Personally, I see nothing wrong with a novel from the perspective of a handbag. For as you see, novels can be from the perspective of anything. I wouldn’t expect anyone in this group to have read something with such graceful prose, but Confessions of an Icicle by Natalie Dusky is written entirely from the point of view of an icicle, and we get to read about all the many and interesting things it sees before it melts.
Sorry, spoilers. Anyway, no spoilers for Brown Leather Bag on Tour, my upcoming self-published novel for which cover art has not been finalised, but here’s a minor spoiler: it’s a brown leather bag. A really nice looking leather bag, and based off one that I own. As a matter of fact, I got the idea when I realised that I take my handbag with me everywhere I go, it sees everything I see and maybe even more, so in a sense this handbag is living a life just as full and rich as mine. And what would it say, if it were able to talk? What stories would be told? These are all the questions that inspired me to write my epic.
Of course, coming up with a complication in the tale was difficult, and so was the process of crafting a villain. I decided that my bag probably has a rival in Irene’s black leather bag, because we see each other all the time and work and coffee, and we lay down our handbags next to each other, and I’m creating an interesting contrast between me and Irene’s friendship and the intense rivalry between my brown leather bag and this black leather bag.
I mean…leather slouch bags in general are items that are designed to look good, as fashion statements. Makes sense that they’d have their own strengths and insecurities. And that they’d see these outings as wacky adventures with beginnings, middles and ends. Right?
Does bad luck always come in sets of three? Please tell me it doesn’t… I’m on two strikes already today, and I really don’t have the wherewithal to deal with anything more.
First, my toaster exploded, which I hadn’t known was a thing. Did you know that that can happen? Well, it can, and I’m here to tell the tale. There’s not a huge amount to said tale, but it was a bit of a stressful start to the day. Then, my car broke down on the motorway, and now here I am waiting for roadside assistance instead of nailing that property deal down on the coast.
What’s the third thing going to be? The client thinks I’m flaky and backs out on the whole meeting? I find out that my engine has conked it? Or perhaps something completely unrelated, like tripping over a stray brick and twisting my ankle?
Whatever. Right now I need to focus on getting hold of a decent car mechanic. Mornington locals, who’s good for this type of thing? I suppose I should wait for the RACV person to point me in the right direction. I just feel like I don’t have that much time to wait around for them to get here.
While I have very limited knowledge of Mornington, car repair workshops included, I do know that my client isn’t going to be stoked about the delay, even though it’s clearly not my fault. I mean, maybe it is – I have put off having an annual car service for a couple of years now. But the client doesn’t need to know that.
Maybe I need to put a different spin on this. Maybe I’m actually having a bout of good luck. The toaster exploding when and where it did might have been the difference between my house burning down or not, and I got away with barely singed eyebrows. Similar logic could apply to the car breakdown – the outcome could have been a lot worse.
Back when I was a lad, my parents always said to me: “We have no son, and we renounce thee.”
Yes, they were quite the old-fashioned sort, may they rest in peace. However, there was another thing my Dad said to me once. He was fixing the fuse box behind the house, or attempting to. It was during a thunderstorm, the power had gone out and he and mother were quite determined to watch the re-run of the moon landing. Removing all the swearing, after his multiple failed attempts to fix the box he came back and said “Always, ALWAYS hire a commercial electrician for the big jobs, because it’s not worth your life.”
Then he fell down, and…well, those were his last words, but I learned the valuable lesson that you don’t mess around with electricity if you’re not a trained professional, or wearing special gloves. I wonder what point of your electrician training you have to get to before you can forego the special gloves? Maybe never; it’s not like you receive a qualification one day and become immune to electric shocks. You don’t just go rewiring a house without protective equipment because you’re shielded by the power of your TAFE qualification. My mother didn’t even have a TAFE qualification; she just thought she’d start rewiring the house anyway, out of anger, possibly at how she could have had a childless existence and she took a different path. Anyway, she joined father on that day. And that’s why you always wear gloves.
I’m no electrician, of course, so you don’t need to listen to any of the silly old words coming out of my mouth. I’m just assuming that all the electricians Bayside area locals would normally think to hire must go to work fully protected – with clothing AND knowledge.
I didn’t really think a day out at the Lemur Sanctuary would be…um, a whole day out, overall. They’re just a few lemurs, how much time could you possibly spend there? Turns out they’ve done a really good job in terms of making you stay for a while, because there all all kinds of special events, the cafe/restaurant is really nice, and they just added a lemur VR experience. And that was a lot more entertaining than it sounds.
Also, there’s quite a story behind the whole thing, so the lemur history section was quite comprehensive. I never thought learning about property conveyancers would be something I’d take the kids to see, but I like the idea of them getting some idea of how conveyancing works, through the magic of lemurs.
See, the place used to be in Keymore, which is where the endangered lemurs came when they were first brought to Australia. Then they had to move it to the current Docklands location, and when you take title transfers and getting a whole horde of lemurs into a new property, that’s a logistical nightmare that the conveyancers probably hadn’t dealt with before. I think the place was a zoo, quite a while ago, and then there was a hubbub over who actually owned the place, more conveyancers were brought in, the lemurs were all moved to their new, much larger habitat, some lawyers got involved, even MORE conveyancing solicitors were brought in, and eventually it all worked itself out. The official Melbourne property transfers were settled, they got permits to transform the place, and the whole venture was saved.
By this time the rest of my family had gone to try to lemur VR simulator for the third time, but I’m the type of person who a) enjoys property ownership debates and b) reads absolutely every placard at museums. I was quite happy in my history room.
Ever since I cast an enchantment on my kitchen and bathroom, I’ve been very happy with this new home. The place just felt so…static before. See, I’m used to a degree of change, due to my quarters in the castle being under the same spell of transfiguration. This meant that the place looked completely different every single time I walk in the room, and it’s the same here now. Today I went to the bathroom to do the regular bathroom things, and it had renovated overnight to give itself a nautical theme. Porthole and all. It was quite nice.
With that in mind, I can see why people are so into the idea of kitchen and bathroom remodelling in this realm…albeit without magic, so it becomes time-consuming and quite costly. Still, worth the wait. Sometimes I wonder if I could get into the kitchen renovation business instead of my current position helping out with children’s parties, which I despise. But then, even banished wizards are taken to task if they use their magic to interfere, or especially if they use magic to garner fame and fortune for themselves. This is meant to be a punishment, after all. Besides, I already have to cast subtle twisting spells to make the appropriate balloon animals for the demanding children, and that in itself is skirting the edges of the law.
Just imagine, though…someone would ask me to create them the perfect bathroom, and I would be able to do it in any number of ways. I could animate their drawing or plan with a life-projection spell. I could astrally project the image of the perfect kitchen renovation onto the minds of anyone who walks into the room. I could cast a complicated enchantment of longing upon the room, so that it transforms into the shape one wishes for.
Bit risky with that one, though. At least with conventional, non-magical renovations, the room stays as it is. People might notice if they thought it’d be nice to have a dishwasher and one suddenly sprouted from the wall.
You want to know why there are more wizards getting banished to Earth than witches? Because witches don’t think they’re better. Sorceresses just aren’t powerful enough to cause much trouble, but witches go about their daily business, roaming the land and just keeping to our own business.
Alright, that’s a straight lie- meddling is literally our job- but we don’t make big screw ups in front of the king and his courtiers, so we can get away with it. Well…most of us don’t. I just had to challenge the status quo. Bet the king was pretty surprised when a witch came in front of him and promised him a horse that could outstrip all other horses!
See, I’ve been coming to Melbourne for years. Got myself a nice apartment and I go out for brunch on Thursdays. The other day I had some car problems so I booked myself in for a car repair. Malvern isn’t too far from home so I ricked driving over.
I had a stray thought on the way over. I could use this knowledge. No one I know has ever even seen a car, let alone them being aware of how one of them works. And here’s me having passed my test, gotten through my P-plates, and I can even sometimes fix minor electrical faults. I only need proper auto services when something really goes wrong, or my car needs a roadworthy certificate. Paying insurance is kind of annoying, particularly when I can prevent myself from having accidents with a few simple spells and potions, but police are a thing…
Anyway, thought I’d conjure up one for the king, an automatic so nothing could go wrong, and finally gain a place as the first official court witch.
So yeah. He…kind of reversed into the lake, through a wall, even with me telling him to take his foot off the gas. His aids pulled him out, sopping wet and with the ducks fighting over his crown, and I knew where I was going. Guess I’m booking in some intensive auto repairs, in Malvern maybe. At least I know how to do that.
If the eyes are the windows to the soul, then mine could probably do with a bit of a wash. You see, for the past year or so I’ve been secretly chucking my green waste over the back fence into my neighbour’s jungle of a yard, thinking they wouldn’t notice. Well, this weekend they confronted me about it, saying that they’d known all along and have had enough of the various invasive plants that keep popping up in their food.
How was I to know that they’re running a highly curated operation back there? Now I’m kind of ashamed to show my face to the neighbours, but there’s not much I can do to avoid them short of staying inside and investing in some serious window frosting. Melbourne residents, have you had neighbourly interactions of this nature? They’re so smug over there, with their rooftop solar, film camera collection and paleo coffee.
There was a situation kind of like this at the office one time. Pierre from accounts thought he could get away with sneaking yoghurts from the fridge, even though he sort of knew they were Belinda’s. He was doing this for about two months before Belinda came out with it and asked him to stop.
There was a bit of awkwardness after this, in large part because Belinda had waited so long to say something, although she shouldn’t really have had to. Again, there wasn’t much that could be done by Pierre to block out the harsh rays of judgement from HR, beyond lobbying for office tinting services to be engaged, thereby creating an impervious partition between departments. Obviously, neither of these situations are a very big deal; in fact they’re pretty insignificant in the scheme of things. It’s just a case of the way people look at you differently when they know you’ve been up to something at their expense, and they know that you know. Their gaze takes on distinct notes of disdain and pity. And the worst thing about it is that you’ve brought it upon yourself, knowing full well what you were doing the whole time.
You know, whoever’s manufacturing the cars in these after-the-end scenarios needs some kind of industry award. Maybe a Nobel Prize for mechanics, even though that’s not a real thing. But then, television has introduced us to all kinds of Nobel Prizes that don’t really exist.
Here we have our protagonists, needing to get away from the zombie hordes, or the gangs of pierced ravagers, or sometimes just the wrath of nature itself (solar flares are a favourite), and there’s always a convenient car to drive around, with fuel that hasn’t dissolved into watery nothing. I asked about this last time I had a car service near Derby, and I got a definitive answer. And that answer was ‘no, of course cars don’t just service themselves’. Well, obviously, otherwise we wouldn’t need people to do car servicing for us. Also, perhaps even more importantly, petrol and other forms of fuel have a shelf life very much like orange juice, so you can’t just be siphoning it off any abandoned car you find to keep yourself rolling around the apocalypse. That’d be nice, but…no.
I wonder how far away we are from solar-powered cars? I think even if cars run off the sun they’re still going to need servicing and auto repairs- the sun can’t stop your car from getting a flat tire, and it certainly can’t panel-beat any dents out if you have a collision- but it’d be nice for the biggest enemies to the environment to run on renewable energy. It’d be super handy in an after-the-end scenario as well. Maybe if you happen to be one of those car mechanics in the Bendigo area or wherever, you CAN be trundling around the desert, dodging solar flares and ravagers, with no problems at all. Maybe. You’d still have to salvage a few parts. Might just be worth getting a bicycle instead.
I just went on the most interesting date, and feel compelled to tell the internet about it. I mean, it was ultimately nothing to write home about. I’ve just never met anyone with such a high level of enthusiasm for metal fabrication before.
This guy – let’s call him Barrie – builds interactive metal sculptures. If he’s to be believed, he exhibits these at events internationally, presumably transporting them by sea. He claims he’s currently working on a 10m tall steel frame shaped like a skull, which can be climbed using an internal staircase and exited via slides extending from the eyeballs.
Sounds elaborate, right? My question is, where does one even begin with building a structure like that? Well, apparently, it’s done with the involvement of an industrial crane, along with a small army of steel fabrication specialists. Melbourne folk have surely seen works like this underway. Do you reckon Barrie is telling tall tales? Or do you think he could he really be building giant noggins from structural steel plates?
He didn’t have any photos to show me, which I found to be mildly suspicious as far as supporting his story goes. Apparently, the social media account through which he promotes his metal structures is down – again, sounds a bit fishy, but Barrie claims it should be back up as soon he manages to convince the site that his profile photo really is of a giant metal banana.
The only verification tactic I can think of is to contact all of the custom metal suppliers in Melbourne, and see if any of them have done business with Barrie. Yes, I do realise that that’s a bit of a crazy notion, but what can I do? I need to know now whether I should ask him to Sheree’s wedding, and I only want him to come if he really is a large-scale artisan metalworker.
OH. MY. ALTERNATE VIEWING.
I know I usually just talk about the one thing, but how can I when the Great Australian Trade-Off is back on our screens? I do have other interests, and one of them is a bit of home improvement. Well, when I can get the lazy husband off his butt to come and help me, but…who needs him? I don’t mind rolling up my sleeves and ripping out a few kitchen cabinets to make way for new and better things.
That was the main focus of the show this week, of course: complete kitchen renovations. The contestants were set some extremely tough challenges, watched over by professionals in the kitchen makeover field, and let me tell ya…I would’ve looked at some of these projects and hung up my GATO tool belt right there and then. Glynda, that silly woman who got eliminated last week, would’ve fainted on the spot. I suppose they must all just be more professional than that, because they took it in their stride and got down to some serious kitchen makeover madness.
Jorge was given a kitchen to renovate that was basically OWNED by rats, so he had to remove them and then clean up…everything they left behind. Tania was set upon a student kitchen that had seemingly never been cleaned, with the cooker so gunked up that she needed a blowtorch to get through the grime. And Harriet…wow. She was given a kitchen from the eighties. Sunshine yellow tiles, all over the dang place. It was an absolute nightmare and she turned it into a dream.
Oh gosh, I could watch people do kitchen refacing all day long. We really should just bite the bullet and pay for that subscription to the industrial kitchen renovation channel: kitchen renovations, 24/7.