You know it's a good party when ...

You go to a lot of effort. You invite everyone you know (and some you don't). But how do you know if your party has been a success?

One indicator is that despite pledge to the contrary, it has taken 3 days to recover sufficiently to blog again .... But perhaps that has less to do with the quality of the party than the quantity of the wine?

Was it that there were several people who said they would drop in for an hour or two and stayed for the duration? Or the willingness of musicians to play and the crowd to sing along to a medley of Christmas carols?

No - perhaps the success of the party can best be demonstrated by the discovery of a pair of frilly knickers behind the hedge the following day.


How did they get there? Who left them? And in what circumstances?

Despite the vast quantities of alcohol consumed, this was definately a family friendly show. There were people taking up almost every square inch of the back garden - sitting and chatting, playing boulles, and generally having a good time. So what is the story with the knickers?

My Beloved and I have been perplexed by the whole thing. Was there some illicit nookie happening that we were completely unaware of? And if so, who? While there was an appropriate mix of gender attending it must be said that opposite sex attraction was definately a minority preference. Of those heterosexuals attending, there were a few couples - most with kiddies in tow - for whom illicit nookie would have been a definate non-starter.

Said item was also far to girlie (and too small) to have been cast aside with gay abandon.

So the mystery remains. Any suggestions anyone?

Party preparations ...

Scrub, scrub. Clean, clean. Tidy, Tidy.

What the @$^# do I do with this? Erm, erm ... bin.

Ah - a convenient empty drawer! Dump, dump, bugger, bugger, full.

Shop, shop. List, list. Where did I leave the damned thing? Never mind, think, think ... think?

Fairy lights UP! Stockings UP! Tree UP!

Are we ready?

Quick one ...

This blogging every day thing is actually quite tough! Congratulations to all those who managed to do it throughout November while (or perhaps in spite of) growing those completely ridiculous moustaches ... well, the blokes that is.

Or in some cases, maybe not ...

This will have to be a quick one as my Beloved and I are in a frenzy of preparation for our Christmas Party being held on the weekend.

My traditional Christmas open house has been going on ever since I arrived back in Adelaide and has been a great opportunity to catch up with extended family and friends over the Christmas period. A smallish, but enjoyable gathering where once again the familial group will turn up, have a great time and vow not to let it be so long before we all catch up again ... a vow which will, of course, be broken as everyone continues with their busy lives until next year (weddings, landmark birthdays, baptisms and funerals excepted).

However, this year will be different! Since Chez Moi has become Chez Nous the gathering will also include my Beloved's very extensive contact list. At last count I believe around 439,516 invitations have been issued ... goodnes knows how many will turn up but we are expecting a fair crowd and can't wait to host our first party together. The familial group won't know what's hit them!

So it's on with the cleaning smock and back to my "to do" list for now ... more on the party anon!

Klutz-R-Us cont...

As I have previously mentioned, I am something of an accident waiting to happen. My previous post on this subject detailed a small altercation with my bedroom door resulting in split eyebrow.

My Beloved (who at the time was simply the recently acquired Love Interest) thought this was a one-off incident and the type of unfortunate accident that could happen to anyone. He has learned differently.

From the split eyebrow, to the blue ink incident and the simple daily trips, knocks and falls it has become apparent that I am genetically designed to find ingenious ways of damaging myself. I blame my mother who is herself prone to this sort of thing (recent sprained ankle from taking the rubbish bins out; broken arm from fall on pavement; ability to effect straight-jacket type arrangement with dressing gown etc. etc.).

The latest incident concerned a cigarette lighter. Well, to be more specific it was a cigar lighter in stainless steel resembling nothing more than a small blow torch. My Beloved (knowing my proclivity in this area) was at pains to point out to me that fingers and hands must be kept well away from said lighter to avoid damage so the last time I used it I was very careful to ensure that it was pointing away from all vulnerable body parts.

The only problem was that I was holding it up-side-down.

Let us say no more ...

My Beloved has started to call me "Midvale" in reference to our favourite Far Side cartoon. I suppose if the klutz fits ...

*Sigh*

Round and round we go ...

One of my more interesting experiences over the last month or so was to participate(in a small way) in the making of a short film destined for Tropfest and other film festivals (Cannes anyone?). Produced and directed by the delightful S & J, it was a wordy little art piece starring (of course) my Beloved Mumford as "Stan" and filmed at the historic carousel down at Semaphore.

We arrived bright an early (well, I was bright and it was early) on location - the first there but soon joined by the wonderful crew and the carousel custodian. This wonderful old man knew everything there was to know about the carousel and needed only slight encouragement to expound on its history, features and maintenance to anyone who would listen.

Unfortunately, there was little time to sit back and listen to an interesting yarn. Determined to be helpful, I immediately got stuck into taping cardboard and yards of black material over the dormer windows to exclude the natural light while my Beloved and his leading lady were made up, costumed and coiffed. At the same time lights, camera and sound were being prepared by those who actually knew what they were doing, and S was running through the quite complicated blocking with her two stars. This was particularly challenging for my Beloved as while the leading lady really only had to sit on one horse, he had to move from one to the other on cue - all the while reciting some very stylised and quite tricky dialogue.


At last we were ready to shoot, choosing (of course) the final scene to start with. This is where the real work for us unskilled crew began! The carousel had to move, of course, but slowly. Much too slowly for the mechanism so all carousel moving had to be done by hand.

The Custodian, the Writer and I became the carousel pushing team (being otherwise redundant on set), charged with getting the thing going smoothly, keeping it going at a dignified pace and - most importantly - keeping out of camera shot! Not as easy as it sounds as moving the damned thing was basically the equivalent of push starting a medium sized car. And no grunting please ...

Actually, we discovered that pushing it in its intended direction was not too bad. The difficulty came in pushing it back - which had to be done for every take and, of course, every time an actor fluffed a line. Which, given the wordy nature of the script, happened with back breaking frequency.

STAN: But you haven't given me another chance! (actual line: But you haven't given me a chance)

"Carousel back!!!!" Heave ...

STAN: But you haven't given me a chance! (Incorrect pronunciation of "chance" with short rather than long 'a')

"Carousel back!!!!" Heave ...

STAN: But you haven't given me a chance! (Perfect delivery, marred only by plane going overhead or truck rumbling past)

"Carousel back!!!!" Heave ...

Fortunately all this pushing back and forth was interspersed with frequent breaks (as my Beloved says - the catch cry of film making is "Hurry up and wait!") and fabulous food supplied by the Writer. Bugger the diet! Expending this amount of energy surely entitles one to a chip or two ...

Naturaly the shoot went over time, so by the end of the day we were all looking a bit like this ...

The exhausted team were all treated to a bang up meal at the pub - congratulations all round and a fabulous day.

And I get my first film credit ...

Secret Men's Business

Well, it's official. My Beloved (aka Mumford the Magician) has been cited in the local rag's daily gossip column as a "man about town".

Ah, what images that simple phrase brings to mind! Debonair, certainly. Charming, witty and a raconteur of note. Devastatingly handsome and (for the ladies) slightly dangerous to know? A person to see and be seen with...

Of course most of this is completely true ... but one wonders if the Advetiser would have been quite as ready to bestow that particular soubriquet had they seen this ...

"Look what I've bought" my Beloved said excitedly as he joined me at the pub a month or so back. "It's like a portable office! It has room for my phone, and my book and sunglasses and ... oh yes, here's a little pocket for my wallet and I can put my pens here ..."

"It's a man-bag" said I, stating what was patently obvious from the first glimpse.

"No, no!" he said, horrified. "It's just like a small briefcase, except with this convenient shoulder strap ..."

"It's a man-bag" I repeated, lips twitching as I tried (unsuccessfully) to keep a straight face.

"It's genuine leather ... " said he, in a last ditch attempt to justify his purchase.

"It's a man-bag."

At this point we were joined by several of our gay friends who, after greetings all round, spotted said item.

"Oh look!" one said. "Mumford has got himself a man-bag!" There several were oo's and ah's as the man-bag was displayed and it's (admittedly) convenient features explained.

"See!" said he, triumphant. "The guys all like it!"

"Yes" replied one of the group. "But no self-respecting homosexual would ever actually be SEEN with one. It's just TOOOOO camp!"

To date the man-bag has endured, despite the fact that I tend to burst into peals of laughter whenever I see it.

My Beloved carries it off with panache, though. Maybe something only a Man About Town could do ...

Pledge

I admit it - I have been a slacker when it comes to my blog. Mea Culpa ...

To make amends, I've decided to challenge myself with my own version of Nablopomo and post something every day between now and Christmas. That way I might catch up with all that is happening!

Stay tuned ...