Fairies wear boots

Black Sabbath


Faith No More

If those names mean nothing to you then you can be forgiven, after reading this, for thinking I am certifiable.

If you do know (and appreciate) who those bands are then you will understand why, on discovering that they were playing on the same bill, for ONE gig, in early July 2014 were compelled to purchase tickets to attend that historical gathering of Rock and Metal fabulousness!

Yes, it is true that the evening we bought the tickets we had had a couple of glasses of wine with G’s great friend and fellow music enthusiast (known to the girls as Uncle Toy). It is possible, that we were a little rash in making the decision but… ‘fuck it’… as my wise father would say… you only live once!

The morning after, with what could be described as a slight headache, I checked my emails and found the confirmation.  We had indeed bought four tickets to see Ozzie, Mike and Chris play at British Summer Time in Hyde Park, London on July 4th.  This was really happening people!

There were a few minor logistical issues that I needed to sort out:

G had no leave… no problem! His boss thought the idea was just crazy, batshit, mad enough that he let him take a week off (BEST BOSS EVER)

We have three children (and the concert was during the school holidays)… sorted!  My mother thought the idea was just crazy batshit mad enough, and loves her grand babies and us so much, that she agreed to take them for a week (BEST MOTHER EVER)

Oh and then there is the fact that London is rather a long way from Brisbane, Australia.  Actually, a really long way away. Thank goodness for frequent flyer miles!

So… to tell a long story in a few hastily snapped pictures (courtesy of G)…

Image 3
Faith No More
The power of Christ compels you!
“The power of Christ compels you”                                Yes, yes it does Mr Patton. It does indeed.
Image 4
Chris Cornell and Soundgarden…if only he was easier on the eye.
Image 7
Ozzie Osbourne, giving hell a run for its money!
Image 6
Tony Iommi – “a fountain of riffs”
Just to prove I WAS actually there, here is a photo of the back of my head and Mike Patton waving at me!

Was it worth it?

Absolutely.  Every jet-lagged, fucking moment! It helped that our tickets gave us front row access!

Mike Patton and Faith No More were… Epic!  They played mid- afternoon. It was hot and the crowd of 50,000 were half-cut and dehydrated but from the moment the ‘Vicars’ stepped out onto the stage (or should I say  onto the alter) we worshipped before them.  Patton was deliciously wicked, shouting obscenities from “the exorcist” at the exalted crowd.  For me, turning to see G and Uncle Toy, eyes glazed with devotion, singing every word of every song, they seemed transformed, was almost as great as seeing Patton do his thing.  Faith No More also played two new songs at the end of the set.  We witnessed a real miracle. Praise Jesus, you motherfuckers!

The irony  of their Anthem Midlife Crisis was not lost on me as I surveyed the crowd. There were plenty of hot young forty-somethings (myself included) reliving a misspent youth. There were also an impressive number of black clad grandpas (and grandmas) rocking out to Mike while they waited for Ozzie to take them back to the time of their life. Some of the band shirts sported by the crowd seemed to have shrunk a little since their original purchase as they stretched across they middle-aged bellies of the fans!

Impressively though, I estimate that more than half of the audience I saw were young music lovers. Many of those I spoke to were musicians themselves, aspiring, gigging or enthusiasts, there to pay homage to the some of the most influential Rock and Metal Gods of all time.

Soundgarden? Sublime. G saw them touring on the back of ‘Superunknown‘ in Brisbane in 1994. 20 years since the album was released.  At Hyde Park they played it Start to Finish. Musically and technically incomparable. Chris Cornell IS Rock! Be still my beating heart.

The sun was setting as Sabbath took to the stage. I was nervous, ready for anything, even a vaguely comic swan song, from the Fathers of Metal. To be fair, Ozzie did ‘amble’ rather than ‘stride’ onto the stage and for the first 5 minutes I was worried he might not remember the words (not that he needed to, the audience sang every word of the opening number, War Pigs).

I don’t know how I could ever have doubted.


To quote Uncle Toy, ‘You are witnessing the birth of Metal, people’.  

Ozzie was Ozzie. Relentless and Magnetic.

Tony Iommi? To quote Uncle Toy again, ‘A fountain of riffs’.

Into the Void, Iron Man, God is Dead… 

It was loud.  It was hard.  It was spectacular. It was exhausting.

It was fabulous.


Thanks for reading. Now go listen to some music!


Yeah, fairies wear boots and you gotta believe me
Yeah I saw it, I saw it, I tell you no lies
Yeah Fairies wear boots and you gotta believe me
I saw it, I saw it with my own two eyes,
Oh all right now!

Fairies wear Boots – Black Sabbath



Never a dull moment…

We are moving back to Australia.  A reshuffle within the company has resulted in a rather sudden change of roles.  G has taken a position in the head office in Brisbane.  I am proud of him.

Brisbane is my home town.  We had always anticipated that, one day, when the time seemed right we would move back there.  I call it ‘home’… as much as anywhere.  Perhaps the move is a little sooner than I had anticipated but it is a chance to lay down roots and a chance for the girls to ‘call Australia home’ (at least for a little while… nothing needs to be forever… right?)

I am in the midst of yet another international uplift… what a fucking treat!

All our worldly goods must be inventoried – keep, sell, repair, gift, throw that shit away!

On the other side of the world, mostly using the magical power of the interweb, a new life must be created  – shelter, schools, transport, medical.  I have been stunned at the amount of paperwork required for…everything!  This chick has been in South East Asia for too long.

The news of the impending move has been hard on the girls.  Monkey is old enough to realise that we are leaving her friends, her community, the only home she has ever known.  She is sad, angry and confused.  Pigeon is trying to find the positives, she is so resilient.  Chilli is well Chilli is about to leave her precious Bau, our nanny, who has been a constant since Chilli was 8-weeks-old.  Chilli is not going to like that.  Bau is not going to like that.  I AM NOT GOING TO LIKE THAT.  There have been, and will continue to be, tears all round!

I have found a wonderful home for our beloved cats.

IMG_0086 IMG_0088

Sanchez and Schlarper are 13-years-old.  They came here from Austalia with us and they love it here. We decided the stress of moving them back to Australia  (7 months, two quarantine stays and two different countries) was too much. They are getting lots of extra cuddles and some rather fancy treats as I enjoy my last month with them before saying goodbye. It is impossible to explain how difficult the decision to leave them behind has been.  They were our first children. When we adopted them, we made a commitment. This feels like a betrayal, even if I know it is for the best.

It is a little over a month until we actually leave.  A strange, emotional, exhausting and lonely time ahead.  But with change comes adventure and opportunity.  Who knows? Fabulous could be closer than I think!


Two months since I have been here,
Two months, too much to say,
44 is coming but the fabulous seems far away!

Thanks for reading and I am sorry I have been away so long.

Yay for Gay

equality for all

I miss man-lovin’ man friends.

How am I supposed to be fabulous without all the wonderful gay men in my life within hugging distance?

There have been a significant number of significant gay men in my life, and quite a few gorgeous lady-loving ladies too. Many of these fabulous folk have become ‘lifers’, friendships forged through strange and varied circumstances that have lasted and flourished over time. People who I count as dear, dear friends even if we haven’t seen each other for 10, or even 15, years. People who make me laugh so hard I snort through my nose.

Perhaps my mis-spent youth, studying ‘Arts’, hanging around theatres, working in hospitality could account for the prolific number of gorgeous, man-hunks, I know. It could just be that I am a filthy-mouthed fag-hag. Whatever the reason – lately, I have been missing them.

Expat’s leave their friends behind. We go months, even years without seeing our favourite people. Expats with young children spend their infrequent trips home juggling jet-lag and family obligations and rarely get to spend quality time with the people they would most like to hang with. So I have not seen some of my favourite gay boys for years. My life here in Laos, though filled with wonderful relationships, is lacking in BGF’s (By which I mean “Best Gay Friends” ). I miss them.

When I grew up it still wasn’t acceptable to be gay. I thought the word ‘homosexual’ was a dirty word until (this is awful to admit) I went to University and met one. The gay men and women I know, for the most part had to fight to be accepted as who they are. Their stories are in turns, heartbreaking, brave, devastating, rewarding and passionate. I am proud that my daughters don’t even yet have the word ‘gay’ in their lexicon yet. They do understand romance (thank you disney movies!!) and they understand LOVE. They know that mummy loves daddy. They know that Uncle R loves Uncle M. They know that Auntie L loves Auntie J. They think it is ‘totally gross’ when people kiss no matter what the gender or orientation of that couple.

I met G through a gay friend. In fact, I met G because a my tall handsome gay friend and my short buxom lady friend both thought he was a bit of alright but were not sure which team he batted for. I gallantly stepped up and 24 hours later was able to confirm both his preference… and his prowess!!!

The three little princesses have the most impressive wardrobes I have ever seen, thanks to the impeccable taste and generosity of their two gay Uncles (French and British couture no less, totally fabulous!). Every little girl should have a big gay uncle, preferably two.

My gay boyfriends are the only men I have ever trusted to tell me what to wear. Granted, over the years, I may have indulged in a few more feathers and sequins than is normally considered safe but I have always known when my bum looked big or my boobs looked brilliant.

Gay men taught me how to cook, how to party until dawn, how to make a cushion into a statement, how to be fiercely loyal and outrageously fierce.

I owe more to some of my gay friends than they will ever know. They have made me laugh when I was drowning in unnecessary tears and made me cry when I was hiding behind empty laughter.

Thank you boys for teaching me that I CAN BE FABULOUS!


… and before I sign off, a moment to acknowledge the current debate in the US Supreme Court. I defer to the wise and wonderful Whoopi Goldberg:

Really, darling, it’s a no-brainer. You know, I understand not everybody is for gay marriage. But if you’re not for gay marriage, don’t marry a gay person.


Thanks for reading. Have a fabulous day.


If you enjoyed reading this please ‘like’ or ‘share’ or ‘comment’ or ‘follow’ or something. It really does make me feel fabulous!

She is lucky she’s cute..

Little Miss Mischief
Who me? But I’m adorable!

… because it is Friday night and I have achieved NOTHING I wanted to achieve this week and honestly, it is all my daughter’s fault.  If she wasn’t so totally adorable I don’t know that I would keep her.

Granted she is only 15-months-old and one would THINK she isn’t capable of consciously ruining my life but I have a sneaking suspicion she knows exactly what she is doing.

The two-foot terrorist

Today, Chilli has torn up Monkey’s homework, ripped the legs off her other sisters favourite doll, eaten dirty cat litter, posted the entire contents of the dirty clothes basket into the toilet, thrown her father’s thong (don’t go there…I mean shoe, not underwear) into the fish pond and twice tried to  launch herself off our four-metre high balcony.

She is a two-foot tall terrorist.  I gotta keep one step ahead at all times.  She targets the people and things that I love.  She is a fanatic – maximum damage, maximum impact.  She is fast and she is determined. I live in fear… and she knows it… and she loves it. (Look at that smile, SHE LOVES IT)

Well, I don’t love it.  I hate it. Taking care of my toddler is frustrating and boring and mundane and far too often involves cleaning up things that smell really fucking bad.

I love my baby girl.  Her smile, crooked and knowing, is my light.  Her cuddles, frequent and fierce, are my warmth.  She brings me untold joy.  But on days like today, when it all gets too much and I think I am going to implode with the frustration and boredom and smell, I fantasise about what life would be like if she hadn’t been born and I weep for those lost opportunities.

To quote one of my favourite comedians Louis C.K.

You look at the face of your beautiful, lovely child and you think two things at the exact same time.  I love this kid so much that it has changed my whole life, I love other people more because of how much I love her… she’s completely given value to life that didn’t exist before… and I regret every decision that lead to her birth!

Can I have those thoughts about my own child?  Can I reconcile those feelings? Can I be honest about the ambivalence that I feel and not be vilified?

I don’t know the answer to the third question but to the first two, yes and yes!

If I am honest (and in this space I am) I don’t think I have really reconciled myself to the fact that I have THREE children or to the fact that, at 40, I am chasing a toddler again.  It is going to take some work on my part to accept that new definition of me but that is OK because ambivalence and conflicted emotions and frustration and boredom and things that smell fucking terrible are what makes being a mum so fabulous.

The baby is crying (seriously) so I’m going to post this now and go and hold her in my arms until she is comforted back to sleep, because I love her and I am lucky to be her mum.


Goodnight. Thanks for reading.


If you thought reading this wasn’t a complete waste of time please press ‘like’ or ‘follow’ or something, cos that makes me feel fabulous.

Kate and Ange

Cruising the inter-web and I came across the following quotes.  Somewhat serendipitous given my recent mention of Kate and Ange in Caught on Camera.

If you have enough people sitting around telling you you’re wonderful, then you start believing you’re fabulous, then someone tells you you stink and you believe that too!

Angelina Jolie

and this…

If I had been around when Rubens was painting, I would have been revered as a fabulous model. Kate Moss? Well, she would have been the paintbrush.

Dawn French



Thanks for reading.  It makes me feel fabulous.


quotes sourced from thinkexist.com