Meme time

Elsewhere has tagged me for a meme, and it is no more than Good Manners to respond, and besides, nearly everyone whose blog I like has done this meme by now. So here goes, especially since the post about the Audreys concert last night has blown out into a three-volume novel and I'm still nowhere near finished. (And if anyone's reading this who doesn't like personal posts and doesn't understand enough about the blogosphere to 'get' memes, for God's sake leave now and don't drop any steaming piles of personal abuse in the comments box about things you don't understand. Thank you.)

It's revealing of the psyche of whoever originally wrote this meme that so much of it seems to be about food. Ah, food: my favourite.

What was I doing 10 years ago?

Being enjoyably shellshocked in my first year of freedom after 18 years as an academic, my first year home in Adelaide thawing out after 18 years in Victoria, my first year of home ownership (bittersweet: nobody told me that houses eat money), and my first year of trying to scramble together enough of a portfolio of regular work to make a living as a freelance writer. Trying and failing to grow vegetables. Breaking in a new bloke. Spending a lot of time with my mother during what nobody knew would be the last year of her life.

Five snacks I enjoy in a perfect, non weight-gaining world:

1. Chocolate Paddle Pops.

2. Haigh's dark chocolate truffles.

3. Chocolate cake.

4. Gelati: a 3-flavour coppa involving coffee, baci and chocolate.

5. Chocolate.

Five snacks I enjoy in the real world:

6. Natural Confection dinosaurs and snakes.

7. Raw carrot sticks. (Really.)

8. Unsalted roasted almonds.

9. Mozzarella.

10. Macadamias. In this perfect world, not only does one not gain weight but one has unending supplies of cash ...

Five things I would do if I were a billionaire: (See what I did there?)

1. Give up working and write fiction.

2. Resolve my father's, sisters' and best mate's housing/mortgage issues.

3. Give vast sums to chosen charities, especially Médecins sans frontières, World Vision or similar, men's health centres and groups (anything dedicated to making blokes look after their health more carefully), and the RSPCA.

4. Buy a big house where we both could live* by the sea at Rapid Bay,


get a Border Collie and some chooks for it to round up, and take up snorkelling so I could watch the Leafy Sea Dragons


under the jetty.

5. Set up a fund for legal representation and other support for asylum seekers.

Five jobs that I have had:

1. Senior Lecturer in literature.

2. Restaurant dishwasher.

3. Research assistant to an economist.

4. Labourer (really).

5. Girly singer and keyboard player in an otherwise testosterone-addled band.

Three of my habits:

1. Not putting my seatbelt on until I'm out on the road.

2. Singing in the garden.

3. Creasing and mashing the more exciting pages of books.

Five places I have lived:

1. Toorak, Melbourne

2. Curramulka, SA

3. Hawthorn, Adelaide

4. Klagenfurt, Austria (if a five-week summer-school residency at the U of Klagenfurt counts).

5. In streets called Alpha Street, Princess Street, and First Avenue. I think this is a worry.


No tagging from me. As Ampersand Duck would say, follow your dreams.


* Listen hard for the muted piano intro at the beginning of this and see if you can hear who it is. Like I didn't just give you a dirty great big hint.

A Meme for the Middle-Aged

Deliver me, Lord, from the threat
of heaven ...

-- Peter Goldsworthy, 'Mass for the Middle-Aged'


As previously threatened promised, I have composed a meme for the middle-aged in order to offset the peculiar psychological effects of doing memes that were written for backward American teenagers. It even has some serious questions in it. If you are under 37, you will not understand some of these questions. If you a blogging beginner, this post will bewilder you -- better scroll down and read the the Christmas carols one instead.

UPDATE: I've just realised I haven't done this meme myself, so will use it as an excuse for some avoidance behaviour instead of tackling the next task on the list.


1) Which part(s) of your body is/are hurting as you read this? List all that apply.

Feet, head. I am bracketed by middle-aged aches.

2) Which of the following is/are no longer working properly? List all that apply.

a) feet
b) ankles
c) knees
d) hips
e) back
f) neck
g) brain
h) digestive system
i) blood pressure
j) memory
k) idealism
l) compassion
m) optimism
n) other (please specify) (NB -- if the answer is 'bits', and it may well be, that's on a strictly a need-to-know basis)

(a), (c), (d), (f), (h) and (k).

3) Has your hairline receded? (For both sexes.)

No, it's always been this high.

4) Is your hair the same colour it was ten years ago?

Not quite.

5) Is your hair the same colour it was ten days ago?

Yes.

6) Do you know what colour your hair would be if you grew the colour out?

Yes -- a less tabby-cat-like version of what it looks like now.

7) Are you still content to have your photo taken?

What do you mean, 'still'?

8) Do you think that Brazilians and/or back, sack & crack waxes are ridiculous?

Not quite; some of my own 'beauty' practices are a bit odd, too. I mean, I own an eyelash curler. (Which I can no longer use without thinking of that scene in The Boys.)

9) Or have you had one (or more than one)?

Hell no.

10) Did it hurt more than childbirth / falling off a ladder / root canal work / being attacked by a shark? (If not applicable, write ‘Not Applicable’.)

Not Applicable.

11) Have you had root canal work?

Not Yet.

12) Have you had surgery on any of your intimate parts?

Yes.

13) Were you evasive about it with your friends and relatives?

No. Only with readers of my blog.

14) How long have you known your oldest friend?

Since we became friends in Year 9 after having been enemies in Year 8 -- 40 years.

15) How often do you have to grope around for a particular word before you remember it?

Too bloody often.

16) When you travel, do you take a special separate toiletries bag exclusively for your medications and other first aid supplies?

Absolutely.

17) Does the thought of starting a new relationship

(a) fill you with horror
(b) make you giggle
(c) make you want to run away into the desert
(d) other (please specify)

All of the above.

18) What have you found to be the most reliable mantras, slogans and shibboleths to get you through life’s bad moments?

'This too shall pass.'
'Think of it scientifically.'
'You're not being napalmed.'
'My heart is pure, I have the strength of ten.'
'Let it go, Indy.' *

* Much of the appeal there is in the visualisation and imagined hearing of Sean Connery.

19) What makes you cry?

Music, injured animals, news items about lost children who have been found safe, music, funerals, and music.

20) What makes you laugh?

My friends, bless them.

21) Who were your musical gods and heroes when you were in your late teens/early 20s?

The Joni Mitchell of Blue and the Elton John of Tumbleweed Connection, which to this day I'm proud to claim.

22) Is/are he/she/they still alive?

Elton (age 60) is still touring his butt off and Joni (age 64) has a new album, an exhibition of paintings and a new ballet based on her music all showing/touring/on sale as we speak. I've seen them both live and they are both great musicians.

23 Which of these is no longer what it once was? List all that apply.

a) your ability to metabolise alcohol or other drugs of choice
b) your desire to metabolise alcohol or other drugs of choice
c) your desire to dance
d) your ability to dance

All but (c).

24) Have you now been to enough funerals to have definite and detailed ideas about how they should be organised and run? If yes, please elaborate.

Yes. Good music, good flowers, carefully chosen speakers and readers, and minimal crying if possible.

25) Have people started trying to help you across the street?

No, but give me time.

26) Could you get up on karaoke night and sing 'Non, je regrette rien' without bursting into howls of hysterical laughter?

No.

27) If not, please explain.

I can sing in tune, and my French accent is passable, but I regret almost everything.

28) What about 'My Way'?

Hmm. Wouldn't opening with the lines 'And now the end is near' provoke sarcasm in the ranks, at karaoke?

29) When did you last have a drink?

Last night.

30) What was it?

Fox Creek Verdelho, my fave.

31) Can I have some?

Soit'nly.


No tagging, just do it, if you feel it speaks to you. And please let me know here so I can go and have a look.

Procrastination

I found this meme at Sorrow at Sills Bend, to where it had been imported from Lorraine Crescent. There are all sorts of urgent things to do, but they can wait a bit. Haven't done a meme for yonks.

It is, of course, a meme designed for American teenagers, which means that some of it is incomprehensible.

1. Are you dating the last person you kissed?
The last person I kissed was my dad. Ew.

2. Pretend you've had 10 beers. what you would be doing right now?
Crying.

3. What do you want?
Legalised amphetamines.

4. Who was the last person you shared a bed with?
That would be the Bloke.

5. Do you talk to yourself?
Yes, quite a lot. Mostly to upbraid and criticise, unfortunately.

6. Do you drink milk straight from the carton?
Ew, again.

7. Who knows the latest secret about you?
If anyone knew, it wouldn't be a secret, would it.

8. How long is your hair?
All kinds of lengths.

9. Do you like Batman?
No, I think Batman is lame.

10. Who was the last person who told you they loved you?
That would probably be the Bloke too.

13. Do you like anyone now?
All kinds of people, yes.

14. When was the last time you lied?
Can't remember; I'm quite a truthful rodent as a rule.

16. Is your birthday on a holiday?
No, but it is quite euphonious and therefore tends to turn up in lugubrious traditional English ballads from time to time.

17. What instant messaging service do you use?
Oh, please.

18.Last thing you cooked today?
Coffee, in one of those silver things with a waist.

19. Did you have a nap today?
Yes, and it's still only 1350 hrs.

20. Who's house did you go to last?
That's 'whose' house, you dill. The answer is Judy and Graeme's and a very fine evening it was, involving rack of lamb and freshly cooked apricots, Part 2 of Jane Eyre, some truly excellent conversation* and an adorable dog.

*Judy had just finished writing this.

21. What do you wear more, jeans or sweats?
'Sweats' is a disgusting term for an item of clothing.

22. Why is the sky blue?
Because this is Adelaide. Hooray.

23. Do you like green beans?
Yes. And the yellow ones, and red ones, and white ones, and red and white stripy ones. I also like broad beans and butter beans. NB: the original line in The Silence of the Lambs was ' ... with fava beans and a big Amarone' but they downmarketed the wine for the movie.

24. Do you swear a lot?
Yes, but I think it sounds dreadfully naff when other people do it so am trying to stop.

25. Where did you get the shirt you're wearing?
Shirt?

27. Do you use an alarm clock?
On the rare occasions when I need an alarm I use my trusty if ancient Nokia mobile.

28. Where was your default MySpace picture taken?
Does the expression 'begging the question' mean anything to you?

29. Do you ever snort when you laugh?
Jesus, I hope not.

30. Whats the first thing you notice on the opposite sex?
What a bizarre question. Probably aberrant or daggy clothes, like socks with sandals.

31. Is cheating ever okay?
Heck no, I always cover my exam paper with my arm.

32. Do you want someone you can't have?
Not at the moment, no, but 'twas not always thus.

34. Do you wear underwear?
I deduce that 'underwear' here means 'underpants'. Yes indeed; I think going commando is strictly for those under three. And what's more I often favour what Zoe calls 'nanna pants'.

35. Do you wear a bra?
Yes. Several different ones, in fact. There's a cheap red lace number I particularly like.

36. What Size?
Mind your beeswax.

37. Are you a social or an antisocial person?
Half and half, often at the same time.

39. Do you have a tan?
My mother was a flaming redhead. My driving arm is usually a bit tinted by the end of summer, but apart from that, no.

45. Are you afraid of the dark?
I grew up in a farmhouse down a 200-metre dirt track from an unsealed road leading to an extremely small town. Nope, not afraid of the dark.

[Questions 40-44 missing, who knows why.]

47. Do you miss someone today?
Not really. I miss my mum all the time, but I'm guessing that's not what you meant.

49. Do you still have pictures of you & your exs?
Two or three, lying about somewhere.

50. Who's always there for you no matter what?
My sisters. And my dad. Hence the kissing (see #1).

Foxy butterfly chaser: a mini-meme

Natasha Mitchell was talking to the charming Jerome Kagan on All in the Mind on Radio National this afternoon. They were discussing childhood development and temperament, and at one point Kagan said this:

'Remember Isaiah Berlin talked about, there are 'foxes' and 'hedgehogs'. Foxes know a little bit about a lot of things and hedgehogs know a lot about just one or two things. Well similarly there are two kinds of scientists, then there's those who fit in neither group. But group one are hunters, they had a very strong need to discover an unambiguous fact, this is a permanently true fact, and I call them hunters because that's like you go out, you're going to get a moose and that trophy is put up on the wall and there it is - forever.

... Then there are butterfly chasers. Butterfly chasers fall in love with a certain aspect of nature, they know that all facts are transient, science is always changing but they're in love with this aspect of nature. And they want to find out something about it, even if it's a brief glimpse. So they're in a forest, they're looking for a particular butterfly and if they find it and can see it for 30 seconds, that's enough for them.'

So, what are ya?

Just a fool for a quiz and a widget

Read my VisualDNA™     Get your own VisualDNA™

Time for a meme

Now that the Miles Franklin longlist has been announced, Peter Debnam has all but conceded the NSW election, and Senator Santo Santoro has, astonishingly, resigned after the double-backhanded shares/donations/God-botherin' wimmin-hatin' scam, it's time (as Ampersand Duck would say) to Remember to Breathe.

So I have asked Suse at Pea Soup to give me a letter for the Scrabble meme, and she has given me an E; the rules are that you have to write a list of beautiful things that you like and that begin with the letter that has been allocated to you. But that is quite hard and needs to be thought about, so while I'm thinking about it, here's another one instead, one with only two questions.

(And thanks to Fyodor the Blogless for the suggestion.)

You are one of the people at the end of Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451, and you have elected to memorise a book, to save it for posterity. Which book, among all others, would you choose?

And -- no abstaining allowed, either, so let's say you have to throw one book on the fire in order to be allowed to memorise another one -- which book would you burn?

Feel free to explain yourself, if you wish. Or not. Whatever blows your hair back, as my friend Leonie would say.

For me it would depend on what day it was, but today I'd burn, oh, say, Men are From the Planet of the Apes (and Women are From Toorak Road) or whatever the hell it's called, so I could earn the right to memorise The Tempest. 'Be not afeard, the isle is full of noises / Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.'


Full fathom five thy father lies
Of his bones are corals made
Those are pearls that were his eyes
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell
Hark, now I hear them
Hark, now I hear them
Ding dong bell

Late Australia Day Meme

In response to popular demand, ie two people have said it would be kind of nice, and as a late gesture to Australia Day, I here reprise the Australian Literature meme I made up and posted over at A Fugitive Phenomenon shortly after I took up blogging. It's been tweaked a bit, but most of my answers are the same as they were in December 2005 -- nice to think there are some things I'm consistent about.


AUSTRALIAN LIT MEME

1) Which Australian poem are you most confident you could recite from memory?

Gwen Harwood's 'Suburban Sonnet' -- only because Robyn Archer set it to music and I used to have the album ('Wild Girl in the Heart', title taken from a Dorothy Hewett poem). We're talking vinyl here.

2) Which of the Seven Little Australians are you?

Bunty. No question.

3) Which is your favourite Patrick White novel?

The Eye of the Storm.

4) Which is the best Patrick White novel?

Gah. Um -- A Fringe of Leaves or The Tree of Man, I think. [UPDATE: I don't know what I was thinking about here. Clearly the answer to this question is Voss.

This week.]

5) Which Australian fictional/dramatic/poetic character do you fancy most?

There's a sailor in a Dorothy Hewett poem called 'Go Down Red Roses' that I always rather liked the sound of.

6) And which do you identify with most?

Shannon in Ride On Stranger.

7) If you had to read five Australian poems to a heterogeneous unknown audience, which five would you choose?

John Shaw Neilsen's 'The Orange Tree', Gig Ryan's 'If I Had a Gun', all of Kenneth Slessor's 'Five Bells', all of Les Murray's 'The Buladelah-Taree Holiday Song Cycle', and all of Judith Wright's 'The Shadow of Fire: Ghazals' ("There's altogether too much I know nothing about.").

And I'd allow breaks for meals.

8) Which five Australian books would you take to a desert island?

Voss, Come In Spinner, Carmel Bird's Penguin Century of Australian Stories, David Marr's bio of P White, Nadia Wheatley's ditto of Charmian Clift. This is about memory -- these are the books that would elicit the greatest breadth, depth and variety of memories to contemplate as I sat on the beach getting skin cancer.

9) If you were a guest at Don’s Party, would you be
(a) naked in the pool
(b) upstairs having sex
(c) outside having sex
(d) sulking with a headache
(e) huddled round the TV
(f) crying
(g) more than one of the above (please specify)
(h) other (please specify)

(g), namely (d), (e) and (f) -- I'd be huddled round the TV with a headache, sulking and crying.

10) Tim Winton or Christos Tsiolkas?

Gotta be Christos.

11) Banjo Paterson or Henry Lawson?

Gotta be Henry.

12) Henry Lawson or Barbara Baynton?

Gotta be Barbara. The blacker of two options, every time.

13) What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen at a writers’ festival?

Edmund White saying to a fellow-panelist as they climbed onto the stage to do their thing: 'What is it that we're supposed to be talking about?'

First Sentence meme

Because I have two urgent and three semi-urgent deadlines, a movie date this afternoon, a week's worth of housework to get through and a great swag of gardening to do before the next (and imminent) Adelaide heatwave, I'm going to do a meme. This is a nice turning-of-the-year exercise that I got from, very appropriately, The Imponderabilia of Actual Life.

Instructions: Copy the first sentence that you posted in each month of 2006.

January
It was a textbook New Year this year: dinner in the Adelaide Hills with three of my oldest friends.

February [post head 'True Confessions' -- Ed.]
And it's a shocking one: insofar as one is stuck with the politicians one has, within the party that one must suffer to be in power, I've always had a bit of a soft spot for Amanda Vanstone.

March
Groaning at my own idiocy in putting my hand up to review two different productions of the same play within four days for the Adelaide Fringe, I trudged off tonight to the seemingly bizarre venue, the SA Railway Museum, having been newly informed that no cast member of this production was over 17.

April
Longtime Labor liability Marn Fern is quoted in this morning's Age as having dismissed the poll figures on Julia Gillard's rising popularity as 'neither here nor there', while the corrupted and crippling Labor factions are, he said in their alleged defence, 'a fact of life'.

May
My closest beach, five or ten minutes' drive away, is Semaphore in Adelaide's north-west.

June
As I drove home from the vet's a little while ago with the cats singing a duet of post-shots protest in stereo (one in the back seat, one in the front), I heard something on the radio that made me blush for shame at my own ignorance.

July
This is what people mean when they talk about the fusion of style and substance.

August
Today I planted seedlings of these ...









... and one of these ...









... and some very late clumps of these:










September
Apparently the building of a new and improved space ship for another trip to the moon is going be a snip, but they still haven't found a speech therapist sufficiently gifted to teach the US President how to say 'nuclear'.

October
If at this time of year you spend a week trying (and failing) to get at least one of the four book reviews finished while you clean the house, pack for a two-day Sydney trip, prepare for the meeting that said trip is about, and prioritise above all else some time out for a fleeting visit from a distant beloved, and if you finally stagger out to the cab for the airport secure in the knowledge that you've ticked everything off the packing list (except your hairbrush; bummer) and that there are biscuits and coffee for your elderly father when he comes over to feed the cats and that there is enough money in the accessible bank accounts to get you through whatever staggeringly expensive Sydney events may arise (for Sydney absorbs one's money like blotting paper) -- if, as I say, you spend a week like this, too busy to go outside, then be prepared for chaos in the garden by the time you get home.

November
About half an hour ago I caught sight of the cats gazing more purposefully than usual out of the back screen door; clearly there was something exciting on cat television.

December
From today's online ABC news:

'A German company plans to launch a spray-on condom tailor-made for all sizes. ...'

******

Now Pavlov's Cat is very deliberately designed and run as yer average dog's breakfast (so to speak), a blog that determinedly mixes the domestic, the trivial, the political, the personal and the professional (mine, I mean, and therefore slanted toward issues of writing, literature, language, history, psychology and other namby-pantywaist humanities-type things) -- in a word, a blog with a subtextual feminist undertow, designed to demonstrate that life is not lived in labelled compartments hierarchically arranged in order of importance.

As this exercise would appear to prove.

Christmeme

Taking a leaf out of Elsewhere's book, I have made/written/invented a meme, this time a Yuletide one. Nobody's tagged but I'd love to know if you do this one, so I can see what you said.

(NB: sincere apologies in advance to all for whom this meme has no meaning or relevance, including those of other creeds and those of Scrooge persuasion; I have great respect for your position but can't see the logic in suppressing my own secular pleasure in the Christmas mood and trappings on its account. So if you hate Christmas or are not interested in it, it's a bad idea to read on. Sorry.) I've been thinking about all these questions, as one does, so have put in my own answers.


1) Do you have a tree, and if so what is hanging on it?

Yes, a stylised tree of gold-coloured metal with a star on top and a lot of Leunig-looking curly branches for hanging ornaments on. It has all the ornaments I bought in Melbourne and overseas over the years to renew the stock for the family tree as things gradually got broken and shabby, and that I got back when my mum died; there are also various beautiful ornaments that people have given me.

Critters feature prominently -- there's an Austrian teddy in a hat and wasitcoat [UPDATE: I meant waistcoat, but I think 'wasitcoat' is almost better], a crystal cat, a Scottish rabbit swinging on a Christmas wreath, and a couple of lovely Victorian-style rocking-horses. Lots of musical instruments -- little harps and bells and violins and so on. There are also several angels, two strings of shiny beads, and some gold star tinsel that's been somewhat chewed at the lowest level. (Poppet, I'm looking at you.)

2) What's the most successful bit of Christmas cooking you've done so far?

The herb and garlic vinaigrette with home-grown herbs (parsely, thyme and chives) steeping in it as we speak is pretty impressive.

3) And the least successful?

I piked on real custard for the trifle and used bought instead. It's very nice though.

4) Which bit of your Christmas shopping are you happiest with?

I think my older sister is going to really like The Procrastinator's Planner for 2007.

5) Have you opened any of your presents yet? What was it / were they?

A bottle of Jurlique Rosewater Freshener Spray, a copy of Hotel California: Singer-Songwriters and Cocaine Cowboys in the LA Canyons, 1967-76, a state-of-the-art garlic chopper-upper that is blessedly easy to wash, a copy of Ordinary People's Politics: Australians Talk About Life, Politics and the Future of Their Country, some beautiful little spicy German cookies that are basically a decorated version of Pfeffernüsse, and a compactly-sized portable personal evaporative air cooler.

So far.

6) Do you have any bad Christmas associations that will have to be tackled?

There was a very rough patch twenty years ago in my relationship with my younger sister, whose house we're having lunch at tomorrow -- when we were in our early to-mid thirties we would almost always have some kind of vicious, violent blow-up on Christmas morning over some incredibly trivial matter like how to clean the prawns.

I also feel worse every year about the fact that I'm not in the city at the Central Mission on Christmas morning making gravy and custard for the homeless. Next year I might volunteer to pack hampers or something.

7) What's your favourite carol? Why?

It used to be 'O Holy Night', for the buildup and drama of the music, and I've always had a soft spot for the Australian carol whose name I can't remember that begins 'The north wind is tossing the leaves / The red dust is over the town / The sparrows are under the eaves / And the grass in the paddock is brown', because in Curramulka where I grew up you could see every single one of those things while you were singing about them, just by looking out of the window.

But since I learned Berlioz's 'The Shepherd's Farewell' a few years ago with the choir I used to sing in, I've been very attached to that moment in the middle where there's a completely unexpected modulation out of the minor and into the major key. The harmonies are mind-boggling.

8) Which part of your Christmas plans is most likely to go awry?

I'm getting further and further behind with the List. And I don't think the handpainted silk shirt is going to look as good over the sleeveless top as I would like it to.

9) What's your most favourite thing about Christmas?

The sensory overload. Choirs! Champagne! Mince pies! Candlelight! Red and gold things!

10) What's your least favourite thing about it?

I always put on at least two kilos, which is something I really really seriously cannot afford to do.

11) What Christmassy thing have you seen or heard in the street or on the teeve or in the blogosphere that has
(a) touched your heart

Archie Roach singing 'From Little Things Big Things Grow' on the RocKwiz Christmas Special last night was something I'm very glad I saw.

(b) hit a nerve

Christmas cards in the racks in the shops saying 'Merry Christmas to a Wonderful Mother'. She died in 1999 and I'm still not used to it.

or (c) made you want to barf?

Nothing so far. But give me time.

12) Who do you wish you had contacted to say Happy Christmas but haven't so far?

Lyn, Darcy, Drusilla, Sally and Pete, Phil and Mary, Lucy and Julian, Angela and Grahame in Stirling, Adi and Irene in Klagenfurt, the Sydney Helen, one of the Melbourne Helens, both of the Barbaras, both of the Peters, all of the Christophers, and two old lovers -- you know who you are. Happy Christmas, you-all.

And to the Hivemind; to Cristy and Zoe and Armagnac, who will all have an extra mouth to feed custard into by next Christmas; and to everyone else who so nicely comes to Pav's Cat to read and chat, I hope you all have a peaceful, safe and happy Christmas.

Elsewhere's TV meme

Elsewhere has made good her promise to invent a meme, and a meme is a thing I cannot ignore.


1. Earliest remembered television?

I Love Lucy. Which is still funny. But I also remember Gunsmoke, Roy Rogers, Sugarfoot, Bonanza, The Flintstones, Pick-A-Box (starring a very young Barry Jones, who frequently challenged the official correct answers and was always right), The Bugs Bunny Show, Channel Niners, the telecast of the John Martin's Christmas Pageant, and ditto the Anzac Day march, where we would always be able to spot our dad if we looked for the Navy's 'Corvettes' banner.

Pick-A-Box: that's Barry Jones on the right.


2. TV series you would want on a desert island

Prime Suspect, if that counts as a series. All seven of them.



3. TV that made you laugh

The Games. John Clarke and Gina Riley are both brilliant; together they were stellar.


4. TV that made you cry

The Stuart Diver rescue.


5. TV crap that you enjoy

Funniest Home Videos. There, my secret is out.


6. TV you'll never forget.

Hamish Macbeth. Best. TV. Ever.


7. Favourite TV adaptation.

Middlemarch. Not even the ubiquitous Andrew Davies -- a screenwriter who still, after having totally cornered the market in Screen Adaptations of 19th Century Women's Fiction, does not understand that 19th century women's fiction is not about the male characters -- could wreck Middlemarch for me.

Besides, Rufus Sewell was in it.

Rufus the Breathtaking. What is it about a man at a piano?


7. Favourite nerdish program

I don't like nerdish TV. I get enough nerdish in my head.


8. One TV program you are currently watching

The cricket.


9. One TV show/series you have been meaning to watch

I'm with Elsewhere on this one: I think I should at least try to see the point of Desperate Housewives. But oh Lord it's hard.