The Best Thing About Australia Is...
I’m still here! After leaving Jonny and H in Sydney, I returned home only to move house about 8 hours later. That’s why I haven’t written for a while, and is also why the first sentence of this entry is, in some ways, inaccurate: I’m not still here because I am, in fact, now there instead.
Don’t worry, there’ll be no more semantics today.
In the end I only wrote two reports from Sydney because my legs suddenly started working again, so I spent rather a lot of time walking (although Jonny’s already revealed that most of my walking was to Subway and back). I also read four books while I was there, one of which was over 600 pages (The Secret History by Donna Tartt - a right proper tour de force, or something). I’m not showing off or anything, but the expression on Jonny’s face when I told him I’d started a new book again was one of disbelief. He called me “The Machine”. He seems to like giving me nicknames that are mechanical in origin. On the football pitch he called me “Da Engine”, which is a polite way of saying “headless chicken”, I think. It's interesting that he's replaced the informal definite article "da" with the standard "the". At least it is to me, anyway.
Jonny’s already written at length about all the brilliant things I did in Sydney: the concert at Oprah’s House (yes, I know, that never was funny), the Aussie Rules Football and the whale watch which should have been called dolphin detection. In fact, because whales and Wales are homophones, we ditched the irritating Australian accents for an afternoon and spoke in Welsh accents instead. Jonny’s also told you about climbing up the 389 steps (although he seems to have subtracted one) that took us to the top of the bridge pylon. He’s also told you about our nail-biting 45-all Pro-Evo marathon. We actually got to 45-all the night before I left and we still had about four hours the following day when we could have played. Oddly, neither of us suggested a decider.
Despite the fact that it's all been covered by Jonny, it's only right that I should offer my perspective too. Where to start? It’s hard to work out what my highlight was, but buying the giant hands at the Aussie Rules was definitely my best purchase. Possibly my best purchase ever. I have about five minutes of footage of H hitting Jonny on the head repeatedly with one of the hands, with Jonny trying to ignore her, before he finally snapped. It was lucky I was filming, because I think that stopped Jonny from really going over the top with his revenge, otherwise it would have been a real struggle, and probably a two-man job, to get the hand back again. Here's a shot of H just about to commence her five minute assault with the hand.
I did promise I'd write about the referees at Aussie Rules games and why I think they're brilliant. This was long ago, when the fingers thing had only just started, but I feel I should still fulfil that promise.
Even though it's almost impossible, the referees at Aussie Rules games look even more stupid than the players. First there are the goal judges (if that’s what they’re called). They stand underneath the goalposts for the entire game and, forget Ayers Rock/Uluru/Uvavu, forget Bondi Beach, forget Kakadu, forget Sydney Harbour Bridge: the Aussie Rules goal judge is my favourite thing in Australia. Here's why.
They watch the flight of the ball as it approaches goal, looking up but crouching at the same time for some reason. This makes them look a bit like penguins, which, as everyone knows, are the world's most comical creatures, along with giraffes. The penguin look is supplemented by the fact that they wear black and white with silly straw hats that look a bit like beaks. Indeed, one wonders whether their attire was decided on only after someone noticed how penguin-like their actions were. Here's a rather forlorn looking penguin waiting for some action.
Once they've decided whether a goal or a behind has been scored, they very quickly straighten up as if someone's just pinched their bottom and they're offended. Penguins no more. Meerkats now.
If a one point behind has been scored, they pat their hand to their chest as if they're checking that their wallet is in their chest pocket. This is the first of a series of glorious signals that they use to make sure that everyone knows that a goal or a behind has been scored.
Next they do the legendary finger thing. The finger thing is rather a small gesture, but it's done with genuine force and a real flourish. It's a "here's looking at you kid" kind of gesture, and I like to think that whenever they do the finger thing, they also wink and make that mouth clicking noise that accompanies the wink of a Cassanova.
Unfortunately, this was the best shot I got of a goal judge doing the finger thing, and it was taken during the reserve game where, for some reason, goal judges aren't required to dress like penguins.
What do they do next? Semaphore, of course. Allow me to explain.
As soon as the goal judge has finished doing the finger thing, he races (and he's now moving like a startled gazelle) towards a post and grabs a flag (or two) which is attached to the post. The goal judge at the other end also grabs his flag(s) and, in beautiful synchrony, they wave their flags, then put them back. It's all over very quickly. A moment of swanlike grace provides a respite from the chaos.
The goal judge's moment of glory is over. No one is watching him anymore because the game is about to restart. Apart from me. I am watching him as he writes the score down in his little notepad.
I can think of no other sport that requires the refs to make three separate signals that all mean the same thing. This is a great shame. I'd have loved the World Cup Final ref to have brandished his red card and then done two other things just to confirm that Zidane had, in fact, been sent off. Can you think of any extra signals for football refs in that position? Comments please!
The referees who run around the pitch during Aussie Rules games possess a very different set of skills to the goal judges. They wear kit that is just as tight as that of the players, although that's not technically a skill. The best thing they do is when the ball goes out of play. These referees have to turn their back on the players, then hurl the ball high in the air back over their heads to restart the game. When playing basketball at school, this was known as “a battyman shot”. These refs really do their job properly, though. They really bend and flex, and both feet leave the ground, not unlike the springbok.
Here's another disappointing shot of said action. I cropped it cos some bloke from the crowd fills the rest of the shot and, obviously, it's the ref that's important here.
In summary, then, it seemed to me that the Aussie Rules Football referee must have flexibility and athleticism and be able to impersonate all manner of creatures, but can’t take himself too seriously, although they have to pretend that they're serious because they are, after all, referees.
It’s a long-running joke, at least on this blog, that Aussie Rules Football has no rules. This was reinforced in the Sydney Swans club shop, where I purchased a Swans t-shirt, a scarf and the legendary hands. I asked if they sold rule books to help us along as we watched the match. The man looked at me as if I had asked him in Swahili and replied in the negative. It was either H or Jonny who asked if he wouldn’t mind explaining the rules to us. “Haven’t got a bloody clue, mate,” he replied.
The rules didn't matter in the end anyway because, as you may have discerned by now, I spent the entire time watching the referees.
I should probably leave it there and write more about Sydney later, as I doubt people read long posts. If you're still reading when you get down to here be sure to comment starting with the phrase "I was still reading when I got down to there." That way I'll know whether to stop writing so much in future.
I should add, though, that Flash has received and reviewed my Swiss Toni organised Shuffleathon CD here. Looking at my tracklisting, I played it a bit safe, I think, but then, I didn’t know who I was going to have to send it to. Still, it’s quite a positive review all things considered, so thank you Mr Flash. My CD is a bit pop and rock orientated - there’s hardly any dance music on it because all my records are currently in Neil and Cath’s house (hopefully). I’ll be reunited with them later this month as I return to Bristol for a couple of weeks. Hurrah! Oh yes, and I’ll see lots of people too.
Finally, thanks again to J and H for such a brilliant holiday - I miss them loads. I did, of course, donate one of my hands to them. Jonny was blowing it up again just before I left.
I'll probably write some more about my trip there when my fingers are less tired. Here are some more silly photographs. Perhaps it's only me, or you had to be there, but I can't think of anything much funnier than giant inflatable hands.
Below: Gangsta hands. I do have an ASBO, you know.
Below: H - always looking to accessorise.
Below: Jonny looks like he's just regained possession of the finger after a good pummeling. H is already beginning to flinch.
Below: Jonny hogs the hands. Notice my superb use of the scarf, Argentina style. This was well after the game had finished and the stewards were standing nearby clearing their throats politely.
Below: Me in classic "the best thing about Australia" pose.
Don’t worry, there’ll be no more semantics today.
In the end I only wrote two reports from Sydney because my legs suddenly started working again, so I spent rather a lot of time walking (although Jonny’s already revealed that most of my walking was to Subway and back). I also read four books while I was there, one of which was over 600 pages (The Secret History by Donna Tartt - a right proper tour de force, or something). I’m not showing off or anything, but the expression on Jonny’s face when I told him I’d started a new book again was one of disbelief. He called me “The Machine”. He seems to like giving me nicknames that are mechanical in origin. On the football pitch he called me “Da Engine”, which is a polite way of saying “headless chicken”, I think. It's interesting that he's replaced the informal definite article "da" with the standard "the". At least it is to me, anyway.
Jonny’s already written at length about all the brilliant things I did in Sydney: the concert at Oprah’s House (yes, I know, that never was funny), the Aussie Rules Football and the whale watch which should have been called dolphin detection. In fact, because whales and Wales are homophones, we ditched the irritating Australian accents for an afternoon and spoke in Welsh accents instead. Jonny’s also told you about climbing up the 389 steps (although he seems to have subtracted one) that took us to the top of the bridge pylon. He’s also told you about our nail-biting 45-all Pro-Evo marathon. We actually got to 45-all the night before I left and we still had about four hours the following day when we could have played. Oddly, neither of us suggested a decider.
Despite the fact that it's all been covered by Jonny, it's only right that I should offer my perspective too. Where to start? It’s hard to work out what my highlight was, but buying the giant hands at the Aussie Rules was definitely my best purchase. Possibly my best purchase ever. I have about five minutes of footage of H hitting Jonny on the head repeatedly with one of the hands, with Jonny trying to ignore her, before he finally snapped. It was lucky I was filming, because I think that stopped Jonny from really going over the top with his revenge, otherwise it would have been a real struggle, and probably a two-man job, to get the hand back again. Here's a shot of H just about to commence her five minute assault with the hand.
I did promise I'd write about the referees at Aussie Rules games and why I think they're brilliant. This was long ago, when the fingers thing had only just started, but I feel I should still fulfil that promise.
Even though it's almost impossible, the referees at Aussie Rules games look even more stupid than the players. First there are the goal judges (if that’s what they’re called). They stand underneath the goalposts for the entire game and, forget Ayers Rock/Uluru/Uvavu, forget Bondi Beach, forget Kakadu, forget Sydney Harbour Bridge: the Aussie Rules goal judge is my favourite thing in Australia. Here's why.
They watch the flight of the ball as it approaches goal, looking up but crouching at the same time for some reason. This makes them look a bit like penguins, which, as everyone knows, are the world's most comical creatures, along with giraffes. The penguin look is supplemented by the fact that they wear black and white with silly straw hats that look a bit like beaks. Indeed, one wonders whether their attire was decided on only after someone noticed how penguin-like their actions were. Here's a rather forlorn looking penguin waiting for some action.
Once they've decided whether a goal or a behind has been scored, they very quickly straighten up as if someone's just pinched their bottom and they're offended. Penguins no more. Meerkats now.
If a one point behind has been scored, they pat their hand to their chest as if they're checking that their wallet is in their chest pocket. This is the first of a series of glorious signals that they use to make sure that everyone knows that a goal or a behind has been scored.
Next they do the legendary finger thing. The finger thing is rather a small gesture, but it's done with genuine force and a real flourish. It's a "here's looking at you kid" kind of gesture, and I like to think that whenever they do the finger thing, they also wink and make that mouth clicking noise that accompanies the wink of a Cassanova.
Unfortunately, this was the best shot I got of a goal judge doing the finger thing, and it was taken during the reserve game where, for some reason, goal judges aren't required to dress like penguins.
What do they do next? Semaphore, of course. Allow me to explain.
As soon as the goal judge has finished doing the finger thing, he races (and he's now moving like a startled gazelle) towards a post and grabs a flag (or two) which is attached to the post. The goal judge at the other end also grabs his flag(s) and, in beautiful synchrony, they wave their flags, then put them back. It's all over very quickly. A moment of swanlike grace provides a respite from the chaos.
The goal judge's moment of glory is over. No one is watching him anymore because the game is about to restart. Apart from me. I am watching him as he writes the score down in his little notepad.
I can think of no other sport that requires the refs to make three separate signals that all mean the same thing. This is a great shame. I'd have loved the World Cup Final ref to have brandished his red card and then done two other things just to confirm that Zidane had, in fact, been sent off. Can you think of any extra signals for football refs in that position? Comments please!
The referees who run around the pitch during Aussie Rules games possess a very different set of skills to the goal judges. They wear kit that is just as tight as that of the players, although that's not technically a skill. The best thing they do is when the ball goes out of play. These referees have to turn their back on the players, then hurl the ball high in the air back over their heads to restart the game. When playing basketball at school, this was known as “a battyman shot”. These refs really do their job properly, though. They really bend and flex, and both feet leave the ground, not unlike the springbok.
Here's another disappointing shot of said action. I cropped it cos some bloke from the crowd fills the rest of the shot and, obviously, it's the ref that's important here.
In summary, then, it seemed to me that the Aussie Rules Football referee must have flexibility and athleticism and be able to impersonate all manner of creatures, but can’t take himself too seriously, although they have to pretend that they're serious because they are, after all, referees.
It’s a long-running joke, at least on this blog, that Aussie Rules Football has no rules. This was reinforced in the Sydney Swans club shop, where I purchased a Swans t-shirt, a scarf and the legendary hands. I asked if they sold rule books to help us along as we watched the match. The man looked at me as if I had asked him in Swahili and replied in the negative. It was either H or Jonny who asked if he wouldn’t mind explaining the rules to us. “Haven’t got a bloody clue, mate,” he replied.
The rules didn't matter in the end anyway because, as you may have discerned by now, I spent the entire time watching the referees.
I should probably leave it there and write more about Sydney later, as I doubt people read long posts. If you're still reading when you get down to here be sure to comment starting with the phrase "I was still reading when I got down to there." That way I'll know whether to stop writing so much in future.
I should add, though, that Flash has received and reviewed my Swiss Toni organised Shuffleathon CD here. Looking at my tracklisting, I played it a bit safe, I think, but then, I didn’t know who I was going to have to send it to. Still, it’s quite a positive review all things considered, so thank you Mr Flash. My CD is a bit pop and rock orientated - there’s hardly any dance music on it because all my records are currently in Neil and Cath’s house (hopefully). I’ll be reunited with them later this month as I return to Bristol for a couple of weeks. Hurrah! Oh yes, and I’ll see lots of people too.
Finally, thanks again to J and H for such a brilliant holiday - I miss them loads. I did, of course, donate one of my hands to them. Jonny was blowing it up again just before I left.
I'll probably write some more about my trip there when my fingers are less tired. Here are some more silly photographs. Perhaps it's only me, or you had to be there, but I can't think of anything much funnier than giant inflatable hands.
Below: Gangsta hands. I do have an ASBO, you know.
Below: H - always looking to accessorise.
Below: Jonny looks like he's just regained possession of the finger after a good pummeling. H is already beginning to flinch.
Below: Jonny hogs the hands. Notice my superb use of the scarf, Argentina style. This was well after the game had finished and the stewards were standing nearby clearing their throats politely.
Below: Me in classic "the best thing about Australia" pose.
posted by Me @ 3:01 pm
9 Comments:
At 1:45 am,
Anonymous said…
I was still reading when I got down to here, natch. There is a clue to all this 'sideline' watching on Jonny's blog. Going to a classical music concert, one hardly hears the music because of watching the percussion or double basses. There's been a lot in the news about younger people like yourself experiencing live classics for the first time and thinking it is fantastic - close to jazz, I heard one person say. So glad you take after your mother after all for being slightly mad! See you soon Ma ps hope you are packing your spare hand!x
At 4:30 pm,
Jonny said…
I was still reading when I got down to there. Naturally.
Nice to see you are catching up Mike. Unfortunately the hand you left behind has got a slight puncture. I noticed it yesterday when I was blowing it up in preparation for an afternoon lying on the sofa nursing the mother of all hangovers. You see, the AFL was on the TV and I am now a fan. The Western Bulldogs played the Richmond Tigers. Richmond were something like 37 points behind at the start of the first quarter and nearly came back to win (if the Bulldogs hadn't scored a couple of goals in the last few minutes they might've). It was very exciting. You had to be there. But I do think the real reason I watched it was for the referees. I only had one blow-up hand (slightly deflated by now) but I did "give it the finger" whenever nencessary. It's a bit like showing the TV a red card when a footballer gets sent off. But better.
The hand also makes for a great weapon. Mike mentioned the time H hit me constantly over the head with it on the ferry, until I snapped. Those of you in Bristol will probably get to see the footage, as well as the "hand fight" in Circular Quay. I think H definitely wants to hang onto the hand, at least until Sam comes over and she can really annoy him with it.
Oh yeah, Mike is a book-reading machine (hence "The Machine"). It's incredible. I think I am to eating what Mike is to reading books. Now that he has gone though, I have been able to crack on with Book Five. Details in a blog soon. I've got just over 60 pages to read (and no giving it away Mike).
I'm glad you had such a great time over here and we look forward to having you back soon.
Have a great time in Bristol.
At 5:18 pm,
Jonny said…
"They really bend and flex, and both feet leave the ground, not unlike the springbok".
Does that mean they have diplomatic immunity?
At 7:33 pm,
Di Gallagher said…
And hello again right back at you.
At 2:56 am,
Andy said…
I was still reading when I got down to there, although it did take me a couple of sittings.
Oops, I nearly used an emoticon then (a winking one, obviously).
I watched the Morgan Freeman narrated "March of the Penguins" last night, and have to agree that they are the world's most comical creatures, and also that the ref looks remarkably similar. That's good use of animal metaphor.
Also, you must be pretty rubbish at Pro-Evo if you can only draw with Jonny 45-45.
At 7:57 am,
Jonny said…
Oooh, that's a bit harsh Andy. I've got a lot better, honest.
At 6:32 pm,
LB said…
inflatable hands are indeed a comedy accessory of the highest calibre.
Good work.
At 5:40 pm,
Me said…
Ma - unfortunately I left the hand in Singapore so don't have it with me in England. This is mainly because it's in Bristol City colours and I don't want most of my friends beating me up, with only Andy left as the non Gashead to protect me.
Jonny - sorry to hear about the hand's puncture, although I'm not entirely surprised with all that pummeling that was going on. They came with a puncture repair kit, would you believe? Sadly, I have all the packaging. I'll send one to you. "Diplomatic immunity" still makes me laugh, even when typed rather than spoken.
Andy - you're forgetting that Jonny's had three months off work to practise Pro Evo, so I didn't do too badly, considering I've never owned a games console. March of the Penguins is one of the best films ever, isn't it?
Lord Bargain - I seem to remember that you have an inflatable hand too?
At 7:00 pm,
Jonny said…
You may not have owned your own games console Mike, but I'm pretty sure you have spent many any evening on other peoples over the years. Either that or you have a natural talent for picking up a console and being rather good at the game.
I think it's the former. You seemed to know a lot about GTA afterall.
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