23:34pm The storms smashed Sydney to bits yesterday. One guy was killed and two swimmers dragged out to sea… never great news, is it. I narrowly avoided decapitation as I was walking across the road in Manly when a sign flew straight at my head – I ducked just in time!
D. spent the evening watching Australian Pop Idol – there is at least one funky singer who looks a bit unusual and different, unlike the UK version, which despite the judges assurances that they were looking for ‘someone original, someone with their own voice,’ managed to eliminate everybody with any personality whatsoever.
Following Pop Idol we had ‘Bachelor III’, the televisual equivalent of watching a cow vomiting. Absolutely PANTS!! I can’t believe how bad it is. Some overly rich American trying to find the perfect date amongst 40 or so gold-diggers. I laughed when a vegetarian (who had been one for 12 years) ate a huge chunk of lamb just because he was offering it to her – principles? Naaahhh… not when the rich boy’s about.
God, I’m such a cynic. Not really – I’ve never been much of a TV person. And Australian TV is a good few rungs below anything I’ve seen. Almost American in its lack of substance and number of ads… but not quite.
Less than a week and I’ll be back in Ireland. Hard to believe – is it just me or is time accelerating to a point where all perspective gets lost? I’m sure I landed here last week… but no. That was February. Summertime down here. Its getting nice again now – the seasons are spiralling on to infinity and I’m just hanging on, hoping for a free ride home. They’ve been sweltering in London, the hottest summer ever, while the storms smash Sydney to bits. Its that kind of year.
I’m working on the music page for the site. Should be quite cool, but as ever, the number of hours in the day is sadly lacking. Give me 48, please. Any good Flash designers out there who fancy a bit of creative work, get in touch via the messageBox.
I feel a trip to the Hunter Valley should happen soon, to get some Peterson’s wine – my favourite. You do get spoilt down here – there’s so much good wine its hard to believe. French people will point their noses in the air and lament the fate of the sacred European grape, but to Philistines like me, there is little better than a gigantic Barossa Valley Shiraz or a Margaret River… ah, its all so good. My friend Andrew Adamovich is a complete fiend, though he will claim ‘I just know what I like’. Every trip to his house is an over-the-top session of the finest wines available to humanity.
I got woken up a couple of days ago with a phone call from my old boss, Ronan Keating, out in London for the night – great to hear from him – sounds like things are going well. However, the bugger had no idea that the time difference was 9 hours, so I was standing buck naked in the hall at 5:30am having a conversation with. Surreal moments or what! Probably more information than was really required, especially for Ro.
Goodnight.