A Good Funeral

There are rituals to funerals. 

Of course, I dressed carefully, applied minimal make up, did my hair, daubed on some Chanel No 5, which I save for special occasions, and left with time to spare so I didn't arrive late. It was going to be a 100 km round trip. At least peak hour was over. 

For some context, this was a funeral of one of my masonic friends. She was one of my most favourite people. We were in lodge together only a fortnight ago. She was 91. A sprightly, engaged, fun, interesting woman, who was becoming increasingly frail, but was still walking unaided, and though a bit deaf, loved a good conversation, no matter when or wear. She made the most awesome asparagus rolls and other CWA standards. She was a life-long learner. Curious, yet without judgement. Her family were everything to her. She was everything to her family. A mother to four sons, we were reminded that she was once a mother of four under six. She had the patience of Job. 

That she died at 91 is not unexpected. That she was taken quickly in a horrific car accident is the tragedy. Thankfully, she did not suffer. As awful the circumstances, most are taking some solace in this fact.  

In conversation the day before with the deceased's sister, I was instructed to wear colour, not black. Her sister would have liked it if we wore colour. As much as this was a sad and tragic occasion, this was a celebration. There was a lot to celebrate. 

On arriving at the memorial gardens, I'd arrived with a few minutes to spare and a full house. Her family were holding themselves together. I found one so, a man in his mid-sixties on the way in - her son who I'd sat on many a committee with. We hugged. No words. Just a "Yeah..." at the end of it. I found her sister in the front row. At 89, she too is a nimble old chook. She seemed happy to see me there. 

"I'm not crying," she said. 

"You don't have to," was my reply. "I'm not crying - but I do the work on the inside."

"I'm not crying because I know she's happy." 

"That is a marvelous way to look at all this."

The ceremony commenced. The celebrant was engaging, not that she's met my friend, but she did spend time with the family and got the stories and go a sense of this wonderful woman. Her sons spoke. Some of her grandchildren spoke. The photo gallery showed a woman who was happy and who was loved.

What more could you ask for?

For me, I cannot remember ever being in a room that was filled with more love and grace.

As much as I will miss my friend, I can only celebrate her. My life is so much the richer for knowing her.

You can't say that about everybody. 

(As a post-script, I quickly worked out that the man I'd given a big hug to on the way in was not the brother I thought it was. I know the third brother. This was the second brother - a slightly taller, slimmer, mirror image version of the brother I know well. And here I was thinking the man I knew had hit the Ozempic. At the wake, I found him to apologise. I'm not one for hugging strange men normally. He said not to worry - it was a great hug. I still feel like a dickhead.)

Today's song: 

Too Woke to Read

 I will admit to the fact that as a writer of fiction, I like to write in 12 pt Times New Roman. 

Why? I find it comforting. I've been using it for years. This is for writing fiction. This is a personal choice. And sure, it's a serif font, but I'm old and my brain works well with it. It's like putting on comfy clothing. It feels good. (I am writing this in Times New Roman 12 pt)

If I can't find Times New Roman, then Trebuchet or Garamond will do the job. Or Georgia, Baskerville or Helvetica  at a push. 

Of course, in my line of work, I'm used to fitting in with the font of the company's style. In Australia, larger corporations will have their own bespoke font added to the font suite. If you can't use that for some reason (often in licensed publishing software) an alternative will be sanctioned in the branding policy - in most cases this will be Calibri, Trebuchet or Times New Roman. 

In the last decade, there's been a move towards sans serif fonts. Look at Microsoft, which has moved its default font from Calibri to Aptos. Segoe, choice of font for the Atlassian suite, is an annoying outlier. Calibri is a thinner, serif free version of Aptos. If you work in projects, Segoe is the allegedly friendly font of Jira, Confluence and other Atlassian products. Aptos is the default font of most AI, and Microsoft, being the dictator of fonts, has run with this. 

And sure, I whine wherever Microsoft, or whatever company change their fonts. For me, this normally means having to go over all of the materials I've been working on for six months then go through and change the fonts. It sucks. (Did you know that most large companies pay a hell of a lot of money to update their fonts every few years, partly as a security feature - it's a good way to pick up whether you're being scammed.) It also lends itself to how the material is being consumed. For online resources, sans serif - your Aptos, Segoe or Calibri work best. 

Also, I get that sans serif fonts are reportedly easier to read.

Still, for me, Times New Roman 12 pt is my go-to font. 

But, and here is the big but, when you hear that the American Government are going back to use Times New Roman, from Calibri, because Calibri is a DEI nonsense typeface, my hackles rise. 

Seriously - it's not a good thing to have a clear, readable typeface for the country to read? Not that it makes that much difference, but it will mean somebody like me will have to go through a multitude of documents and make the switch. It's a shit job. 

Then again, why are the U.S. Government demanding that everything be written in the Courier typeface, so it looks like everything is written on a manual typewriter by a young, single woman in the typing pool who will be fired once she settles on marrying a man who will treat her like crap after she pushes out for him two point six babies, if she is allowed to get maternity care through her problematic pregnancy...

Moving back to this plain, dull, white-bread font feels like a regressive move. It is a regressive move, but hey, that's the USA for you at the moment. With their current president, maybe they should write everything in Comic Sans... well known as the crayon alternative of the typeface world. 

Reading back on this, I really do have some firm opinions about fonts and typefaces. 

I really should get a life. 

Today's song: 

The Downside

I didn't know it was a thing. I didn't know it had a name. I didn't know that this was part of the deal. 

This AUDHD (Autism+ADHD) journey has been revelatory. And vindicating.

Speaking to a colleague today, whose son has a number of things that put him squarely on the spectrum, he was saying that as he's getting older, it's easier to help him regulate. 

As a late-diagnosed woman, I can see this. As an adult, you know yourself. You've worked out a lot of your triggers and have your strategies in place. You know how to self-regulate. The meds help. And sometimes, the clarity of the situation takes your breath away. 

Case in point - the concept of the work persona. 

I have one of these. 

I am an introvert. Yet, I am also bubbly, chatty, engaged, helpful (for the most part) and sociable at work. I can talk to anybody. I can talk to a room of people without blinking. I'm happy to speak in public, talk to a room of hundreds. I will approach anybody, at any time. This is my well-honed, well-crafted work persona. 

However, tell me that there are work drinks and that I have to go to a pub and make small talk, not drink, because I'm not drinking much at the moment, and my anxiety goes through the roof. I want to curl up under my desk in the foetal position. 

Three years ago, I wouldn't have called it anxiety. 

I recognise it now for what it is. 

On learning there were work drinks today at a large team meeting, the discomfort started immediately. 

When we got out of the meeting, I talked this through with a colleague. Part of it is that I've only been at the bank for less than a month. I know my team, and that's it. The other 50 people in the broader team, not so much. 

As nice as these people are, hanging around drinking coke zero, doing the small talk thing - it wasn't going to happen. 

People are surprised. "But you're so bubbly!" they cry. Yes, at work. With my work persona in place. Once I step out the door, all I want to do is go home, do some exercise and talk to the cat. 

I've felt like this all my life. Large gatherings - I have always had to psyche myself up for them. If I do go, I stick to the edges of the room - find my tribe. It's why I liked being a smoker - I had a place to go with likeminded people. At Blarney's. when she holds a barbeque, you find me outside with the boys, looking at the fire, normally with a beer. It's quieter. 

And there is a name for it. Crippling social anxiety. I've always had it. Now I can put a name to it and not feel bad when I'm running fast in the opposite direction of the work drinks / large party / wedding / event where I have to chat to strangers in a meaningless way comes up. 

The team went for their drinks. I stayed back. As I'm having Friday morning off for a funeral, I got the jump on some other work. That felt good. On arriving home, the cat was fed, then I went for a long walk. That was wonderful. I met lots of dogs on the walk too. 

It felt good to be true to myself. Even better, I can name what it is that has made these events have me in tears for years. 

Today's song:

Dev Card: Food

 The book group books are bagged up, the extras have been put into zip-lock bags and will be taken into work tomorrow, so I wont eat them - life is okay. But I have no idea what to write. 

So, I've pulled a Dev card from the original deck. 

Today's card reads, " Describe the most delicious meal you have ever eaten. If that's too hard, just write about a gorgeous dish you have enjoyed recently you keep thinking about. Give me every single detail about why it was delicious and what made it so."

See, I think this is a bit of a cop out, because I think people make food.

Last week, I went around to a friend's place for dinner. I brought the cheese and biscuits - a truffle brie, some gorgonzola, some pesto dip and biscuits. What followed was roast lamb, which has to be my favourite roast dinner. The meat was wonderfully pink - the meat thermometer said it was just right - and it was. There were roasted and steamed vegetables to go with it. After this, a cake purchased at Brunettis, a Cherry Christmas Log, was spectacular - so light and creamy. It was a lovely night, but as much as I remember the food, I remember the company more. 

I've been very lucky to have eaten some awesome meals in my life. 

Anything that Liz at L'Hotel de L'Oranges in Sommieres in utterly fantastic. Same for our wonder caterer Emma Eastman at our retreats. I even eat her lasagne. 

There used to be a place on Glen Huntly Road which had this dessert. Halva ice cream, orange blossom syrup, Persian fairy floss with pieces of Turkish Delight. 15 years on and I'm still talking about this. 

I remember going to this wonderful French restaurant  - Libertine - many years ago. We had what was one of the best degustation meals I've ever had the pleasure of eating. The one at Estelle in Northcote came a close second. Please don't ask me for details - I know they were good. 

Food, for me, is all about the experience, whether it be topping up on Patatas Bravas in Spain (or any good Spanish restaurant), to great, fresh tacos, to fresh fish and chips, to a barbeque with friends. I love trying new things. I still remember when my Swedish flatmates held me down and made m try pickled herring. Or even if it's going down the road to one of the dodgy Vietnamese places to get their crispy beef with spicy sauce - which I take all my friends to try because it's so good - made better by the formica tables, tissue boxes for serviettes and the kid in the corner doing their homework in between serving customers. 

The best food is experienced with others. It's the love and the fun that makes it delicious. 

Today's song: 

Lolly Day

 Once a year, I have to go down the lolly aisle at the supermarket. It's not something I do often. The lolly and biscuit aisle is a no-go zone - or if I do venture down there it's to get rice cakes, the odd packet of  Arnotts Nice biscuits when I'm making a cheesecake to take to a barbeque, or Turkish Delight bars to take to the writer's retreats, because Turkish Delight is currency for neurospicy women. 

Today was the day I had to venture down the lolly aisle to get the book group lollies for the book group lolly vote, which will be happening this Sunday. 

I've been doing this for over 15 years. Each December, I'll dump a phone heap of lollies into a big bowl and put 25 lollies of various shapes and sizes into a zip lock bag, along with a rubber glove, so we can do our book choosing. It's all very calculated and exacting. Everybody gets 25 lollies. Not 26. Not 24, but 25. 

The hardest decision is what lollies to get. 

There is the standard request from the group. Clinkers. And yes, I've got the Clinkers in, but at $7 a packet, they have to be only a part of the mix. Also, you don't want all the lollies to be the same size and shape. It helps keep the mystery of the vote. 

Of course, I can't put all my favourites in the bag. It's reminiscent of the 20 bag of lollies you got at the local store as a kid. For me, Spearmint Leaves, Licorice Allsorts, Milk Bottles, jelly snakes (red or yellow preferred), maybe a Fantale and a couple of jaffas. 

None of this Haribo crap - that stuff tastes like chemicals. 

I did find two things. Hard jubes. Forever a favourite. Like Fantales, which I don't think they make anymore, hard jubes can take out your fillings. According to the interwebs, Fantales were discontinued in 2023. You can only find them online for over $100 a bag. Bad move Nestle.

And a bag of Allens Retro Party mix. According to the bag, it contains a mix of the following: 

• Racing Cars
• Cola Bottles
• Retro Man
• Raspberries
• Honey Bears
• Strawberries and Cream
• Teeth
• Lips
• Pineapples
• Milk Bottles

One year we had Redskins - or whatever politically correct name they are known by now. (Red Rippers, I'm told, just as Chikos are now Cheekies, and Coon cheese is now Cheer cheese. And I do get why this was done.)

Another year we had all Skittles. This didn't go down well as the fruity flavours are cloying and they stain. 

Another year it was all Jaffas - but the chocolate melted and things got messy. We've learned to put the lollies in the fridge at the restaurant until we need them for the vote. 

And yes, I know I moan about getting this done every year, but I rather like the nostalgic feels this job gives me. 

At least I have the lollies for bagging in the fridge. 

My next urgent job is to select what my second book will be to take to the choosing. That's the hard job!

Today's song:

Movie Review: Nuremberg

 Movie Number 46 of 2025

The Movie: Nuremberg

The Cinema: Hoyts Victoria Gardens

Runtime: 2 hours 28 minutes

Stars: 4.5

The Nuremberg Trials have been covered on the big and small screen many times over. It's an important story that should remain in our view, because, as the adage goes, those who don't learn from the past are bound to repeat it. This is an interesting and thought-provoking movie that looks at the process leading up to the trial, the back story to the first cases at Nuremberg which leads to the final outcome. It is based on Jack El-Hai's book, The Nazi and the Psychiatrist. 

As war movies go, it's very good, taking into consideration more than the main players. It takes a look into authoritarianism and what can happen when people don't stand up for what is right. (Sound familiar?)

Rami Malek plays psychiatrist, Douglass Kelley, who is assigned to get to know the first round of First Reich prisoners to be tried, evaluating whether they are fit to stand trial. This includes Hermann Goering (Russell Crowe), Hitler's number two, a narcissist and egotist. Along with his translator, Howie (Leo Woodall) Kelley has the mammoth task of trying to understand these monsters of men. 

In the background, Justice Robert Jackson (Michael Shannon) a judge of high standing, is asked to try these men. This has its own traps as the army, led by Colonel Andrus (John Slattery) and having to co-ordinate with the other nations, including Brit, Sir David Fyfe-Maxwell (Richard E Grant). The movie also looks at the machinations of bringing to justice men who have been responsible for the most heinous acts ever done by the human race. 

This is a balanced film. There has been some embellishment for dramatic effect, however this is an engrossing film. Malek and Crowes performances are top notch - the rest of the cast are great too. 

I particularly loved the sets and costumes, which drag you back to the 1940. Cinematographer Darius Wolski's view brings the recently bombed Nuremberg to life. Adding to this, Brian Tyler's haunting soundscape heightens the experience. Director James Vanderbilt's direction is assured, never letting the action drag and bringing in some light, ensuring the film doesn't get too depressing. 

This film will get some Oscar nominations. It's a timely reminder of what unchecked power can do. 

This is definitely worth a viewing on the big screen. It's not a perfect film, but it is a timely one. 

Today's song: 

Sunday Stealing: Stolen from Tom

Tonight was spent at somebody else's Christmas Party. It appears that other people's Christmas parties are better than the ones that you own yourself. In this case, a friend's band was playing. Said friend is a nurse. It was great watching my mate play as well as catching up with friends and taking in the diaspora of medicos. And why is the anaesthetist always on the keyboard and the drummer is an orthopaedic surgeon?

Regardless, it was a fun night. It's probably going to be the only Christmas Party I attend. 

Today's questions come from Sunday Stealing - as always. 

1) What was the scariest thing in the world to you when you were a kid? Does it still scare you now?

 Snakes and huntsman spiders scared the hell out of me. Living in country Australia you have a good reason to be scared of snakes, especially as most snakes in Australia can kill you if they bite you. Huntsman spiders are just big and ugly, but they won't hurt you. I still hate them, but I can at least dispose of them with a can of big spray now. 

2) Imagine your 12-year-old daughter (or granddaughter) is hosting a sleepover at your home. A sudden storm knocks out cellphone service, wifi and cable. How would you keep these suddenly unplugged pre-teens entertained?

 I have no idea. I don't have kids. Maybe hope that my reading habits have worn off on them. 

3) What piece of movie or TV memorabilia would you love to own?

I have enough crap around my place, but I do have a Vote for Pedro t-shirt, which I rather like. If you don't know about Napoleon Dynamite, you're missing out. 

I wouldn't mind a t-shirt from The Princess Bride with a quote like, "As you wish...", "I do not think that means what you think it means", "Inconceivable!", or "My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die." You can't wear the last one in airports. 

People don't have a sense of humour anymore. 

4) You are gifted with the services of a personal assistant for four hours. What would you ask your assistant to do?

 Oh, they would be sorting out my cloud accounts and getting them in order. They're a mess. 

5) If literary characters were real, which one would you like to interview, and what would you ask?

I have no idea. Too many characters, too many questions. I could sit down with Billy Pilgrim, or Dorrigo Evans, or the main character from Miranda July's All Fours (that would be interesting - the first question would be "What's your bloody name!")

Today's song: