traditions
Showing posts with label traditions. Show all posts

Fanciful Friday: It's Just Not Cricket

7.1.11

ink & watercolour illustration, 7" x 8.75" [18 x 22.5cm]
Hello!  It's lovely to be back.  So wonderful to see you again.  Please, pull up a Louis chair ... {I've been re-decorating...}

I used to think cricket was an odd curiosity involving the curation of grass as a spectator sport. And occasionally, typically when one left the room to put on the kettle, a player would cheekily hit a ball or catch a ball as a mild distraction from the grass-watching task at hand.  But in recent years, I've grown to love this gentlemanly pursuit and its familiar noise on the telly as I potter around at home.  It sounds of summer to me. And with the rotten weather we've had for the past couple of months, anything reminiscent of summer is a good thing.   

But woe is me, our fine Aussie cricket team has dropped off the perch lately.  And the Pommie cricket team resoundly completed its Ashes series win today, creating an irksome tea stain on Australia's proud sporting history.  I have to admit, the English side did a beyond-sterling job, and if not for some half-baked semblance of a detox over the holidays, I would drink a Long Island Iced Tea in its honour. {Granted, this rocket fuel rarely contains tea and bears no relationship to Australia or England, but it's a compelling amnesiac for embarrassing international incidents.}

Knowing the cricket selectors will make some changes, I've come up with my own Dream Team {shown here at the Sydney Cricket Ground, formerly-known-as-Illustrious}.  And the simple solution I propose is that we double the number of players, then play ourselves.  A guaranteed win every time.  {My talents really are wasted...tell me about it.}  My nominated team could make it a little harder to maintain the condition of the grass, but what is life without challenges.  And on that note...

Happy Fanciful Friday to you!


PS: Thank you for your many concerned emails and comments.  I'm relieved to say that {touch wood!} my immediate family and I are somewhat soggy, but gratefully unaffected by the massive flooding in our state, greater than the areas of France & Germany combined.  If you would like to make a donation to help those poor folks in these disaster areas, you can do so here.  Merci, grazie, thank you.
39 comments

It's a Draw! And It's a Draw!

28.9.10

ink & watercolour weensy meep miniature, 2.5 x 3.5" [6.5 x 9cm ] ACQUIRE A MEEP
It might surprise you that I follow the Australian Football League {AFL} ardently {and ardently follow none of the others ~ life’s about balance, after all}.  Whether my team makes it to the Grand Final or not {this year, it was Not}, I love the festivities and wouldn’t dream of missing the telecast.  Frankly, I felt last Saturday’s pre-match Grand Final celebrations were of the Less is More philosophy ~ prudent for a job interview, but I prefer some judicious excess with my Grand Final countdown.  Nonetheless, the match itself more than compensated by turning into a nail-biting thriller and ending in an exhausting draw.  And in honour of tradition, rather than having extra time or a Golden Point, everyone comes back this Saturday to do it all again.  For several days, I was cross about it, petulantly demanding rule changes of my TV while stomping my foot childishly.  Now, I’m starting to see some benefits.  Another Grand Final.  Double the fun {though half again of the pre-match entertainment}.  I just hope it’s another close match so that kitty and I can be on the edge of our seat.

But on to bigger celebrations: tomorrow is my 2nd blogoversary.  Hooray!  I still pinch myself over the friendships I’ve made with dear blogpals.  Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your laughter, loyalty and kindness. 

{Update 7th October: Entries are now closed, thank you.}  Being a birthday of sorts, there are gifts and we'll have a draw of our very own.  But this one definitely will result in winners at the designated time. Every commenter on this post receives an entry in the draw, and entries close midday next Thursday 7th October {Brisbane time, convert here}.  Winners will be announced in the post on Friday 8th October.  The first randomly drawn entry wins the original ink & watercolour of today’s Meep Miniature, and two more names will be drawn to win a notecard mini-print of your favourite Shell Sherree illustration.  Bonne chance, merci, grazie!
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Bastille Day Weather Forecast: Macaron Showers

13.7.10

ink & watercolour illustration, 7" x 8.25" [18 x 21cm]

Today I was going to take us to a location somewhere not in France, given that it's been very French here lately, but with Bastille Day nearly upon us ~ well, how remiss would I be!

Instead, I'll do a weather forecast for tomorrow and predict that it will be raining macarons.  Take your largest umbrella, and some bubble wrap wouldn't go astray.  There's also a chance of éclairs and croissants, but it's recommended to head indoors if that's the case.  They pack more of a punch when bouncing off one's scone.   However you're celebrating, and wherever that may be, here's to a happy 14th July!
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Francophile Friday: Hop Into Ladurée

2.4.10

ink & watercolour illustration, photo inspiration Virginia Jones


This little Easter bunny is all tuckered out.  She's been busy with preparations, and who can blame her for nodding off with a contented tummy, full of scrumptious Ladurée macarons.  If she's late arriving anywhere because of her diversions, I have a feeling she'll be forgiven ~ certainly by anyone who shares her love of a fine macaron.

Thanks to dear Virginia {and her gorgeous blog, Paris Through My Lens} for her sweet inspiration!

The Ladurée site takes you on an armchair tour of various shop locations ~ not just in Paris, but around the globe.  There are none in Australia yet, and that show pony Sydney might be the first to attract one.  Yet a store at the feet of Brisbane's petite Eiffel Tower would be perfectly appropriate, don't you think?  And on that note...

Happy Francophile Friday, and a safe, peaceful and hoppy Easter to you all!
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A Covet of Cupids

2.2.10

ink & watercolour illustration of print ad, 4" x 4.25" [10.5 x 11cm]

Valentine's Day is a couple of weeks away, so I thought, "A-ha!  I shall pip everyone else at the post and blog about it now."  A-ha, indeed!!  And lest you fall off your perch in surprise at my forward planning, I shall draw your attention to a celebrity fragrance that was released sufficiently long enough ago that you may no longer locate it in a luxe department store, but it may still be loitering on the shelves at your local day/night chemist {pharmacy}, and thus the perfect solution for the last minute gift for blokes to procure on their way to their amour on Valentine's Night.

The fragrance in question is Sarah Jessica Parker's Covet Pure Bloom, resplendent with sweet tropical florals, like mandarin, purple plum, coconut water, tuberose, pikake, jasmine, amber, iris, sandalwood and creamy musks.  By its name alone, it's a nice match for Valentine's Day, as the origin of the word 'covet' according to dictionary.com is "c.1225, from O.Fr. coveitier, probably ult. from L. cupiditas "passionate desire," from cupidus "very desirous," from cupere "long for, desire." 

I have to wonder, though, how many covet the dress over the perfume...
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All the King's Horses...

12.1.10



By George, our gracious Brisbane City Hall is being swamped.  Literally.  Being built on swampy ground will do that to you.  In an "oopsie" of gigantic proportions, my own theory is that when the rising damp was reported to those responsible for the location choice, they misheard it as "rising damper" and put the kettle on.

Not even this fine statue of King George V on his trusty steed can save City Hall.  But the government and locals must do their best, as Brisbane life wouldn't be the same without this beautiful old building and its rich history.  Not to mention that my own grandfather worked there, so it's more than a wee bit sentimental to me.  All is not lost, though.  Three years of structural and cosmetic nip, tuck and architectural Spanx are underway and hopefully, she'll be better than new again.  And how's this for fun: the clocktower is based on St Mark's Campanile in Venice, and the beautiful auditorium is based on Rome's Pantheon.  It seems that six degrees of separation doesn't just apply to people...


PS:  My fund raising drive to help animals in RSPCA Victoria's shelters ends THIS SATURDAY.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart to those who've already dug deep and helped out ~ your donations are tremendously valued.  Ready to join us?  Just click the ChipIn button on the top right to provide some comfort to all creatures great and small who desperately need it.  Here's the background info... and Thank You!
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Friday Fleurish: A Spot of Tea, Petal?

1.1.10



A spot of rose tea seems a gentle way to ease into the New Year.  I have to admit, I love it more for the pretty visual it creates than the flavour ~ pouring just-boiled water over several pink rosebuds in a delicate porcelain cup and watching the petals drift and eddy is very relaxing.  I don't recommend drinking this one, as it's all rose petals, no tea, but it's a sweet addition to the table.  May your cup this year runneth over with beauty, love and la dolce vita...

Happy Friday Fleurish to you!
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Venerdi in Francophile Fleurish: Merry Christmas

25.12.09


What to do?  It's Christmas Day here, and the best laid plans of mice and men {ie., preparing my post ahead and scheduling it to magically appear now} went AWOL when my mice decided on the night before Christmas that they'd go to sleep on the job, lest they scare Santa away.  So here I am on Christmas morning, drawing.  And for me, that's one of the most perfect ways to start any day, so I guess I'll forgive my mice, as it turned out for the best! 

Christmas Day coincides with Friday, calling for Venerdi in Venice, Francophile Friday or Friday Fleurish.  So here they are, all rolled into one.  Finally, Hugh Jackman is taking us on that long-promised gondola ride as my Christmas gift to you, but we seem to have been magnetically drawn towards that fair lady we love so much.  Heck, it's our fantasy and we can go wherever we want to!

I can't begin to express how much your friendship and our fun times together mean to me.  Thank you so very much for dropping in to visit, and bringing merriment all year around, not just at Christmas time.  My wish for all of you is continued peace, love and laughter, now and always.  And on that note ...

Happy Venerdi in Venice~Francophile Friday~Fleurish to all, and to all, a good night!  

Please, join me if you can, no matter what the amount, by clicking on the ChipIn button over in the little widget on the top right to help raise $50,000 by mid January to help provide warm beds, love and care for the 16,000 abandoned or neglected animals expected at the RSPCA Victoria's animal shelters over the Christmas period.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who's already donated!  Here's more info...
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The Legend of the Lamington

24.11.09



Much speculation surrounds the origins of the humble Lamington.  The story I love most involves a Frenchman.  {Of course.}  Yes, just as we've observed in the past, the French find their way into the most surprising and seemingly innocuous of things, including a sweet treat that's considered to be an iconic Australian food.  The most romantic of the legends {or so I think} starts in the grand old household of Lord and Lady Lamington, residents for a time of Old Government House, just down the road from this, and overlooking the Brisbane River and the old City Botanic Gardens.  According to the official website for Old Government House {newly restored and one of Brisbane's sandstone beauties}, "Lord Lamington was the ninth governor of Queensland and it was his French chef at Old Government House, Armand Galland, who first thought to coat cubes of stale sponge cake in melted chocolate and then dip it in coconut, a touch thought to be inspired by his Tahitian wife, when unexpected visitors arrived in 1901."

If you want to make some of your own from scratch, you could try the more traditional version here, or a modern take by Gourmet Traveller here{Australian measures used throughout.}



Old Government House has its own Tea Room based in the 1872 kitchen and spreading to the shady central courtyard of this gorgeous old sandstone building, where you can take High Tea and other refreshments, including lamingtons made to the original recipe.  {"Original" according to this legend, at least.}  

Bon Appetit!
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Stumping the Heat with a Queenslander

17.11.09


Here in Queensland, we like to keep it simple.  We spend so much time in summer glowing, perspiring or sweating {depending on whether you're a woman, man or horse} that we don't waste energy coming up with fancy architectural terms to confuse matters.  For instance, the iconic style of housing construction in Queensland is called a "Queenslander" Designed to maximise the natural cooling effects of breeze and shade, the house is made from timber with large verandahs, and lives on stumps, like this lovely one here.  There are variations on the theme ~ and generally speaking, the grander the home, the more sides the verandah wraps around.  The end result may not cool like air-conditioning, but it's a greener way of coping {until winter comes around and the proverbials of your brass monkeys freeze}. You can read a bit more here and see some examples of the evolution here

People continue to buy and renovate old Queenslanders, {a costly exercise involving the involuntary thinning of paint with tears}, and people continue to build new homes in the Queenslander style, such is its enduring charm.  We don't live in a Queenslander per se ~ but it's still an enchanting timber home, with a deck on two sides, telling you at a glance that we have sufficient means to provide you with afternoon tea of lamingtons and scones but may not stretch to caviar.  "Lamingtons???" you may ask?  I'll put them on the menu for next Tuesday!
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Ahoy, Me Hearties, Ahoy Me Hearties...

15.9.09

To give you fair warning so you can prepare yourself in time, this little fellow's here to remind you about International Talk Like a Pirate Day, invented by Cap'n Slappy and Ol' Chumbucket and hitting the poop deck on 19th September every year.

Yes, you'll find all the hard-hitting news stories here.

What started as a bit of a lark spread like wildfire ~ who doesn't enjoy talking like a pirate, I ask you ~ and if this harmless bit of fun also helps some charities to find cures for scurvy bilge rats, I say, "Yo-ho-ho. Arrrrrrrrgh."

To quote Wikipedia {as I am so fond of doing}, "Lionel Barrymore is the first believed to have used the "arrrgh" in the first film of Treasure Island from 1934 in an iconic version of Billy Bones. In fact, many believe Barrymore created the first archetype of pirate speak." But wait. Further down the same page I found this: "The archetypal pirate grunt "Arrr!" (alternatively "Rrrr!" or "Yarrr!") first appeared in the classic 1950 Disney film Treasure Island..." Who's been drinking a bottle of rum then...

PS: For the animal lovers who may be fretting, never fear. Rainbow-Lorikeet Pete's hooked tootsies are all intact and he's safely nuzzling nectar from our trees with his hundred closest hearties. Arrrgh.
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Bombay Botanicals

28.7.09

I'm not living a lush life. I enjoy a quiet glass of wine or bubbly, but in moderation. And in summer, I'm partial to a Gin and Tonic with a slice of lime at 5:00pm on the occasional steamy afternoon. Bombay Sapphire's my choice. It's based on a recipe dating back to 1761, infused with ten botanicals - exotic treats like lemon peel and almonds from Spain, juniper berries and orris from Italy, angelica from Saxony... and I like the blue glass bottle!

Imagine how chuffed I was when a grateful client gave me a large blue irridescent egg yesterday, encircled with a decorative paper band printed with Bombay Sapphire livery. As well as the gin {which shall last me several summers}, the gift box - err, egg {actually a limited edition ice bucket}, included a shot glass and one of those natty dispensers they put on spirit bottles in pubs to make sure the bartenders are punished with repetitive-stress-injury if they are too generous with their favourite customers. Virtual martinis and G&Ts are on me!

Seriously though, please drink responsibly.
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Ballooning on Bastille Day

14.7.09

What better way could there be for us to celebrate the anniversary of the storming of the Bastille and uprising of the modern nation than with a frivolous hot air balloon ride over Paris, away from the commoners in the streets. {Mais oui, I made a little joke.}

We should be sufficiently elevated to avoid spooking any of these beautiful horsies. Depending on the formal festivities, we may have to dodge the planes of the Patrouille de France - French Acrobatic Patrol - but I think we'll be safe enough if we keep aloft in the immediate vicinity of the Eiffel Tower. To err on the side of caution, we shall travel light and just take the necessities on board: champagne and pastries for everyone!
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Lion's Share of Le Tour's Attention

7.7.09

For the winners of the Yellow Jersey {aka Maillot Jaune} in Le Tour de France: a bunch of flowers and an adorable fluffy toy lion that might bear a startling resemblance to Don King, if Don King happened to be adorable. As it's unlikely any of us will score one of the real fluffy toy lions {or indeed, a real fluffy lion}, perhaps this little virtual fellow can console us.
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Wine-Tour de France

4.7.09

Happy 4th July!

While Americans are celebrating their independence, this illustrious date marks another important event on the calendar: the start of Le Tour de France. Lycra-watchers of the world, unite and rejoice! The rest of us will avert our eyes at the appropriate moments.

This rider has his priorities in the right place. Why cycle through France if you can't enjoy a baguette and bottle of red on the way?

Due to the time differences, hubby will stay up cheering on fellow Aussie Cadel Evans into the wee hours every night. {I, on the other hand, will cheer from the fluffy comfort of my dreams.}. Cadel has been runner-up twice and we're sending warm, fuzzy hopes that he wins this year {please note that his hind quarters bear no resemblance to my pictured gourmand}. But I'm guessing Lance Armstrong will be a sentimental favourite for many others. May their spandex be blessed with much stretch and a safe journey!
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Does Corsetry Tighten Loose Aromatic Morals?

16.5.09


I chatted briefly yesterday with delightful MmeBenaut about fragrance, and whether to stay with a signature perfume or be a bit loose with one's aromatic morals and dabble with a variety. It takes a lot of scentual fortitude to remain faithful to just one.

As challenging as it is, I stick with three, partly because it takes me so long to use them up that my wee dram of Scots won't allow more than that. This Jean Paul Gaultier Classique {with notes of rose, star anise, ginger, vanilla and orange blossom} is my 'summer night/winter day' signature scent. Well, not this one exactly. The bottle with the fancy corsetry is reserved for the Eau de Parfum, whereas I have the Eau de Toilette, which can't afford such elaborate underwear but still looks nice naked.

So how about you? Do you prefer corsetry or going naked? Wait ... what? Sorry, I meant to ask ... Are you a one fragrance woman? Or are the choices impossible for you to resist?
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For Eric and Paris Daily Photo

14.5.09


Most of my regulars know dear Eric Tenin and his world famous blog, Paris Daily Photo. PDP blends smoothly with my morning latte to form a dangerously potent addiction, but I'm quietly confident it's a healthy one. It's certainly a happy one.

The PDP picnic has become an annual tradition and this year's was held overnight at an Irish pub in Paris. Long story. {What else would you expect in an Irish pub.} A night of great merriment was had by all, if the photos are any indication. You can see for yourself here and here.

One of Eric's regulars, Phx, arranged some surprises for the man of the hour... hours ... many hours. So I did this little illustration for Eric, to show what Paris Daily Photo means to me. Phx has kindly insisted that I put it up here. How can I resist that beaming smile! So here's Eric, readying himself to take a photo from his trademark Tenin perspective, his crowd of adoring followers impatiently awaiting his next post. Bisous!
16 comments

How on Earth-Hour???

29.3.09

by SHELL SHERREE

You know you have severe tardiness issues when you're late for Earth Hour...

... as we were.

Yes, I'm ashamed to admit that even in our own home ~ without going anywhere; without putting on makeup and getting tizzied up in the good clobber {and that's just hubby ~ let alone me}; without the flurry of last minute feeding of kitties and possums; without setting the timer on the video ~ we still couldn't manage to turn up on time.

It started off well enough but became Mission: Impossible when hubby decided to cook risotto for dinner.

Don't get me wrong. I love that he cooks for us. He's a fantastic cook. He can find his way around fresh herbs and spices without any help from a compass or Wii Cooking Mama.

But he's meticulous. Thorough. Each ingredient that requires chopping is slowly and methodically assessed and dissected so that each piece is the exact same size as the next. And if someone manufactured spirit-levels for chefs, we would own one.

Viewing hubby's prepped food would send an obsessive compulsive straight to Nirvana, though the trip home again could be delayed quite significantly by the sound of one hundred-times-washed hand clapping. {Don't worry, though. This überneatness is healthily counterbalanced by a disturbing habit of tossing eggshells and vegetable peels into the sink. We haven't had a sink with a garbage disposal since 1998.}

While Slow Food proponents around the globe might be rejoicing at the sound of all this, I, on the other hand, watched in horror as the clock ticked inexorably towards 8:30pm and a C minus in Social Conscience.

My inner screeching banchee grappled with my inner Dr Phil until I discovered that lying prostrate on the sofa with a bottle of gin for five minutes is an excellent home-made spirit level. Armed with a new resolve, I boldly offered myself as a sous-chef in an effort to get us over the Thin Green line. Though a little rusty, I used to hold an Honorary Speedy Gonzales diploma for my food prepping. I figure there is a time and a place for precision, like brain surgery and Swiss clocks {damn, is it already 8:20pm?}, not onions and mushrooms.

It was a valiant effort, but at 8:30pm, the arborio was still drowning in a sea of stock and only time could save it. Another sixteen point three minutes, to be precise. But after finally sitting down for dinner on the deck, we stayed in candlelight for a full hour anyway, then added a little more as the CFC-free equivalent of several Hail Marys. I don't know if it counts, but it eased the guilt somewhat.

I only hope we aren't 'outed' by Google satellite maps. I bet they didn't turn those off for Earth Hour. Damned modern technology.
17 comments

BeGuinness Luck

17.3.09

by SHELL SHERREE

At the risk of starting a debate among a bunch of drunks bearing a startling resemblance to Kermit the Frog with grass stains, "Top o' the mornin' to you!"

I can hear you asking, "Why would this friendly welcome cause Guinness fuelled fisty-cuffs?" {Yes, I can hear you. Not nearly as unsettling for you as for me...}

I'll tell you why. I've just read that "Top o' the mornin' to you" isn't an Irish expression at all, rather something contrived and propagated by some furtive bunch of misfits shamrockfully hell-bent on making the Irish appear friendly. {Either that or it came from a movie. I'm not sure which. My fact-checking's a bit loose at the moment. I ran out of milk this morning and found out on The Beguinness Guide to Ireland that milk and Bailey's Irish Cream are interchangeable; begosh, begorrah, begin the beguine.}

Out of respect for the cheerfully belligerent spirit of the nation in the thick of today's St Patrick's Day festivities, I say, "Bollocks." Or is that Scottish? British? I'm sure I've heard both Gordon Ramsay and Jamie Oliver say it, neither of whom is Irish. But according to Wikipedia, "In 1977, Professor James Kingsley, a famous linguistics professor at Nottingham University, had accredited the word to be used in the early eighteenth century with the Roman Catholic Church priests. His studies show that the actual word "bollocks" means either a 'priest', or 'rubbish spoken by the priest'." Given that St Paddy's Day is observed by people of Irish ancestry, Anglicans, Eastern Orthodox, anyone in English speaking countries who fancies an excuse for a pint or has an unnatural fondness for the colour green, and Roman Catholics, I hereby deem the word entirely appropriate for this purpose. Bollocks!

My hubby has an Irish mate who always shouts this welcome heartily down the phone. {"Top o' the mornin' to you," that is, not, "Bollocks!"} What's more, he roundly chastised me the first time for not knowing the appropriate response should one receive such a greeting: "And the rest of the day to yourself."

Given that he is Irish, I figure he should know. Then again, he is Irish. The world isn't full of Irish jokes for nothing, unless they too have been contrived and propagated by some furtive bunch of misfits wilfully hell-bent on making the Irish appear friendly, begorrah.

True to form, he's often drifting in a cosy befuddlement of whiskey when he rings. Whiskey is widely considered to be one of Ireland's favourite drinks. Irish whiskey was first distilled by monks about a thousand years ago. It is clearly viewed as an essential for life, given that the name was derived from the Irish uisce ("water"). And perhaps it's no accident that the word 'whiskey' starts to look very strange if you stare at it long enough. My cat has curly whiskeys. I shall whiskey the eggs until they are fluffy. Driving while inebriated is whiskey. Where was I...

Oh, yes. Happy St Paddy's Day to you all. Let the festivities beguinness, begorrah.
12 comments

Oscar Overcomes Intimacy Issues

14.2.09

by SHELL SHERREE

When Hugh Jackman starts talking about intimacy, I'm listening.

In an interview with the Associated Press about his upcoming hosting of the Academy Awards, he hinted that the Kodak Theatre would be less like a place to roll gold-foiled Jaffas down the aisles, and more like the nightclub of your dreams ... some place Intimate.

{Excuse me, that was the sound of my knees going weak ...}

It's one of the few clues to what lies ahead with the Oscars ceremony, shrouded in more mystery than Joaquin Phoenix's bizarre appearance on the Letterman show a few nights ago. Or the contents of his beard. {Personally, I wonder if he's been preparing for the sequel to his hit Johnny Cash biopic. I heard the working draft of the script is titled, "Snort the Line".}

Bill Condon and Laurence Mark are first time producers of the Academy Awards, perhaps credentialled for the gig by their 2006 movie, Dreamgirls. They are running with the 'curiosity' approach to luring viewer numbers. Perhaps they are onto something, in a world littered with reality TV shows and way too much cybersharing of breakfast and underwear choices.

Let's put the Miss back into mystique, I say.

Let us cast asunder the cheap and tarty name dropping of scheduled awards presenters {a thinly veiled attempt to increase ratings}. Rather may the upcoming ceremony be like a discreet lady allowing her skirt to rise slowly to reveal a hint of garter and stockings one glimpse at a time.

Condon and Mark are so intent on the secrecy, they have threatened that any presenters whose loose lips sink the Oscar Surprise Ship shall have their backstage passes torn up and even worse, their goodie bags confiscated. Clearly they mean business. Botox vouchers, mudwrap sessions and engraved iPods are not to be messed with lightly.

This much we know:

Baz Luhrmann is producing a number for Hugh.

With the Kodak Theatre's intimacy makeover, can we hope that Hugh will be lowered seductively from the ceiling on a trapeze to hover over the swooning crowd à la Moulin Rouge? Or will Baz create his own private homage to their snubbed 'Australia' by having Hugh tap dance to Singing in the Rain while stripped to the waist and tipping buckets of water continuously over himself? {Either is fine with me. Mighty fine. Damn, there go the knees again...}


Best Song Nominees will undergo speed dating.

Condon and Mark have blown the dust off the Academy's ceremony rule book and discovered that the Oscars must be wound up within three hours or on the last stroke, Tom Cruise's head will turn into a pumpkin. Dedicated to the cause, though perhaps shutting the gate after the horse has already bolted, the dynamic duo has decreed that all Best Song nominees will speed date in a medley. Each has 65 seconds to sing up their good points in hopes of going home with Oscar. Peter Gabriel has already put his foot down on moral grounds, refusing to be on stage while Wall-E's 'Down to Earth' goes through the compactor. Who can blame him?


There's an obligatory "we love you - now please use the trades' entrance" tribute to comedy.

Perhaps by way of apologising for comedians always being the bridesmaids at the Academy Awards, the tributary equivalent of a cheerful floral bouquet will be presented to comedy. {That's nice and all, but next time, throw NOMINATIONS instead.} Judd Apatow has been recruited to help. That's Judd with a J and Apatow with an "Eh?". No, I'm sure you've heard of him. He has a string of funnies under his belt and some rib tickling movies as well: The 40 Year Old Virgin, Talladega Nights, Step Brothers, Knocked Up ... An intriguing choice, but class and intimacy don't always go hand in hand.


Sadly, there are rumours that In Memoriam will rest in peace this year. That's a shame. It's a good test of whether wearing aluminium-based deodorants does in fact contribute to the early onset of Alzheimers. If I start wailing in shock as the montage rolls on, I'll know it's time to switch to something natural. I wonder what Joaquin uses ...
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