hope they at least got to see some play. Of course we're all hoping for a Philippousis win today.
In the meantime I ignored the oncoming symptoms of a head cold (timed perfectly to coincide with the commencement of leave) to go and see a movie. Paying the price today-Ech-cough cough-but it was worth it!

Last night I bought a third class ticket to a first class performance of the G&S masterpiece 'The Mikado'. I was sitting in the State Theatre Box G which is as close as you can get to the ceiling without touching it. Acoustics up there were incredible, but it is no exaggeration to say that the performers play to the gold class seats approximately mid-stalls. Sitting up so high gave me a fantastic view of the machinations of the very clever set, but I missed the intimacy of being able to see the performers' faces. I know this because after the Interval or as I heard one punter ask: "How long is Intermission?", I moved to one of the marvellous vacant seats in A Reserve. Wow!
Not to put too fine a point on it, there were moments in both acts which were quite sublime and I felt tears welling with the familiar, nostalgic stirrings that music can often induce. Why are those Gilbert and Sullivan operettas so comforting? The rest of the audience seemed as overly familiar with the work as I was, yet the performances byAnthony Warlow (Ko-Ko) (a National Trust Living Treasure), David Hobson (Nanki-Poo) Judi Connelli (Katisha)and other cast members and chorus were as fresh, vibrant and exciting as you could hope to see. The synopsis is available here and if you want to try the sing a-long version there's a Karaoke site.
It seems that Opera Australia is once again having funding and sponsorship issues but the performance I saw was probably only two thirds of a capacity audience - a terrible shame for such a great show.

what kitchen utensil are YOU?
You are a fridge! You can keep your cool, even when faced with a heated situation. You enjoy being the center of attention, and people come to you for advice or when they want something. People also like to stick things to the front of your body.

once again via boynton

...and the good news is that the cook book turned up. Alas, no reference to Oysters. It was probably in the NMAA afterall, as was this diary quote: I walked home again with great pleasure; and there dined by my wife's bedside with great content, having a mess of brave plum-porridge and a roasted Pullet for dinner; and I sent for a mince pie abroad, my wife not being well to make any herself yet. Samuel Pepys 1662

It's one of those times when I really want to put my hands on something and of course it isn't where it should be. This time it's my copy of a nineteen sixty something version of the PWMU (Presbyterian Women's Mission Union) cookbook. You see a significant milestone has been reached by the PWMU this year. The publication of the 100th edition of what I consider a really useful recipe collection. It was in the currently misplaced book where I learned of the necessity (extracted from some colonial source)of boiling oysters for some hours before consuming - yech. It has a spiral binding and there are sections such as 'Chutneys, Pickles & Sauces' which are particularly stained for easy reference.
The current edition doesn't seem to have the spiral binding or a front cover straight from the gallery of regrettable food. If I don't find the missing tome I may be forced to cook recipe 3712 Baked Artichoke Hearts from the NMAA (Nursing Mother's Association of Australia)Cooks Again collection. First ingredient: 2 x 400g cans of artichoke hearts...

Norabone is a very rare female name.
Very few females in the US are named Norabone.
Be proud of your unique name!
source namestatistics.com

James and Mary Smith are looking smug - albeit a little common.
via boynton

Some weeks ago now, whilst visiting Zuerich I was given an Easter gift by my Swiss hostess - a Swiss chocolate bunny. It seems that this iconic figurine is not only a prominant celebrity in Swiss lore, it is now the subject of the Austro-Swiss bunny war! Now the day has almost arrived when I can eat it. She also sent one for boynton who has come close to eating hers every day since it arrived. I've had to distract her with other (inferior) chocolate treats and miraculously the other gold bunny is still intact.

An interesting French Easter legend:"...The flying bell--cloche volant--comes from an old French Catholic tradition holding that on Good Friday all of the church bells in France take off and fly over to the Vatican in Rome, hauling with them all of the misery and grief of those who mourn Jesus' crucifixion. Then the bells fly back to France on Easter morning, and in place of the misery and grief, they carry lots and lots of chocolate in the shape of rabbits, eggs and . . . bells!"

BTW Today is dog registration day.

I am the Natural Number e I go with the flow _

what number are you?

this quiz by orsa

via boynton

During my recent European adventure I couldn't help noticing the BBC was running a poll for the Top Ten British Sit Coms. Voting is now in and apparently tonight (local time) Jonathan Ross will announce the winner. Averil will be watching and I agree with her it is a very hard choice with so many sentimental favourites to choose from. Personally I'd have bumped Blackadder out to number 11 and brought Father Ted in. Waiting in anticipation for the final result but the program advocates were most convincing. I watched the recent Ronnie Barker tribute program and hope it gets a run here in Oz. It was extremely moving and had some hillarious moments from his career.

Are retrospective posts allowed? Of course! There was a day whilst in Umbria, our first with the hire car, when we set out in search of scenery and found it here. We drove around the lake, and found more medieval structures and dwellings as well as a hospital located with one of the prettiest views you could imagine. In the same village was a public toilet which, according to Averil and Ross was better avoided.

Melbourne in autumn is a wonderful place to be. Just got back from a swim at the Doncaster pool where the warmth of the sun and the water were about the same. It really is a lovely time of year.

Driving home from Tullamarine airport in a taxi I listened to talk-back commercial radio on the topic of the terrible taxi service in Melbourne. I was going to say "Hey mate can you turn this up" but thought better of it. The caller who rang in recounted this story.
Caller: Yeah I'd had a few so I hailed a taxi and said to the driver can you take me to Keysborough? He wasn't sure of the way so he took out his Melways and I showed him the street and he drew a circle around it. I fell asleep and when I woke up the first thing I saw was a sign 'Phillip Island 10 kilometres'. I said, "Mate where ARE we?" He said, " I dunno."
Talk-back host: What did you say after that?
Caller: I couldn't say on air.
TBH: How much did the meter say?
Caller: Over $250.00
TBH: Did you pay him?
Caller: When we got back I gave him $60. I said I'm not payin' for your stuff up...

Incidentally I shared a plane ride with Barry Jones from Singapore to Melbourne. He in 1st Class moi in economy. My shameless eavesdropping allowed me to glean in the transit lounge that amonst other things he had visited Reggio Emilio on a fact finding mission no doubt for educational innovations.

Lucky me! This is still on and no amount of curiosity will induce me to go and see it. My own inclinations tempt me elsewhere.

I'm sitting in the 'Chances' bar located in a hotel in a city somewhere in South East Asia. This is one of those spots where guests meet for drinks, rendez-vous or wait for their airport transfer. I was checking my emails (an obsession of mine as Ross and Averil will attest) with the added bonus of bar service and - happity hocks for me - it's happy hour. Or so I thought until the couple singing got into full swing. He plays piano and sings. She sings. Her name is Emelda. As I sat down it was "Unforgettable...dat's what you are, and forebber more..." quickly followed by "Wooden Heart" (including the German verse sung with a Chinese accent) played with the built-in rhythm and baby grand set on 'swing' beat. "Fernando" with a twiddly piano instrumental , "Please release me", "Killing me Softly" (and soooo slowly)...OMG there's more...'Spanish Eyes'. THIS IS TORTURE OF THE HIGHEST ORDER!!!!!!!!!! I'd almost prefer the sleazy internet caf round the corner with the sticky, dirt-coated keyboards. Mercifully the live music's been replaced by tapes now, so I can enjoy my G & T in peace. Mmm.

Am Dienstag sind wir zu Luzern gegangen. The destruction of the bridge by fire in 1993, caused by a ship's funnel moored beneath, robbed the world of a series of 14th century paintings. A couple survived, some charred boards and the rest - gawn. Mt Pilatus overlooks the city which is populated by men and women, like those in Rome or Paris who are simply the last word in chic. The men are not only extraordinarily attractive but have the most alluring aroma - a scent which is distinctively Swiss and sexy as! We consumed eine meiste typisch schweizerische Mahlzeit - Fondue! Back in Rüti, a Tina Turner standard was playing on the radio. My hostess informed me that she, like so many others, is a Swiss resident. My final purchase was some delectable, (again distinctly auf Zürich) macaroons from Café Sprüngli for the folks in Den Haag.

My trip to Zürich was mit Swissair, the first in my experience where snacks/meals had to be purchased in hard currency (Swiss Francs oder Euros). There was a complimentary choc just prior to landing which was pure bliss. Regrettably I had left my essential communication tool at home in Kew, so a copy was purchased in order to facilitate conversation with my affable Leipzig-born hostess. She is a most energetic woman who met me at the airport and whisked me straight to Zürich bahnhof where we deposited my bags in a locker. Then an alpen zug to Uetliberg, the nearby peak which overlooks the city. Early March is still a time for snowsports, so skis, sleds and snowboards were de rigeur. Tramping boots also, and luckily I was equipped with a pair. After a short hike to the top Wir hatten Hunger so we lunched, Swiss-style with Wurst, Rösti und bier. Es war sehr lecker.
Walking down again after lunch was not so successful. Was it the beer? My first slip was a spectacular arse over tit. Fortunately my jacket is well padded. HOW EMBARRASSING! Within ten minutes another - this time - the splits. I can only blame the norabonesque element because my hostess was zipping along in these, through snow and ice!
Once back in die Stadt we strolled around the city and Zürich See, listening to an Aryan band playing this then home to Rüti.

Today the sun came out, the snow was melting. What better pursuit when in the Hague than to hire some bikes and explore? We rode along many sludgy paths, through thawing, snow-covered parks and fields where deer were roaming and eventually ended up back at the beach. The only logical thing to do was buy some freshly cooked fish and chips and soak up the atmosphere. Like any bike ride though, you have to ride back again. This was when the thigh muscles started to tense up and just when it seemed impossible to rotate the pedals any further, our destination - Centraal station - loomed into view. Recovery then included some therapeutic ciders at the local before staggering home to a lovely hot bath. Ahhhh.

Remember not so long ago I spent some time in London? I stayed with my relatives Mile End Milly and co. and whilst there I was reintroduced to that marvelous institution The Archers. This radio serial is of itself a damn good reason to emigrate or should I say "go home to the old country"? It's positively addictive (as MEM will attest) and I know the depth of her addiction - The Archers calendar on her kitchen wall notes all births deaths and marriages of Ambridge and according to a text I read: The Archers are real - there is no cast! I even saw an Archers wooden spoon amongst the kitchen implements.

I didn't mention where we stayed during our Roman holiday/Assisi sojourn. Whilst in Rome we were at the Palladium - where else? Whilst in Assisi - eh! Seize the day indeed!! (by the throat and shake vigourously) I didn't mention that we've observed the shortcomings of BBC World TV from a number of countries now, where it is often the only English-speaking service available. One of their catch phrases begins "A little knowledge shared..." It should end with "results in all of us knowing even less of a very little bit." Sorry but it is such a load of shite we even find 3 handed cribbage more amusing.

Recently I had a sulk regarding an inability to blog about Firenze. Now that I'm back at home base - Den Haag - with the luxury of broadband connection I find the reflection a little hazy. We made straight for the Galleria dell'Accademia where we found this surrounding the much anticipated chap. Stanford University has a hand in the obstructed view.
We then went to the duomo - as well as strolling the streets and the famous Ponte Vecchio.

Today we visited another medieval city - Perugia - shrouded in cloud and drizzly all day. Perugia is the home of Baci chocolates...it means "kiss" y'know! We didn't even sample any of these delicious local delicacies on account of it's winter, and like here in Assisi - EVERYTHING IS CLOSED!!!

After a most frustrating attempt to blog at this internet cafe I concede defeat. My lengthy hyper-linked post on Firenze was thwarted by a computer crash. In a sulk I will describe the journey home. Picture the setting. Ross driving (admirably I hasten to add) the hire car as we hit Peak Hour. It's raining. The roads are unfamiliar. Fortunately you can't do much but follow the signs - well marked - to the A1. Destination Roma (except we have to find the Perugia exit).
We then had the motorway, dark, heavy rain, roadworks and Italian drivers. This was beyond a white knuckle experience. This was fingernail divets in the palms. Ross stayed cool and calm. Averil and I were unusually tacit and when we finally arrived in Assisi were still shaky and jittery an hour later.

Currently in Assisi. Our days in Roma were very busy as we explored the Colliseum, Pantheon, Forum, St Peter's Basilica, Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps. Hyperlinks to follow when I'm less hyper.
Assisi is truly medieval. More anon.
*Hyperlinked as promised.

My uncle Knuckle gave me a book some years ago. Today I went to the most comprehensive exhibition of the artist's work and was dazzled. The gallery contained an incredible collection of Escher's drawings, woodcuts and lithographs with an interesting slide show, as well as a virtual 3D tour de force via a visual head-set with sound which explored the works animated and digitized. Wow!
Then a visit to the prison gate museum where I heard of the unspeakable fate of Cornelius and Johann de Witt in 1672 - a black year in Holland's history.
Tomorrow we three are off to Assissi (via Roma). Ciao for now.

Since arriving in the Netherlands I hadn't actually ventured to Amsterdam until today. Leaving the station I followed a series of canal paths until I reached my first destination. There were many quotes to read as the visitor wandered through the house.
"I want to be useful and bring enjoyment to all people. And therefore I am so grateful to God for giving me this gift of writing, of expressing all that is in me." - AF March 25 1944.
"One single Anne Frank moves us more than the countless others who suffered just as she did but whose faces have remained in the shadows. Perhaps it is better that way; if we were capable of taking all the suffering of all those people we would not be able to live."
-Primo Levi Auschwitz survivor 1986
"Some of us read Anne Frank's diary on Robben Island and derived much encouragement from it." - Nelson Mandela 1994
"One of the wisest and most moving commentaries on war." - Eleanor Roosevelt Universal Declaration of Human Rights 1948.
Later in the day I visited two more museums.

Our Lyon experience bore a strong resemblence to this but without the guiding hand of Patrick we managed okay. For a weekend in February we were lucky with sun peeping through and no sign of rain or snow. The basilica overlooking Lyon has many stairways to its summit and we trod our way to the top. The views were incredible and quite different to the ones we'd had the day before. Our final day in Paris was more or less devoted to browsing and not buying.

I spent a four day weekend in Paris and Lyon. A song was stuck in my head. A song I hadn't heard for perhaps 30 years. It came back with a flash of nostalgia while I was sitting in a Delft cafe last week with Ross, played on a weird cd collection of falsetto hits. Ross grimaced. I can't say whether I like it or not (well I can say actually - a dag's confession- I do)but the fact that I could practically sing along with every word (in my head) means I probably did once or I was especially receptive at the time I first heard it. So here it is. I can't tell in this mute internet cafe, whether this site has sound but the melody and singing style is very 'voh doh deo doh'.

Ross and I caught a tram today which took us on a short trip. We arrived at our destination at a time when the weather, at 10 degrees seemed almost tropical. The town has a charm enhanced by a strong sense of history - reflected in the old buildings and churches - and an absence of McDonalds, Burger King and Pret a Manger. We were informed on arrival, that Delft has much more to offer than pottery and the fame of being the original seat of the House of Orange. All true, but we made straight for this factory where we were given a personal guided tour and history. Strolling back to the main old town we stopped for a snack which has become one of my staples. We discovered a building which now occupies the site where Vermeer's house once stood.

There's nothing like a spot of weather to interfere with your travel plans. I've now struck my second 'rough patch'. Initially the take off was delayed (I won't bore you with the regular intercom announcements) by an hour. We eventually took off and were 15 minutes from Amsterdam when, due to high winds we were diverted to Dusseldorf to land and re-fuel. It was one of those highly dramatic, white knuckle landings which inspired the outbreak of universal passenger applause when we came to a final halt. While some doubts were expressed about getting to Amsterdam that night they decided to risk it. After a sojourn on the Dusseldorf run-way for an hour or so we took off and 40 minutes later arrived at Schiphol. Through customs etc. and in to the conveniently located train station where an eerie absence of trains or information loomed. Without explanation I was told to board the train to Amsterdam. (opposite direction to Den Haag) and to get off in two stops. Surrounded by bewildered passengers I joined the tightly packed throng. Half an hour later we boarded the train, then off as allocated. Another eerie wait (fewer people, abandoned platform, no information) then a train to Haarlem - not where I should be heading but the general consensus was that a train to Den Haag could be met there. Around that time the information was filtering through that widespread storm damage to the electrical supply had thrown the transport system into chaos. On the train from Haarlem now heading towards Rotterdam ten train officials suddenly descended to the doorway where I was perched on my suitcase and asked two travel-weary passengers to get out of their seats. More officials then appeared flanking an unwell passenger incapable of standing. One of the officials then appealed for anyone with a plastic bag as she eyed off the WS Smith bag containing my 'Country Life' magazine. The dazed, substance-affected passenger was handed the bag and surrounded by the guards. Fortuitously before the bag was required we stopped at Leiden and there on the opposite platform was a train to Den Haag Centraal. I leapt across the platform, sunk into my seat with a sigh then sat for ten minutes. Finally arrived back. Again, what should have been a routine return flight from London to Amsterdam taking roughly 40 mins followed by a train journey of half an hour became a nine(!) hour odyssey.

The Cecil Beaton exhibition was very interesting. The gallery itself is a repository for celebrities through the ages from the Tudors to Ricky Gervais. I could have spent all day browsing at the mostly British subjects. Today I leave the UK and relatives who have been extremely kind and generous in their hospitality.

My attempts to browse and create the usual hyperlinks have been thwarted today. Just a couple of items to report. My day began with a trip down memory lane, or to be more specific Roman Road, located somewhere here . It was a market day but the few stallholders had covered their wares because of the fairly heavy drizzle. This provided the perfect excuse for me to 'brunch' in a cozy caf, where they served breakfast all day. I chose the artery-clogging 'fiesta grill' consisting of: fried egg, fried sausage, fried bacon, fried mushrooms, fried tomatoes, fried bubble (with a smidge of squeak for vitamin content?) baked beans and two thick slabs of bread sliced off the loaf and buttered. All washed down with a cuppa tea. No way could I eat it all...but compliments to the chef. As the waitress gathered my remnants she inquired: "awright babe?" This provided ample fuel for the days activities. In the afternoon I roved with the London Eye as a light shower of rain coated every surface with droplets sufficient to filter every photo. A (slightly more) surreal experience followed with the very extensive (yes more than 500 items) Salvador Dali exhibition at the Saatchi gallery in the former County Council building.
Retail therapy was in order so Tottenham Court Road led me to Charing Cross Road and the famous shop where browsing was encouraged. Geographically opposite Borders (just like Readings in Lygon St. Carlton), this store offered four floors of publications.
* Note To my regular readers and intimates*
My email account is obviously being affected by the dreaded web lurgy. Can't access any emails today.

Confession time. I have reached an age where philistinism and museum fatigue are in equal measure. I spent a large proportion of the day here, here and here when all the time the sunshine and blue(ish) skies were drawing me here! I did notice there was a Cecil Beaton exhibition opening tomorrow at the National Portrait Gallery. Perhaps...

This morning I went to a fantastic Women's Library where my companion (a distant relative not on the Bone side) and I browsed through some early magazines for a trip back to our troubled youth - not to mention a bit of recovered memory. We studiously avoided the heavy feminist tomes. An excellent library! Then a short walk to the nearby gallery.

Yesterday I spent the afternoon exploring the windswept heights of Greenwich. Straddled the date line AS YOU DO. Browsed through the museum and examined the instruments. An afternoon is simply not enough time to spend in that precinct...hope to get back there but if not, perhaps in another 14 years.

Currently blogging in Leceister Square having just seen a matinee of this! "OMG LOL WTF?" as they say. It was pretty damn good and so thought the hundred or so high school kids I saw it with. (are they really the same species?) Their natural exuberance and the compulsion to text message was tamed by the riveting performances of Hugh Ross and Dominic Rickhards - not to mention female personage unknown. Now that my heart rate is gradually returning to normal I am almost ready to venture out again and face the tube ride home. Although it is very bright in here, and there are warm friendly faces...perhaps a moment or two longer...was very amused to read of the exploits of my own little 'Spider' aka Bronte over on boynton. Good to see she's still up to her usual naughtiness.

My hosts here at a Welwyn Garden City (with whom I share an ancestor or two) took me to a wonderful local museum today. The special exhibition was a collection of frocks, photographs and some memorabilia belonging to the late Dame Barbara Cartland - a local! Needless to say pink was well represented in a variety of shades, patterns and variations on a theme. It really WAS her colour. Other exhibits included Roman coins excavated at a nearby building site and artifacts representing wartime WGC. A great folk museum but the main attraction was the working mill. The guide started the mill running by opening the sluice gates and then showed us how the mechanism worked to grind the grain. A fascinating place to visit and the flour is used by local bakers and breadmakers.

Yesterday, the non-arrival of the ordered taxi was clearly a portent that Nora Bone ought not venture out this day. Hailed a passing cab in the absence of our own. Driver (almost gleefully) announced in Dutch there were NO trains leaving the Hague central station for Schiphol airport due to snow on the track. We suspected he was inching to drive us ALL the way...optimistically hopped out to await the train. Yes there were delays, but not cancellations so it arrived 15 minutes late. Fortunately had allowed plenty of time but anxiety levels really only lifted once we were underway. At the airport all seemed well enough...plane scheduled to leave as planned...then:-
1. Plane departure postponed half an hour
2. Change of Departure Gate - merge of 3 flights into 1
3. Announcement: Ladies and Gentlemen (pause) Unfortunately, due to the weather there is a delay of an hour and a half before we can take off because of the backlog. We will serve refreshments shortly.
4. Announcement : Ladies and Gentlemen (pause) Unfortunately, due to a catering shortfall we are 20% short of food. If anyone would like to forego their snack we would be most grateful. Loaves and fishes I'm afraid.
5. Announcement : Ladies and Gentlemen we hope those of you who had a snack enjoyed your meal. Unfortunately, due to heavy traffic at Heathrow we may be further delayed but will let you know as soon as possible.
6. Plane departed routine 40 minute flight. Plane landed.
7. Announcement: Unfortunately, due to a lack of grit on the stand there will be a delay...of...more than half an hour...but less than an hour...
8. Announcement: Ladies and Gentlemen (pause) Unfortunately,(universal passenger groan) due to our navigation equipment being turned off we have not parked at the stand correctly. Please resume your seats and I would remind you that as the engines are still running, DO NOT USE YOUR MOBILE PHONE. The cabin crew informs me that SOME of you are making calls!!!
9. Announcement: ...Unfortunately, we are just awaiting a ladder and coaches to convey you to the terminal.
10. Allellujah! Off that (expletive) plane at last.
11. Baggage carousel. Announcement: Passengers from Amsterdam flight blah blah blah your bags are on carousel 2...5...2...1...2 (yes a good half hour spent dodging pyramids of abandoned suitcases)
12. Finally bags and self reunited some six and a half hours later.
All over a bit of 'weather'...blimey!

Monday was brilliant sunshine and blue skies, again with the evidence of more snow falls during the night. With the lifting of the fog we could see the full extent of Salzburg's environs - Alps in the distance - and once again we were in awe of the natural beauty of this city - even in winter! Our tour guide for 'The Sound of Music' experience - a local - exclaimed that despite doing the tour daily, this was one time when he wished he'd brought his camera. Our four hour trip took in many significant locations featured in the film as well as the lakes and mountains of the Salzkammergut region some distance from town.
There were many Kodak moments!! Once back we had a final exploration of old Salzburg, before catching the train back to Wien.
Gathering my thoughts in the lobby of the ominously named Hotel Albatross, I couldn't help eavesdropping on a conversation between a Canadian guest and reception staff. Something about the hair dryer not working. Receptionist pointed out "There's a red BOTTOM you know. You have to turn IT on before you adjust the dryer control..."
Hummed the Harry Lime theme as we rotated then one last exhibition before flying back to Amsterdam.

During the night there were heavy snowfalls which continued throughout the day. This did not deter Averil, Ross and me from trekking in the snow to the top of Hohensalzburg fortress, begun in 1077 and expanded over the centuries until 1495. We took a guided tour and learned of the Archbishop princes and various moments of historical significance. One fascinating legend was that during a siege, although desperately short of food, they paraded a cow in front of the enemy. The next day they painted it another colour and paraded it again so the belief went out that there was plenty of food inside and the besiegers departed in frustration.
We explored the fortress for most of the day whilst snow fell continuously. Visibility was relatively short-range (we knew there were alps out there somewhere) but the unique atmosphere and beauty was at every turn as the snow blanketed every surface -selves included!
On our return walk back to the hotel as the light gradually faded I experienced a typical Norabonesque moment. These are occasions when I haplessly, clumsily draw attention to myself for all the wrong reasons. Another such moment occurred once at a Boynton family function. I was waltzing with boynton's father when, at a crucial moment I accidentally began to 'lead'. Instead of going with the counter-clockwise flow, my clockwise steps saw me spin awkwardly and end up flat on my back with both shoes flying off. One of boynton's sister's exclaimed: "Nora! I wish I'd had my video camera."
This time, walking a little ahead of Ross and Averil, my otherwise faultless tramping boots lost their grip in the snow. As I frantically tried to disengage both gloved hands from my coat pockets, I fell to my knees then: Boof! Face fully shoved into snow. As I STILL couldn't get my hands out of my pockets, there I stayed...flapping my wings, giggling helplessly as the ice packed my face and I imagined how it must look to my compatriots - mercifully the ONLY witnesses. Finally one gloved hand out, then the other I quickly jumped up and nonchalantly brushed off the snow. R & A were far more restrained than I'd have been. Averil did point out however, that in the hole where I'd landed she had observed the imprint of my nose.

Our long weekend in Austria was off to a cold early start as we departed Amsterdam 7.25am on Saturday. Not far from our destination, the announcement of the temperature in Wien of -9C induced an exchange of horrified looks. When we did arrive however, there was glorious sunshine and blue sky. Emerging from the U-bahn at Stephansplatz we were awe struck by the beauty of Wien's grand old buildings and monuments. Remnants of snow were lying about, the air was sharp and crisp as locals and tourists blended in a somewhat exclusive retail area. After shopping for the obligatory gore-tex jacket for Ross we then went to see an exhibition at the Leopold Museum. This contained mostly works of Austrian artists working in the late 19th and early 20th century. We spent the remainder of the day exploring the Museum quarter of Vienna prior to our 4 hour train journey to Salzburg - in a warm, cozy compartment. Our hotel, 'Via Roma' was quite convenient to public transport and walking distance to the old town.

My current bedside reading material contains the following oft-quoted passage: `When I was nine, my mother gave all my books to the Salvation Army. I was distraught. "But you've read them, Barry," laughed my mother, as if it were the height of self-indulgence to retain books after a first perusal. "I hope you're not going to grow up to be a selfish little boy." Sadly, I did.' Ahhh!
What I'm most enjoying though is the way it parallels the other autobiography 'More Please' which I'd recently re-read.

Pub trivia. Our 'local' which serves Strong Bow on tap and is literally a few hundred metres stumbling distance from the apartment was hosting 'International Trivia' on Tuesday evening. As three of the four paws of 'Barry the Cat' we took on the world. The competition was fierce. The host, a frustrated DJ interspersed music at every available opportunity. Not good. Not Dave. Not Jim. Not even Leon. A sign of the boredom levels were the third degree burns appearing at tables all around as participants played with the hot wax on their melting candles. Ours was no exception. We were never really 'challenged' until the round devoted exclusively to hits of 2003 arrived at which point we took an even greater interest in the candle. Not a total disgrace though as Ross and Averil came up with a correct answer each. No point on dwelling on the final result (we was robbed) but thanks to Ross's lucky ticket and my fortuitous selection we won the 'Star Prize' a 50 Euro voucher to spend at the 'ex pat' shop. Not to be put off we might try an alternative venue tonight...

Not all the streets of Den Haag are safe! Strolling around the retail centre today I was shocked to see these lurking outside an otherwise benign shopping outlet. A warning: Never make eye contact!!

Today we took a guided tour through the Peace Palace, located a short tram ride away from the apartment. The tour was interesting and informative, as the guide discussed Tsar Nicholas II's peace imperative in the late 1880's. He was apparently feeling a bit 'jittery' after the unification of Italy and Germany and the Palace was built as a venue for peaceful negotiations between states. Many of the features of the palace are donations from various countries, from mosaic floors to stained glass windows and even a solid oak ceiling held together by dove-tail joints.
In the meantime I have discovered via boynton that
Your are Dorothy Parker - a cute little smart-ass,
armed with rapier wit and agile hands. You run
with the foremost minds of your generation.
You are appreciated in your own time, as well
as after your death.


Which Dead Poet Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla
Yup.

My introduction to Den Haag today was accompanied by sunshine so we made our way to the beach with overcoats, scarves and a goodly proportion of the town's population. It was the place to be. En route we watched ice skating beside a canal, walked to the Centrum station and caught the tram to the beach. Walking along the beach was like a who's who where I even caught sight of somewhat timid version of Bronte. The only ones voluntarily swimming in the North Sea were black labrodors! An acrobatic miniature poodle revealed an impressive urinating technique of standing on it's two front legs and pivoting with both back legs in the air, like a rotating lawn sprinkler.

The streetscapes around here make me feel like I'm on the set of a Jacques Tati film. I have already heard a guy chatting on a mobile with excerpt: "ce soir?... Voulez-vous?" but with my abysmal French he was probably talking about hiring a video. Hah! Other noteworthy clichés observed: man striding down street wearing a beret with a baguette tucked under his arm...canine relieving itself outside hotel lobby. Can't work out which quarter I'm in but it has a fantastic ambiance.

Best T-shirt slogan seen today: "To lah or not to lah that is the question in Malaysia."

Flight to Singapore was without event other than the very public vomit by a kiddie on the check-in conveyor belt at Tulla airport. Enormous restraint shown by the hundred or so observers, including self. Tuning in to a local TV news channel my attention was caught by this exhibition but my squeemish sensibilities will probably propel me in this direction, in the few hours I have left here.
Another "news" item was a Japanese electronic device designed for people to pre-determine their dreams. With a combination of music, aromas, and as the gal in the item showed, a photo of he of whom you wish to dream...the devise chugs away as you sleep...
Then there was the local "Singapore Song" competition where young people have been encouraged to write and record the consumate anthem. My personal favourite entitled "Rap Lah" extolled the virtues of low crime, good education and a corruption-free government. Chorus : "Oh like that lah! Oh like this lah!"

Bags are packed...and I've heeded the advice "We can't stress enough how COLD it is right now." I have dutifully purchased boots, socks, thermals and dusted off the jacket. This leaves just enough room for a few essential items for my ex pat hosts.
One last task was to stock up on products for the ones left behind...

Chatting to a relative about my destination - Den Haag - she urged me to visit the gallery with 'The Girl with a pearl earring' - which inspired the novel by Tracy Chevalier referencing some of Vermeer's paintings which inspired the movie which inspired the truman music clip. Where does one start?...or stop?

Driving around today half listening to 774 Grandstand broadcasting from Adelaide. The commentator (name unknown) had Kerry O'Keeffe on the line to announce his commentary had been voted 'best of the series' for an exchange that went something like this:
Kerry: (Australian cricketer) is playing like a triple scotch.
Harsha: Ah Kerry. By that you mean he's playing a bit stiffly...blah blah blah...So Kerry, how many stiffies would you have in a night?
(TEN SECONDS OF EXPLOSIVE LAUGHTER)
Kerry: Well I'm 54 Harsha. I'll be diplomatic here and say...one.
Harsha: As soon as I said it I was wondering how you were going to handle that...
(MORE EXPLOSIVE LAUGHTER)
After the playback unknown commentator mentioned the dangers of giving Kerry an inch to which he replied "Yeah I'll always grab it." followed by that diabolical laugh.

In the throes of preparing for a trip to Europe, I was searching the London Underground website for the most convenient way to get from Heathrow to Relatives (somewhere in East London).