Le Tour or Blue Label?

I have to confess to some disappointment with our press. And ourselves perhaps. Cadel Evans slogs his heart out for three weeks to finish the Tour De France in second place, within seconds of being the first Australian to win the race outright, and all our front page press here gives itself over to is the child of some media baron who apparently toasted his first child’s arrival with a drop or two of Johnie Walker Blue Label. Surname “Packer” helps no doubt. Perhaps we all would have been paying more attention if it was an Olympic silver medal Cadel had won but I do think three weeks of spotlight work (and months of preparation no doubt) is worth more than a back page mention, especially given the world stage on which he performed. No, I am not a cyclist but would like to think we recognise our achievers better than we have recognised Cadel. Or is it that our fatal flaw of loving the ratbag has gotten in the way, what with Sonny Bill Williams departing the NRL and kicking off to France to play union and abandoning his 5 year multimillion dollar football contract? Photo AFP: Joe Klamar

Victorian Invercargill

My childhood recollections of Invercargill include a bullock being shot, and burning my feet in a mound of white ash - the logs had long since stopped smoking and the pile of talcum soft ash in the middle of Don’s paddock was too much to resist. It hid orange hot coals underneath. Read more

Sanaa Forge

When your jambiya (dagger)  becomes blunt from whatever it is that blunts it (cutting up qat?), or if it cracks from the weight of far too many admiring glances, drop down to the local forge in the heart of Sanaa and have it beaten back into shape by barefoot smithys who don’t seem to notice the molten blobs of metal bouncing off their feet, or the bounding hammer that swings down past their head to smash into the white hot metal held down by only a pair of old tin snips.  They put on a good show for their client who anxiously waits the outcome of the panel beating on his jambiya and who hopes the foreigner with the camera will just bug off since he does not need these two artisans showing off at the potential expense of his pride and joy thankyou very much!!

Hear Ye, Hear Ye…

Larking about Trafalgar Square in hot woolen get up is not all it is cracked up to be. Especially in July when it is so terribly hot. Well, at least hot for London. Read more