To be in London now!

A long visit to the Natural History Museum's Vault and a lot of drooling over this sweet dream.
It's large, just the right size to rest upon my ample breast. It's the Cora Sun-Drop diamond and 110 carats of vivid yellow. The unusual colour stems from the very small percentage of nitrogen within the carbon structure of the stone. Diamonds with such a strong saturated colour represent only a tiny percentage of all natural diamonds so 110 carats of such vivid luxury is priceless.
U.S. diamond manufacturer Cora International has lent the gem to the museum for a limited time in a display which includes the Devonshire Emerald.


The Vault is a permanent gallery at the Natural History Museum and shows some of the most rare, unique and valuable treasures from around the world.
The Devonshire Emerald has 1,383.93 carats and is one of the biggest and most famous uncut emeralds in the world. It originates from the mines of Muzo in Colombia. Emperor Dom Pedro the First of Brazil gave the emerald to the 6th Duke of Devonshire in 1831. You can see a small piece of the original limestone it grew on, at the base.



Now this is not to be messed around with. It's known as the purple sapphire, the Heron-Allen amethyst was looted during the Indian mutiny in 1855 and brought to Britain. Everyone who owned the amethyst since that time suffered disaster and misfortune.
According to Edward Heron-Allen, owner of the stone from 1890, it was 'cursed and stained with blood'.
After discovering its sinister history, he gave it to his bank with instructions for it not to be opened until three years after his death. The stone was donated to the museum by Heron-Allen's daughter, with a letter he wrote warning anyone against handling it.

I think I'll stick with the diamond this time around.

Unfortunately.....

Our UberModel doesn't look any better front on in that dress although it's my kind of dress.
But the boots, ewww! I think they might have had to tie that bow extra tight in case of wardrobe malfunction. Now I could wear this although there might be bulging above and beyond the nifty bow but I could hide a very large backside in those voluminous folds

We gasp but it's just tragic

No name for this itsy model but since she's not likely to make it through to next year's fashion show, the designer probably doesn't care. Designer clothes are supposed to be for wealthy women not for anorexic stick insects with knees that look as though they would shatter if they knocked together. Those are bad tooth pick legs.

This is Martyna Budna, walking the fashion shows of 2011 and much in demand. As the Daily Mail report said, if one got bored, one could always count her ribs.

Same Daily Mail reporter said that Hannah Hardy's hips could grate cheese and I might say the same about her face. If she knocks those knees together, sparks could fly. Bloody awful frock. I never thought I'd say this but Vic Beckham's designs look classic beside this.

But here we have the most in-demand model for this season. Chloe Memisevic looking for her next meal, a glass of water. Despite cries from all model agencies that their models are being looked after and watched for signs of anorexia, it looks as though some are slipping through the cracks, in Chloe's case, literally. Designers are clamouring for her to walk the walk for them.

I can't understand why, when I would be so distracted by her skeletal figure that the gowns would have to be flashing neon signs before I noticed. As for the clod hopping platform soled shoes, no wonder they're laced up, clipped on and buckled otherwise the models would step out of them, not being able to lift the weight.

My doctor has sent me a letter telling me about all the people who are now going to try and control my life because of a few BSL readings (good luck to them) and I think I'll take photos of these with me and ask them how the anorexic epidemic is going. I am not making light of this terrible mental illness either but until fashion designers face up to the fact they are making role models for a body image that's not attainable by any means except starvation then the world can stop de-crying the obesity epidemic.

It's nearly over and it hardly seems right

Is this right? Another week and summer will be over and it will be autumn, just my favourite time of year because it cools down from summer.

Frosty mornings and balmy afternoons. I know time is supposed to fly but not gallop.
Miserable mozzies still plague us but I have never seen so many lovely dragonflies, not for many years.

Of course, I have my own dragon who flies.

Books and expense

As sorry as I am for the workers at Borders and A&R, I'm still getting my books from the Book Depository or Dirt Cheap books or book sales or the op shop.

I needed a book on Low GI foods and the website suggested Dymocks. I go to Dymocks but they only had the book in their Sydney stores. Price $24.95
I went to Borders, they would order it in for me from their overseas supplier and I would receive it in the mail between 12 and 14 days. Price $24.95

So I thought if they are going to their overseas supplier, I might as well go to mine.
The Book Depository had this book and all the others in the series, $15.10, despatched in 48 hours and I received it in the mail in 3 days.

In an A&R book sale I bought the last two books of a trilogy and because it was an old release I knew I didn't have a hope of finding the first but the Book Depository had it, $10.95 and I had it 3 days later.

I love books, especially my big jewellery books. The last two from the BD were about the Russian Nobility and their jewells and the crown jewells of the Czars. I've never seen them in bookstores here and I don't think I'd get them for the price I paid, somewhere in the region of $170 for both. Every page is a treasure. So a pox on all publishers who are demanding that we pay GST on overseas purchases. Books should never have had GST on them anyway.

There's a full moon rising

Each full moon during the year has a traditional name in different human cultures. February's full moon is best known as the Wolf Moon among some Native American tribes.

The Algonquian peoples of North America called it the Snow Moon. Other names are Hunger Moon, Storm Moon, and Candles Moon. In Hindi it is known as Magh Poornima. Its Sinhala (Buddhist) name is Navam Poya.

The official time of the full moon this month is Feb. 18 at 8:36 Universal Time. The full moon takes place at exactly the same time everywhere in the world, but the local time depends on the time zone.

This is also the only time in the month when the moon is exactly opposite the sun in Earth's sky. On this date, and this date only, the moon rises as the sun sets, shines all night long, and sets as the sun rises.

The rising full moon often appears large and has an orange or red hue. The large size is an optical illusion; the moon is always the same size no matter where it is in the sky.

It's also the only full moon in the sign of Leo for this year. If the weather is good, I'll be dancing under the Leo moon and making a whole lot of wishes.

Good for the experts

The Age is trying to help with the obesity epidemic .

I'm just so thrilled with all this advice as to how I can become thin.

And the commenter who thought having obesity police was a good idea can stick it in his lap band.

Teens do spend more time sitting on their backsides but considering the work load for high school now, they couldn't do any less.

And sport? Great if you love sport but not all love sport, Goddess knows I tried but I have a phobia about being hit with hard balls, bats and other sweaty bodies. If they had had a swimming competition with first to the bottom of the pool, I'd be gold.

I'm waiting for segregration in cafes. Slobs on this side, healthy skinny poles on this side.
For every skinny, there's a chubby whose drive, energy and intelligence has made them icons.
Maggie Tabberer, Maggie Beer, Margaret Fulton, Dawn French and Margaret Whitlam was no string bean but what a woman.

Obesity has never been the cause of any of my illnesses, including the minor ones I have now, but tension, panic attacks and trying to go beyond my emotional limits will probably do me in before the fat I've armoured myself with. In the last 10 years I've had two lengthy periods of peace and quiet and I've lost weight with no trouble at all. So a third era of me time is urgently needed.

And piss off the idea of obesity police.

I had one of those afternoons

Thank you Coles supermarket for making sure the rubber mat at the front door was nice and buckled for the fat lady to stick her toe under and go flying. I had a heavy bag on the shoulder and was carrying an equally heavy bag in the other hand so being balanced like a high wire walker I managed to remain upright.

It's only February

Already I have my candidate for 'Idiot of the Year' and it's not even a footballer.

Over the weekend 104 motorists were caught by police breaking road rules.

This one is in a special category of stupid.

"A man driving while eating with a knife and fork from a bowl between his legs and steering with this knees was one of 104 motorists found breaking road rules."

I'm still trying to imagine this in action. I take back the stupid, anyone multi-tasking like this should be running for Opposition Planning Minister.

His knife and fork skillz will be useful for tea at the Windsor.

I never thought I had a problem....

But it appears I have a food phobia. Now that cake up above would present no problems being snarffed by me. You see, it has colours and all the foods I don't like are white. I've never thought about it before until I was at the residents and relo's meeting at the home last week.
The chef asked if there was a meal that hadn't been offered or if anyone had a favourite that they'd like. Mother would like tripe and onions in white sauce. Well, I nearly lost me cookies with that one.

Tripe, only once and never again.
Lamb chump chops in white sauce and parsley, not in my world.
Ditto for shanks.
Tofu is on the outer for the moment but could make a return.
Cauliflower, okay without white sauce or cheesey white sauce.
Blacmange. (sp?)
Creamed rice.
White pudding. (don't even mention it's cousin, black pudding)
Egg white omlette, for goodness sake put the whole lot in and live a little.
I could not drink a glass of naked milk, even dressed with Ovaltine, it'd be a stretch.
Bread in warm milk sprinkled with sugar was a con my mother only tried once.

Now egg whites in a Pavlova is an entirely different quality of food. It's not completely white if the edges are a little browned and the cream is covered in all colours of fruit.

Vanilla ice-cream jammed in a glass with loads of coffee and some skim milk scraps across the line.

Lindt white chocolate with almonds is not a food, it's a tranquilizer, so edible.

I could really go for that cake.

Put a leash on those puppies

Thank you Miss O'Dyne for leading us to the wedding gown of the year. I do hope Hurl and Spawnie or Miss Middleton aren't web surfing for the big day.

Reminds me of that old joke, he says 'big breaths', she says, 'yeth and I'm only thixteen'.

It's like a train wreck or Tony Abbott with his mouth shut, I can't stop watching. And the rest of the gown is really nice.

Down memory lane

Down memory lane for ladies of a certain age, namely mine. This comes under the category "I can't believe they'll fall for this" but I'm sure the young and lithsome will. Does it look uncomfortable? I'm remembering how damned uncomfortable wearing this clobber was and how Pantihose became a joy forever especially as hemlines rose. Sitting on a hot vinyl train seat on the way from work meant levering oneself gently off the damn thing two stations before yours or you risked leaving behind layers of skin. Pantihose, our pride and joy and expense but worth it.

I assume that piece of pink and black excuse for knickers is a thong. The feminine equivalent of wearing a Medieaval hair shirt which was supposed to remind you of your sins as it itched, scratched and annoyed your body not to mention harbouring numerous lice, fleas and anything else it picked up.

The garter belt beloved by porn watchers and erotic writers who probably never had to wear one or if they did, had a waist and hips for it to sit on. I didn't, have a waist not write erotica (the web crawlers will love this post). The longer I walked or stood the lower the garter belt slipped. And then there were the little button things that hooked onto the stockings, always going missing to be replaced by a threepenny bit (I told you I was old) now I suppose, with a disposable income enough to buy this stuff, you'd just throw it out for another. And the stockings, fat thighs, anyone? Before stretch nylon, there wasn't. Nothing stretched over fat thighs enough to reach the hooky things which in my case explains why the garter belt rapidly descended southward with every step.

So we have pictured an annoying thong, an uncomfortable garter belt, yes it is, remember trying to do up the hooky things at the back of the thighs? The bra looks okay but not for a womanly figure. There's no support there, a middle aged set would be heading south to follow the garter belt. It's all for the young, wear this and he'll love you on Valentine's day and they'll go for it hooky, line and sinker.

Re-jigging the attitude.

Considering the vastness of blubber covering this blogger, my health isn't all that bad. No smoking, very little drinking and lately, no chocolate eating which means my blood sugar level is down to 7.1. The depression which has been dogging me is snivelling in a corner somewhere, no doubt it'll be back as soon as I get up enough courage to weigh myself.

But yesterday gave me some perspective. My cousin, who I still think of as a child, has been diagnosed with a particularly aggressive form of Alzheimer's at age 53. I kept thinking of all the things I was doing at 53 and how much I was looking forward to the years of freedom (well, that didn't happen) but not Alzheimer's. I mean it's an old people's disease, old, old people get it but not always and at 53, she's still bodily healthy but deteriorating mentally.

Wake up call. The body might not be the best but I remember that aches and pains are telling me to take it easy and mentally I'm still with it even if I never get the hang of Sudoku. But 53 and already back in childhood racing to disappearing point gave me a big jolt.

New photos

And not a chance of any of you ever seeing them.

They are 100% improved over the ones taken by the Dill at AustraliaPost but I had to pay an extra $4. I removed my big glasses, no heavy frames and used my reading glasses which were the same ones I wore ten years ago.

Never look at passport photos until you're on your own. Sobbing upsets other shoppers.

Hmmm. Not too shabby, same crooked smile. Last time I was allowed a small smile which helped but these days, no smiling just a fixed 'roo in the headlights' stare. My smile is really crooked on one side but then I have one ear up and one ear down which is why my glasses are always crooked, sort of evens things up.

I am comparing a 10 year old passport photo to the recent one, something is different.

OMG! I don't have a double chin anymore. My neck is actually on the scraggy side. All those falls must have triggered a fat slide southwards. If this photo gets knocked back then I'm going for one of those 'StarShots'.

I bet Joan Collins has a 'StarShot' for her passport.

Blue sky with one cloud

Just one cloud rolling past my window and it can keep going. According to the paper, we had 144mm of rain and I think half of that is still in my washing hanging on the line. The lime tree loved it though.

I now have a working cistern. It took him not more than half an hour not including the time he had to go back to Bunnings to buy a flexible hose. Then he comes out, asks if I want the box, no and goes to throw it out with the new toilet seat still in it. Apparently you can't just buy the cistern, the toilet seat comes with it and he was going to toss it because he likes the seat already there. I remind him if that breaks he'll be sitting on cold porcelain so I've stored the new seat and the pipes with it, just in case I ever need a pipe.

Next comes the old cistern. Can he put it in the recycle bin? Jeebus no, Kingston council have a habit of sneak checks on those bins but I figure shoving it in the red bin is fair enough. I just hope there's enough room for the kitty litter and the truck can lift the whole thing.

Well, I'm still on the putting away and clearing mum's things which I've been trying to finish for a year. It's a bit easier now that I can put her clothes in the op-shop bag. It takes thinking about, all this putting in place. I haven't finished the crocheted rug for the BrickOutHouse and those bundles of squares take up room but not if you put them in one of those bags and take out the air with the vac. Then it slides neatly under the lounge. Under both beds are boxes and rolls of material, all neat but removable. And when I say there is not an inch of the study to spare I'm not joking. Six bookcases, one CD tower, one table with record player, speakers underneath on which my electric typewriter sits. Table next to that holds my enormous Atlas and underneath that, magazine holders. Next to me is the sewing machine on it's wheelie table and underneath that are boxes of ribbons and sewing stuff I usually need. Next to that is the lounge chair I had to move from the dining table where I have my jewellery. It was comfortable but I couldn't get out of it, being used to a chair that swung round on wheels. Mother's old tv is on the desk, one half of which is now visible, just don't ask about the other half. Ironing basket is under the desk, it's a very wide desk so the office chair fits in front. Don't look at the magazines and papers on the floor, they're all in order, just waiting to be put away. There's a bookcase in the wardrobe full of craft stuff. There's a cupboard behind the door, phone books, files, paper on one side, vacuum cleaner on the other. Plenty of room for boxes on top of that, books and boxes on top of the bookcases, oil heater beside my computer desk and another bookcase that the CPU and scanner sits on. Chest of drawers to my right full of computer paper and on top is the printer and another office chair that I'm sitting in. I think the room measures 10 feet by 11 feet so you can see why there was a lot thinking before moving.

This has gone on in every room of the house, just to fit another person into what was the sewing room spare bedroom. He's still mystified about where all the things in the bookcase (now holding his clothes) went to, top of the linen cupboard replacing the doona covers which went to my wardrobe. What to do with the mohair rugs though? Folded they take up a lot of space but hang them on hangers in a garment bag, no worries. Now when all this is finally in place, I think I'll clean the house but I won't look in the pantry until next year.

Somewhere, someone is lighting black candles

I know you are, whoever you are. You hate me and I've done nothing to hurt you.

This year, I've mangled the toe nail, fallen over repeatedly and I do wish it was 'teh drinking', diabetes, cholesterol, blood pressure and put on weight. Well no, I haven't put on weight, that was last year, this year I haven't lost any which is supposed to fix the diabetes, cholesterol and blood pressure, none of which I swear I've got. Maybe the blood pressure but that's mother and I haven't seen her for a week so maybe that's down. Did you know you can get the blood pressure taken at the pharmacy for $3.50? Cheaper than the doc's.

And not forgetting the neighbourhood cretins overturning the wheelie bins along the entire street. Or setting the tin of fireworks off in the street. Or making loud plans outside the gate for stealing the flares from the two boats around the corner. Or throwing their empty beer bottles over my fence.

Now it's Orb season and going outdoors is a Bear Grylls adventure in terror. I just found out he is the top yob of the Boy Scouts, who'd have thought. My kid tried joining the Cubs, lasted about 6 months when he discovered the most easily obtained badge in this group was creative bullying.
I was lucky to cut back the apple tree on one side so I could get to the line without ending up someone's dinner.

I was heading somewhere with this, aha, the toilet. Half flush has been borked for about a year now and there's a big notice which says 'use full flush' which is okay since I've turned the water down but now we are a duo. When I was on my own, it would remain unflushed except for the really important business. So last night it decided to go into full Niagara Falls mode and nothing I could do would stop it except turn the damn water off completely. BrickOutHouse hearing the banging and swearing decided that he could connect a new cistern quite easily. He sets off for Bunnings tonight and comes back highly offended because they wouldn't let him in with bare feet.
Why did he think they would? So half flush is working, just. BOH's brain not so much.

And it's only February.

In order to have that Bali holiday...

Well any overseas holiday but not Bali, too hot for my delicate features. Hawaii would be nice, the volcanoes there erupt too but flow along the path of any resistance straight to the sea.

So a holiday needs a new passport and a new passport needs a current photograph. I do not look as she does up there, more like the dragon wrapped around her arm. Dill taking the photos hasn't taken any for a while, so presses the wrong button, twice. There is a queue behind me and it's hot so I'm sweating, yes a lady does indeed sweat like a hog on a BBQ when stressed.
Dill tries again, after telling me I must remove my glasses in case the lens cause a flash and my eyes aren't clearly seen, biometric ID now. Success at last, I hand over $14.95, look at the photos and go into shock. I think I saw myself killing several people on 'Criminal Minds' last year.

The photos are rejected, too much sweating, well if I was getting on a plane I would be. I do need my glasses on because I wear them all the time and Dill should have taken enough photos to stop flashing. Also I was wearing very comfortable earrings so comfy I forgot I was wearing them and didn't take them off, Dill should have told me to as they blended into my earlobes and made me look like an upside down Spock.

Every cloud has a silver lining, I get another shot at a decent passport photo. Matt makeup should take care of the shine, glasses should make me look human not killing machine and no earrings. Fine print on passport form says cheaper for seniors, W00t.

The holidays might be cheap but...

They don't call the Pacific Ocean the ring of fire for nothing but next time you're looking at all those cheap packages to Bali, keep this map in the front of your mind.
Volcanoes, Indonesia has every kind and they all erupt sooner or later.

Involuntary self-harm

This is where you don't use a razor blade to slice up an arm or stick large pins into limbs.
It's involuntary doing stupid things like falling over because the mind is too full of other people's demands.
It's getting a diabetes result and wanting to kill for a MacDonalds hamburger that you haven't eaten in years.
It's hearing the word 'diet' and 'for life' and then buying up every bucket of ice-cream that is suddenly reduced to half price.
It's avoiding the chocolate aisle only to find it's moved and you're surrounded by everything that is delicious and like a crack addict, you fill the trolley.

It's avoiding Baker's Delight only to have apple cake delivered to your mouth for afternoon tea at the nursing home.
It's being woken by the cat and not going back to sleep so you wander round for the papers and the guy in front of you is getting coffee and you automatically order a cappuccino, no sugar but the fresh yo-yo's sing a siren's song and you're sitting at a table under a gum tree and not missing one crumb.

I'm beginning to think I ran over my foot to avoid exercise.

And more on the way. AGL stole $18 out of my account in the dead of night after already taking out the direct debits for the correct amount on the correct day. When I deal with them tomorrow, there will be self harm, there will be cake, there will be chocolate and there will be blood on the phone.

To me, the mere mention of diet causes self harm. My brain shuts down and sulks. It sulked for weeks when I decided to go vegetarian. Do you know it takes a month for the innards to be re-jigged for vegetables without meat? It takes years for the brain to be re-jigged for no chocolate, believe me.

So I'm sitting here with an ice coffee, arm hurting as the Tetanus shot battles it out with the macrophages, toe's still wrapped like a half hearted Egyptian mummy, knees still hurting from 3 weeks ago and not wishing I had a body like Elle since that seems like too much hard work and hunger but I have great wisdom instead.

Two gin and tonics make me fall over twice as much. How much more do you need to know of life?

Obesity articles - File under bullshit

The heading hasn't anything to do with this post, it's just that I was reading another "expert" on fatty bombahs and began to want ice-cream, chocolate sauce and marshmallows on top. I wish they'd all piss off to 'Thinland' and waste away in silence.

Before Christmas I picked up a copy of The Da Vinci Code in the oppie for a dollar. I enjoyed it the first time round but it's a book that can only be read once. A good mystery book is one where you can't remember who did it two hours after you've finished which makes it great to read a year later. Agatha Christie's books are brilliant for this. The film of the book annoyed me as well, not enough looking at the buildings where the mysteries were set. So that went in the bag to be returned to the oppie.

Christmas Day, my sister gives me a Dan Brown book. The illustrated version of his latest, The Lost Symbol. It totally lost me as a story and it had a crap ending. The photos illustrating the test were really gorgeous though. I've been told that sight seeing in Washington now is nearly impossible with security alerts closing off the best of the buildings and photographs have to be taken a long way away. So I'm keeping this book for the beautiful architecture that's given way to boring nothing type buildings. Mind you it was so heavy (lovely paper) that I had to read it on the bed because I couldn't hold it up.

If they'd done this with Da Vinci I'd be first in line to buy it. I did buy one of his others at Dirt Cheap Books, $5, probably all it's worth as a story. I also picked up a biography of Hilary Clinton and Margaret Whitlam, $1 each. Series 2 of the ABC's Dynasties, $1 and then we were back at the $5 lines, a murder, fantasy fiction, a social history of WhiteChapel at the time of the Ripper murders. This was after the book sale at Southland where I grabbed the third book in the Eragon series, a biography of Denys Finch-Hatton, another fantasy fiction and a pyschological thriller that I think I'll read during the day.

The floor is awash with books, the study has a shelf of un-reads, the dining table holds all of my jewellery books (huge), fashion books (huge) are in the bedroom under the chair and I just won't think of the four on their way from the Book Depository. I blame my childhood for all of this. I had only four books, a story about Jesus, the Queen's visit to Australia, the Snowdrop story book (green cover) and a very political incorrect book of an aboriginal family, Picanniny Walkabout. In primary school our library was two shelves in each class room which lasted me about three weeks. My first paypacket went on a pair of dollybird shoes to replace stilletos and a book. The second paypacket went towards a pearl and gold ring. Ooer, memory comes to me. My first piece of jewellery was from Woolworths, bought with my pocket money, a huge emerald ring set in 24 karat brass and sent my finger green every time I put it on.

So my love affair with books, books and more books began in the book poverty of my childhood and I learnt not to take gold at face value. I think I'll go and rest the toe and rifle through the treasures. Christmas present to me, you ask? Two huge books on the jewells of the Romanov Royal Family. I tell you there was a reason they wore whalebone corsets, they would have toppled over with the weight of the gold and diamonds otherwise. One nasty snippet was the fact that one of my favourite tiaras was snaffled by Imelda Marcos, pearls before swine. She probably hung her shoes on it.