~ Apollo Bay ~

Mirage magazine and AFM have been consuming all my writing juices.  For respite we decided to escape to the country/sea for the weekend. In the hills of Apollo Bay we observed seven rainbows, there was one that danced around the valley...

Melbourne Eye

It might have been the first day of winter but with a bom recording of 19 degrees it felt like the cold May had begun to thaw. With that in mind I wanted to sample the gigantic wheel that mounted the Yarra river so close to my office, a perfect lunchtime activity.

Possum watch

Walks in the dark towards the light...

So it's been pouring down with rain all weekend, I'm bored shitless, I have no place to go and no one to go with. It's Sunday and I've not done anything creative all weekend, I feel guilty. I decide to smoke a joint and take a walk, with my ipod for company and my camera for stimulation I head out into the night looking for inspiration. First I encounter a man hoovering in a place near the bike track its illuminated and the concept of the voyeur engulfs me, I start snapping away hoping to get a great stalker shot. Alas nothing comes and he disappears from view. I continue into the dark and play with the idea of filming myself under the light from the lamp post the idea is essentially good, but I feel self conscious and the images remind me why I'm not a model. I try out different locations, the garage, the street, it becomes less successful. I remove myself from the picture and focus on what is in front of me, the way light and dark play with the camera... here are the results...









What I like about Melbourne are the contrasting buildings, the architectural styles are so vast for such a young city. I wish I had a better camera (and better photo shop skills), in the darkness provides limited information, however the images offer a suggestion as to the community around...

Sydney Road Street Party

Sydney Road festival clears the streets of cars and trams and offers the community a chance to wander around freely on the otherwise congested artery road that leads into the city. With a wide variety of music on offer from rock'n'roll, folk, hip hop, beat boxing, reggae, soca to 30s swing. The vibe was friendly, with a multicultural and inclusive flavour, lingering at each stage, cafe, sound system I happily soaked up the atmosphere, people watching can be so much fun.

Posthumous consideration of China, part one - getting lost amongst a sea of service points

China has the largest population in the world and the fastest growing economy, when the prospect of traveling to China first entered my head I was fearful, almost put off. Yet in my 30th year I had faced no challenges, and had failed to mark the event in any way. This was to be my marathon, my big party, and an acknowledgement to myself that I had reached womanhood. In fact my 30th birthday was such a flop that had I failed to make a go of China, lost all my luggage, been robbed and come home I doubt I would have come close to how I felt on that fateful day. In fact China on the contrary scarcely proved any of my preconceptions, it was much safer than London, even as a tourist. The scams were much more subtle, the tea house ploy, where 'language students' invited you for (ridiculously) overpriced tea in order to become better acquainted with the cultures and accents of our gracious land, only to present you with a rather large bill. Fortunately this scam was only played out in certain hotspots and aimed at the more masculine of the species, one with a penchant for cute Chinese girls, of which there were many. I did however get accosted fresh from the metro station - looking every bit the tired vulnerable tourist, it was when I was asking a guard for directions - two women with quick tongues became rather interested as to where I was headed and wanted to show me where to go. There friendliness baffled me, as it didn't tally with their hardened faces, it wasn't my prejudice but my natural instincts operating effectively. I declined and pressed on, yet still they followed me up the road maintaining their faux friendly manner, proof that they wanted something from me. That was Beijing, in a large population, there will always be an element of people who will try and make money from deception. Two separate guests at the hostel (both male) became victim of the same tea (or one case coffee) plot during my stay.

China on the whole is extremely safe, especially when it comes to theft, no one likely to mug you, although there was a glut of pick pockets in Xi'an. The culture lends itself more to trickery and entrepreneurialism as a means of income, which is fine by me. Service points are useful on occasion, although have a tendency to be overpriced. Arriving fresh off a sleeper train in Leijiang I encountered a sea of 'entreprenuers' all offering the same service at varying prices and language barriers, which was intimidating. Especially when you're the only 'white face' and there are 60 of them, it's 5am and still pitch black, I’m desperate need of a pee, so I carry on walking, straight past the vultures wanting to make bread and look for a different service. A bus perhaps, but there is no station guard and barely anyone speaks English. I have just been to the loo with my backpack still attached, there is no safe place to leave it and the floor is disgusting, struggling to get my jeans back on I realise half the liquid didn't make it into the hole in the ground.



Wanting to get out of here I search for the meanest guy who looks like he may have stepped foot out of the province, and ask him the necessary information. Shocked by my attempts to converse, he delivers his response without hesitation. I’m on the bus, and haven't a clue where I’m going, when to get off, what to look for, who to ask. I merely pull open the book and point with a tired smile to anyone that will entertain. Someone tells me to get off, unsure whether it's a ploy to get you into their brother's bakery for buns, I hesitate, a relaxed hesitation mind, I’m waiting to gauge reaction - the bus grinds to a halt and everyone is waiting for me to exit. I’m now wandering the streets asking school children for directions; there English tends to be more advanced than the average adult. They seem bewildered by my presence and offer a finger, mostly aimed in different directions, it appears they do not know, but want to save face. It is a given that Chinese people out of politeness will offer a solution/answer even when they have none to give. So I found myself wandering round aimlessly 'like the great economy rocket of China, not knowing where I was going'. I came upon a hotel, which was open, eventually the hostel I staying at, sent someone to come and collect me, I was about twelve minutes away, not bad considering. The hostel is a Naxi house near the foot of the Himalayas, I want to sleep and shower, but its daytime and it's too cold/early to face showering outside. I don't change. I eat fruit and head off into the mountains, stepping back in time to a small village where I meet Dr Ho, a famous Chinese herbalist and a wonderful man, warm and welcoming, although less enthusiastic to my Japanese companions. I watch the cows being herded down the street, gaze up at the snow-capped mountains and drink baiju with the local men, they stare at us eating rice noodles. I feel privileged to be at this very point in time and wonder how long this place will remain as it is.

Carnival Fever?

Sunday’s carnival bought the sunshine and indeed the crowds; we embarked on the overground to Kensal Rise after a cycle from London Fields, and bus to Hampstead. After the strained yet predictably long journey westwards we encountered a leering gaggle of London Transport officers. The only conclusion I could draw was that they’d just escaped from a laboratory conducting tests into the use of the hormone testosterone; the sight of girls in ‘carnival’ styling’s was almost too much for them to bear, overwhelming to say the least.

It was busy, we light-heartedly hadn’t planned out route and headed straight into the throng, carried along I witnessed several bemusing sights. It became quite fraught when trays of noodles and chop suey were overturned due to overcrowding. Musically there was lots on offer, although not enough to keep me at a particular sound system for any length of time. The gentrification of the area has led to the reallocation of historical sound systems or the obliteration of them altogether. Red Bull maxed out there marketability by cramming lots of electro trendies in one high fenced area and dosing them up on Vodka Red Bull all day, not a bad ploy. Good times was blocked off by 4pm, which vetoed my bank holiday pacing’s out of the picture.


Highlight of the carnival was undoubtedly filling my impoverished belly with Jamaican grub, after a Friday straight through to Sunday at LED (more write up to follow) it was like returning from the desert to find water.

Carnival queens resting up

This lady was responsible for keeping the barrier up, good job.

Overexertion was a common theme.

Literally streets piled with rubbish

DJ slash foodstall holder making it work, by working it

Fort Knocks

It was good to see all colours, shapes and sizes

Our escape shot, we exhaled as we crossed this bridge, phew no more crowds.

A Rose in Blossom

Bianca Rose sister of Natalie Rose (one of my closest and best friends) got wed to the wonderful Kenny last week; it was a momentous occasion full of love and sunshine. The days celebration was packed to the hilt with music - live band, singing, solo performances including a rather amazing rendition of My Baby Just Care for Me by Nina Simone - and dancing - synchronised on-mass shuffles, dance offs, all female walk offs, the whole shebang.

This being my first African wedding I found it difficult to control my fascination, a sensory overload especially where the clothing was concerned. I haven't been allowed this close to people wearing such wonderful and exotic fabric before, everyone looked so regal in their outfits. I studied in detail the intricate folds in fabric from dress to head wrap and pattern versus colour.

I was a great fan of the one fabric/colourway for all tradition; this had quite a striking effect when standing out from the crowd.


The food was fantastic, I gorged on jollof rice, fried fish, wedding cake and festival*. I witnessed with glee, a slender looking man eat NINE of the *heavy doughnut balls and come back to fill his napkin for the journey home, dedication to the cause - Michael and I managed three a piece and couldn't do anymore.

The beautiful and inspiring Natalie (Bianca's sister and my connection to the wedding) in her Maid of Honor ensemble.

The family have many talents, Bianca in particular is an accomplished yet extremely modest singer songwriter, who has for the last year at least taken a break from performing/writing. Now the wedding is over she can focus on her singing, what a waste otherwise. Check her out performing What Will Remain from her Truths & Tiny Tragedies ep of which I'm lucky to have a copy, email me for a lend. You can also see her charismatic chat here and vocals here.

The Not So Secret Garden Party

Fortunately the lake was still in place, as was the pagoda although this time seriously oversubscribed with a massive wait to get onto (we commando style climbed over the fence one night as the queue was so severe). The events capacity had increased into another large camping field, which had a knock on effect as to the amount of people trying to get into more popular areas - which remained the same size. There were however a growth in tents to counteract this, yet some remained fairly unpopulated throughout. 

The camping crew - Jess, Matt & (new girl) Indi.
Jess calls me at Friday at 9pm, 'I'm inside where are you?' Weeks ago there was talk of her coming, but not a snitch since, needless to say her surpise arrival caused a massive boost in the already positive moral.
Swimming in the lake was monitored this year and was a civilised affair, the weeds ruled the water and had a definite touch of Ophelia about them - although this picture suggests a more comedic element.

Taken about 9am on the Sunday morning, we'd been scaling the den for hours and decided to retire to the comfort of the lawn and the distraction of the impressively loud mobile sound system. Glancing up we note a boy, he's wielding a giant sheep and surreptitiously launches it off the citadel, glorious.

For those unfamiliar the suicide Olympics it's a series of games set around a hill it's aim - to get down the hill quickly and in one piece. My favourite was the use of plastic sheeting, water and fairy liquid creating a giant albeit dangerous slide. We winced as we watched Matt going down in a wheelchair, it's 10am, he's wearing no bottom's and hasn't slept for two days.
A journey into the psychedelic and an daytime passed, we board a rather beautiful 1950's Ferris Wheel.  It's just the three of us, we squeeze into the carriage and the ride begins. This moment suspended in the air high on life, looking out at the world is easily the most paradisiacal of the entire festival. Thank you Secret Garden Party.