I is for Ice Skating

I've alway wanted to be a Spice Girl. Yeah I know I can't sing, but neither can they, so the only question for me was which one would I be? I've had every hair colour except red so that cancels out Ginger, I'm about 30 years too late to be Baby and Scary is just plain scary (although EGG and SSS say I resemble her before my morning espresso). So that leaves Posh and Sporty--and Sporty was a real possibility until today's letter, because after completing our I is for Ice Skating, I have had my lofty visions of having any sporting prowess come crashing to the ground.

Yes I know you probably think I crashed and fell all over that skating rink, but the reality is much, much, much more humiliating.

EGG had been ice skating many moons ago so he was a bit excited when I announced my I. "Are you sure? You know you're not real good at this balancing thing."

He may have been referring to one of the times I fell off my bike, or that disaster with the skateboard, or maybe that time with the windsurfer, or probably that thing with the kayak, but this time it was going to be different.

So off we went, laced on the cool boots and then I stood up. Things went down hill from there. I couldn't stand up--at all. Where I had previously had a good grip on the earth, there were these skinny metal blades. You can see I hadn't really given this much thought. I'm not sure what I thought I would be skating on.

EGG fell around laughing for about five minutes, got bored and told me to "just get out there".

So I did and then turned around and sat back down. I couldn't do it. Oh the shame.

I sent EGG off without me and sat on the seat trying to build up the courage to go out on the rink--there were tiny children out there for goodness sake, how hard could it be? By the time EGG had completed his first lap I was ready to give it a go.

So I tripped out and clung to the wall with both hands (check out the picture). And that's where they stayed for the whole tortuous lap--and believe me there was only one lap.

I couldn't make those stupid skates work. When EGG told me to point my feet together more, they crashed into one another making me plummet forward, when he told me to take bigger steps my legs went in opposite directions. But I didn't crash because I hung onto that wall.

Anyone who was in the way of my progress around that wall I asked to move out of the way--and I didn't care if they were old or young. Three year olds giggled as they skated past me. But I did not let go of that wall as I sweated and swore my way around that rink. It was the most embarrassing fifteen minutes of my life.

EGG to his credit stuck with me the whole way, sensibly laughing behind my back so I couldn't see him. Then he took off and did a few impressive laps on his own (that's him showing off in the picture), not holding my hand as we skated side by side as I imagined when I first thought up the ridiculous idea.

Anyway thank you to all my friends who pointed out that ice skating would probably lead to broken legs, arms, wrists etc. No I didn't break anything, but I really, really hurt my arm clinging on to the wall (stop that laughing). I might have to go to the physio.

You know I think I'll be Posh Spice--just a fatter, poorer, David Beckham-free version.

I is for ice skating.

H is for Harry Potter

Isn't EGG clever? He combined two of my favourite things in life--a trip to the movies and drinking wine. But I'm ahead of myself.


I was slightly underwhelmed when EGG announced that Harry Potter was my H, but then he followed throught with the magic words "Gold Class" and I was all aflutter.

I'm slightly embarrassed to admit that I had never been to Gold Class before. Before I joined the Gold Class Club (GCC) I will own up to perpetuating those misconceptions about GCC that float around like "why would I pay 35 bucks for something I can see for half that price" and "it can't be that good" and "what a fuss--it's just a flash chair in a movie theatre" and I'm here to tell you that I was wrong, wrong, wrong.

It is that good and it is worth double the money and it's so much more than a chair--it's an experience.

So for more than 2 hours, EGG and I luxuriated in the plush armchairs, legs resting on footstools, bottle of wine at the ready and snacks at our beck and call (check out the picture). This is how movies are meant to be viewed.

So if you hear anyone tell you that GCC is too dear and really isn't that good, then you know they've never actually been there.

Oh and the movie was good too.

H is for Harry Potter.

G is for Go Kart

EGG has crowned me World's Best Wife after I presented him with my G--go karts. He's lucky I went ahead with the idea because he guessed it earlier in the week, and only a bit of nonchalance on my behalf threw him off the scent.

Driving over to the go kart track I was feeling a bit (quite a lot) nervous, visions of me lying unconscious on the track having caused a four kart pile up being at the forefront of my mind. But such is my commitment to showing EGG a great Alphabet Weekend, that I sucked it down and put on my brave face. EGG on the other hand could not contain himself, confidence in his driving ability and need for speed high on his agenda.

We got our compulsory licence (a labourious and stressful process that involved us writing our names, date of birth, signing it and handing over five bucks). We then collected Woolworths' deli attendant hairnets. Then we put on our full face helmets and became Darth Vader. Actually I was Darth Vader, EGG thought he was Michael Schumacher. I was stressed out about the germ factor and spent the next hour freaking out that I was going to catch the killer flu from the helmet.

So off we went for our 13 (they are precise about this) minute journey around the track after a kickstart from the support vehicle. Before I knew it I was on the track. Thank god I was second because I really wouldn't have known where to go. All I could think of was not running into the orange tyres because if I did I would be off the track--oh the disgrace.

So I pottered around, braking carefully into the corners, sticking to the outside so as not to get in anyone's way. Please don't let me crash the mantra I recited in my head.

EGG on the other hand had taken on his Michael Schumacher persona for real. He screamed past me and everyone else on the track, overtaking on corners, thundering down the straights until he crashed. I waved as I trundled past, taking it easy around the nasty turn.But then EGG was back on the track, and he screeched past me, cutting another driver off at the corner, but I was too busy to notice this until I plodded around the corner and saw that EGG has crashed again. I didn't wave this time, I had the steering wheel in a death grip.

Driver after driver crashed, but not me. I did a Steven Bradbury(Australian gold medal speed skater)--as they crashed out in front, I was the only one left--the winner (well I thought I was--careful driving cannot be under-rated).

All too soon (oh who am I kidding--it seemed to take forever) the 13 minutes was up and we returned to the pit. I pulled the germ ridden helmet off, shook off the attractive hair net and chalked go karting up as an experience (that I wasn't in a hurry to repeat). But EGG was--he'd booked in for another go and was mad keen to show what he could do.

Long story short, he nailed them (check him out in the photos). He burned the guts out of that little go kart as he drove like a man possessed trying to get in front of everyone (a bit like he drives on the M1). He took the hairpin curves at great speed, he gunned it so he wouldn't get behind the slow drivers (no they weren't as slow as me), he planted it down the straight. But there was one driver he couldn't catch. Turns out he had paid more for a fast kart, but EGG didn't know that.

"I think I should buy a go kart," he said as we drove home. Yeah, that's going to happen.

I hope I don't get the flu.

G is for Go Kart.

F is for (Greaze) Fest

EGG never ceases to amaze me. Well at first he didn't because he came up with most men would think of for f, but I told him it wasn't in the rules.

But then he showed me a couple of texts that his mates had sent and one had the magic words fortune teller. I was really annoyed because after he showed me that early in the week, I knew that was absolutely no chance that we were going to do that one and I really, really wanted to to go to a fortune teller even though my last visit to one was less than successful. That particular tarot card reader used a book (Tarot Cards for Dummies--I may have made that title up) and flicked back and forth from the index to read my fortune (I'm not making that bit up). EGG thought it hilarious and even though he got a good laugh out of it there was no way he was chancing a repeat of that little incident. He kept muttering about a good waste of $40 and how he could get a book from the library and tell my fortune for free.

What he did come up with however was GreazeFest. He told me on Saturday afternoon where we were going and I thought he meant a Greek festival. Hadn't we already done an Italian Festival, but no this was nothing like anything we had done before or quite possibly ever will again.

The festival was a rally for old hotted up cars. They were beautifully restored and very cool (and I'm not really into cars). The people at the festival were dressed up in fifties gear. Betty Boop was a huge style inspriration for the women (I thought she was just big with preteen girls, silly me)--short black fringes, tightly curled hair, but Betty didn't have the facial piercings that some of these women had. Men sported gravity defying updos with enough gel to cause an Exxon-sized oil slick. Skirts were full or really, really tight and men had cuffed jeans (boys, there is a very good reason why that look disappeared from the fashion calendar fifty years ago).

There was a whole industry of fashion for wannabe fifties boys, girls and cars. There were stalls for high heeled shoes, dancing shoes, badges for cars, badges for people, shirts, shirts and net petticoats.

So we oohed and aahhed over the cars for a bit, took lots of photos and looked on in stunned amazement at some of the people we saw. The music was great and I'm sorry we didn't stick around longer to see the dancing but as usual we arrived at lunch time and couldn't face the very long hamburger queue and I was hungry so we left in search of some decent food.

I'm not entirely sure that EGG has got away with this. I think GreazeFest is a g not an f, but I'll let him have it.

F is for (Greaze)Fest--fast cars and fashion?

E is for Equine

Enough of EGG showing me up in this Alphabet Weekend lark. I had to think of something so good that it would blow my previously dismal efforts out of the water--and I did. E is for Equine.

I had a repetoire of E's at my disposal. E is for exhibit (too obvious), E is for Edith (as in Piaf in La Vie En Rose, but we'd already done a foreign language film), E is for Eagle Farm (but they were racing at Doomben). Then I chanced across an ad for showjumping at Elysian Fields at Canungra.

I had no idea of what to expect, so I packed the camping chairs, a picnic, put in some warm coats, hats and off we went with Edith Piaf playing on the CD player as we made our way to Canungra, about an hour from home.

What a surprise. It was brilliant. The showjumping course was professional, the organisation was organised, there was a big screen and best of all Olympians competing.

We abandoned our idea to have our picnic at Mt Tambourine, and opted to eat at Elysian Fields. I had packed a lunch of salmon and couscous salad and meringues with macerated strawberries. I had got super organised and put in a bottle of low alcohol Bella sparkling to drink but alcohol was not allowed in the grounds so we settled for San Pellegrino.

We practised our digital photography on the nearest jump. We stomped the divots down on the showjumping field, had our photos taken leaning on the jumps, and entered the free raffle for a horse float (what we would do with it if we won we had no idea).

From reading Jilly Cooper novels I had a rough idea of the scoring system and we settled down to watch the professional show jumpers at work. What a treat.

I've put together a list of essentials for future viewing of show jumping that may come in useful.

1. Camping chairs (be prepared for security to pat these down looking for hidden bottles of alcohol)


2. Picnic (be prepared for security to check thoroughly for hidden bottles of alcohol)


3. Hats (it gets hot in that sun, particularly if you have no alcohol)


4. Water (be prepared for security to sniff it to ensure it contains no hidden alcohol)


5. Digital camera (to practice action photography, particularly as photographer is not under the influence of alcohol)

EGG and I decided this was the best of our letters so far. So relieved, I can rest on my laurels for the next two weeks. EGG meanwhile has been madly texting his mates in the hope that between them they can come up with something to equal my E.

E is for Equine--excellent.

D is for Drama

EGG really is getting good at this Alphabet Weekend thing. He announced that we were going to a Drama at the local town hall for a theatre group production.

You've probably got the idea that EGG is a typical Aussie bloke, so you can imagine how surprised I was by his choice--local drama in the town hall. Even I would never have come up with something like that, but the idea of this is to try new thing and EGG has really nailed it.

EGG admitted that he was having trouble verifying the booking he made over the phone, so he took me out for an early dinner near the location of the town hall so he could check out whether or not we had tickets--and we did.

We took our seats in the hall (there were about 15 of us) while EGG muttered that we could possibly escape at half time if it wasn't any good.

I don't know about good, but it certainly was different. The lights weren't turned down so much that I couldn't see the stunned look on EGG's face as one of the lead actors threw herself on stage screeching out lines from Shakespeare. I actually caught myself with my mouth agape, and made a conscious effort to shut it.

EGG started snickering and when I elbowed him in the side he whispered that he wished his mates were there. I'm glad they weren't. We went out at half time for a drink. EGG and I chose the red wine and drank it down very fast. Should we stick it out or make a quick getaway?

The fact that the audience was so small convinced us to stay and see it through to the end. We're heathens and it may have been very good, what would we know.

EGG regaled his friends the next day (they were watching the boxing--you see what I mean about him being a typical Aussie guy) with his Shakespearean rants.

I don't really think the play was a D for Drama. I think it was more a C for Comedy that was actually a T for Tragedy.

D is for Drama--damn.

C is for Continental Cafe

You know this whole Alphabet Weekend thing was my idea, but I'm the one who keeps coming up with lame ideas for my letters.

This weekend I had C, but as I had been away for a whole week for work with no phone, no internet, no newspaper and no television, I had absolutely no idea what to do. I felt as if I had been in a black hole and indeed I had been--a communication/information black hole.

I was laying in bed when a brilliant idea came to me--Castlemaine Brewery. EGG and I have lived in Brisbane for 12 years, and had never done more than drink the stuff and drive past its Milton St headquarters. However the best laid plans...it didn't open for brewery tours on the weekend. Such a great idea.

I sort of went into anti-climax mode after that and settled for Continental Cafe, a favoured restaurant that does not need to be settled for, but it seemed a bit of a let down in the context of the alphabet rules.

EGG didn't mind in the least. He loves Continental Cafe and was looking forward to one of their fantastic breakfasts. So we scoffed eggs, toast, coffee and sides of Hollandaise sauce and walked away happy. But I'm still not satisfied.

C is for Continental Cafe--what a cop out.

B is for Black Book

EGG didn't have much to live up to after my A debacle, so I beyond surprised when he announced his B.

"We're going to see Black Book and we're going there on the bus," he announced.

Now you may think my surprise somewhat excessive, but when I explain EGG's history with foreign language film you will be as impressed with him as I was.

Last year, after a lovely lunch in James St, I decided that EGG and I would go to Palace Centro to see The Ax, a French language film that had been receiving great reviews. It is testimony to amount of wine that both EGG and I had drunk that we would even consider it--EGG is more of a kill and thrill movie type and usually I wouldn't be able to drag him to such a movie.

Before buying our ticket, EGG took a moment to quiz the attendant about the speed at which the sub titles appeared. "I'm not a very fast reader," he explained. After reassuring him that he would keep up, a mollified EGG enjoyed the movie (and managed to keep up with the sub titles).

However, I put it down to a one-off as I went to Palace and Dendy alone for the next ten months because those "reading movies" really were too much work for EGG.

Anyway he made a great choice and went to a lot of trouble to organise it. He looked up the times in the movie guide (a skill most married men lose about two minutes after the marriage ceremony), found the bus schedule on the internet, and organised me to be on time for both.

It was so worth it. What a fabulous movie. It had it all--spies, a mystery, double crossing, a treasure, torture (not too much said EGG), sex (not enough said EGG) and full frontal nudity (what a great movie said EGG).

B is for Black Book--brilliant.