some more inspirational sources
Getting an email from Ms Ottoman reminded me of reasons to get back here and blog. But, um, I'm not that great with specifics, updates etc.
Griffith is so unusual. It is at extreme risk of turning into a dustbowl, given it's inland locale, check out wateristhenewgold big Hart project. However, as a small town (24,000) it is pretty much perfect. For starts, it's soooooooooooo Italian, like Norwood in the bush, or 1980s Norwood relocate to the country. The main street is a long block to promenade along, plenty of Italian cafes and ristorantes, including one that I am eyeing out called Dolce Dolce that is located in an art deco walled shopfront, like you find on the main road of Katoomba. Am actually going completely crazy on the cuisine here. Had a prosciuotta and mozzarella sandwich from the mainstreet deli and the owners found out I was an ex-Adelaide girl (what part? Oh, Norwood. Go for Adelaide Crows? oh, prefer Port Adelaide? You like Adelaide United? We follow Melbourne). Football code allegiances sorted out I continued shopping.
My theory that an op shop tells you a lot about the town proved true. Quality labels were at the local Vinnies, as was good service, good prices and even a bit of rounding down. The locals were so well dressed, gorgeously groomed, great shoe shops, people sitting outside sipping lattes (or Lardays as the man at the airport ordered yesterday morning), it was perfect.
That night Andy and I sampled the fine food at Frangelicos, watched The Caterpillar Wish at the Regional Theatre (where we saw some fine 1920s photography documenting the heritage) and finished off at La Scala, which was a restaurant barely visible from street level, housed down in the basement, and at 9:30 at night was completely full of all the cast members of The Sopranos. We drank coronas at the bar whilst waiting for our toppo and panna cotta. Admired the view (Carlton Football Club bar runners; tromple d'oeil on the walls, beautifully dressed couples and families, one hot bar tender). There were heaps of staff, all on the plus 25 age, and you wouldn't want to mess with any of them. Staggered home.
Today revolves around swimming in the pool, coming up with decoration ideas for Andy's pad, watching Synney, also want to check out the local art crowd's exhibition to see if it's any good, and later on have to eat pizzas with the boss. Even the local deli is completely stocked up with all my favourite brands from Argos. Italians-they've got style.
oh, and inspirations?
Ben (Beautiful Ben, states Andy, who understands how almost-perfect Ben is) called me up last night as we were about to enter the restaurant. Unaware I was in another state, he asked where I was (at work? at the pub? you're not at home because I've just driven by there), and what time I wanted him to come over and perform a bolt cutting operation to liberate my bike. So we chatted, arranged a time, felt sad that I couldn't do it all (ie have fun in Griffith AND in Hobart) and I refrained from suggesting his babysitting services were required by Miss P (who needed mood management to recover from her "bipolar" misdiagnosis).
Oh, and in regards to having 2 hours free in Sydney to spend with Sydney friends-completely fucked up. At 815 sent the text around to 3 friends and received replies from all within the day, all chastising me for lack of notice. Frustrating to be so close but so far apart. Reggie was having her last day at work before starting maternity leave, Luke was heading to Cowra, Greta was sleeping and Iffy loves married life (All responses demonstrated an allegiance to home and hearth).
so, looking forward to next weekend's visit from leperman and the mrs, can't wait to show them the cygnet/glaziers bay area; and the old bookshops
Griffith is so unusual. It is at extreme risk of turning into a dustbowl, given it's inland locale, check out wateristhenewgold big Hart project. However, as a small town (24,000) it is pretty much perfect. For starts, it's soooooooooooo Italian, like Norwood in the bush, or 1980s Norwood relocate to the country. The main street is a long block to promenade along, plenty of Italian cafes and ristorantes, including one that I am eyeing out called Dolce Dolce that is located in an art deco walled shopfront, like you find on the main road of Katoomba. Am actually going completely crazy on the cuisine here. Had a prosciuotta and mozzarella sandwich from the mainstreet deli and the owners found out I was an ex-Adelaide girl (what part? Oh, Norwood. Go for Adelaide Crows? oh, prefer Port Adelaide? You like Adelaide United? We follow Melbourne). Football code allegiances sorted out I continued shopping.
My theory that an op shop tells you a lot about the town proved true. Quality labels were at the local Vinnies, as was good service, good prices and even a bit of rounding down. The locals were so well dressed, gorgeously groomed, great shoe shops, people sitting outside sipping lattes (or Lardays as the man at the airport ordered yesterday morning), it was perfect.
That night Andy and I sampled the fine food at Frangelicos, watched The Caterpillar Wish at the Regional Theatre (where we saw some fine 1920s photography documenting the heritage) and finished off at La Scala, which was a restaurant barely visible from street level, housed down in the basement, and at 9:30 at night was completely full of all the cast members of The Sopranos. We drank coronas at the bar whilst waiting for our toppo and panna cotta. Admired the view (Carlton Football Club bar runners; tromple d'oeil on the walls, beautifully dressed couples and families, one hot bar tender). There were heaps of staff, all on the plus 25 age, and you wouldn't want to mess with any of them. Staggered home.
Today revolves around swimming in the pool, coming up with decoration ideas for Andy's pad, watching Synney, also want to check out the local art crowd's exhibition to see if it's any good, and later on have to eat pizzas with the boss. Even the local deli is completely stocked up with all my favourite brands from Argos. Italians-they've got style.
oh, and inspirations?
Ben (Beautiful Ben, states Andy, who understands how almost-perfect Ben is) called me up last night as we were about to enter the restaurant. Unaware I was in another state, he asked where I was (at work? at the pub? you're not at home because I've just driven by there), and what time I wanted him to come over and perform a bolt cutting operation to liberate my bike. So we chatted, arranged a time, felt sad that I couldn't do it all (ie have fun in Griffith AND in Hobart) and I refrained from suggesting his babysitting services were required by Miss P (who needed mood management to recover from her "bipolar" misdiagnosis).
Oh, and in regards to having 2 hours free in Sydney to spend with Sydney friends-completely fucked up. At 815 sent the text around to 3 friends and received replies from all within the day, all chastising me for lack of notice. Frustrating to be so close but so far apart. Reggie was having her last day at work before starting maternity leave, Luke was heading to Cowra, Greta was sleeping and Iffy loves married life (All responses demonstrated an allegiance to home and hearth).
so, looking forward to next weekend's visit from leperman and the mrs, can't wait to show them the cygnet/glaziers bay area; and the old bookshops
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