lovely.

We’ve all seen the dress so I don’t need to clog the interwebz up with more re-postings. I thought it was perfect (lace sleeves!) and the whole spectacle was so much better than I expected. These are a couple of my favourite images:

Could you imagine walking into this? I remember walking into Westminster Abbey a few years ago and uttering a few choice words under my breath that probably should have struck me down on the spot. I can’t imagine seeing it all pimped out and full of people full of their own importance.

Seriously? This blows my mind. All the royal guards lining the Mall, the cavalry, it’s such a formidable sight.

And some fun. How cute. I thought this was a really lovely and fun touch to the formality of the day.

So … didn’t Princesses Eugenie and Beatrice looked awwwful? Who let them in like that? Ooh, and David Beckham with his old-school movie star hair? The hotness. I think my favourite though was the grumpy flower girl. No, wait. Prince Harry. He’s always my favourite.

And now, let the royal baby bump watch commence.

Did you watch it? Like it? Love it? Hate it?

All images from Mail Online.

easter adventure

I needed some adventure. I posted my demand on Twitter and along with another tweeter (twitter? Seriously, what are we called? Suggestion of ‘twats’ will be not be accepted), I decided this five-day Easter/ANZAC Day long weekend would be the time to seek something out of the ordinary.

Peterborough. It’s a teeny, tiny, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it beach town along the Great Ocean Road. It has two general stores and a pub which I think is all a town needs. My great-grandparents owned a holiday house there when they were still alive and we spent every summer and long weekend in between at that house. The carpet was more sand than fibre and the bedrooms had those old-fashioned candlewick bedspreads covering the lumpy mattresses. My brother and I would use the furniture in the lounge room as an obstacle course, the toilet was outside and for years, the smell of bacon would take me back to that kitchen with the mint-green cupboards.

I haven’t been back to The House for years but I’m lucky enough to visit my aunty’s holiday house every now and then. It looks out across the lake, has cows for neighbours and is a five-minute walk to the beach. The perfect place for adventure.

As much fun as I had, I didn’t find much adventure. We had a bonfire that kind of died in the arse, despite having petrol thrown on it – out of a wine glass nonetheless. There’s nothing quite like being rugged up, wearing gumboots, drinking beer and poking a fire with a big stick.

Behind the fire, that hill is a sand dune. A steep one that involves a precarious climb down to the beach.

The ocean looks calm enough in this picture but the day before, waves were crashing over the rocks. Of course on Monday, the day we left, the sun was shining but that’s always the way, isn’t it?

I still need an adventure. Something to get the heart racing, some adrenaline pumping, to make me feel alive. Like really living. I think my subconscious felt sorry for me because while I was away, I had a dream that I was in New York City. I remember turning my face to the sun, to the traffic, the hustle and bustle, and feeling completely in the moment. I know my full-time student situation doesn’t particularly lend itself to international travel but sometimes I feel like saying Fuck it. Bugger the savings, let’s go. But then my practical, cautious Capricorn nature kicks in and I don’t book a flight, I don’t look for cheap accommodation, I don’t buy a guide book.

I need adventure.

that time princess diana waved to me

I  had a little obsession when I was a little girl. One that Mum says cost her a small fortune in magazines. I was fascinated with Princess Diana. I had a scrapbook:

My three-year-old self would spend the day with Nana and together, we would cut out pictures and spend hours pasting them into the dog-eared book.

Look at the date! It’s 28 years old! It’s from Melbourne’s The Herald newspaper, a huge ‘souvenir’ poster of Prince William as a baby. It’s folded into quarters and pasted in carefully.

A couple of years ago, Mum and I came across the book when we were having a clean out. ‘Chuck it,’ I said dismissively, but she protested so loudly that I relented just to keep the peace. Now, I’m so glad she made me keep it. It makes me love that three-year-old.

 

A lot of the pictures are from the royal visit to Australia in 1983. Here’s one of Charlie, sporting a fetching safari suit:

  

Given my age, I don’t really remember much of the cutting-and-paste time with my grandmother but this following picture and the shitstorm about it, I do. There are photos on the reverse of the pretty in pink princess and thinking she was doing the right thing, Nana started chopping her way through the page until I completely lost my shit because Princess Di’s torso had been sliced and diced. Quick thinking and resourceful as grandmothers tend to be, Nan pasted half the page down, letting the other half to be turned over like a book. Another magazine was sourced and the rest of the picture added to the book. I was placated.

This page was my favourite. Look at the hat! Look at the collar! The daisies! Love.

I’m not sure what Wills did to deserve having his page ripped off.

They came to Melbourne during the royal visit, the Prince and Princess. And she waved to me. I asked Mum how she knew Princess Di waved to me and not somebody else and she said ‘You were the only child held up about two foot above everyone else’s heads. There was nothing else to wave to at that height.’ Isn’t that sweet? Princess Di waved to me.

Although the scrapbook habit died out, I loved Princess Di and I was devastated when she died. I was at work and a woman said to me, ‘Word is Princess Di has died.’ This is really corny but as she walked away, the song playing over the PA system at the time was The Pretenders ‘Hymn to Her’:

And she will always carry on
Something is lost
But something is found
They will keep on speaking her name
Some things change
Some stay the same

It sill brings tears to my eyes :)

I’m so excited about the wedding. I don’t even care if people think it’s ridiculous. I can’t wait. One of my friends is having a party, complete with champagne, gloves and tiaras. She thinks she may even wear her wedding dress (totes tongue-in-cheek) because ‘when else am I ever going to wear it?’ Absolutely. Rock that white dress, sista.

We’re having our own little wedding party here at home (though I’m thinking more pyjamas than frocks). The time difference is perfect: Friday evening. I can’t wait for the dress. I’m predicting lace sleeves. Even though I don’t like the whole ‘blue blood’ aspect of royalty, I think it’s so romantic that Kate is leaving her hotel as a shitkicking commoner in a car, only to leave Westminster Abbey a princess in a carriage. It’s right out of a fairytale.

Will you be watching? Do you even care?

I have this gif saved on my bookmarks bar and sometimes, when I'm not paying enough attention, I accidentally click it instead of the address bar. It surprises me and makes me giggle each time. I don't know who I love more: the guy at the front right or the woman in the middle wearing white who appears to be doing The Chicken. The poor loves, forever dancing. Surely that guy's neck would be giving him grief by now.

Also, thank you so much to those who voted for me in the Best Australian Blogs 2011 competition. If I could take you out for margaritas and nachos, I would. There is still time to vote - you have until Friday 21 April (don't forget Australia is ahead of most of the world, time-wise). x

vote?

I feel a bit silly to be honest. And I've never done this kind of thing before ... but if you were to vote for me in the  Best Australian Blogs 2011, I should be very grateful. The competition is an initiative of the Sydney Writers' Centre and there are some incredible blogs on the list. Voting in this round is open until Friday 21 April, after which I will take down the badge and pretend this never happened because, you know, this isn't something I do, don't draw attention to yourself, Annelise. Of course I don't expect to get any more than five votes, but five votes? I would love those five votes like they were my babies.

done

Picture found via pinterest but original source not known.

I handed in two uni assignments today and am now on two weeks' holiday (and for the record, Charlie Chaplin and Henry Lawson can suck it. Just like Oliver Twist did last year). My plans for the next fourteen days include announcing Monsieur Frog's mantra daily, learning how to use my D-SLR camera (that I've only had for four years ...), reading books books books and seeking adventure. That makes me happy.

A love story makes me happy too. You should all probably read Natasha's love story. Start with this one and then read this one. If a tear or two don't come to your eyes, you're probably made of stone.

Have a lovely weekend. x