whinging pom

Oh hello there.

I am so fed up of winter! It feels so odd complaining so much about it since it still hits 17-18 degrees most days which for most Englishy types in England is lovely and warm. BUT it is just SO COLD?? Things don't really get a chance to warm up properly because of the short winter days, so 18 degrees in wintery Australia feels significantly cooler than the same temperature in summertime UK. The house is freezing because all the older houses here are just made to not get too hot in summer, rather than stay all warm in winter. Mark has taken to wearing two jumpers, a dressing gown, gloves and a blanket whilst working at home, which is an amusing sight to behold. No washing dries and consequently everything just smells of damp the whole time. It doesn't help either that we are now well into our FOURTH WEEK OF RAIN. EVERY DAY. I can't actually remember what the sun looks like? Not good enough, Australia, not good enough. The house is dark and depressing all the time because, like most houses in Australia seem to be, it is built in a way that no direct sunlight comes into the windows (presumably again to prevent excessive summer overheating). WA WA WAHHH!!!!

Ok enough complaining.

We have mostly been sitting in and getting over our colds and watching DVDs. Last night watched Charade, a 1963 thriller with Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant, that Mark's parents got me on DVD when I was in Paris, cus it's set in Paris. It's a good, silly film. Good but silly. I wish they'd remaster it or something though. The sound quality is quite poor, particularly in the first 30 minutes and in the scene on the boat, and the picture quality varies throughout. It's a shame cus it's a good film, I bet there's lots of good, forgotten classic films out there that could be rereleased quite successfully with a bit of polishing up.

Bank holiday weekend this coming weekend, for the old Queen's birthday, would you believe! I intend to do gardening - we acquired a passionfruit vine that needs putting out. I'm pretending it's Bank Holiday for My Birthday. One week tomorrow and I'm 25, officially a bit old. I suppose nothing much changes. I suppose I might have to finally accept the fact that I'm not going to grow out of my bad skin. I've been living for years in the mistaken belief that my greasy, blotchy visage will soon develop into nice, normal, smooth adult skin, and that I'll be able to gander about in public all fresh-faced without a layer of oil-control foundation coating my face for security. But no. Oh well. For any miserable 14 year olds reading this who are currently battling the terrors of adolescent skin, here's a bit of news: IT MIGHT NEVER END!!!!