Christmas is coming, the Goose is getting fat

But do I really want to eat roast goose when it’s thirty degrees outside? It just doesn’t seem quite right; Christmas trees, tinsel, lights, and sunshine.

Christmas celebrations derived from a pagan festival, which used to cheer people up in the dark days of winter. In England, where December is cold and dark, bright lights and warming feasts make a lot of difference. The food of Christmas is designed to bolster and comfort: roast dinners, spicy fruit, warming liqueurs, and of course mulled wine.

In Sydney, where it doesn’t get dark until late evening, Christmas lights seem a bit of a waste. When it’s hot outside I don’t feel like eating mince pies unless they’re with ice cream. In fact, with the prospect of wearing a bikini always around the corner I don’t want to feast on food at all.

The trees all have their leaves, so there’s no real need for the evergreen Christmas trees and wreaths. Despite this, Australia still retains the Victorian British traditions of Christmas, but it lacks the atmosphere. The wrapping paper is still decorated with snowflakes, and Father Christmas still wears furs (though this could be argued is because he’s from the North Pole).

I don’t mind really. I’m enjoying the Australian summer and would be more at risk from homesickness if it was a fully atmospheric English style Christmas. And I fully intend to eat mince pies and Christmas cake galore when Christmas actually arrives. Perhaps it’ll be colder in New Zealand, where I’m heading in a weeks time.

Merry Christmas one and all!

My good opinion once lost is NOT lost forever

In Bend it like Beckham her accent was decidedly dodgy. There were far too many wooden moments between her and Orlando Bloom in the first Pirates of the Caribbean. Her fairly small part in Love Actually impressed me though, and her portrayal of Elizabeth Bennet in the recent Pride and Predjudice quite rightly got her an Oscar nomination. Ok, here it is; this morning I realised I am now a big fan of Kiera Knightley.

Those are words I never thought I’d type. She was the girl I loved to hate. Beautiful, certainly, but I thought talentless as an actress. Her improvement in each film has slowly softened my view of her, and last night I went to the cinema to see The Duchess. Nothing short of brilliant.

I don’t want to say too much about the film, as I want you all to see it, but it’s based on the life of Georgiana Cavendish, the duchess of Devonshire. Supported by a great cast, including Ralph Fiennes, Knightley made me laugh, cry, gasp, and generally feel every emotion with her. Fabulous.

It’s been haunting my thoughts all day, but now that I’ve written it down maybe I’ll be able to think of something else. Maybe.

Incy wincy spider, climbed up the practice room wall...

I had a little visitor to my practice room yesterday. After taking a few photos I decided to ask a fellow bass player about the danger of spiders in Australia. It turns out the spider I’d just been leaning down to look at bites, and it can jump…

Apparently nine out of the world’s ten most poisonous spiders are found it Australia. As soon as you mention it to an Australian, they’re quick to boast of a species called the white tailed spider whose venom eats away at human flesh. One person told me that you’re left with a permanent hole in your skin, and then someone else said amputation is the only answer. It turns out both are true. The ‘hole’ in the skin is described on the internet as ‘substantial recurrent local tissue necrosis with a deep rolled ulcer involving fat and skin and exposing muscle’. Yummy.

Looking at the internet sights, I don’t think I have too much to worry about. Most bites are not fatal, but just give a lot of pain. However, there is the funnel web spider which is found near Sydney: ‘male funnel webs tend to roam about, particularly after heavy rain in summer, and often wind up indoors.’ The males are the more poisonous of the species and their venom is highly toxic. Eeek. But they don’t jump, and there is now an antivenom.

When I returned to the practice room my huntsman friend had disappeared. I was rather wary for the rest of the day when moving any of my stuff. However, I refused on principle to change practice rooms. I’ve never allowed a spider to dictate my movements before, and I’m not going to start now. So there.

Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Stravinsky...who comes next?

Throughout history music has been used with the other arts to create entertainment. Opera was a popular amusement of past times, and the modern day equivalent would have to be film. The audience are allowed to sit and allow the sights and sounds to tell them a story. Film music is often looked down upon by classically trained musicians, but I love it. In my opinion, Howard Shore and John Williams bring orchestral music to the masses, just as Mozart and Wagner did in their time with opera.

I recently discovered a new channel for orchestral music. For some people, it is not enough to be stimulated by just sight and sound. They have to actually be involved in the action, and to dictate the events. I am of course talking about the world of computer games. Through my brother and his friends I was given a glimpse of this massive industry. They used to spend weekends in Oxford at LAN parties (local area network parties) where a hall full of young men would link their computers and play games against each other almost non-stop for 48 hours.

It can get a lot bigger than that though, and the music industry is catching on to this fact. A couple of years ago two orchestral concerts were performed in Sydney and Melbourne which sold out weeks in advance and still had people queuing on the day. They were concerts of the music used in computer games. A similar series was held at the Festival Hall in London last year.

When I heard of this, I imagined orchestral arrangements of the electronic music in games like sonic the hedgehog; not great concert material. However, after last week I can now say I understand the art of the modern computer game’s soundtrack, and therefore the appeal. A major games company, Blizzard, is releasing an album of their music, and I was hired to do one of the recording sessions. I spent the day at Fox studios in Sydney, recording two tracks.

Those of you who watch film DVD extras will have seen images of the recording studios where the music soundtrack is created. Picture a whole orchestra wearing headphones, listening to a click track to keep in time, surrounded by wires and microphones, and with a conductor at the front. This is what I did last Monday. A darkened booth to the side contained the composer and recording engineers, who communicated to the orchestra via the conductor, who heard them in an earpiece. It was quite disconcerting when the conductor first started conversing with the almighty shadows from the booth, rather like when you see someone talking to themselves and then realise they are not mad but just on a hands-free phone.

As for the music itself, I really enjoyed playing it. Good tunes, lots of loud bits, and excellent basslines. It had a lot in common with film scores such as Lord of the Rings, which are often a lot more fun to play than a lot of the ‘proper’ classical music of our time (weird dissonant compositions where if you can spot a melody you’re lucky). No, if computer games and film scores are the future of popular orchestral music I’m not complaining. In fact, I think I might buy the album of Diablo 3 when it comes out.

Hail to the bus driver, bus driver, bus driver...

Something which struck me in the first few days I arrived here was the pleasant Sydney bus drivers. It sounds a trivial thing, but it makes such a difference to the feel of a city if when boarding a bus you are welcomed with a smile and maybe a vocal greeting. Passengers do not hesitate to ask the driver questions about the destination of the bus, and if it is not the correct bus the driver will more often than not give directions to the right one. The pleasantries are reciprocated by passengers, as it is normal practice when getting off a bus to call ‘Thanks driver.’
I suppose the only other place I’ve used public buses on a regular basis is in London. The London bus system requires the passenger to buy a ticket before boarding, which seems to create the impression that there should not be any communication between passenger and driver. A lot of the drivers certainly like to encourage this practice with their rude and short responses on any questions. I obviously do not speak for every London bus driver, as some are very pleasant, but it’s quite a contrast to Sydney. I have actually found myself shocked when coming in contact with a moody bus driver here, as it’s so unusual.


I suppose that in a way bus drivers are ambassadors for their city. Who else do tourists and locals come in contact with every day? Shop owners perhaps, or taxi drivers, but their business may be affected by their manner. Not so with bus drivers. They get paid as long as the bus gets from A to B.


I cannot say for certain the reasons behind the pleasant Sydney drivers, but I can make a few guesses. The first is the fact that Sydney bus drivers are trained well. We had a talk at university orientation from the Sydney transport system. The drivers are well educated in the routes and zone system of Sydney, and are therefore equipped to answer questions from passengers. I suppose then that it is part of their job to be helpful.
Another reason might be that there is respect between driver and passenger. It is a relationship which seems to have gone sour in London, where I’ve witnessed many arguments at bus stops. Here in Sydney even drunk passengers at night seem to respect the driver, whereas in London they would be more likely to throw abuse.

The last explanation is the most simple. It is a fact that people are happier when the sun shines, and it shines a lot in this part of Australia. The passengers are happy, as it’s easier to get up in the morning when the sun shines through your window, and it’s easier to de-stress at the end of the day when you walk out of your office block/college into the a bright golden environment. I love riding the bus when the sky is blue, as everything looks gorgeous, and the drivers are allowed to appreciate that all day.


I’ve experienced a lot of new things since arriving here, but perhaps the most unexpected was this morning when an idea entered my mind; if bass playing doesn’t work out, I’d quite like to be a bus driver.
No, I must be more specific, I’d quite like to be a Sydney bus driver.

Wake up call: is technology unhealthy?

I had an excellent day today, but if you had told me that this morning I would not have believed it was possible. I set my alarm to go off at 7.45am on weekdays, aiming to get into college before 10am. As I lay in bed this morning I became aware of the fact that a)I had woken up naturally and b) there were people moving around the house. I’m normally one of the first up, so as my brain slowly registered this was not normal I decided to check my clock. 11.15am!

My frustration was immense. I had wanted to get four hours practice in before our afternoon orchestra rehearsal. I couldn’t get over the fact (as I kept telling my housemates over a rushed breakfast/brunch) that if I had planned to have the morning off I would have wanted to spend it doing something fun or interesting, not just sleeping!

However, as I calmed down on the bus to the city centre (12.16pm) I started to become aware of how good I felt. For once I was not yawning every two seconds, and my brain was raring to go. My hour of practice before orchestra was the most productive I’ve done all week, and orchestra itself was actually enjoyable. What’s more, at the end of rehearsal (5pm) when I’d usually only just have the energy to get the bus home I found myself setting up in a practice room for another two hours work.

I have not been sleeping well for the last couple of weeks, but I was not aware of quite how sleep deprived I was. It was actually a blessing that my phone alarm let me down (I’ve come to the conclusion I must have pressed something wrong when setting it). This has led me to think about modern lifestyles, and if relying on technology as much as we do is healthy. After all, what did people use before alarms or clocks were invented? They used the sun, and the cock crow, or just natural sleeping patterns. I totally rely on my alarm to unnaturally wake me each morning with the greek ringtone (it was the least harsh sounding one I had).

Going further, I recently read Dan Brown’s novel ‘Angels and Demons,’ in which he puts forward the idea of science and technology having an increasingly negative impact on the world. People used to rely on God, now they rely on science; the sun as a timing device and wake up call versus a piece of technology forcefully telling me what my schedule should be.

These thoughts are, of course, not going to stop me setting my alarm as usual tonight. However, I’m currently enjoying the fact that it’s 11.14pm and I still have the brain activity to be writing this. Yesterday evening I tried at 6pm to write one of my assessment essays and could not concentrate because I was so worn out. The essay is now complete, thanks to three glorious extra hours of snooze time.

NB. I don't have orchestra on a Sunday. I wrote this entry last thursday but have only just got around to uploading it (unreliable internet connection...and lack of time...)

An ode to Hottie

A comfort during long winter nights,
I cannot sleep without you by my side.
So small, yet such warmth,
We will never be apart,
My dear hot water bottle.

Australia's got talent...

Monday night is comedy night at the Fringe bar on Oxford Street (yes they nick London names here; Liverpool Street, Hyde Park, Paddington…and the funniest thing is that Oxford Street is the gay district). I’ve only known Fringe bar previously in its Friday night set up, complete with disco ball and Kylie tunes, so it was a pleasant surprise to find little candle lit tables and the smell of good food. Next time I won’t have dinner before going.

I say next time because, on the whole, it was a very enjoyable evening and will likely be repeated. There were two billed stand-up comedians and one ‘host’. The host was the reason for the phrase ‘on the whole.’ Each time he spoke I wanted him to stop, immediately. A wanna-be comedian with not much talent. In his first set he used the phrase ‘Yes we’re here at Fringe bar on a Monday night’ about eight times, but I’m not cruel and could forgive him monotony. He was probably nervous. No, it was his attempt at comedy which made me dislike him intently. He used the cheapest form of humour; making fun of people.

I admit that to make fun of Americans (as the first billed comedian did) or other groups of people is standard in a stand-up routine. As an audience you cannot be too defensive or sensitive, as you know they’re just playing on stereotypes. The headliner of the night filled most of his time making fun of himself. Great show.

The host, however, tried audience participation. He went around the front section of the room asking questions. When he got to our table he received such a cold response he knew to move on immediately, thank goodness. He hit his jackpot however on a couple on their third date. Many sexual innuendos followed, accompanied by many vulgar gestures. As the evening went on, he stopped using innuendos and just started being plain rude. It was like watching lad talk, but with the girl sitting right there. Not funny, just embarrassing.

I would not have wanted to experience the after date conversation, if there was any.

Old Jamaica: Worth its weight in Gold

I was meant to go to the cinema one evening this week, but it fell through. I’d therefore already mentally spent $10 (bargain Tuesday) so thought I could treat myself to something else.

What did my mind jump to? Food, naturally.

My landlord owns a little convenience store across the road from us, and I felt it was about time I paid it a visit. Now, those of you who know me well understand that I’m really bad at making decisions about food. I’m awful to go to lunch with because I will easily spend five minutes deciding over a sandwich filling. These things are important to me. There’s nothing worse than making a snap decision and then wishing you had what someone else ordered.

The plus, therefore, of food shopping on my own is that I can ponder as much as I like. I think I rather amused the girl behind the counter as I wandered up and down the aisles. As with most small food shops, the entire front section was taken up with confectionary, and mainly chocolate, so my decision was inevitable really.

With chocolate decided upon I then had to narrow it down to a particular bar. Mars bars and other really sweet creations don’t often appeal to me anymore, and especially not here when they are strangely expensive. My eye was caught momentarily by the famous American ‘Hersheys’ bar, but then I realised it was extremely thin and also costly.

The real treasure trove was in the Cadburys section. In the UK we manage such variations as ‘fruit and nut.’ Here they have Black Forest, Tiramisu, Crème Brule, Rocky Road…and then I saw it. The flavour I’ve always dreamed would be a chocolate bar: Rum and Raisin. Decision made.

When I got it home I found myself sitting on my bed simply admiring the package. It’s bigger than the average chocolate bar at 250g, and therefore has a heavy old fashioned chunkiness about it. I feel as if it should have been carried home in a brown paper bag by a little girl in a duffle coat and buckle shoes. The paper wrapping gives it a nostalgic feel, the dark gold shine promising something exotic inside.

I broke off six small squares, and how did it taste? Yummy. It’s rather like fruit and nut without the nut, with a hint of alcoholic flavouring, and the chocolate is gloriously dark. A real taste of ‘Old Jamaica.’

I find I enjoy chocolate the most when I savour every bite. Therefore I am going to slowly devour the whole bar over the next week, piece by piece, one indulgent chunk at a time…

My Desert Island

Setting up house is an interesting business. Luckily for me, I moved into a furnished place so I didn’t need to buy a bed, desk etc. Some American students are on exchange here for one semester (three months) and are renting unfurnished apartments. Mad.

Having said that, I’ve still had to buy a lot to set myself up. My philosophy when I started was to think ‘desert island’. What is the very least I can get away with? Bedding was non-negotiable, but I managed to mess up that simple task. The first night I was so cold that I hardly slept, despite wearing a full length top, hoody with hood up, tights underneath my PJ bottoms and socks. What I neglected to think about was the fact that houses here have no heating, so it’s pretty much like sleeping outside. The next day I went and bought a big duvet. That night, still attired in my many garments but with an extra layer, I was warm.
Then came the kitchen. My landlord said I had to get my own stuff to save arguments. So, desert island; I need a knife, and a pan, and really a bowl and plate would be hygienic, as would cutlery, mug, storage containers…

So you see, it starts to accumulate. I was going to do my laundry tonight (we have a washing machine, and I bought washing powder) but realised I have nowhere to dry it. Tomorrow I will buy an airer.

I’m hopefully going to stay here the whole year though, so it’ll be worth it. My flatmates are all very friendly. Most have moved here from East Asia (I’ve already picked up some Chinese cooking tips) with a couple of Australians thrown in for good measure. Ha and right on cue the girl in the room next to mine just knocked on my door to give me a present. A handmade Chinese luck charm which is now hanging on my wardrobe.

Coffee and Cupcakes: A dangerous combination?

On my first day in Sydney I had both breakfast and lunch in cafés. The café culture is big here. Really big. Everywhere you look are advertisements for deals on raisin toast and coffee, doughnuts and coffee, banana bread and coffee…but worst of all is the little cupcake bakery in the city centre, five minutes walk from my college. In the window is the sign: a cupcake and coffee, for only $5.
So, for a mere £2.50 one can indulge in the most delicate, rich and flavoursome cupcake, with a hot drink of choice. There are vanilla, chocolate, banana, carrot, sticky toffee…each topped with thick swirled icing to complement the sponge. My chocolate chilli taste sensation went down very nicely with a pot of tea; the perfect pick-me-up. This could easily become habit.

However, is it as harmless as it seems? Yes, my waistline might suffer a bit, but doing several hours of bass practice a day would keep that under control. The danger is in the long term effects on my purse. Say I indulged in this deal, or a similar one (cinnamon raisin toast is to die for) as a break from practising. I practice six days a week.
$5 x6 = $30 a week
$30 x 52= $1560 a year.
If I was doing my whole four year degree out here, that could drain me of way over $6000. That’s £3000.
Those little morsels of delight are not looking so innocent now, are they? That cupcake money could pay my post-degree rent for over six months in London. Having an extra half a year in which to find a job could ease up the pressure a lot.

Maybe I’ll invest in a cupcake tray and bake my own, or perhaps I’ll just visit the bakery once a week…

G'day

So, here it is. At the advice of my brother I've started a blog. Help us all.

My reason? I'm studying in Sydney, Australia, for a year and want to keep people up to date with my life and my thoughts. Round robin emails can be tedious (I did this....I did that...) so as an alternative I plan to use this space to record thoughts and observations during my time here.

Don't know if anyone will read it. Actually, thinking that they won't will probably make me more likely to write stuff. But if you are reading, then enjoy!

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