Fit for a tsar

On the Thursday just gone, I attended a preview of "The Last Station", which detailed the final days of writer/humanitarian Leo Tolstoy. What struck me most about the film - besides the captivating performance of Helen Mirren as the noble-yet-needy Countess Sofya, the great woman behind the great man - was...promise you won't laugh?...the Russian habit of sweetening tea with jam.

Empirical fellow that I am, I resolved to try it - and this evening, armed with a box of Twinings Russian Caravan and jar of St Dalfour Strawberry, I did so. Stirring a fruity blob into my first cup yielded a far milder brew than I'd have gotten from the equivalent amount of honey or sugar, though it was pleasant enough. However, there was a second method demonstrated in the movie.

Rather than directly sweeten cup no. 2, I alternated, as characters in "T/L/S" had done, between mouthfuls of tea and spoonfuls of jam. It was then that I understood the combo's appeal...and congratulated myself on authentically recreating an aristocratic ritual. Well, apart from my Japanese tea caddy. And the plastic kettle and plain teapot standing in for a priceless silver samovar.

Nope, definitely Shinola

Ricky Gervais fans on the Internoise have dismissed his HBO stand-up comedy special "Out Of England" as being a rehash of material from the earlier live DVDs "Animals", "Politics" and "Fame".

I watched it anyway and, while essentially a best-of, the juxtaposition of the old gags, subtle differences in their delivery and even the audience reactions made it a worthwhile experience.

For some reason, on a weekend when I dined at one of the world's top restaurants and saw professional wrestling's two greatest names go at it, this seemed like the most vital info to impart.

The state of publishing

The pinchers of pennies at my company have grafted on a fancy-shmancy system that requires us to scan our security cards in order to print or photocopy anything. That ain't so awful – it'll reduce waste and abuse of the facilities – except that, in their infinitesimal wisdom, they've also seen fit to take away my mag's black-and-white printer, forcing us to toddle to another publication (through a security door) to "unlock" our print jobs. I've already had to queue behind similarly disenfranchised employees once. I dread the day of coinciding deadlines. A weekly magazine without a dedicated printer – can you Adam'n'Eve it?

Sometimes possums, sometimes rats

When I'm waiting for a bus beside Hyde Park after dark, I'll often spy a furry critter scurrying between the fig trees or skirting the retaining wall.

Observed further, it may reveal itself to be a possum, with a nervous demeanour and wide eyes that tell me, "I just want to be left alone."

Alternatively, it will be a rat, also hesitant in the spotlight, but with a different message in its beady stare: "I would hurt you if I could."

I'd say that's a serviceable metaphor for life.

Start spreading the news...

...I'm leaving tomorrow for my mate AG's wedding in Coffs Harbour. It's 10.5 hours north on a Greyhound coach and nine hours south again on a CountryLink train (on Tuesday), and I aim to use those trips and any other downtime to reread all three volumes of Guy Gavriel Kay's '80s fantasy masterpiece "The Fionavar Tapestry". To which, I now discover, his 2007 novel "Ysabel" is connected, making it a must-buy-ASAP. But I digress. The ceremony is on Sunday morn, in the C/H Botanical Gardens, followed by a reception at the local RSL. The Weather Channel forecasts a summery swelter, so it's as well the dress code is what Alan Partridge would term "sports casual". Both AG and his intended have BIG families and I expect a strong police and Salvation Army presence (his colleagues and her relos, respectively). I'll know literally five souls, but a few quick bevvies should quell my fear of "stranger danger". If I'm lucky, the Manny Pacquiao/Miguel Cotto fight will even be screening somewhere within the club. I've set aside Monday for recovering from the inevitable hangover and having a stickybeak around town. The Big Banana is a distinct, kitschy possibility. Haven't been there since I were a nipper. Beeswax as usual on Wednesday. There, that saves me messing about with Internet cafes or those standalone terminals (in hostels, travel agencies, etc.) that use proprietary cards. I may - ie. will - tweet occasionally from my mobile, though.

Don't judge it by the "Da Vinci Code"-ish cover

Lev Grossman's "The Magicians" is "Harry Potter" + "The Chronicles Of Narnia" + Donna Tartt's "The Secret History" + a dash of Clive Barker + Jay McInerney/"Gossip Girl" (depending on your vintage) + the best "D&D" campaign you never played. It's proper literature brimming with quotable passages, manages to be all of the aforesaid thangs and more without losing the enthralling plot, and is easily my book of the year.

Goodbye, Grandma

It was a traditional Catholic funeral with all the trimmings - church service (I lit the Pascal Candle), graveside service (such a peaceful, shady spot), extended wake. The contrast between the red-eyed adults and innocent, laughing children summed up the sorrowful yet positive nature of the day. Family ties necessarily strengthened by loss.

Toasting

LA celebrated 40 years on Earth with 20-30 of us at the Cauliflower Hotel in Waterloo. I always enjoy his dos as his pals are a diverse group with a common trait: an integrity I feel I lack. Drinking on an empty beer gut, I was soon rambling excitedly, which the others tolerated with good grace. (Forgawdsake, when did I get so passionate about the UK/US punk debate?) Amazingly, I was too busy holding forth even to join the card game in the corner. Tempus fugited :-) A ring of the publican's bell and we were back at LA and AA's place, green bottles in hand, monitoring the scores in the league and union Tests. The conversation had lost none of its fascination when a sudden case of the hiccups triggered a tiny warning light and faint alarm in my brain. By divine providence, a nice guy named KH chose that instant to announce he was catching a taxi to my suburb, so I tagged along (when we reached my joint first, he refused to let me contribute to the fare). I'm glad I escaped unscathed, but I sure didn't wanna leave. As parties go, it was about as relaxed and unaffected as you can get. Very appropriate for the birthday bloke.

A serious message (for a change)

My maternal grandmother passed away this morning of "natural causes", aged 91. She was the last of my grandparents and a hugely important part of my childhood and beyond. To granny's eternal credit, I think all of her kids, grandkids and great-grandkids would concur. She was a true matriarch in that you felt she cherished every family member equally. I could rattle off the good memories, but it's simpler and better to say there aren't any bad ones. And only a single deeply sad one.

What level bard was Shakespeare anyway?

If you care about the development of art and culture, particularly in Oz, I recommend the site below.

www.marcuswestbury.net

In fact, it's time I upgraded it from an obscure bookmarks folder to my Google Reader subscriptions list.

Where on Enceladus is Carmen Sandiego?

Lone-wolfed it (but not in a kinky, animal-suited, anthropomorphic way) for the majority of my holiday, which ultimately made me stir crazy. So rather than stay home smashing the furniture, I determined to use the final weekend to catch up with as many Sydney friends as poss. DL was a cinch as we'd already arranged to attend an advance screening of "Paranormal Activity" together on Friday night. Afterwards, sinking Amber Ales at the Coronation, we agreed that even with the strains of Wacko Jacko seeping through from the adjacent cinema, not to mention the gal behind us constantly apprising her fella "I'mmm scarrred", it was an unnerving experience - and a frankly astounding achievement given the US$15,000 budget. I would've been content to spend all of Saturday arvo yakking with SC over Carlton Draughts at The Rose Of Australia in Erskineville, perhaps sampling the "Chocolate Slut" dessert, but we were both on a clock. He had to hie to a Halloween beano to garner plaudits for dressing in jester fashion, while I had an appointment in Neutral Bay to watch the Bledisloe with PB and VB. Yeah, the All Blacks over-ran us again, but the Tokyo venue was a novelty, a succession of Blondes went down easy (a double entendre for ya, Finbarr Saunders) and I was treated to a scrummy meal of roast duck. Post-footy, PB busted out his X-Arcade board, fired up the PS3 and we gleefully beat each other senseless on "Street Fighter IV". This afternoon, I didn't imbibe any more booze. I did, however, meet the brothers M. at Bondi Beach, where we joined the procession of people following the postcard-worthy coastline around to "Glamorama" while viewing the annual Sculptures By The Sea. The cluster of large, single-colour pennants in the hilltop park was impressive. Wiggling and snapping in the wind, they put me in mind of Tibetan prayer flags. The installation I liked most was the line of completely sand-covered shoes - of every variety - tromping down a grassy slope towards the water. Which returns us, disturbingly, to anthropomorphism.


P: Schooling "SoulCalibur III" on PS2 (ta, PG).

R: "Naoki Urasawa's 20th Century Boys #5", quarterly 4E "D&D" periodical "Level Up #2", "The Magicians" (2009) by Lev Grossman.

W: First-rate MMORPG dork-umentary^ "Second Skin" (ta, CS), "21 Up Japan", "Iron Maiden - Flight 666: The Film" (ta, LA), "The Secret Saturdays" on Cartoon Network, "The Great Escape - The Reckoning" (in which dogged British justice sees Gestapo murderers hanged), "Guest Booker With Jim Cornette" (ta, DL), "That Mitchell And Webb Look - Series One" (ta, CM).


^"Pleased to meet you, black Kettle. Just call me Pot."