Prudence says

Kids say the darndest things

2012-01-21T10:44:00.003+08:00

Having recently moved from a not-very-important government department to the-supremely-important government department, Prudence has been getting to know her new colleagues.

S, realising he'd stapled one of Prudence's documents to his, handed it back, apologising.

"You're forgiven," Prudence said, "but don't let it happen again, young man."

S sidled closer to Prudence.

"I'm older than I look, you know," he murmured, absolutely straight-faced.

"I'm nearly 30."

Prudence is quite pleased she managed not to snort at that.

There's bound to be a time when this is needed

2012-01-09T20:47:00.002+08:00

Prudence is indebted to lovely friend S for this most useful of phrases:

Te Audire no possum. Musa sapientum fix est in aure.

Which translates as: I can't hear you. I have a banana in my ear.

Not having had a classical education, Prudence does not know how to pronounce this, but suspects anyone to whom she directs it, doesn't either.

Resolutions

2012-01-01T09:04:00.003+08:00

After a hiatus of a decade or so of cynicism, Prudence started making resolutions about five years ago. These tended to be quite private, and momentous, if general: to be nicer to oneself, not to be judgmental and cynical, surround oneself with inspirational people, and so on.

The idea was that successive years would build on their predecessors. Prudence is a much better person for the effort, having conquered demons small and large.

For 2012, a change in approach.

1. Learn to crochet

2. Learn to prune the fruit trees so they fruit more, rather than less

3. Find a decent (read grown-up) hairdresser

4. Pay off at least one credit card

5. Find a properly waterproof mascara

Progress reports as and when.

Ho, ho, ho

2011-12-25T11:14:00.003+08:00

So, this is Christmas.

Prudence, clinging to her German upbringing, insists on having Christmas on Christmas Eve. Besides, the candles look lovely, it's cooler and much more of a party atmosphere in which to drink too much champagne.

Beloved, on the other hand, is English, and quite put out at the thought of opening presents the night before, insisting on waiting not only until Christmas morning, but after coffee.

Among her haul of both sparkly and very useful presents, Prudence is now in possession of a box of very vintage toilet paper.

Yay for family who really get her.

Out of the mouths of...

2011-12-21T07:49:00.002+08:00

At one of the new job's Christmas dos last week (there are four - can you imagine?), a young colleague, fortified with a glass or two of sherbert sat opposite Prudence, grinning.

"So," he started, "what do you do for fun, Prudence?

"Make jam?"

And Prudence was utterly obliged to say yes.

A most perspicacious young man.

Who also happened to buy a couple of Prudence's preserves as a Christmas present for his mother.

He'll go far.

Reason for the season

2011-12-12T08:48:00.004+08:00

Despite being an avowed atheist, Prudence rather likes Christmas. (The most interesting people are contradictory, n'est-ce pas?)

Being blissfully free of relatives, she's free to enjoy those of Beloved, who are a wonderfully eccentric lot, and to lavish food and presents on dear friends. All care and no responsibility.

Of course there are decisions to be made - generally nice ones - but this one raised an eyebrow:

"One of the most important decisions you and your family will need to make is what sort of Christmas tree to have."

Which, one supposes, could cause some familial consternation, although, presumably, much less than which bubbly to buy, or what to serve the vegetarians for entree.

It appears the people at Yates (from whom this preposterous sentence landed in Prudence's inbox) are far more concerned with the plastic -v- live -v- cut and shedding needles dilemma.

One does hope it gets sorted out in time.

Brown paper packages

2011-12-02T20:22:00.003+08:00

Beloved called, sounding, well, bemused.

"I've just had a box delivered to me at work," he began.

Prudence: "Mmmm?"

Beloved: "It's addressed to me, at work, and it's got six bottles of whiskey in it."

Prudence: "I never get boxes like that."

Beloved: "Did you order it?"

Prudence: "No. "

Beloved: "There's no note or card or anything and it's from [enormous discount liquor chain]."

Prudence: "That's a pretty cool mystery."

Sadly, it turned out to have been sent by head office in Sydney and the bottles were presents for Beloved's top clients.

A most unsatisfactory solution to the mystery.

This life and the next

2011-11-24T07:39:00.003+08:00

Just as the weather in Perth gives an unmistakeable preview of summer (hot, dry, windy, exhausting) Prudence and Beloved are off to Melbourne for a little holiday.

After the, um, joys of renovating, and having only just started a new job, they've earned it.

There were two reasons for planning this little sojourn - a not-particularly-significant birthday and the baptism of young W.

Prudence was bemused to be asked to take on the spiritual responsibility of a god child: "I'm only doing this if I can lead the child astray", she said.

L, the child's mother, agreed: "You're only doing this if you lead my child astray". So that was that, then.

Plans were made, arrangements put into train. Then the church derailed things.

Apparently late November is too close to Christmas, and all baptisms are off. One wonders whether the church really has the child's best hereafter interests in mind!

Canine psychology

2011-11-14T21:12:00.002+08:00

Prudence and Beloved have some interesting neighbours, two doors down.

P and B and baby S also share their house with Billie, a golden retriever with entirely too much enthusiasm for everything.

Billie occasionally comes to visit Jodie the neurotic Kelpie. The last time, Billie hadn't had a run for a week. P apologised for her behaviour, explaining that she was neurotic.

Knowing a thing or two about dogs, Prudence begged to differ.

"Your dog isn't so much neurotic as chaotic."

The respect of one's colleagues

2011-11-06T20:49:00.002+08:00

Rather unexpectedly, Prudence has been offered a promotion - a secondment to another department.

As is traditional, she had a farewell afternoon tea at her old one.

One of her favourite now-ex-colleagues expressed his disappointment at her leaving the department for the second time.

"If you want to come back, tell me whose job you want and I'll push him down the stairs."

Prudence is absurdly flattered, if not a little concerned that he might go through with his... offer.

In which Prudence goes, perhaps, a step too far

2011-10-31T15:37:00.003+08:00

It's enough to make one clench one's teeth and utter an expletive under one's breath!

The local butcher, whom Prudence would like to patronise, as she believes in the sustainability of small business and the quality of his merchandise, can't spell.

Which in and of itself would be forgiveable if he were to correct his misspellings when these are gently and senstively pointed out by his clientele.

After three gentle and sensitive pointings-out, he still insisted on selling crapetto. Rather than the young goat known to gourmets the world over as capretto.

The fourth pointing-out occurred thus:

Butcher: Will that be all?

Prudence: Yes, thank you. And there is one thing you can do for me

Butcher: What's that?

Prudence: You can fix that sign that says crapetto. It should say capretto.

Butcher: Oh, yeah. We've had a few people say that.

Prudence: It's disrespectful and it makes you look like an idiot.

Butcher: (nervous giggle) Well, I can't spell vegetable and some other words either

Prudence: I'll help you.

Butcher: Are you always that harsh?

Prudence: I have pointed this out before. And I'd like to think you aren't an idiot.

Sigh. One wonders whether one can shop there again.

Not well brought up

2011-10-22T14:26:00.002+08:00

Prudence is mortified.

Jodie the Kelpie can't swim.

She also gets quite nervous riding in the back of the ute.

A parlous state of affairs.

Extremist nut-casery. Which may be a tautology.

2011-10-15T22:04:00.002+08:00

Prudence loves an unexpected extra.

At the Karagullen Horticultural Expo - her first visit - immediately on entering, a wild-eyed, grey-haired nana thrust a newspaper into her hands. Prudence, having been well brought up, thanked her politely and put it in her shopping bag.

Into the shopping bag went brochures on bee-keeping and fruit fly control, a promotional wooden spoon and other assorted bits and pieces.

Over tea and scones later, she examined the bag's contents. At the bottom was the newspaper - The New Citizen, the official publication of the Citizens Electoral Council. And what rich comedic material it provides!

The CEC nut-cases pop everywhere - acosting one at the train station, at the Royal Show, at farmers markets and school fetes and sometimes at the shops. They're conspiracy theorists at the far end of the madness spectrum.

The lead story claims Charles Darwin was a fraud, and blames him for the Global Financial Crisis, and implicates the Queen and Hitler.

Gold!

Don't bother

2011-10-06T21:14:00.004+08:00

Prudence loves a good art exhibition opening, so it was with excitement she went along to the joint opening of this and this.

And was heartily disappointed.

As well as a meandering speech by an Associate Professor of art mostly about the manufacture of locomotives overseas, and a cliche-ridden opening by the arts minister, one of the artists spoke.

Her first words were a double exhortation not to touch the works.

Which is an object lesson on how to insult and alienate your audience in less than a minute.

Prudence saw unmistakeable similarities to this book, and can't forgive the lack of canapes to soak up the cheap wine.

Dog's life

2011-09-18T17:19:00.004+08:00

Prudence and Beloved were devastated when Kate, the blue heeler cross died nearly two years ago.

Suddenly the tennis balls of the world were a bit safer, but the aching hole in our lives has never healed.

This morning Jodie the kelpie - red heeler cross joined our multi-species family. Lola-cat is disgusted.

Jodie is five, and has lovely manners. She chases tennis balls and catches frisbees and barks only when necessary.

After a run in the park she lay down for a rest on her mat.

Beloved looked on fondly: "She needs a soft, cuddly toy".

Prudence: "Darling, NO! She's a kelpie!"

Beloved: "OK - a tonka truck".

At which they both dissolved into chuckles, because that's exactly what a tough kelpie needs!

Otherwise engaged

2011-09-13T21:43:00.003+08:00

In something of a counter-intuitive move, Prudence has said goodbye to her colleagues at the private sector office where she's been working for the last year, took a significant pay cut and a shift sideways and went back to her government job.

It is lovely to be back in the CBD, with decent coffee and any number of distractions for lunchtimes. And it is very nice to be back with lovely former colleagues, although she does miss the more immediately former colleagues.

But now, rather than the stock exchange and joint venture partners providing either progress or frustration, now it's down to Cabinet.

And there's no rhyme or reason to that at all.

The end is nigh. Maybe.

2011-08-17T21:27:00.002+08:00

Prudence loves a good Christian fundamentalist fear campaign as much as the next smug atheist.

So she was delighted to find a photocopy-of-a-photocopy-of-a-photocopy of THE WARNING in her letterbox.

To wit: New prophecies reveal global events in the lead up to the Second Coming.

It goes on to detail The Warning which is to come from the European Visionary Our Lady of Garabandal, who, we're told, received an ILLUMINATION OF CONSCIENCE (their caps) in 1961. One wonders, idly, whether it hurt.

Prudence finds it alarming that everyone over the age of seven will experience a mystical encounter with Jesus Christ, lasting up to 15 minutes. Two comets will collide in the sky.

Our sins will be shown to us, and some will be so sickened and shocked that they will drop dead before having a chance to ask for forgiveness.

And so on.

But, just to ruin the effect, the exhortation that all this is to happen in 2011, has been crossed out in biro, and replaced with the word soon.

So long as that's clear.

Prudence rather suspects the British Humanists are right - there's probably no god, and you should stop worrying and enjoy yourself.

Over-suffixification

2011-08-07T13:35:00.002+08:00

Prudence happened to catch an interview with an academic, who said some interesting things about the nature of community and sustainability and such.

It was all very interesting.

Until the academic used the word co-operativity.

This being one of Prudence's pet hates - the making up of new words when there's a perfectly serviceable old word.

Whatever happened to co-operation?

Harrumph.

Evolution of an idea

2011-07-27T20:53:00.004+08:00

Three weeks ago
Prudence: That is my scarf! You nicked it!
Beloved: No it's not, it's mine!

Two weeks ago
Prudence: What a lovely scarf, wherever did you get it?
Beloved: I stole it from my wife.

Yesterday
Prudence: I see you really like that scarf...
Beloved: Yes, my wife lends it to me, she has excellent taste.

A new perspective at breakfast time

2011-07-16T17:14:00.002+08:00

Apropos of absolutely nothing, Beloved said this morning:

"I'm not just a husband, I'm a whole concept."

And there was not a thing Prudence could say to dispute that.

Quote of the day II

2011-07-11T11:58:00.002+08:00

Prudence's office is populated with sick people. Some of them are taking advantage of their illness.

Overheard two minutes ago:

"It was a cough, not a snigger."

Note careful use of the word snigger, which Prudence believes to be an admission of the exact opposite!

Quote of the day

2011-07-08T09:21:00.001+08:00

Overheard in the HR Officer's office:

"Come in and sit down.

"I won't lick you."

Followed by a frenzied attack of coughing.

Prudence hurried away, thankful the invitation hadn't been directed her way.

The great disconnection

2011-06-18T22:23:00.003+08:00

The renovation of Marmalade Cottage continues apace.

Most things are surmountable, but Prudence fears the lack of internet may not be.

First the internet company suggested that, since there's no phone connection, it would mean lots of hassle and lots of money to get the cabling installed, then the phone connected, then that connection converted to the internet.

The someone else from the internet company disagreed, saying it would be only one visit by a technician and $300, so Prudence booked the technician and felt rather pleased with herself.

Until Telstra called. Prudence, like everyone else in Australia, vowed never to have anything to do with Telstra if she could possibly avoid it after one too many debacles.

And this experience was no different. The Telstra lady asked about the cottage's former connection, Prudence patiently explained there was not now, nor had there ever been a phone connection. Therefore there was no cabling to which to connect.

There was flummoxment.

Telstra explained that the technician booked would not be able to connect a phone line if there was no cabling - was Prudence certain there was no cabling? Prudence was absolutely certain.

Telstra said she'd still send the technician.

"No," said Prudence, "please don't, there is no cabling, therefore no point a technician turning to up to attempt to connect to said non-existent cabling."

Telstra said she didn't want to cancel the appointment.

Prudence felt her patience slipping as she explained again the futility of this, and morphed from asking to demanding the appointment be cancelled.

The phone call didn't finish well, but Prudence was reasonably confident no technician would appear at the unappointed time.

Then she called the company charged with putting in the cabling, to start that process. Which should take a couple of weeks. And felt reasonably confident the process was proceeding as it should.

Until a gentleman from the cabling company called to enquire about the work order just submitted by Telstra that seemed in contravention to the notes from her earlier conversation.

Fortunately the gentleman was in possession of a robust sense of humour, as Prudence was moved to say some very bad words.

Prudence has no idea when she's likely to have an internet connection.

On renovation

2011-06-13T11:59:00.003+08:00

There are ragged fingers and fingernails, bruises, scratches and assorted aches, but there is a lot to show for it. Marmalade Cottage is now mostly functional and starting to be quite pretty.

So far there have been no nasty discoveries, although an ornate vent in the kitchen disintegrated as Beloved tried to clean it. There's a hole in the wall now, which acts as a perfectly serviceable vent.

Peculiarly, the rather new stereo no longer receives FM radio. One isn't sure what to make of that.

Unable to pay

2011-06-01T20:38:00.003+08:00

If you've been paying attention, you'll have gathered that Prudence and Beloved have bought a house. It's a deceased estate, the old man having gone quite potty, been in a home for two years before dying more than a year ago. The pottiness having, it appears, been inherited by at least one of his surviving daughters, but that's by the by.

Today a power bill arrived. For 40 cents.

Dutifully, Prudence rang the electricity retailer, and offered to pay the bill, if the amount could be transferred to her account. Explaining that the person to whom the bill was addressed was not likely to be troubling anyone again.

The consultant, as Prudence believes call centre workers are now referred, put Prudence on hold for a good while.

Her first question when back was: "Can you get in touch with the previous owner?"

Prudence waited a couple of beats, but the consultant needed to be prompted to understand that deceased meant the former owner could not be contacted. Sigh.

Eventually the 40 cent-bill was waived. To Prudence's relief.

Here and not

2011-05-17T09:31:00.004+08:00

Prudence is rather preoccupied just now.

With this.

Which is bound to offer lots of the sorts of gems Prudence likes to share, but does take up great amounts of time and thought.

So, please forgive extended absences. One has walls to scrub.

A bargain, if only one knew what it was

2011-05-08T20:46:00.004+08:00

Prudence has been trawling Gumtree rather a lot of late, and has been finding lots of bargains.

But really, some of the things for sale beggar belief.

A small selection:

clooth dryer
Dinning tables
chests of draws
wrote iron
vacumes
a toroly
any number of lounge suits - two and three-seaters.

Most are, of course, easy enough to work out, but the toroly had no picture accompanying it, and Prudence is mystified.

You didn't need to ask

2011-05-05T20:39:00.001+08:00

Words of wisdom from A.

Who is a rockin' mummy and knows about these things.

"An Audrey Hepburn style frock is always appropriate."

She is, of course, right.

Moving on

2011-05-02T22:09:00.003+08:00

Despite the elevated pay and proper Christmas party, Prudence has decided the private sector is not for her and has declined a second contract with the very capitalist company.

After a year of biting her socialist, greenie tongue, Prudence has decided enough is enough.

The chief executive, a very avuncular capitalist, seemed genuinely disappointed Prudence had not decided to stay.

"Sorry J," Prudence smiled, "I don't fit in."

"Why's that?"

"I'm a socialist, and I should hate you. But I don't."

To his credit, he chuckled and said he understood.

The reason for the season

2011-04-23T19:47:00.004+08:00

With a commitment to cut sugar from one's diet and not a little horror at the stories of child exploitation and adulteration of the bean, it wasn't a hard decision to forego chocolate this Easter.

And what will be given in its place?

(Prudence caught a sneak peak)

A bright pink nana trolley for shopping.

Prudence is holding on to her delight for when it's handed over Sunday morning.

For Beloved - that clever foldy ladder about which he's been lusting. Easter traditionally being the season of odd-jobs and renovation.

Praise the rabbit!

View to the past

2011-04-11T21:30:00.003+08:00

Prudence is very partial to a garage sale - bargains, treasures, good- (or not-) natured haggling.

This week's haul included some divine vintage sewing patterns, a set of bathroom taps, brass hooks and some books.

An Enid Blyton (Claudine at St Clare's) and the delightful Jean Behind the Counter by Nancy Martin. Prudence hadn't heard of her either.

To quote the blurb: "Jean had always wanted to serve in a shop, and in the large store where she began her career she sold all kinds of things, from haberdashery to baby-linen. At Stacey's she made new friends and was soon caught up in a whirl of swimming galas, cycling clubs, skiffle groups and staff dances. But it was only after she had battled with discouragement at work, difficulties at home and jealousy over her friends that she made a success of her chosen career."

Published in 1960, it is most definitely a book of its time - more than once Jean's ambitions are dismissed with an off-handed comment that she'll probably get married anyway.

But the most amusing aspect was the bookmark - a series of Christmas stamps, not issued by the post office, designed, one presumes, to be affixed to a card. They say: From a supporter of the Slow Learning Children's Group.

Now there's an encouraging name!

Are you being served?

2011-04-08T23:18:00.003+08:00

Despite being struck with the first cold of the season, and the attendant joy that brings, Prudence had a lovely dinner with L, N and J tonight.

After many reply-all emails, we settled on a cheap and cheerful Vietnamese.

It was busy and buzzy and the conversation flowed.

But the service was not-in-a-good-way notable.

Prudence was prepared to overlook having the waiter deliver glasses to the table but not fill them with wine. She even turned a begrudging blind eye to the waitress leaning in front of her to clear both L and J's plates, when there was more than ample space to move around the table.

But serving peppermint tea with milk, sugar and a tiny teddy biscuit is utterly inexcusable.

And for the YTD

2011-04-07T21:42:00.003+08:00

So Prudence bit the metaphorical bullet and signed up for a financial management course.

It was more than time to learn how to decipher balance sheets and profit and loss statements. And so she did, along with assorted ratios, variances, bills, and abbreviations.

Which are the bane of Prudence's existence.

The whole course can be summed up with one equation:

Arithmetic + abbreviations = angst.

Prudence has decided it is best she sticks with wrangling words.

A thoroughly modern dilemma

2011-03-29T22:14:00.005+08:00

Prudence has long disagreed with organised religion - it has been and remains responsible for more pain, suffering and premature death than any other cause in history. Including reality TV.

So, she wonders (not very hard, admittedly), is it unethical for an avowed atheist to shop at church-run op shops?

Someone really should have been paying attention

2011-03-24T21:26:00.004+08:00

Prudence loves a public display of irony.

Among some 920 breakfasters (including James Packer and Christian Porter), Prudence listened to Kerry Stokes deliver a long advertisement for Channel 7, a merger between Channel 7 and The West Australian newspaper and the newspaper itself.

Projected onto an enormous screen behind Stokes was an image of hands holding the front and back page of today's paper.

Sporting a typo.

Most surprising was that no-one else seemed to notice.

No, it's not like that at all

2011-03-22T21:13:00.003+08:00

Prudence is trying very, very not to become a cliche about which she has been scathing - the real estate wanker.

But it is interesting how many of one's friends are fascinated with potential purchases.

Fortunately the same friends are equally as disgusted as Prudence at the crimes against English grammar and syntax (don't even mention style).

Some observations:

Very few houses are exceptional, none are unique. No really.
Perhaps 5% of the backyards described as gigantic, are even vaguely sizable.
None of the kitchens so described would impress a chef.
Sort after is not an adjective.
Your is a possessive. Always. If one wishes to say, for example: if you're looking for..., that's how it should be written.
There is no delight in renovation. Ever.
BO stands for something much more personal than buyers over.
It really helps if the dishes are done and put away when photographing said chef's kitchens.
Feature walls are an abomination.
Few locations are as desirable as described. Such a word does smack of desperation.
If the agent needs to mention that said house is a good alternative to renting, it most probably isn't.
If the agent needs to implore: what more can you want? There is much, much more one could want.

One does hope this process is over quickly.

Life, in all its everyday-ness

2011-03-19T08:43:00.005+08:00

Prudence's gorgeous friend D, possessed of 1940s screen siren looks, lives a life of which Prudence is unashamedly covetous.

This arrived yesterday: sorry stilted typing---cradling solo duckling, asleep in my palm :o)

Which is the best email Prudence has ever received.

End of discussion

2011-03-16T09:10:00.003+08:00

Prudence just adores Stephen Fry.

On Qi last night the following was uttered:

"That was a laughable misunderstanding.

"And I am, of course, using the word laughable completely incorrectly."

Prudence hopes to find herself in a conversation, soon, where she can use such a witticism.

Feline-versation

2011-03-14T21:51:00.003+08:00

Pussy-cat Lola: Meow.

Beloved: Yeah, I know.

Pussy-cat Lola: Meow.

Beloved: Well, I did warn you.

Pussy-cat Lola: Meow-ow-ow.

Beloved: Now you're being unreasonable, it wasn't like that at all.

Pussy-cat Lola: Meow-OW!

At which point Prudence dispensed the fish-shaped biscuits and cut short the conversation.

To Lola's relief.

Making the first time count

2011-02-28T16:10:00.003+08:00

Prudence remembers her long-ago deflowerment with mixture of sadness and nostalgia. And not a little cringe.

The chap involved probably has the same sort of memories as it was his first time too.

That feeble reminiscence pales further upon learning that one's friend C lost hers to James Bond, and her husband, P, lost his to Elizabeth Taylor!

Only namesakes, but still...

The Wednesday night biscuit capitulation

2011-02-23T22:35:00.004+08:00

Beloved: I want some biscuits.

Prudence: If you hadn't gobble-gutsed all your biscuits, you could have had some. I'll share my peaches with you.

Beloved: (in a slightly whiney voice) I don't want a peach, I want biscuits!

Prudence: (with exaggerated calm) You promised to make a packet last all week, and you scoffed them all three days in. You've only yourself to blame.

Beloved: (with a trace of triumph) I didn't promise, I had my fingers crossed.

At which Prudence had to concede defeat and Beloved went off to the supermarket to buy TWO packets of biscuits.

Definitely not

2011-02-16T22:06:00.004+08:00

Through no fault of her own, Prudence found herself at an exclusive event held at a very exclusive institution.

At lunch with some retired ladies with large bank accounts and very high opinions of themselves, Prudence got caught up in a conversation on politics and who-knows-whom.

Did Prudence know a recently late, loveable rogue?

"Yes."

"He had an affair with my daughter's friend, L - did you know her?'

Prudence did know of L, along with several others. He was a rather loved-up rogue.

"Did you have an affair with him?"

And the trouble with a rapid and vehement denial, is that it smacks of, well, denial.

Sigh.

Caveat emptor

2011-02-10T21:25:00.002+08:00

Prudence is quite pleased with herself: when a young man wearing a skull mask and calling himself Evil demanded of Prudence her soul, she had enough presence of mind to inform him she'd already sold it.

To be fair this did happen as part of a show in the Perth Fringe Festival.

And Prudence does know better than to sit in the front row.

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!

2011-02-07T21:05:00.003+08:00

Sashaying past the Catholic Church office in St Georges Terrace this afternoon, Prudence was bemused to see a sign sticky-taped to the door.

Heretics will be held in the cathedral

Prudence didn't think the church was too bothered by such people any more.

But there you go.

From 1 to 1.30 sharp

2011-02-06T21:46:00.003+08:00

Prudence, having no small experience of such things, is pretty sure that demanding a tenant dust her window sills is in breach of the Residential Tenancies Act.

So, also, is criticising the quality of one's vacuuming.

This led, variously to stamping of feet, mutters of annoyance, dark threats unlikely to be acted upon, frantic checking of bank balances, serious conversations and A BIG DECISION.

And thus the rounds of home opens begin.

And, if nothing else, it is amusing to note the number of people who subscribe to the view that feature walls are haute home couture. And the colours they've used on said walls.

On the home front

2011-01-21T21:09:00.003+08:00

Prudence and Beloved found themselves, late on a Friday afternoon, faced with the unenviable task of purchasing a new vacuum cleaner.

(Best not to think about the sound and the smell the old one had taken to making.)

Prudence had no idea makers of essentially peaceful appliances had taken to using such terribly violent names for them!

After rejecting the Combat Ultra (yes, really a vacuum cleaner) and several versions of Extreme, they settled on the Action Plus.

In the hope it would not get all shouty if a corner was missed.

On names: an ongoing rant

2011-01-17T07:06:00.003+08:00

Prudence shakes her coiffed head at the parents of the child on the front page of today's West Australian.

Arizona.

If one is determined to name one's child after a dry, barren place mostly inhabited by venomous reptiles, one could at least pick a desert in Australia.

Prudence respectfully suggests Tanami as a name for any subsequent children.

Tsk.

More evidence of a decline in standards

2011-01-10T17:52:00.002+08:00

How, Prudence wonders,

could the two cars being advertised,

both be identical?

Discerning

2011-01-07T22:26:00.004+08:00

Is it fair,

Prudence wonders,

to judge a man

on the number of facebook friends

he has?

And that would appear to be the end, before it's begun, of a romance of which Prudence recently heard.

Goings and comings

2011-01-03T11:51:00.002+08:00

Looking back over the year just gone and making resolutions is, it seems the thing to do.

Prudence's year has followed typical form and involved a moving of house and a changing of job.

It has also involved:

the acquisition of a cat (good);
the breaking of a staggering number of wine glasses (embarrassing);
a broken resolution to learn Italian (ah, well);
the nurturing of an olive tree that once more did not bear fruit (death row, shall try a native finger lime);
varying rates of economy with the truth (also known as good manners);
varying degrees of success with sewing and other crafty projects (if at first you don't succeed...);
the growing out of a truly ugly haircut (painful, indeed);
three very small lotto wins (just enough to buy another ticket);
complete success in avoiding quiz nights (invitations no longer coming in); and
the making of new and very precious friendships (BSC Perth, that's you).

So, for 2011

(and these are not resolutions, that process will only end in tears)

grow a cut flower garden;
try not to break so many wine glasses; and
learn to sew button holes.

There - that ought to be doable.

Cheers!

Goes around, comes around

2010-12-27T22:44:00.003+08:00

Prudence is thinking that karma (of the nicest kind) has been visited upon her.

Some time ago, in a bag of goodies from a corporate event, there was a two-for-one voucher for a particular movie. Prudence put the voucher aside, in a safe place, and promptly forgot about it.

Then after the fuss of Christmas it turned up again, just in time for one of the last screenings at an outdoor cinema.

So with pillows in hand, Prudence and Beloved presented the voucher at the box office, and realised they had no cash.

This outdoor cinema did accept cards, but only one variety as some sort of sponsorship agreement, and not the kind either had.

Directions to the nearest teller machine were requested.

And then the attendant took pity, spotting the ticket requiring payment and ushering Prudence and Beloved into the seating area.

'Tis the season

2010-12-16T21:41:00.003+08:00

Prudence quite likes Christmas - food, wine, presents and being an orphan which means not having any relatives with whom she is forced to spend time, smiling through gritted teeth.

However there is one person she dislikes and may not be able to avoid.

And he must be given a present.

So it was with regret that she did not buy a book for him entitled: Great Bastards in World History.

A little too obvious, non?

Core business compromises

2010-12-14T19:43:00.004+08:00

Prudence finds it both ironic and sinister that junk food giant Nestle has bought weight-loss behemoth Jenny Craig.

Which prompts one to wonder whether the Jenny Craig ethos of nutritious, low-calorie eating will permeate Nestle, or, more likely, the stuff-'em-full-of-sugar mission statement of Nestle will overwhelm any Jenny Craig attempts at promoting moderation.

Not that Prudence is enamoured of Jenny Craig, or anything.

Globalisation is enough to drive one to chocolate. Preferably fair trade and organic.

In which life follows nomenclature

2010-12-13T22:32:00.003+08:00

It is most appropriate

that a man

called Allan Trench

pursues a career in the mining industry.

Of course,

he could equally have been a grave digger.

Infamy

2010-12-12T07:51:00.003+08:00

Prudence will admit to being naughty.

But to walk into a room and have every one of its occupants look up and simultaneously exclaim:

"Speak of the devil!"

is really quite unnerving.

A very modern hero

2010-12-03T21:49:00.003+08:00

Prudence is very angry about the whole Wikileaks saga.

Some of the cables released most definitely fall into the public's-right-to-know category.

And Julian Assange seems to be amassing and distributing this information in a very public-spirited manner - he clearly has little regard for his own safety.

So, one has to wonder very hard why two highly intelligent and experienced women first brag that they've shagged him, then collude on their evidence, then go to the Swedish police to suggest they were raped. Note that they didn't make any sort of proper accusation, they just sought advice, a peculiarly Swedish way of dealing with... things.

And then Assange is chased around the world by Interpol, and Amazon terminates hosting arrangements.

And Prudence is very annoyed with Ecuador, which said yesterday it would offer him asylum, and then said today that it wouldn't.

Thoroughly modern man

2010-11-28T16:10:00.005+08:00

One has to love a man who not only recruits his very knowledgeable mother to help buy a state-of-the-art overlocker as a birthday present for someone who loves sewing.

But who then picks her up from work, drives her to a sewing shop to buy thread, and then takes her to dinner.

Apart from the having-to-go-to-work bit, it was a lovely birthday.

Many, many happy returns

2010-11-25T19:59:00.002+08:00

It is perversely pleasing

to wake up on one's birthday

(when one is well into middle age)

to discover incontrovertible proof of youth

upon one's chin.

(a pimple)

$500 very well spent

2010-11-11T20:16:00.002+08:00

Pre-dessert.

A concept rich with promise - the ultimate anticipatory delight.

And it did not disappoint.

To explain - last night was a special night. And to celebrate it, Prudence and her beloved indulged in an eight-course degustation with matched wines.

Take it as read that the savoury courses were exquisite in their composition and execution, and elicited appropriate swoons.

It was pre-dessert that really caught Prudence's imagination.

First the waiter brought a bowl of lightly steaming fairy floss, then another poured a champagne and blood orange concoction over it, whereupon the floss elegantly disintegrated to reveal a berry compote with lemony marscapone (there was a lot more to it, but Prudence was well and truly on the other side of tipsy at this point).

"Clever," giggled Prudence.

"Oh no," dead-panned the waiter, "clever is too noble a word to apply to fairy floss, it's more devious."

Not the usual bomboniere

2010-11-08T19:23:00.002+08:00

Is there anything so bogan, Prudence wonders, as a wedding commemorative stubby holder?

Don't answer that.

A somewhat feline perspective

2010-11-06T21:51:00.003+08:00

On a work trip to Cue (go to Geraldton, turn right and drive through the iron ore country for 400-odd kilometres), Prudence hosted a sausage sizzle in the main street.

Colleague J was earnestly chatting to a local about this and that, when the local's face lit up, she looked slightly to the right, and exclaimed: "Pussy!"

J was quite discombobulated, until she about-faced, to be facing a morbidly obese, middle-aged man in a t-shirt of dubious vintage, stubbies (always dubious) and thongs ('nuff said), along with a receding hairline and shoulder-length greasy curls. And quite an unnerving smile.

The oddest thing was, he didn't seem to mind being called Pussy.

Cheers!

2010-10-30T08:12:00.003+08:00

At the very nice (and quite noisy) St Georges Terrace bar last night, Prudence ordered what she thought was two piccolos of very nice French NV champagne.

She got change from $50 along with a full bottle, two flutes and an ice bucket.

Not wishing to appear ungrateful, she and lovely friend D set about enjoying their bubbly, when a sheepish barman approached, apologised, said he wasn't going to charge her, but the champagne for which she'd paid $25 should really have cost $155.

Prudence wonders how that one was explained when the sales were tallied at the end of the night.

Hartford, Hereford and Hampshire

2010-10-30T08:04:00.003+08:00

Prudence is horrified that the winner of this week's Strictly Speaking mumbles, stumbles and says Haitch.

Mortified

2010-10-25T21:06:00.003+08:00

So Prudence saw a job she'd just love advertised and put in an application.

Then she got an interview.

Then she found out that to schedule her interview at a time that was convenient, her favourite ex-manager - and now good friend, the Empress - had had her interview bumped.

The Empress was also Prudence's main referee.

Which is a most delicate and embarrassing position in which to find oneself.

If the process goes Prudence's way, a trip to the local for something expensive and bubbly will be in order.

Economic irrationalism

2010-10-19T18:03:00.004+08:00

Prudence today found herself - very reluctantly - at a festival of self-congratulation for the mining industry.

It was run by two extremely right-wing organisations (natch) both of whom claim to be apolitical.

The most notable quote came from one of the chairmen, and it made Prudence's blood boil.

"Perhaps having a two-speed economy is not a bad thing."

This from someone whose income is a long way into six figures, and who clearly has no idea what it's like to live on the minimum wage.

Prudence hopes karma will take care of him.

Well, it was good enough for Hunter S Thompson

2010-10-12T21:34:00.004+08:00

While not wishing to be seen as sacrilegious, Prudence is quite taken with the thought that Mary McKillop's canonisation might mean she's fired from a cannon.

A 21-nun salute?

Ultimate compliment

2010-10-08T19:13:00.003+08:00

Working in PR, as Prudence does, means rather a lot of making shit up.

Lovely colleague A, argues that it's good shit.

Which is really all one can ask for.

Failings of democracy

2010-10-04T20:44:00.004+08:00

Last week, the ABC website posted this story.

Careful readers will see in the penultimate sentence: [composition]. When first Prudence read this piece, that word was composure, which, as you'll agree, means something entirely different.

Now, we all know there is no real qualification required to be a politician, but Randall was a teacher before he entered parliament as the Member for Canning. So such a slip is quite inexcusable.

Prudence also has it on very good authority that Randall was known for ritual humiliation of his charges - a child caught picking its nose was forced to stand before the class for the day, finger lodged in nostril. And so forth.

Perhaps there is an argument for a similar sort of justice to be done?

And they remain mystified

2010-10-02T17:00:00.003+08:00

Prudence and her beloved had been to farewell drinks and were a teensy bit tired and emotional, and most definitely not up to cooking dinner.

At the restaurant - one just discovered - they found the orange printing on white menu card to be quite hard to read in the orange light of an orange room. And commented thus to the waitress.

"Oh, that's OK," said she, somewhat disingenuously "we're closed on Sunday."

Prudence is still trying to work out how that makes it OK. But it was funny.

Missing in action

2010-09-24T17:56:00.003+08:00

Sincerest apologies for Prudence's unexplained absence.

Suffice to say, it involved boxes, men with trolleys, paperwork, rather a lot of money, tears, bruises and not enough gin at the end of the process.

Absolute truth

2010-09-11T22:44:00.004+08:00

Prudence's favourite two-year-old, a most perspicacious young man, has a very clear take on the world.

As well as having the sort of penchant for avocadoes that forces his mother to be very inventive in hiding them, he understands much of the ways of the world.

Yesterday's pronouncement, to a taxi driver, on the way to the airport, was: "Only bogans fly Jetstar".

And Prudence cannot argue with that.

Small subversions

2010-09-10T06:54:00.003+08:00

A very fine barista of Prudence's acquaintance has finally had enough of people not respecting the bean.

In his last week at a particular Perth cafe, anyone who has had the gall to ask for - gasp- skim milk or - strangled gurgle - a decaf, has been given full strength on both counts.

These elements make for a far superior cup, and no-one, no-one, has noticed.

Prudence supposes this is proof that uninformed choice is no choice at all.

And she does love a creative rebellion.

Welcome

2010-09-04T13:39:00.003+08:00

Prudence has returned to an old stomping ground for a reunion with former... stompers.

She is staying with lovely friend C.

After arriving late (the trip comprised 12 hours of sitting in a taxi, plane, bus, tram and train), C picked Prudence up from the station.

She put on a lovely dinner with wine, then advised Prudence there were several cases of wine under the bed, of which she should avail herself if she got thirsty during the night.

That is hospitality.

Home woes

2010-08-28T19:07:00.006+08:00

Prudence, being the family black sheep, and therefore not in possession of a comfortable inheritance, rents a house.

It's an invidious position, but not one likely to change soon.

Today she's been house-hunting.

It's not a happy pastime. Rental properties in Perth are ridiculously expensive, and all landlords consider tenants to be scum.

Why else would houses routinely lack flyscreens or insulation? Or window locks, the absence of which will get one refused contents insurance.

And what idiot thought anyone would want an address in Sopwith Elbow?

Not quite one night in Bangkok

2010-08-27T20:37:00.004+08:00

Prudence managed to get herself invited to an industry networking session last night in rather an upmarket establishment. She felt compelled to drink the three glasses of bubbles bought for her, not entirely because the heating was set so high, it took only minutes for an ice cold glass to become tepid.

Partway through the second, a male practitioner very much her senior quite seriously told Prudence she looked 19. Now Prudence is unashamedly vain - she moisturises with intent and colours her greys religiously - but that was ridiculous.

After the third glass, reason kicked in, and Prudence wobbled her way to the bus stop. Where a bus was waiting.

Fortunately the driver was a professional and didn't pull away as Prudence approached.

To which Prudence felt compelled to say: "Thank you for waiting, it is most unbecoming to run for a bus when one has been drinking champagne".

And the driver replied, in his best Aussie drawl: "Righto, love".

Which was a perfect end to the evening.

A muted hurrah and a polite round of applause

2010-08-23T20:48:00.004+08:00

Prudence has never been in touch with her inner philatelist.

But idly glancing about while the queue wended its interminable way to the post office counter, she spied displays of new-release stamps.

Apparently, this year marks the centenary of the Australian Tax Office.

This is depicted by a series of stamps showing an earnest, middle-aged man wielding a pencil and a frown, in muted tones of green.

Prudence hopes there will also be scones in the lunch-room to celebrate, but suspects the stamps will be the extent of recognition of a century of rebates and returns.

Of queues and self-importance

2010-08-22T19:20:00.005+08:00

The federal election inconveniently coinciding with a long-awaited weekend away, Prudence had to cast an absentee vote.

At the local rec centre, lots of other people had been caught by the same coincidence, and the absentee voter queue was long and moved agonisingly slowly.

At last it was Prudence's turn, and, hoping to speed the process, she announced her electorate and surname.

"Hmph," said the temporary electoral official (sporting a faded blue rinse), "write down your address and we'll see".

Naturally, Prudence was right, but there was no apology forthcoming.

And we know how Prudence feels about this sort of petty officiousness.

Overheard on the bus

2010-08-10T21:13:00.004+08:00

Short, portly, late middle-aged man with ginger hair and mismatched clothes, shouting into his mobile phone.

"Hello Lindsay, don't say anything,"

(scratchy reply, also shouted)

"I don't like your offer."

(scratchy shouting)

"Because I don't like it. I just don't like it."

(shouty scratching)

"I don't like your offer and you're an idiot, Lindsay."

Whereupon he exited the bus, rapidly, shoving other passengers out of the way.

Disappointments of childhood

2010-08-07T17:43:00.003+08:00

When Prudence was little, she desperately wanted to be a Brownie. She was never allowed to don the brown uniform, instead she was bullied into playing netball - a brutal and unforgiving sport - from the age of eight to 18.

She wasn't very good at it and suffered numerous small injuries, which are making themselves known as middle age sets in. These would never have happened if she'd been concentrating on getting her knitting and camping badges.

She is, therefore, insanely jealous of N, who managed to grow up in Australia and never set foot on a netball court.

Crossing the divide

2010-08-04T20:06:00.002+08:00

Prudence got a little shock this morning.

It was day three of her new job - one in the private sector after a significant period working in the public sector.

The mug-with-tea-dregs that had been left on her desk, was gone!

It seems that in the private sector, the cleaners take one's mug, lovingly wash and dry it and place it with the other mugs in the kitchen.

This may take some getting used to.

Absence of taste

2010-07-31T12:43:00.003+08:00

Prudence and her talented friend J (who blogs here) went to the craft fair yesterday.

They realised very quickly that failing to read the fine print was a mistake. It was the Craft, Quilt and Stitch show. With an emphasis on quilt.

Sadly, quilting has ceased to be about thrift and creativity and become about how much one is prepared to spend on a computerised sewing machine. Some of these monsters have handlebars!

There's little skill left in the craft and not much style, if this show is an indicator.

And how, Prudence wonders, does stamping come to be considered a craft. Unless one is prepared to carve one's own potato, it's just an up-and-down arm motion. Again, largely devoid of taste.

Let's not be friends

2010-07-27T18:33:00.002+08:00

What on earth can facebook mean when it sends one friend suggestions for both Warwick Capper and Gene Simmons?

Rotters!

2010-07-26T21:33:00.005+08:00

After the bowdlerisation of Noddy and Big Ears' perfectly innocent relationship some years ago, it looks like the Famous Five, Secret Seven and Fifth Form at St Clare's are about to undergo some character surgery.

School tunics will be replaced by uniforms, dirty tinkers will become travellers and the best of the exclamations will be... modernised.

Yup, Enid Blyton is again being edited. Apparently, it's because children don't understand the language.

Prudence, who makes a point of using all those words, all the time, thinks the kiddies will cope perfectly well.

But she would like to see a little realism snuck in - such as Mummy and Daddy resorting to whiskey when the children are inevitably kidnapped by the smugglers.

Just shut up

2010-07-25T21:37:00.005+08:00

Prudence would like someone with a loaded blunderbuss to take careful aim at either George Colombaris, or his writer, and fire.

Anyone who thinks it's acceptable to say: "Dreams are like stars, if you follow them, you'll reach your destiny. And your destiny is Masterchef. Come on!" deserves to die of extreme lead poisoning.

Required viewing

2010-07-25T17:35:00.004+08:00

Being something of a political junkie, Prudence was unable to resist the leaders' debate.

She didn't like the low blow Tony struck about raising a family. Hadn't we already covered that?

Julia, on the other hand, hasn't mentioned certain bathing attire.

Purely on those grounds, she wins.

But doesn't she have very odd ears?!

Keep it simple, stupid

2010-07-21T09:45:00.002+08:00

What, Prudence wonders, has happened to ordinary nouns.

Tony Abbott (whom Prudence doesn't like for, oh, a multitude of reasons) is a serial offender.

In one press conference yesterday, he offended Prudence's ears with usage when he meant use, and linkage, when link was most definitely called for.

Prudence's theory is that it's an attempt to sound cleverer than he is, and that it belies a deep lack of confidence.

No secrets

2010-07-19T08:33:00.003+08:00

Prudence and a posse of girlfriends descended upon the Made on the Left Markets on the weekend. Incidently, Prudence loves a market held in a pub! It covers all desires.

Anyway.

There were lots of pretty things for sale and lots of interesting subjects for people watching.

Prudence's favourite was the young woman done up in immaculate steampunk - corset, ruffled skirts, tights ripped just so... up to and including the large, purple bruise on her neck, rendered in a very tell-tale shape.

Grump

2010-07-15T14:08:00.002+08:00

Prudence thinks the police who think tasering colleagues is fun, or acceptable, or whatever, are idiots.

But mostly she wishes the ABC presenter would say tasER, not tasAR.

Harrumph!

Longer than a lifetime

2010-07-13T14:20:00.002+08:00

Prudence ventured into the shiny new Apple shop in Hay Street this morning.

A very enthusiastic boy helped with her purchase.

As per the script, he asked whether Prudence was a recent convert to Apple.

Prudence had to resist the urge to tell him she'd had a mac since before he was born.

She supposes the commitment to retouching her greys is working.

No future in it

2010-07-10T23:30:00.002+08:00

Feeling pale and wan, Prudence and beloved opted for curry for dinner.

Prudence drew the short straw and had to go and get the takeaway.

In the very small restaurant, she couldn't avoid overhearing a first date. Going very badly.

Just as she was leaving, the woman tried to salvage things, by telling the man she didn't think of him in physical terms (he was obese, with thick glasses and thinning carroty hair).

Prudence supposes there wasn't a second date.

And your point is... ?

2010-07-08T09:41:00.004+08:00

At Prudence's second-favourite cafe this morning, C, wearing stripes with checks, pointed out that A had his shirt on inside-out.

Prudence loves irony with her latte.

Atop one's hed.

2010-07-08T07:09:00.001+08:00

Latterly, Prudence has been acquiring a collection of hats.

After all, Prudence asks - rhetorically - what outfit is not enhanced by a hat?

The latest one, Prudence notes with bemusement, is made from Woll.

Heartbreaking cleanliness

2010-07-07T12:22:00.001+08:00

Do you know what happens when one puts an iPhone through the wash?

The water washes all the applications away.

It's tragic.

Season of change

2010-07-01T14:05:00.003+08:00

Prudence's friend J, who is a Lawyer of Note, has gone on long service leave.

She appears to have been replaced by Dr Who. The Tom Baker one. Although he lacks a scarf.

Prudence thinks there's a joke in there - long service leave and the last time lord - but can't quite make it work.

Service with a snarl

2010-06-28T20:19:00.002+08:00

Prudence and her dear friends N and S got together on Sunday morning, first for dim sum with more friends, and then for a wander through the UpMarkets.

After that, and deferring to one hangover, coffee was in order.

Bibou in Hampden Road makes terrible coffee, but it was the service that stood out.

A particularly snarky waitress looked in disgust at the proffered twenty dollar note and announced she couldn't give proper change.

Nobody bothered to count the handful of coins flung at us. We'd been told it wasn't proper!

Clueless

2010-06-20T18:30:00.002+08:00

The scene: Prudence's local up-market bakery. There are two whole apple strudels and one extra slice on the counter.

Prudence to pretty young boy: ... and half of that strudel, please.

PYB: We only sell them whole.

Prudence: Or in slices?

PYB: Yes, in slices. (looks relieved)

Prudence: Right, I'll have four slices, but unsliced, please.

PYB: gurgle (looks absolutely stricken as he turns away to deal with the strudel)

And what was in Prudence's little cake box? Four slices of strudel. Sliced.

Sigh.

All natural

2010-06-13T09:48:00.003+08:00

Seen on a roadside sign:

Furniture
Jarrah
Marri
Oak
Latex

Understanding that latex is best employed in dishwashing gloves and outfits that inspire all sorts of kink, Prudence wonders at the role of furniture made from it.

Passing

2010-06-10T10:28:00.003+08:00

Prudence believes there is something ironic, or at least poignant, in today's obituaries, but can't quite put her manicured fingertip on it.

Chris Haney, co-creator of Trivial Pursuit, has died.

One wonders whether his eulogy involved questions about the minutiae of his life.

Nonversation

2010-06-04T08:20:00.002+08:00

Prudence to Beloved, apropos of nothing obvious: "It's Suzy Quattro's birthday today."

Pause.

Beloved, from next room, in somewhat distracted tone: "I'll give her a ring."

Pause.

Beloved appears, looking puzzled: "What did you say?"

Hidden in the depths

2010-06-01T15:14:00.002+08:00

While Prudence thoroughly approves of the gourmet hampers as raffle prizes, she does wonder at the thinking behind including an alarm clock and two blank video cassettes with the tea, chocolates and balsamic vinegar.