DARK DREAMS IN THE PINK CITY

Chez Dalrymple was as warm and wonderful as I remembered it.  Poor Olive was just back from Jaipur with a stonking cold, but brimming over with fabulous stories about the arts and crafts fair that she takes part in every year. I love that Suggs from Madness was part of her painting group!

As Willy fielded calls every few minutes in between hugs and stories, I got the chance to hear all about Olive's miniature art and devour a catalogue of her work. It's stunning - beautiful rich colours and such moving compositions. I fell in love with a piece entitled 'Creation' that if I happen upon a nice pile of cash, I must purchase. Very unlikely but one can dream.

We ate the most delicious lunch whilst bathed in sunshine on their balcony, as Albinia, the Aussie golden crested cockatoo squawked in the background. It's incredible that feeling of dejavu, like being surrounded by a soothing balm of timelessness. We swapped stories of my last visit and the people we know in common, of course soon discussion turned to the Festival. I am longing to write here who the star attraction is going to be this year, but it's under embargo. Luckily I noticed that it had been revealed on the website by mistake, so earned myself a signed copy of W's new book 'The Return of a King' which recounts the First Afghan War with such charm, enthusiasm and knowledge, I am deeply engrossed. What an incredible talent he has, to make war time history with an endless plethora of characters, so digestible, juicy and engaging. I just wish that his 'In Conversation' session was in my venue at the fest!

Just as we were about to take the dogs for a walk, The Guardian released their double page coverage of his book online, so I beat a hasty retreat with their driver Vijay. I have been devouring the latest copy of Tehelka, the magazine that I discovered on my last visit and amidst the political pieces that make your hair stand on end, I read about a gallery in Hauz Khas. An exhibition of stills by acclaimed set photographer Nemai Ghosh sounded fabulous. He had a symbiotic relationship with top Indian director (now deceased) Satyajit Ray and photographed him and his films over many decades.

The traffic was backed up like crazy, so I deserted Vijay to his Dalrymple duties and made my way on foot to Hauz Khas village. What I found there was aptly described by Olive as "young Delhi gone wild". I spent a fabulous afternoon wandering the monuments, set against a lake that is much better seen as a backdrop than up close, and then sauntered into the Deer Park. In amongst the hundreds of deer and people milling about, I sought out a group of musicians who were celebrating life. Various drums were set up, women were dancing and sweating in the afternoon sun while a pink faced Westerner blew into his sax with all his might. A crowd gathered, clapping and pulsating with the riffs and rhythms. There was a free invitation for all to clap, jiggle about and laugh along with the gang. It was frenetic and fascinating, but as the sun started to sink I was keen to find the gallery.

The little alleyways of Hauz Khas were alive, seething with creativity and enticing boutiques. I looked into a few vintage stores and could almost have been in Windsor or Fitzroy. It didn't seem right looking at alice collars and fluoro sandals in India, so I explored the fusion stores of which there were many. The fabrics and creativity were too much, I simply had to buy myself a new bag (made of old tyres - upcycled!) and in one irresistible store I bought a warm wrap up jumper and a fabulous purple dress. I felt completely justified when I found out today that the colour theme for the closing night of the festival is purple, black and a touch of gold!

The New Delhi Gallery was beautifully laid out and the photos were sublime. Ghosh's eye for composition was often flawless. One of his photos of Ray seemed to me, to sum up what it is to be a film director (well a truly great one). I was entranced by the majority of his stills but noticed an interesting looking foreigner being fawned over by a group of locals. I struck up a conversation with him and was soon introduced to the curator of the exhibition. I heard all sorts of interesting secrets and stories behind the photos and their subjects' relationships. Love a bit of inside skinny.

After a delicious dinner at Gunpowder and a chapter of 'Return of a King', I jumped in the cab of a heavenly Sufi called Babba. Of course Babba had a big belly, huge laugh and a moustache to boot. He spoke very little English but he chatted with all his might in broken English and taught me some Hindi. I think he tried to invite me to meet his guru at the Sufi temple the next day, (though he could have been asking me to levitate for all I really could undertand) but I hit the road to Jaipur first thing.

What a hell of a road trip. The task of getting out of Delhi was pure insanity and the team were pretty tired and tense after their Head of Security, Rahul's mother had been hospitalised. I jumped in a car with Ila and we picked up Mani on the way - what incredible women, I loved our discussions and listening to their banter after my neck got too sore to turn around and my eyelids dropped. Ila is in charge of all the authors (what a job) and directly after the fest is off to Oz to oversee a performance at the Perth International Arts Festival before many more missions. Mani's husband is Ambassador for India to Egypt and she has helped start up off-shoots of the lit fest in South Africa and Israel (his last two posts I believe) and now Egypt. She is here to do all the design for the festival but has to fly back to Cairo on the 26th for the National Day - funny it's Aussie day too.

The youngsters, Ila's daughter Kritika, lovely Wasu and Namita's (Festival Director) niece Aishvarya were in another car and we battled our way to Jaipur together. I can't even begin to describe the mayhem on the roads, but anyone who has been to Asia can imagine. What should have been a 3-4 hour journey, took us 7 hours. A memorable moment was when we passed a sign that said 37km to Jaipur and I breathed a big sigh of relief, then a few kms further on there was a sign that said 38km to Jaipur. I had a giggle to myself as the driver was intensely honking and passing all manner of vehicles at break neck speed, while the ladies snoozed in the back. We arrived at the Diggi Palace with much relief but sadness, as the news of Rahul's mother's passing had struck and the team were upset not to be with him - he's an only child and they are like his family.

I finally checked into my hotel, (massive but well located and with hot water!), then ate a mountain of excellent food, (much better than our roadside lunch) and fell into bed with authors names whirling around my head. At what I'm tempted to call an ungodly hour of the morning, the Muslim call to prayer resounded as though the local mosque were located in my room. It seems my neighbours are very vocal at that time of the morning and on top of that, I was convinced a rat was stuck inside my air con (just testing it out now to see if it in fact doubles as a heater - not likely but worth a go).

A dream came rushing back to me as I lay in the darkness, rather confused and chilly....

There was a huge park that was choc full of bodies. The location and the people were unspecified, but a mixture of young and old, backgrounds and ages. A group of distinctly unfriendly men with guns marched up and began ordering people around. A lot of the youngsters were shocked and simply didn't understand what was happening, however some of the older people recognised these men as terrorists and were frozen to the spot where they stood, their eyes wildly scanning the situation. One young girl tried to challenge these men, who were shouting at some kids, they turned their guns on her and showered here little body in a hail of bullets. The adults grabbed at the youngsters and tried to calm them, to explain that they should keep quiet. It was scary as hell and noone knew who these men were or what they wanted. As things escalated, various characters emerged and groups formed. In particular one grey haired man began to act very strangely and became like a shamanic figure to the prisoners. I think that he held the key to their eventual escape.

I never saw the conclusion of the dream, but after my 'call to prayer' and rat fears, (not my fave animal), I managed to fall back into a different version of the same dream. This time a long, thin, bespectacled Scandinavian film director was talking about why he felt driven to make this hideous story into a movie. He was a young father, who had promised his wife that his next film would be lighter in content, but was compelled to tell this story. I can't help wondering if this guy was a version of the foreigner I spoke to in the gallery, but I'm unsure how this dastardly story found its way into my dreams.

Perhaps I am consumed by how important it is to tell stories that challenge the viewer and the author.

Today our briefing began at Diggi Palace and I met some volunteers. It was exciting to see the event coming to life and how it's expanded on the grounds. There has been press today in the Times of India about how some Islamic leaders who protested against Salman Rushdie reading from 'The Satanic Verses' last year, have in fact taken out legal cases against four writers who read extracts in his place. According to Lou, who does all the blogging and social media for the Festival, Mr Rushdie offered to do the reading via video link but that was still protested vehemently against as illegal and appalling.

Two of the four writers who read extracts from 'The Satanic Verses' are coming back this year and apparently there is outrage towards them and court cases are pending. Guess whose venue these two authors will be engaged in a panel about Sharia law? You guessed it, my Google Mughal Tent!!!

Namaste.
Lx

WELCOME TO MUDDY, RAINY DELHI - HURRAY!

It's a miracle. At the very least, life is a series of mini-miracles.

I have reached way back into the recesses of my brain and in a blinding flash of necessity, the password to resurrect this blog has appeared to motivate my twitchy fingers.

After many years, here we are again. Some of us at least. My family and perhaps a few mates, but that is enough. I had forgotten how this country demands to be documented. Forgotten the extent to which it lacerates your emotions, pushing and pulling you to extremes. Despite requests from nearest and dearest, even the excitement of re-reading my last India experience via my posts before I left, I had decided not to blog this time. The universe has conspired to laugh in the face of this decision. Silly Laura, do as you're told. Or the final words of my friend, that have been resounding in my head since I left, as she dropped me off a few short hours before my 3:30am taxi on my final night in Oz, "Work harder"! That was her response when I told her that I'd be far too busy to keep a blog this time. Such sloth!

The power points in my dusty little guest house (Janpath) refuse to charge my laptop. I seem to have short circuited them in fact, as now the TV refuses to work (not a problem really as I don't understand a word of Hindi).; Though inexplicably one located in the bathroom does work, but the moisture in there is intense, so only my local mobile is allowed into that drippy cave.

With no other outlet for my whirring mind but scribbling in notebooks, I have returned to the internet cafe where Suress has demanded my passport despite 2 visits here yesterday.

A quick recap to when I had 36 blissful hours in Sydney before my neverending flight to Delhi via Dubai. Thank you to all my gorgeous mates who showed up to The Hollywood to wish me well on my travels. But above all bless you Suzannah for having me to stay and sharing your adventures and enthusiasm with me, it was just what I needed before I flew. All of it was nourishing, the swim at Bondi with Kylee and Harmony (what a little kook) and the walk afterwards to Bronte followed by another float in the healing ocean. Jean Pierre's magic hands (a massage!), the meetings I squeezed in and above all the daggy tunes at my fave pub in Syd with so many lovely friends.

Despite ticking off a million lists and whirling about like a dervish before I left Oz - totally manic in Melbs and apologies to those I couldn't say goodbye in person to - I neglected to check in online. What a doofus. It completely slipped my mind, despite the fact that I've done it for pretty much every single flight I've taken in the last decade (well most!). So, you can imagine my delight when I bagged an aisle seat next to two young mothers with their squealing babies.

That's not fair, one baby Zia only cried at the very end and every time she woke up, she smiled. Her mother is Libyan and has been studying in Sydney. They're to meet her family in Dubai and when I asked if they had kept safe during the conflict, she recounted a harrowing story of how her younger brother had been shot twice in the hand when he tried to stop a thief from stealing his new car. He had just been given it by his father for completing his studies and his older brother had to stand by helplessly and watch the shooting. Poor Rasha broke down in tears as she told me about it, her little brother has spent 3 months in Germany having operations and the hand is still no good. Her older brother has nightmares.

Right next to me, was Marwa from Syria and her daughter Janna. She didn't speak enough English to tell me her story, but when she said she was flying to Egypt to see her family and then looked away, I could feel her immense pain. Both mothers were taking their children to meet their families for the first time. Rasha wants to stay in Australia and do a Masters in Public Health but she isn't sure if she'll be allowed to remain. She feels ripped apart by her desire to live in Oz and give Zia a safe upbringing, while her family are stuck in Libya living a sort of hellish existence, one that I can't quite fathom.

The warmth of these women outweighed their pain, but I arrived in Delhi feeling heavy hearted and my grotty guest house suddenly seemed like heaven. I had a freezing cold shower, drank delicious chai and soon crashed into a confused dreamscape.

It was raining at 3am when I jolted awake, wondering where the hell I was. I boshed half a sleeping pill and thanked my beautiful Mum for her generosity. Luckily, I was soon asleep again. It was still raining when I awoke and I cursed my stupid choice of shoes, as I leapt over puddles in search of breakfast.

Luckily the best dhosas in Delhi are a few minutes from my door. I ripped the coconut rasa dhosa to pieces with my right hand and gulped fresh watermelon juice with my left. Each bite was more delicious than the last as I dipped and re-dipped the luscious concoction (a sort of bread that is light and thin and infused with coconut, with a smooth potato filling in the centre) into sambal, vegetable, green and coconut sauces again and again. After some time, I realised that about six waiters were lined up watching me.

Oh the eyes that are constantly watching you here, mostly male, they are so dark, broody and unnerving. With recent events in Delhi that I don't need to recount, I am particularly on guard (and yes, I have a travel alarm in my bag - Xmas gift from my parents) though I was nervy my first day, the only situation worthy of note arose when a bunch of school boys passed me. I am staying near Connaught Place and for those of you who've never been, it's very central and busy, made up of a series of circles divided into lettered blocks. I was racing manically between blocks N and M trying to get myself an umbrella, a local mobile phone (four different stores) and some more socks, when a young boy who couldn't have been more than 11 brushed my butt with his arm. 11 years old!!!!!!

I stopped cold as he and his friends walked on, a gaggle of about ten, without a single hair on any of their faces. I could see the culprit trying to nonchalantly swing his arms around, as though it had been a casual mistake but while his friends turned around and looked at me, laughing, he guiltily kept his straight ahead and his back to me. I stared at them and motioned that I'd felt it and that I knew it was him. He refused to turn around and walked on, while his friends whispered and laughed. I have to admit that it was not a slap or a pinch (which so often happened in Italy) but there was something disgusting about a boy that young, feeling it was his right to touch a grown up foreigner that way, particularly with all the "soul searching" that's going on in this city right now about women and sexual harassment. I was shocked. I felt sick and it has remained with me, just a tiny moment amongst many other examples of warm welcomes to this city, that I will not forget.

After my various boring missions, which were satisfyingly successful, though protracted and each a minor miracle when achieved, I made my way to Rajiv Chowk Metro station.

Perhaps I never got on a local train last time I was here, but I have never travelled on a local subway that has men with machine guns standing bored behind stacked sacks, metal detectors and body searches. It wasn't much fun having to place myself in a carriage with hundreds of eyes pointed straight at me, fingers often doing the same - but I was proud when I reached Hauz Khas and jumped in my first tuk tuk When I made it to the Teamwork office, I was excited to see everyone again and was given so many hugs and kisses from the exhausted looking team.

Seems I'm going to be emcee of the Google Mughal Tent and there are some incredible authors that I'll be hosting. What a huge honour. Directly after this, I'm going to jump back on the Jaipur Literature Festival site and really explore each one. It was slightly daunting to discover that since I last worked there in 2009, the audience has increased from approximately 5,000 people to over 100,000!!! I am going to have a team of four volunteers working for me, while back then I had only one. Mein godt!

How I wish my gorgeous friend Nichole was here to experience this all with me again. Back in the day, she ran the music stage, which has been moved off site to Clark's Hotel and apparently the Diggi Palace has expanded and reclaimed adjoining real estate, specifically so that it can retain the Festival on its grounds. Everyone has to register now, while previously attendees just wandered in. The catalyst was Salman Rushie's death threats last year, coupled with Oprah Winfrey's visit and a host of celebrated authors. This year, we have Sebastian Faulks, Anish Kapoor, Patrick French and so many more (240 in total) including an old friend from New York Andrew Solomon. I'm sure I'm forgetting all sorts of incredible names to mention but I promise to post here when possible during the Festival.

I met a Malaysian architect who lives in Wellington, NZ, last night who was also struggling with Airtel (the Telstra of India) and it was lovely to connect with a friendly, gentle male amidst the fray. Often it's not menace, but curiosity that prompts the constant stares but it's impossible to feel anything but mistrust. Though when you enter a conversation one-on-one, like the umbrella man who asked me if I lived in Delhi, you are reminded that there is so much good here. "You have the face of someone who lives here Madam. It is wonderful that you have returned to India. I hope you have a wonderful stay in my country."

In a few hours, I'm off to visit William Dalrymple for lunch. You may recall that he is the reason I first worked at the Festival and it was his almost immediate response to my email less than 2 weeks ago that propelled me to return to India. To just book a ticket and come back, to let go of all fears and logic and just get on that plane. So here I am.

It's heaven and hell, it's wonderful and terrifying but above all, I feel utterly alive and kicking. Plus the sun has just come out and is beckoning me.

Warm Delhi love.
Lx

THE NORTHERN LIGHTS ARE BLACK AND WHITE

I've dreamt of seeing the 'aurora borealis' many times. It's a rare, natural phenomenon where the sky turns into a full intergalactic rainbow.

I'm taking a different sort of northern mission and moving up to Sydney to work at a film festival, which takes place north of Newcastle. Filmmakers and friends Allanah and Stavros bought a property in Dungog on their return to Australia from London and were inspired by the creative community up there. So they started a festival. This year will be the 4th Dungog Film Festival (May 27-31) and I am excited to be part of it.

Having not lived in Sydney for a long, long time (last time was only for a handful of months), I'm very much looking forward to getting to know the city again. I'm going to continue to pursue my own projects, whilst helping to source and exhibit Aussie films at Dungog. Allanah and Stav are huge go-getters, they set up a distribution company and are pursuing their own film projects as well. I can't wait to be around that sort of energy.

Now it's taken me a while to re-find my voice here. I had a busy January with my various missions. But I also had a disaster and stopped talking to myself for a while. I was so angry that I could be so stupid.

This may sound like something less than momentous to some, but Collingwood football fans may want to skin me alive. And we all know that Pies supporters are the most committed of all!

Whilst on a Christmas clear up at the back sheds at my parents' home in Flinders, I found something I'd been dreaming of. Longing for. Wishing to see again. I unpacked an old suitcase and there it was - my long sleeved, VFL Collingwood football jumper from when Dad was President in the early 80s. It was signed by everyone in the team. All my old favourites were there - Tony Shaw, Peter Daicos, David Cloke, Mark Williams, Mike Richardson..... - and some that I didn't quite remember.



I hugged the jumper with glee. I was reunited with my very own, precious piece of footie history. I skipped across the lawn, with the detritus of my past lives littered everywhere and felt as though I was dancing on air. Seriously. A link to a past almost forgotten until my return to Melbourne last year.

For those of you who don't know, my brother's nickname for me is 'Joffette'. A rather snaggle-toothed, bleached blonde ruffian named Joffa heads up the Collingwood Fan Club and Hame is convinced that I'm destined to be his right hand 'man'! I have embraced all things black and white so much, that when offered the job in Sydney, the fact that I won't be in Melbs for the season almost made me turn the job down. Almost.

I hope to make enough money to fly back regularly for games. I will go and watch the ones I can't be at on the big screen somewhere in Sydney. I'll sniff out the best place to watch them.

So back to my old jumper. I packed it and other things I wanted to keep handy in an old trunk and forgot about them for a few weeks. Christmas, my birthday and new years eve all raced past at a galloping pace. It was the first Macdonald Christmas that we'd ever spent just the four of us (parents, brother, sister) that I can remember. We ate lobster, cleaned out the pond (Hamish of course threw me in the scum when there was one inch left) and played some golf. It was blissful.


Instead of celebrating my birthday on the annoying date of 30th December, I decided to have a gathering at the Balnarring picnic races on Sunday the 3rd of January. Dad took me out seriously early to nab a space (I am always rather grumpy at that time of the morning) and Mum cooked her heart out to make it a wonderful day. Friends and relations travelled from afar to have a bet, a sanger and a bevvie or three. It was a wonderfully relaxed, rural, delectable day.

So, the day after, I was feeling rather worse for wear. I was immersed in a film project all day and Mum insisted it was time to empty the trunk and air the clothes. Fair enough. She kindly offered to put them out for me. That night, as I was heading to bed, I simply couldn't muster the energy to bring them in. I though, oh well, the dew will do those musty clothes good. I'll grab them in the morning.

Ohmybloodygod NO! I woke up with a gasp at 6am with only one thought. 'Was my Collingwood jumper in that trunk? Oh god no. Please. NO!!!!! I have never got out of bed as fast as that morning. I moved like lightening and found two very surprised parents watering the garden. They hadn't seen me up that early for a long time. When I saw the black and white stripes, and the smudged signatures I cried like a baby. For hours. How could I be so lazy and stupid and idiotic and sloth-like not to have simply brought the clothes inside? A hangover is not a good excuse.

I have almost forgiven myself. Not really. But I'm trying to.

All those years in London, living next to Stanford Bridge in Chelsea and Emirates Stadium in the Arsenal, I could utterly empathise with the faces of jubilation and bitter defeat, dependent on the outcome of each game, as I watched the fans from my window. One of the highlights of 2009, has to be when Jack Anthony kicked that winning goal against the Crows. One of the bitterest pills was being beaten by Geelong in the semi-finals, yet again.

Our first preliminary season match is again the mighty Sainters, so it'll be a toughie, but we'll have Luke Ball and Darren Jolly. Two top, brand spanking new players. But St. Kilda will be out for blood after losing to Geelong in the Grand Final. It was an amazing match, but Geelong were simply too good.

So as I set off on the road again, almost exactly a year after my return to Oz, I promise once more to keep you closely posted.

Here's to Aussie film and to Aussie rules. Two great reasons (apart from my family and friends of course!!!) to be back in this wonderful country. We are truly blessed.

C'arn the Pies!
2010 is ours.
Lxxxx

SUDDENLY, THE SILLY SEASON

Today, I realised that I've been woefully neglectful.

I was planning to write all about my time in London town when I was in Thailand, but I was so behind with my script re-write that was my only focus. Thailand was as gorgeous as ever, but after India it felt empty and rather colourless. Though the Thais are wonderful and the food is extraordinary. I am not complaining, but every place seems to pale in comparison to India.

After a seriously hectic few weeks in London, Thailand was the perfect place to catch our breath. Mum and I had three nights at the Hyatt in Hua Hin. It was divinely quiet and the spa was absolutely blissful. Despite the most heavenly treatments, (how bloody lucky am I?), I was unable to sleep. This does happen a lot to me in the lead up to a transition. My mind simply refuses to shut up. It almost feels like I short circuit, or maybe I re-boot. Whatever the correct technical term is, my brain whirs like a dervish.

It was truly lovely to have some time away from everyone. To not talk, which I do far too much of. Mum and I had some 'quality time' and the General Manager and his gorgeous Aussie wife Jamie, made us feel welcome. A great friend of Hame's, Carly Adler, is old mates with them and went to the trouble of introducing us. We found a corner cafe called, bizarrely McFarlane House (after a previous resident) that made incredible fresh juices and salads that sat almost on the beach. It felt like it was there just for us, until some chain smoking French ladies discovered it!

Mum was keen to go to Chiva Som, but the prices have gone way up since she was last there, so we decided to give the Hyatt a try. CS looked amazing when we walked past it on the beach one evening (dodging the gelatinous jelly fish bodies), but the Hyatt was understated and quiet. We had a great few days in limbo-land.

Mum then flew off to Melbourne and I travelled further south. Via a local recommendation, I found a quiet beach called Khao Kolak which is in the province of Pranburi. It was a beautiful drive there, past fields bursting with pineapples. I felt utterly spoiled and ready to tear into the script.

I allowed myself a plate of fruit for breakie (unbelievably delicious array, some I'd never seen before in my life), one swim and walk per day and then a meal in the evening. The rest of the time I wrote and wrote and wrote. Luckily I was the only guest at the Orchid Guest House, run by a nice Brit called Tim and his lovely Thai wife Nat. Their two little boys rolled around happily and it was quiet enough for me to really concentrate. It was cheap and set back from the beach, which got infiltrated with Bangkokians (no idea if that's right!) at the weekend.

The seafood was seriously fresh and delish. But the best thing - I simply adored not having to speak and being able to shut the door and immerse myself in my writing. It felt like the best sort of retreat. Of my very own. One member only.

I had spent most of my trip thinking about the changes that I wanted to make to the previous draft. I had attempted to write when in London. But I was staying first with Mellie in Miranda's lovely flat in Maida Vale and I was on a (very comfy) pull out bed in her living room. Mel runs Choi Time from there, so it was tricky to find much space. Though I absolutely adored being there with her. I've missed her SO much. She's had a tough year, like so many people in London in particular. For anyone who loves tea, you must go to choitime.com and order some of her incredible tea for Chrissie. Her divine teas make the best presents ever.

Mellie and I did manage to squeeze in some lovely missions. One of them was a special screening of Terry Gilliam's new film THE IMAGINATION OF DR. PARNASSUS, which was incredible. Despite Heath Ledger dying in the middle of filming, they managed to make the film work and it's an amazing achievement. I adored it. I always adore Gilliam, as at his worst he's so far and above most directors. He has a truly unique voice, in a similar vein to Tim Burton, who's another of my faves.

So, London town. It was Spring like my first week there and I had a bit of time to catch up with various friends and their new babies. I met a lot of babies. All absolutely sweet mind you. It's just such a momentous change in people's lives and so all consuming. I understand that you need to go to them, but I was tearing across town at such a rate. Thank you Shiv for making the effort to bring Noah to Jenny's - he's a peach! Luckily I managed to go on some lovely walks in Hyde Park to clear away the cobwebs. I arrived pretty (seriously) broken from NYC.

The rest of my time in London is a bit of a blur, as there were so many family lunches and dinners and get togethers in the lead up to and over the wedding. My first weekend was spent at Pinhills (where Mum's bro Anthony lives on the Bowood estate near Charlie - the Marquis of Lansdowne, an old friend of the family - and his wonderful wife Fiona) with my cousins, which was great fun. We rarely get proper time together, so it was most welcome. Ed and Nina are loving married life and despite the tough year economically, Ed is doing very well in property and Tor is starting her own jewellery business. So brave!

Zoe and I had caught up in New York but it was rather brief, so it was lovely to hear all her news and help her with her book proposal a bit. She's found a top agent who is moulding her TV idea into a book. She's now in LA moving it all forward. She does manage to get around, as she's appearing here next week.

This weekend Ed, Tor and Nina all arrive. I don't remember the last time we had so many of them on Aussie soil. They've got Olivia Milne's wedding up in Myrtleford next weekend.

There's so much else that happened in London but Charlie and Katie's wedding was the focal point and it was pretty magical. I can honestly say that they are wonderfully in love and suited. It was held at the family home in Sandwich, (Kent), which is a beautiful part of England. The marquee was huge and so pretty incorporating parts of their garden. I caught up with SO many relations and met some lovely people. It was well worth the visit. Charlie gave a moving speech and his best man Ed Tollemache had everyone in tears, when he talked about their Mum. Dale was definitely there in spirit. She would have been so proud of her children.

The day after I went to stay with my old friend Maddy Baillieu and it was such fun to hang out with my goddaughter, her first born Charlotte. Her younger daughter Claudia is also very sweet. It's rather gobsmacking that her hubby Harry has managed, amidst such a tricky time, to become a partner at Allen Overy and move them all back to the UK. It's definitely for the best. They've bought a house in Godalming in Surrey and I stayed on their second night there, so boxes were abounding but it has a homey feel to it. I know they'll be happy.

On my return to London I moved North, back to my old hood. I stayed with my gorgeous friend Jenny in Tufnell Park and it was like coming home. Her house on Dalmeny Rd has been the setting for a plethora of great nights and lazy movie/footy watching sessions. I just adored being back there and spending time with her son Jamie and his lady Checky. They are a special pair. A special family.

My final week was a whir of meetings and catch ups. I hardly had time to scratch myself. Then Jenny kindly hosted a farewell soiree at Dalmeny Towers and it was very civilised. A lovely cross section of people I know in London came by and I felt very loved and missed. The weather turned pretty cold and I must admit, knowing that summer was waiting for me in the southern hemisphere made it bearable getting on the plane. Though it was very hard to leave the people I adore there. Luckily so many of them will be visiting Oz in the next year - Bron and Clive are having an Aussie celebration of their wedding, Mel is planning a February visit, Amber in January and the list goes on.....

So here I am, back in Hame's spare room juggling all sorts of random jobs. It's weird, after being so focussed on my career and survival in London for so many years, that I am now able to reconnect with what really matters to me. I found so many people in London were in dark or troubled places, and some in the States. I know it's been a tough year, but that city in particular does drain you and when Winter stretches out in front like a swamp, it's hard to imagine having to knuckle down and see it through. Life is not perfect in Oz, is it anywhere? - but it's healthy and positive and beautiful. I am resolute to give it more time, to see where it leads.

And I need to finish that final act of the script.
Wish me luck.
Lxxxx

BACK IN THE HOOD

Ahhh Brooklyn. I adore New York City and am a late convert to it's outer borough, but I have to say that to fall into the loving arms of my mates there was pure bliss.

The conditions were arctic. I left LA with flash floods and arrived to full blown winter. It was rather depressing after Melbourne's long winter.

Samantha and Suzanne's flat in Carroll Gardens is big, but they have a big dog too. Whitman was rescued by Suzanne when found chained to a fence in Walt Whitman park. He's now a healthy, happy, very vocal member of the clan. He is most protective of both the ladies and barks like crazy when anyone comes near. There are some quite funny anecdotes about suitors who have been scared off the premesis.

So I challenged my gals to go dancing. I am sick of this getting older and not dancing enough malarkey.

For my first night, we had a gorgeous dinner with aforementioned ladies and my old mucker Elizabeth Stewart (who has mutated into a super fabulously coiffed Creative Director) at a local restaurant called Jamie. We were fussed over by super cute waiters in plaid shirts. The food was delicious and we drank bubbles and caught up in style.

I forced Samantha to see FAME with me the next day. I was just laughed at when I suggested that in LA. With good reason. It was pretty crap, but still great fun. The original movie was much better. This caused a lot of singing in the street with various friends throughout the trip, so I guess that was worth it. That night Sammy and I ended up out a bit late.

The next day was Liz's birthday but noone was allowed to say anything, as she has always strenuously avoided celebrating. Strangely we met uptown at a party on the Upper West Side at a lovely girl called Maureen's place for pulled pork, mac & cheese and other deliciousness.

Beforehand I met up with both the Kaplan sisters. Claude and Kristina were so wonderful to me when I was living in NYC and we've managed to stay in touch. Whenever I race through town I now visit their incredible downtown houses and see their beautiful girls. Kristina is now pregnant with number 3 and Claude is contemplating another. Unfortunately Kristina's lawyer husband, Jeremy, is always working too late for me to meet him but I met his lovely Mum this time and Claude's British hubby Michael came back in time for a quick catch up. The Kaplans are a fascinating family and are very close. I was sad to miss seeing their parents and John who is now back in The City and having a baby.

Mein godt! Babies, babies, babies. They are everywhere.

Anyhoo, uptown I went for a civilised session of munchies and wine. Meanwhile, Suzanne had managed to get us on the list at Pacha. A ridiculous super/uber club of gargantuan proportions.

When we tried to leave Mo's party, she insisted that we go with her to a club around the corner. On the Upper West Side. Hmmm. It was hideous. Frat boys and sports filled screens on every wall and chicks dancing on the bar to the worst sort of R&B tunes possible.

We lasted for a bit and then I insisted on Pacha. We met a couple of well oiled guys on the way who dubbed us the "Sex and the Shitty" gals. This stuck for the rest of the trip.

By the time we hit the front of the queue, Liz was pointing out that it was her birthday in no uncertain terms to the bouncer, Suzanne was one big smile and Samantha was ready to dance. We had no idea what was waiting for us inside.

When did straight men start shaving their chests, putting their t-shirts around their shoulders like shrugs and oiling themselves up like beach babes? The place was PACKED and we did lots of dancing. It got messy - it always felt like someone was going missing and we had to race off to find them with all our coats and bags. Finally I got sick of that and just stayed put with all the guys that I sincerely assumed were gay. They were great dancers and lots of fun but after a bit I thought I should go find my girls. But my coat and bag were missing and I had NO idea where they were.

Finally, after much searching I found them in a heap outside and we happily made our way back to Brooklyn. The next day I spent at my gorgeous friend Amy's watching her prepare amazing food for dinner that night. I was no help at all. But despite the late night, I made it by 2pm and it was wonderful to catch some quiet time with her and new new husband Alex. After four long years of Alex commuting to Princeton, they are finally living together and it's clear that they are happy.

All my New York buddies are so special and that night, Amy and Alex hosted the most wonderful dinner party in my and Liz's honour. We ate so well and caught up on so much. It was a gorgeous bunch of people, mostly Americans but my cousin Zoe was in town so she came along and it was perfect. It made me a touch sad that I'm not more a part of their lives.

A group of us met up for a lovely brunch the next day and all of a sudden Sunday night was upon us. I had quite a few people still to see the next day which was very sadly my last. I had a heavenly Japanese feast with my old mate Mark 'The Rabbi' Rabinowitz for lunch, who has moved out to East Hampton and came in specially. I then visited the Washington Square Park apartment of an Aussie editor called Kate and her lovely family. Her mother is one of my Mum's great friends, so it was lovely to connect with her again.

Then I spent the evening crossing paths with more lovely friends and the night went on much longer than anticipated. I managed to pack and get in a taxi at 6am by the skin of my teeth and felt a heavy heart as I boarded the plane and left my favourite city. Sigh!

But what a welcome I was given in London this week. I'm currently staying with my friend Mel in Maida Vale and she is spoiling me rotten. We've been catching up on everything and it's divine. We went to a screening of Terry Gilliam's new film THE IMAGINATION OF DR PARNASSUS and it was incredible. I've always been a huge fan of Gilliam's films, but this had such expectation as Heath Ledger's final film and the fact that Colin Farrel, Johnny Depp and Jude Law all stepped in to finish the film after he died. The film is magnificent, a true feat of courage and conviction.

I was so sideways from all the flying and carrying bags and fun I've been having that I took some time and went to the Porchester Spa. Magical Moira scrubbed and massaged me to within an inch of my life and I left feeling a gazillion bucks. She told me incredible stories about her life and her partner's and I had the most wonderful afternoon possible. I love a good sweat to rejuvenate the soul.

That night was my welcome back drinks, all organised by Mellie. The most gorgeous faces showed up and I felt once again welcomed back to the fold. London town. I left in such a whirlwind and was so exhaustepated that I was a shadow of my former self. How lovely to be here as a tourist. Walking around Hyde Park, eating at Frescos, dealing with the public transport, everything feels so different.

Now I'm in Wiltshire with my cousins whom I adore. Zoe, Tor and I drove down together, while Ed and Nina followed an hour behind. Then today Tor's new man Karim caught a train down - he's lovely! We've been planning this catch up weekend for months and I'm currently sitting in the most comfortable bed known to man. I had a monster sleep last night, one to rival all previous sleeps. I was just so shattered and happy to be here. Charlie's wedding is going to be very special. It's on Halloween and he is marrying a beautiful doctor called Katie. Mum has just arrived in town and it's all hotting up for next weekend. I look forward to all the family missions ahead. I just hope I can find the time to do everything else I need to do in London.

This weekend to recharge our batteries is much needed. We just ate a massive dinner at a pub nearby and I think I must melt into the bed covers. I hope the sun is shining again tomorrow. I've had more sunshine since arriving in the UK than I had the whole time in the US. Go figure!

LA-LA LAND

It is cheesy and vacuum packed, but I really love LA. There are some truly wonderful people here and I always have such a blast with them. It's always the people that enrich one's life and I am wealthy beyond my wildest dreams in that regard.

I'm staying with a seriously kind friend in West Hollywood called Andre Fabrizio, (or as The Mullighan, our mutual friend, calls his old mate, Fabs) an Italian-Aussie whose been living here for over a decade and has finally got his green card (in the mail the day before yesterday). He lives in a great building tucked behind Hollywood Blvd, with lovely neighbours and a swimming pool!!! I've been in it every single day washing off the Melbourne winter and feeling less like a pudgy white worm with each swim.

Fabs is a screenwriter who has finally been able to give up his day job producing movie trailers to write full time. He's in the midst of projects for studios and big directors and is doing well. I'm rather nervous, as he's currently reading my script and we've got a business lunch on the morrow where I'll get his advice. We're going to my fave Japanese restaurant - Iroha - where the spicy tuna tartare on rice cakes is to die for.

To go back a bit, I was so overtired (as usual) I hardly slept a wink on the flight. I watched so many movies and started off laughing happily at comedies (THE PROPOSAL) and ended up blubbing my heart out to Aussie films (finally got to see BEAUTIFUL KATE and BLESSED - both are tough but brilliant flicks - and the end to AUSTRALIA). I hardly ate and this time avoided alcohol, as I knew the drive would freak me out at the other end. Getting straight off the plane into a hire car is a truly surreal experience, it feels like you're in a video game.

I abhor driving in LA. The highways terrify me as people seem to switch lanes without warning and I always feel like I'm lucky to make it to my destination alive. I was proud to make it to Fabs' abode in one piece. After a rest and swim I took to the streets and ended up on Hollywood Blvd where I mingled with the Michael Jackson impersonators and inexplicably, loads of Jack Sparrows pirates.

I pounded the pavements for quite a while doing various errands and by the time I got back, I was shattered. I had a monster sleep and was off again the next day with missions before meeting my old boss Simon Kelton and some of his friends for a drink and going to see the doc ANVIL at a BAFTA screening. The film is a mixture between THIS IS SPINAL TAP and STILL CRAZY - a good combination and a tale about a Canadian heavy metal group who never quite made it, despite influencing some of the best metal bands who went on to make fortunes. They are still giving it their all in their fifties.

The Director, a Brit called Sacha Gervasi (friend of Simon's) directed the film and the crowd just loved it. We had a bit of a natter afterwards and my favourite story is that his cameraman thought the guys were actors and on the second day of the shoot, he took Sacha aside and said "Come on, you've got to tell me. They're actors right?". He thought it really was Spinal Tap. Classic.

Afterwards I had a frolic with some old girlfriends and a lovely mate of theirs (Patrick). Nickers and Jodi were in fine form and we had a ball catching up. Jodi even gave me the keys to her flat in Mulberry St in NYC for me to use when I'm there next week. Bless her! People are so incredibly kind. Though I'll be staying with Samantha and Suzanne in Brooklyn, as I'd get in so much trouble if I didn't, it will be great to have somewhere to bolt to if I need to when I'm in Manhattan.

Saturday was a day of lovely sun filled missions in Silverlake. I had to ask directions to a cafe and realised half way through that I was asking Shirley Manson from Garbage the way to Stella!!

At brunch, it turned out that Patrick used to work for an old producer friend of mine from New York, so I'm hoping to catch up with him. I had been wondering how to reconnect with him. Such a tiny, wee world.

Time just slips away so quickly. I can't believe I only have 2 more days here.

I took Fabs out with me last night to the awards night for my cousin Andrew Bossom's polo club, which he's President of. We had a drink at he and his delicious wife Amza's incredible mansion in Glendale, Bette Davis' old house. I had such fun hanging out with their two little boys - Bayne and Piers. Soooo cute. I met some of their horses and chased after them as they ran wild and happily around the property with dogs yapping at their heels.

Dinner was at a true blue Italian restaurant and it was a delicious meal with lots of colourful characters. The awards were fun and Andrew gave a running commentary, while a lady did a good job of keeping things on track. It was raucous and great fun. I had a very unexpected proposal from a gay guy at a neighbouring table and ate far too many profiteroles.

Afterwards we went to a bar where a friend of Fabs' was having a party. I hadn't had any Mexican food (which I adore) so decided to get a burrito while Fabs found his friends. Bad decision. We checked out another sleazy bar around the corner which was hilarious, but decided it was time to head out and I loved watching CHILDREN OF MEN when we got home. Such a good film. Though I'm told the book is better.

Despite my hatred of driving here, I managed to make it to Santa Barbara today. I'm spending the night with the Keltons as Simon and Heather kindly invited me to join them for dinner. Simon and I had a big session talking about my script and he had a lot of suggestions about how to improve it and make it commercial. It will mean a lot of changes, but if I can pull off a great next draft then we could be onto something.

I'm shattered now. We had a lovely dinner and Jasper, their 2 year old boy, is the most divine creature in the whole world. He is a real peach. Heather has been going through a tough time following the death of her beloved Mum, so it was really nice to have a proper catch up. They are so happy out here. She works for some big Hollywood players, who are local and Jasper adores it too. I'm looking forward to taking a walk in the morning. The coastline was amazing on the drive up here but it got dark almost as I arrived.

Really wish I could keep on driving to San Francisco, where one of my great mates lives but hey ho. You can't do everything at once. But you can try.

Must get some sleep as the next two days will be jam packed.
Wish me luck.
Lxxx

DALI RAVE ENTICES ALL

Bloody brilliant.

After a week of battling a lurking lurgie, following a rather large Grand Final weekend, (by the way, Geelong were triumphant and it was deliciously hard won - a proper wet, dirty rough and tumble), I have been struggling to prepare for my trip. I had a gazillion emails to send and so much to sort that I think I just shut down.

By the time Friday rolled around, I was looking forward to getting the hell out of the house and helping Amanda at her new store on Gertrude St in Fitzroy. She is the most brilliant designer (http://www.leonardstreet.com.au) and old school friend. She is seriously preggers and has taken on too much - opening two new stores at once - so I've been helping her out when possible.

Living South, I don't get North as much as I'd like and I have to say, there are some serious crazies up there but mostly the people are divine. And the shops (and food) are unbelievable. It's danger zone for me. Big time. I bought the most ridiculously divine 80s jump suit on Friday, luckily Amanda gave me her blessing (kind of) and I can't wait to rock around LA and NYC in it. Think it might be a little too chilly in London town.

At the end of the day, Mum arrived and whipped me off to the most amazing contemporary jewellery store called Ingot where they were having a do. We drank bubbles and shopped and it was a feast for the eyes. She bought me the funkiest black leather necklace to go with my new Leona Edminston frock (cherries and spots galore) for my cuz Charlie's wedding on Halloween (back in Blighty) to the gorgeous Katie. Divine.

I booked us into a restaurant that I'd heard so much about. The Panama Dining Room is top floor above a dance school on Smith St in Collingwood (hear the crowd roar!). We had a gorgeous dinner of deliciousness. The view was great, the food delish and the company perfect. We had some great chats. The sort of chats it's hard to have when you're living half a world away and each meeting has too much expectation.

Without going on about the life style and how lovely people are back in Oz, there's no doubt that the best thing is spending time with my family here.

That said, I can't wait to get on that aeorplane in a few short days. I love to be in motion.

Back to Saturday. In one word, it was a monster. I worked at the gallery (Mossgreen) where I've loved helping out in the last few months. They run a fascinating operation there and with Sotheby's now selling out here (to a far from reputable man) they're in a great possie. I've just spent the day packing boxes of a fascinating collector's estate in Kew with the owners Paul and Amanda who are good people. They work incredibly hard and deal in a wide variety of artifacts.

So after finishing at the gallery, I went over to my lovely friend Stellar's place. Strangely she lives on the same street I grew up on and where my junior school is, even in the same block of flats where Hamish and I lived when we first left school. It's always a strange mix of emotions when I walk up the street under the plane trees, it feels rather like time is standing still.

I spent a few fun hours at Stell's where she and her little sis Clea were having a back to back session of 'Bold & The Beautiful'. It was yet another flash back as most of the old characters are still on the show and 20 years later (we used to wag school to watch it back in the day) it's kinda scary to watch but bloody funny.

I made my way to The Supper Club where I've been exploring Melbourne's night life scene since my return. And meeting new people who actually like to go out (as opposed to most of my friends back here due to the serious child factor) where I worked the door. It was a full moon and daylight savings hit after midnight. And something was in the air.

I had heard that the Dali exhibition at the National gallery was trialing a new idea - staying open for 24 hours on it's last day. People poured through the door at Supper Club and kept on coming. It was nuts. There were rumours of the queue at Dali going back over the bridge to Flinders St (quite a way) and being four people deep. Parklife festival was pouring happy punters out straight to Dali, so when people at work started talking about going, I was in. Like Flynn.

I was finally knocked off after 5am and the drinks were on. It was a fabulous final night, everyone stuck around and I drank an incredible cocktail called The Botanical (thanks Nick). Eventually, a small gang of us wandered down to the gallery. The dawn had arrived and we ambled through the quiet city with bottles clinking in our bags and arms linked. We arrived at the gallery around 7am to find no queue but loads of people.

What followed was the most blissful night/morning. I had already been to the exhibition twice and Tara, our hostess with the mostest, whose right ankle is tattooed in fabulous Dali, had been three times. For the boys (Josh and Louis) it was mostly their first time, though Alex had been before. Inside there was the normal slow moving line of people going from one painting to the next, but we ran around in between jumping to what took our fancy - pure bliss. We watched my favourite part of the exhibition, 'Destino' (the cartoon Dali made with Disney but was never released) twice in a row and I could have watched it three more times at least but we wandered on to be mesmerised by a wide variety of Dali's intense visions. It was such a heady mix. The crowd was of all ages and pretty soon, those of us who had been up all night were drawn to each other. Those who were clearly just up were yawning differently to us, and everyone was having a bit of a giggle at each other.

We ended the trip by climbing up a tree opposite the gallery and watching the world go by. Then we made it on to Vic Markets, where we enjoyed making our way through the most delectable wares and munched on some. Finally, back at Josh's place we sat on his roof and as he and Tara finally wilted, I ventured out into the stark day and ran a bunch of errands with my sunnies firmly placed on my nose.

Melting into bed at midday was the most blissful feeling in the world. Now I've got a pile of things to sort before I get on that plane in a few short days, so forgive me....

More from the road.
Lxxx