Anthem recognition test

Driving home the other day I flicked on the radio.
*Subcontinental-vocal stylings and drums for about 0.7 seconds*
*Radio off*
ME: Hmm. I thought the cricket would be on by now.
MARCUS: Dad! That was the Sri Lankan national anthem. The cricket is on.

Night of the round table

I have just cleared off the small round table, and plonked my drawing things on it. Ideally, drawing will now ensue. But first, blogging. I have been rubbish at blogging this year. Bloggable things have been happening but sometimes the thought of putting on my "writing voice" just wearies and disgusts me. But if I never do it then I'll never do it.

Today is Australia Day. The Australian people broadly fall into two camps: flag-worn-as-a-cape Aussie-pridesters, and progressive types who go to the "Invasion Day" march in the morning but quietly enjoy the afternoon with a few Coonawarra red wines and some of the later Nick Cave albums.

I know, I know - you and I don't fit into either of those categories. But I don't think Australia Day has ever been bigger - more polarised, more loudly pumped up by the bogans and more studiously deconstructed by the progressives. Some people are even writing blogs about it.

We felt that we wanted to be out of the house for the day, but somewhere quiet, so we did the Cygnet loop. From Hobart you can drive south over the mountains to Huonville, then east to Cygnet. From there you have a choice of several winding mountain roads to take you over to the D'Entrecasteaux Channel, with lovely views out to Bruny Island. From there the Channel Highway takes you back to Hobart.

Cygnet has just hosted its annual folk music festival, and was pretty much shut down for the public holiday, so we had lunch at Fleurty's Cafe in Birch's Bay, on the Channel. The cafe is on a farm which grows irises, blackcurrants, garlic, hops and mountain pepper berries (which they distill into oil).

The outlook was stunning, the food marvellous, and the service friendly and attentive. Thumbs up all round, except that I didn't like having commercial radio on in the background. You just don't do that in a swank cafe in a beautiful setting. Bush dusted salmon fillet with orange pepper berry glaze and crazy bargains from our very good friends at Muffler World - the combination is not right is it?

But to be positive - Marcus and I had the salmon and brie tart with a magnificent salad - the minted beetroot was so good. Michael enjoyed his toasted ham and cheese panini. Elf had a goat cheese tart and it was also excellent but I liked mine better.

This evening back home Marcus and I went I up to the cricket nets, and I introduced him to the physics of the taped-up tennis ball.

Radio snob

Lately, when Lana comes over from next door to visit, she and Marcus go into his room, shut the door, and she puts on the radio. She favours a hits 'n' memories commercial station. Wierdly, I associate the muffled sound of radio ads and Whitney Houston with car workshops. When I burst through the door to find out what they are doing, I half expect them to be degreasing an engine block or spray-painting panels. So far, no luck.

Synaptical analysis (1) - lawnmowers

Yesterday while walking back from the optometrists (I now have contact lenses) I walked past a Jim's Mowing ute, with all the mowing gear in the trailer. Fella inside had just finished a big mow. As I walked past I could smell the 2-stroke, the hot metal and the fresh grass clippings. Unbidden, a tape started playing in my head - the sounds of football on the radio. In my brain there is a strong synapse connecting those smells with the nasal twang of commentators and roar of the crowd as heard over a small AM radio. Interesting.

Breaking News: NZ accent is amusing

Dave at work has been listening to Australia's cricket tour of New Zealand streaming on the internet. The coverage has a terrific mix of clipped EnZed cricket pundits and gloriously bad local radio ads.

At the moment the Bleck Ceps have just broken the sheckles with a sex over mudwucket. "Just a fleck of the wrest and over she goes". Before the Australian atteck was "like a peck of wild dogs". The spunners are getting a lot of grup off the putch.

Meanwhile the new Mitsubish Triton truck has "up to six trucking airbags. And Triton has hardened the truck up with a bigger tray, and loads of trucking power". Also "you can demege yourself, end your blinds, wristling them un and out of their breckets."

Radio cricket commentary delusion #5a

During a dull patch in the cricket, when Jim is recalling a top feller who played Sydney grade cricket in the fifties, or doing his piss poor West Indies accent that consists of just finishing a sentence with "mon" - and Kerry is saying "he could play a bit, D.G. Bradman" - that's when I imagine the commentary panel are all dressed as women. In a half-arsed, footy-club-drag-night-fundraiser way. Or like Lemmon and Matthau in Some Like It Hot. Lots of big dangly earrings swinging as they turn their heads to follow the ball racing to the boundary. Weathered ex-cricketer faces with a bit of lurid red lippy and maybe some blue eye shadow.

I like to think its an ABC radio tradition, perhaps started by Neville Oliver, one dull afternoon in 1978 in Christchurch or Manchester or Durban. He liked a laugh.

Maybe they only do it for the morning session of the first day of each First Test. Then perhaps, for the Second test of a series, they all come as Charlie Chaplin.

National Public Radio snippet

Brian said Tony would be a minute, because its a bit of a walk from the Dangerous and Severe Personality Disorder Unit. I looked at Brian. "Is Tony in the part of Broadmoor that houses the most dangerous people?" I asked. "Crazy, isn't it?" laughed Brian.

- from This American Life, ep. 385

It must be Radio National

The first words I heard when I turned on the radio:

The male sage grouse are quite gentlemanly, as they continue courting the robot.

Spoonerism

While discussing the merits of West Coast's Daniel Kerr, [The Last Word, ABC Local Sept 24] Gerard Whately's mouth outran his brain: "The effold is two-fect... er, the effect is two-fold..."