The Passion is back

It was only a matter of time and quite frankly I am suprised it's taken this long. I discovered Passion Pop in a can on the weekend at the Mingenew Races.

It had been about eleven years since my last sip, swig or guzzle of the Pop, and I have to say I was pleasantly surprised.

It's no Veuve or Bolly, but it was delish none the less.

If the young fillies track side are a barometer, the repackaging has seen Passion Pop make a come back.

That's the thing about Passion Pop, as I learnt many years ago, it just keeps coming back...

A closed book

I've given up the Book. Cold Turkey. Well if the truth be told, I did have a look over the husband's shoulder a few nights ago, but I am no longer participating in Facebook.

The Book was starting to trouble me. Had Facebook changed? Or had I?

Don't get me wrong, I had no problem with others knowing my business, it was other peoples business that was making me uncomfortable.



DISCOMFORT # 1.
I was "friends" with teenage children of friends. Children who should not be having sex, much less posting details of it on Facebook. Children who are too young to be using the C word that rhymes stunt. Children who most definitely shouldn't be talking about the "gear" they're lining up for the weekend’s party.

DISCOMFORT #2.
Ultrasound pictures of foetuses. Perhaps it's because I am not a mother that I don't understand why anyone would post an ultrasound picture of their developing foetus on Facebook. To me there are some things that are deeply personal and for me my womb is one of them.

DISCOMFORT #3.
People are a lot ballsier, or perhaps just a lot ruder on Facey. I found that some people were writing things that they wouldn't dream of saying to my face.

In the beginning I adored Facebook. It quenched my insatiable desire to know everything that was going on in everyone's world. The Book also helped me reconnect with some old mates. But over time I realised there are reasons why they're "old" mates. (Not to be confused with mates I've had for a long time!)

Since bushing the Book, my productivity has soared in the office and at home. I have had far more, what I like to call "voice-on-voice" conversations with gorgeous friends and perhaps most telling of all I have stopped thinking in status updates.

It's been delightful to hear fabulous news on the old fashioned "grape-vine" and it's a lot easier to take unpleasant news when someone tells you to your face rather than accidentally stumbling over it on the Book.

I'm not the first to give up Facey and I will not be the last. And it may not be a permanent move. But at this point in time, I am happy not knowing what you cooked for dinner.

And I'll bet you're just as happy not knowing that I bought yet another pair of boots.

To market, to market

Farmers Markets are super popular here in the West right now and the Geraldton Farmers Market is small but fabulous.

I'm not a hippie and I don't have a thing about eating organic tucker...I just LOVE all the beautiful produce.

Farm eggs, Vietnamese veggies, pickles & jams, mangoes from Carnarvon, pot plants and even chooks for sale!

I bought some olive oil soap and this baby pink snapper. YUMMO.

It got us thinking...we know a town that would kill it in with a farmers market, and we just might be able to come up with something to sell too!

Cheap and Chic

Short and sweet today, I simply wanted to rate the Red Carpet at the Alan Border Medal last night.

Snaps to the Cricketers WAG's, who, in the whole, were exceptionally beautiful and very classy. Chic.

I especially loved Amy and Kirsty Hussey and Lee Furlong.

It's hard not to compare them to the AFL WAG's who appear to channel Dolly Parton, who once said "You'd be surprised how much it costs to look this cheap."  Think Brynne Edelsten and Tanya Buckley.

Fast money

I have a penchant for fast food. I pretty much love most things that come out of a bain-marie. Crab sticks, hot chips and toasted sandwiches are my favourites.

And I have a confession to make. I really do like crumbed chicken, cheese sausages.

I don’t eat them often.

In fact the last time I had one was at the end of ’09,  at Roebuck Plains Roadhouse.


My beloved just about had a coronary; it was a side of me that he had never seen. My deep dark secret. I justified my choice by claiming the worst hang over I’d EVER had (It was pretty nasty) and I have never again ordered one, such was the severity of the scolding.

Having just confessed all that, I’m a little bit miffed by my absolute horror at the number of people driving in and out of a certain fried chicken shop next door to my office. It starts at about ten o’clock in the morning and doesn’t let up ALL DAY. I’m not even sure if it’s open at ten- people could be queuing to get in?

I wish I could bottle the smell that wafts through the air conditioner in the morning, as the children who work there change the oil. I would distribute little vials all around Geraldton.

Guaranteed, no one would eat there again.

My horror is partly at the number of people eating there so early in the day, but, at the risk of sounding a little bit uppity, it’s partly at the sort of person eating there so early in the day. I’m sure you don’t need me to paint you a picture, but I have included one with this post just in case you’re not sure what I’m getting at.

Cashed up bogans are partial to sucking on a fried leg, however in the main, from my astute observation, it looks as though it’s the low income earners in town who eat there.

This miffs me too.

The only reason I can think of as to why they’d shop there rather than across the road at the very nice family run and significantly CHEAPER fish and chip shop, which also does fried chicken, is that next door you do not have to get out of your car.

I don’t for one second think that I’m living in a glass house, but HELLO lady in your hotted up 1992 Commodore with your “Fuck off we’re full” bumper sticker and noisy exhaust! You NEED to get out of your car.

But rather than encouraging Commodore lady out of her car to burn off even a couple of those chicken calories, this town is working hard to facilitate her.

Geraldton proudly boasts (and when I say boast I mean BOAST) the state’s first ever drive thru ATM? I thought it was a joke when someone first told me, and I thought, “Poor Geraldton, everyone giving it such a hard time!” But no my friends, it’s no joke, we are in fact too lazy to stand at an ATM and punch a few numbers in.

So as the forty-fifth commodore of the day pulls into the drive thru next door for lunch, via the ANZ ATM no doubt, I ponder my lunch options.

I really do fancy a toasted chicken, cheese and mayo sandwich from across the road.

But I have no cash and will have to walk about five hundred meters up the road to an ATM.

Don't forget the Gascoyne!

I had a birds eye view of two historic events during 2010, both declared natural disasters.

My year started at work, in Toodyay, covering the aftermath of the bushfire that destroyed almost 40 homes, businesses, farms and local infrastructure.

I finished the year at work in Carnarvon, covering the flooding of the Gascoyne River, which inundated hundreds of homes, businesses and destroyed farms, stations and local infrastructure.

While the Toodyay fire happened more than a year ago, the recovery continues, both practically for those who continue to rebuild their homes and emotionally for those who continue to rebuild their lives.

The clean up and recovery from the Gascoyne flood has only just begun, and it won't be a quick process.

For those of us who don't live in the Gascoyne, it's easy to forget what happened there only a matter of weeks ago. Carnarvon has disappeared from the front page of the newspaper and it no longer gets a spot on our nightly news. (Though it must be said the ABC Local Radio coverage continues!)

Most of us have enjoyed a Christmas and New Year celebration since then.

And now Queensland is dominating the headlines, as that state braces for its worst flooding in history.

While there's no doubt that Queensland will need the help of the entire nation, to clean up and rebuild, let's not forget the people of the Gascoyne, who contribute so much to this fabulous, but at times, cruel, state of ours.

Donate to the Perth Lord Mayor's Appeal.

Helens' Fruit Cake

This is Helen. She looks a bit fruity in this picture! In fact she does fruity well... she makes a ripper fruit cake that's a staple of the Matthews family Christmas.

When I was little, and if the truth be told, not so little, I would go through the fruit while it was left on the stove absorbing the grog and golden syrup and pick all the cherrys out.

I also like eating the creamed butter and sugar.

Once the cake's baked, it's especially nice with a thick spread of butter on it, a nasty habit my father taught me. Others enjoy it with cream or icecream. Mum reckons it's best by itself with a cup of tea.

Here 'tis- in old fashioned measurements.

2 1/2 pounds of mixed fruit

2 tablespoons of golden syrup ( or honey)

3 (or more) tablespoons of brandy, sherry or rum

3/4 cup of water

1/2 teaspoon of salt

1/4 teaspoon of cinnamon

1/2 pound of butter

1/2 pound of brown sugar

5 eggs

10 ounces of plain flour

2 ounces of self raising flour

2 teaspoons of mixed spice

3/4 teaspoon of nutmeg

Place fruit, golden syrup, brandy and water in a saucepan and boil for two minutes. Pour onto a bowl, cover and stand overnight. ( Here is the opportunity to steal the cherry's!)

Cream butter and sugar, add eggs one at a time.

Sift dry ingredients then sift half of the dry ingredients over the boiled fruit mixture, mix lightly, then blend into creamed mixture. Add remainder of flour and blend well.

Line an eight inch tin with baking paper THREE times. Bake at 150 degrees celsius for two and a half hours.

You could bake it in a terracotta flower pot, then turn it upside down then cover it in icing...then you have a christmas bell! If you are going to bake it in a terracotta pot, only bake at 120 degrees celsius.