Category Archives: Try Something Different

#21 Rediscover the Elegance of Fountain Pens

Rites of passage can create powerful memories, and to this day, I remember the thrill of graduating from pencils to pens in Grade 3. The day we were finally allowed to use the ink well sunk into the top right hand corner of the desk, and then practice our running writing was special indeed.

Image courtesy of Wikimedia commons

Ink stains on fingers meant you were up there with the big girls. A sign of sophistication much like nicotine stains were for adults in the sixties.

These memories returned recently when a friend sent me a beautifully hand-written thank you note through the post. When I acknowledged it, she promptly apologised for not having used a real pen.

Ah, yes, a real pen. The time has come to:

…and that is how I imagine my handwriting will look when I take up a fountain pen again…

I had an opportunity to send the same friend a short thank-you note a few weeks later, so I couldn’t resist resurrecting an old fountain pen from the deepest recesses of my desk drawer, discarded there in the eighties when I thoughtlessly moved to disposable biros. All it needed, I thought, was an injection of fresh ink.

And so I was able to send her a letter that looked something like this:

So I began to think that surely, in this day and age, fountain pens work better than this. Surely they’ve found a way for them to be scratch-free and blotch-free and ink-stains-on-fingers-free.

And so it was that a quick Google search led me into a strange new, parallel world of fountain pen aficionados. Or eccentrics, if you prefer.

Did you know that it’s possible to buy a pen with a solid gold nib? And just look at the varieties out there these days:

And all I had to do was type ‘Best Fountain Pens’ to find this gem of a site with its exquisite nibs.

So the future is clear. I want a pen with a name like Montblanc or Parker or Waterman, and I definitely want a gorgeous nib.

But most of all, I want my one-hundred-and-first blog entry to be titled:

#20 Have an Outback Experience

#19 Challenge Accepted Beliefs

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In the early 2000s when MythBusters first went to air, I rarely missed an episode. That there was a television show dedicated to ‘scientifically’ dispelling myths hit the spot for me.

It was created by an Australian producer – Peter Rees – which made it even more intriguing. (This was back in the day when Australia had a Science Minister, and evidence-based theories weren’t considered heretical).

Lately, though, the program seems to have involved blowing things up, and while I can understand that this would be terrifically appealing to some viewers, I’m not in the correct demographic any more.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t create my own MythBusters, it’s just that mine will be writ small.

#19 Challenge Accepted Beliefs

Recently there was a great article in the Fairfax press titled ‘Myth-conceptions’ where the author Larissa Dubeki, sought to ‘debunk’ – or not – a number of popular kitchen myths.

The first related to that important issue of Milk in Tea.

Milk in first (MIF)? Or milk in last (MIL)? Was MIF really better? Is there a discernible difference in taste, as a friend of mine attests?

She swears she can pick at twenty paces the cup where milk’s been incorrectly added after the tea is poured. So I decided to test this hypothesis.

Marking the bottom of the MIF cup with an ‘M’, I proceeded to pour two identical cups of tea, one MIF and the other MIL. After they were switched around a few times, could I tell them apart?

Spot the difference.

The short answer is … no, I couldn’t.

But according to Britain’s Royal Society of Chemistry, (yes, sob, Britain has one of these) MIF creates a smoother, richer cup whereas MIL makes a cup that’s more tannic. It’s all to do with the breakdown of the milk proteins and whether they’ve been gently diluted by the tea, or been plunged into a big wall of it.

So my friend is right. Of course, it could mean that, like 25% of the population, she’s what’s known as a ‘Supertaster‘ and has a palate that’s more finely attuned to certain bitter tastes. I’m planning to experiment on her taste buds to further my scientific project, but that will be a tale for another day.

So then I turned my attention to another Accepted Belief:

‘Don’t Count your Chickens Before They’re Hatched’

Luckily, I could go right to the source to test this one. One of my lovely Light Sussex hens

Exhibit One

went irreversibly broody a few months ago, so I bought some fertilised eggs for her to hatch.

I didn’t really need any more chickens, but I thought it would be in keeping with my fun and frivolous retirement activities.

Imagine my disquiet when I picked up the eggs to discover that the seller had added a bonus three to the minimum dozen I had to take.

Fifteen little chicks, I counted. What was I going to do with fifteen extra mouths to feed on my small suburban block? And based on the law of probability, seven or eight would be roosters. What would the neighbours say?

15 (+1) eggs is ridiculous, but I couldn’t bring myself to destroy any…

So I spent the next 21 days (this species is very precise with its hatching timetable) fretting about such a huge number of chickens taking over my garden and my life, and began offering them to unwilling friends.

On Day 21, this was the sum total of hatchlings to emerge:

And it’s a 50:50 split. Dixie chick is on the left and Rex the rooster is on the right.

So it seems that you can count your chickens before they hatch – but just don’t expect accuracy.

Then there’s the popular saying ‘You Can’t Teach an Old Dog New Tricks.’ Does this really stack up?

I could test this one easily too, thanks to my old dog Ziggy. He’s a whippet who’s pretty good at catching a frisbee, but very bad at dropping it back at my feet.

He’s very bad in other ways, too, like stealing food by counter-surfing:

and subtly threatening me to get what he wants:

Would I dare refuse?

So, to be honest, I didn’t hold out much hope of retraining him:

Ziggy keeps his frisbee

But several training sessions later, we finally arrived at this position:

By George, he’s got it. Sort of …

So maybe that old adage is a bit of a furphy.

Come to think of it, a week ago, I didn’t know it was essential to hold an i-phone horizontally while videoing (it’s something to do with the 16:9 ratio of screens), nor had I ever uploaded a video I’d shot to YouTube. I didn’t know how to take a screenshot of the video, nor did I understand the importance of setting it to public viewing rather than private before posting it into a blog entry.

Hey. It looks like you really can teach an old dog new tricks.

#17 Indulge in Life’s Little Luxuries

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What a relief we’re not compelled to believe our Government’s pronouncements.

So if, for example, they were to tell us that the Age of Entitlement is over, we can smile in the secret knowledge that this just isn’t true. Or to paraphrase a classic line from George Orwell’s novel, 1984: ‘They can tell us anything – anything – but they can’t make us believe it. They can’t get inside us.’*

So in retirement, I’m prepared to disregard Government directives and flaunt my sense of entitlement to:

#17 Indulge in Life’s Little Luxuries

TS Eliot may have said ‘I have measured out my life with coffee spoons’ but have you noticed how we’re now expected to measure our life by ‘the cost of a cup of coffee’? This phrase seems to have entered the language as synonymous with a tiny amount of money, an amount so inconsequential, so piffling that it can barely be considered spending money. You’ll understand then, if I refer to some of these little luxuries as sometimes costing even less than a cup of coffee.

***

We have two new pâtisseries in town, Patty’s and Geoffrey Michael’s. Not cake shops. Pâtisseries. They deserve the French title, because they both produce the most exquisite little treats imaginable. A feast for the eyes as well as the taste buds.

Just look at what I was able to buy on Saturday for a special morning tea with friends:

And each of these delicacies cost a mere 0.75 of the ‘cost of a cup of coffee’.

Then I noticed from my kitchen window that the last of the Apricot Nectar roses were blooming. Why leave them out in the garden to be ruined by the rain? Isn’t a vase of fresh flowers the ultimate in luxury? And all it takes is some gardening gloves, a pair of secateurs and a little time to provide such an indulgence.

…Costing significantly less than the ten cups of coffee a florist would charge…

Now, until Cussons soaps started advertising their Imperial Leather brand as the soap for use in the bath on your private jet I considered soap was just – well, soap.

That advertisement changed my view a little, but now, it’s been ratcheted up even further. And hurrah for that. More little luxuries.

Have you heard of Himalayan salt soap? Or SoapRocks® in assorted styles and colours, like Fire Opal™ or Citrene™?

I hadn’t until recently, but now they’re officially on my list of little luxuries.

Soaps just ain’t soaps any more… but to be fair, these cost more like a cup of civet coffee than regular coffee.

And does this ring a bell with anyone?

The imprisoned ‘Good Set’…

Yes, it’s the ‘Good Set’, the one handed down from your grandmother to your mother and now to you, and forever destined to be locked up behind a glass facade, or hidden in a box somewhere upstairs, only to enjoy day release on very rare, very special occasions.

Pshaw, I say to that. Be a devil. Use the ‘Good Set’ just because you can.

And it’s a known fact that tea and coffee tastes better in a forbidden cup.

The one above costs more than the one below!

Is it just me, or is there something seriously luxurious about fur? These days, fur means faux fur, of course, unless we’re talking about a real kitten. But I even love the feel of faux fur against skin, and every time I put on my faux fur-trimmed gloves I feel … special.

I could go on for ages, adding items like sleeping on silk pillowslips, or using bathroom fragrance tapers, or indulging in a glass of Grand Marnier or Frangelico liqueur, because finding little luxuries is very close to my heart.

But the best thing is, I don’t have to sacrifice even one cup of coffee for any of these treats, because the truth is, I don’t actually drink coffee…

* The original quote from George Orwell’s 1984 was said by Julia: ‘They can make you say anything – anything – but they can’t make you believe it. They can’t get inside you.’

***SPOILER ALERT***

Unfortunately, Julia was wrong.

#16 Attend a Major Sporting Event

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The beauty of sport is that it doesn’t matter if you have the eye-hand coordination of a fish and the fitness level of a sloth, you can still get involved. And that’s because watching sport is one of life’s little pleasures, with the added bonus that as a spectator, you’re magically bestowed with all the sporting knowledge and skills you don’t have when you try to play.

Who hasn’t yelled at the television during an exciting match: ‘For goodness’ sake, I could’ve kicked the goal from there!’?

So this brings me to the next fun and frivolous activity:

#16 Attend a Major Sporting Event

By ‘Major’ sporting event, I mean something SO BIG that it has the words ‘OLYMPIC’, ‘GRAND’ or ‘NAME-OF-A-COUNTRY OPEN’ in the title.

So when generous friends bought me a ticket to attend a Centre Court match during the Australian Tennis Open last January, how could I resist?

“‘Name-of-a-Country’ Open”, “Grand”, “Slam” and “Asia/Pacific” in one hit. Bingo!

The ticket was for an evening session early in the second week, which was perfect.

The extreme weather that caused such debate during the first week was no longer a problem and being the second week, we were pretty much guaranteed players of high calibre.

My match was between the highly fancied second seed, Novak Djokovic and the hitherto almost unknown Swiss player, Stanislaw Wawrinka.

I was unkindly expecting a quick three-setter, judging that Novak would demolish his opponent in no time.

Shows you how much I know about tennis.

Early days…

By the time the fifth set began, we were on the edge of our seats, the noise level in the stadium would have raised the roof, had it been closed, and while I still waited for the inevitability of a Djokovic win, it was marvellously exciting to watch.

Except that the unthinkable happened, and Stan Wawrinka triumphed in one of those magical endings you never forget. He went on to win the title a few days later.

So just how good is Attending a Major Sporting Event?

It’s good. Seriously good.

You’re wrapped up in the atmosphere, part of a wave of supporters all focussed on the same action, at the same moment. You feel like your support is essential to the players, and that you, too, are as important as the players.

And I also got to experience a screaming, roaring, very partisan Djokovic fan sitting right next to me. A fan who, interestingly, spent the entire match flicking through photos of scantily-clad women on his smart phone – which fortunately didn’t seem to worry his girlfriend – and only looked up to emit an ear-splitting bellow when he realised Novak must have won a point.

But are there any downsides to Attending a Major Sporting Event?

Only one or two, really. Having to queue between games for a bottle of water so pure, so pristine that you’re prepared to pay the equivalent of an airline upgrade for it can be a bit annoying. As is waiting … and waiting … at the bottom of the stairs, missing important play, until the organisers let you resume your centre court seat at the next break.

And of course, the other problem with such an intense, live experience is the slight let-down when you realise that you’ll be watching the remaining matches on television and will no longer be able to influence the results like you (think) you can when you’re in the crowd.

To counteract this, I invited friends around to watch the semi-final as a ‘special television event’ on my big screen a few nights later.

It had its advantages. We could chat through the points without being ordered to be ‘quiet please’, we saw all the play in exquisite close-up detail and we had puzzling decisions explained by the commentators while we ate and drank whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted without breaking the bank.

And enjoying a comfort break without having to wait for my friends to let me re-enter my television room was priceless.

#14 Celebrate the Ordinary

#12 Play a Game You’ve Never Tried Before

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When I mentioned my retirement in the “About” section of this Blog, it wasn’t the complete story. While I retired from my substantive position some time ago, I still work about half a day a week from home for a Tribunal where I interact with lawyers. This explains why I sometimes use odd words like “substantive” in an otherwise normal sentence.

The job involves regular telephone link-ups with other Tribunal members around Australia, but once a year we have a conference at some gorgeous location where we spend two days, among work duties, catching up with each other in person.

And it was at this year’s conference where I had a chance to find another fun and frivolous activity:

#12 Play a Game You’ve Never Tried Before

The conference was held at Lancemore Hill set in the Macedon Ranges, an hour north of Melbourne with…

breathtaking views.

And during our downtime, we had the choice of an invigorating walk up to the aforementioned breathtaking views, an invigorating round of golf, or a game of Petanque.

Now I had no idea what Petanque was, but as it didn’t have the word ‘invigorating’ before it, it sounded like the activity for me.

Alas, I had a hard time convincing anyone else to join me in a mystery game. I hadn’t realised that persuading others – especially those who are not retired – to find fun and frivolous things to do might take some effort on my part.

But bless Lancemore Hill. It turned out that the activity was actually called Pinot and Petanque and as they delivered the Petanque equipment to me, it was accompanied by a bottle of Pinot and four glasses.

Suddenly, I had too many playmates for Petanque.

So what is Petanque, you ask? Well, it’s Boules, the popular French game in which you throw heavy metal balls down a strip of ground or lawn trying to finish closest to a jack, which is also known as a cochonnet or “piglet”.

Apparently, it’s the heavy balls that are called boules, while the game itself is Petanque. Pronounced something like Pe-tonk.

So … French!

Image courtesy of Viernest

May I say that an afternoon spent playing Petanque with colleagues while drinking a glass of Pinot is a delightful way to bond? And the sound of clinking glasses and laughter from the lawn led to more and more players joining – and more and more bottles of pinot disappearing. Suddenly, it was one of the more popular pursuits of the afternoon.

It so happened that I was idly looking through eBay on my return home when what should I find but a set of boules for sale not a suburb away from where I was about to visit.

A set of boules for a starting price of $5.00. Yes, $5.00.

I just had to have them, even though they ended up costing me …all of $7.52

My very own set of boules with their little piglet

However, as I started practising in earnest, one slight drawback to this new activity emerged.

While everyone’s heard of tennis elbow, I think there just might be a condition called Petanque shoulder…

#8 Grow an Unusual Plant

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Unusual plants are in the eye of the beholder.

There’s a succulent from the agave genus known as the Century plant, said to flower once in a hundred years – before dying. In truth, it sometimes blooms as prolifically as every ten or twenty years but on any scale, it would have to be considered unusual and it would be quite amazing to nurture and actually witness the flower.

However, I’m not sure I have that long to wait, so I’ll focus instead on something a little more accessible:

#8 Grow an Unusual Plant

Many years ago, I wrote articles for a Canadian magazine and at the editor’s request, sent an accompanying photograph of myself. It happened to be taken with a fully laden orange tree in my garden as the backdrop, a detail I barely noticed.

Alas, rather than rhapsodise about my literary skills, the magazine’s editor wrote about the fact that people in Australia could actually grow orange trees in their back yards!! (his italics and his exclamation marks).

Unusual plants are, as I said, in the eye of the beholder.

But I guess this means that a plant that others don’t, or can’t, commonly grow but will cause a twinge of envy or regret when people see someone else has done it, can be classed as unusual.

The climate in my neck of the woods is temperate with cold, frosty winters and hot dry summers. When I first moved here nearly thirty years ago, everyone said avocado trees wouldn’t survive the frosts, don’t bother with them. I believed this, and didn’t plant any.

Then after a few years I met someone who lived around the corner and had a flourishing avocado tree. I’d been duped!

But based on the reputed length of time between planting the tree and eating the fruit (about six years) I thought “too long to wait” and still didn’t plant one.

Finally, about ten years ago, on the basis of “if not now, then never”, I took the plunge, ordered two avocado trees – a Fuerte and a Reed (so they could cross pollinate – they’re very choosy about their companions) – and waited:

Reed avocados hanging from my tree

Now I have two fully-grown avocado trees – somewhat unusual in this district – in my back yard! Planted a little too close together, sure, and growing much, much taller than I’d reckoned on, but absolutely laden with fruit. My first pick was such a proud moment:

The perfect first-born

Now, however, I can be heard muttering: “Not avocados for lunch again,”, so there’s no pleasing some people.

Then my young persimmon tree fruited for the first time this year, and what an exotic little beauty it was with its marvellous leaves which give a spectacular autumn display and its golden globed fruit hanging like Christmas decorations.

With my fuyu persimmon before the leaves changed colour

And this variety doesn’t have to go squelchy before it can be eaten. It’s delicious.

There’s no doubt growing interesting plants can be very satisfying, though the downside is that I’m going to turn into one of those elderly people who’ll only leave home when they’re carried out in a box.

I mean, how many nursing homes will have avocado and persimmon trees?

#7 Enter competitions

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What is it about the human psyche that convinces you whenever you enter a competition or buy a raffle ticket that you’re going to win? I mean, deep down, if you were honest with yourself, you’d realise the odds are totally against you. But just the thought of scoring something for nothing creates such a frisson of excitement that I’ve decided it’s an essential part of any list of fun activities. So:

#7 Enter competitions

This isn’t a new venture for me. Some sixteen years ago, I won a trip to New York, flying business class and staying at a 5-star hotel on Fifth Avenue for a week with $1000 spending money.

I‘m not joking.

It was the most magnificent holiday of my life. However, it stopped me entering any more competitions for several years. As a prize, it was – well – un-toppable.

But with that now a distant memory and with time on my hands, I’ve been revisiting the heady days of entering competitions.

People who regularly win prizes say there are certain tricks to increasing your chances. The big Jackpot lotteries are fine if you like dreaming large, but with the odds of winning them somewhere around 1 in 20 million, the emphasis is on ‘dreaming’ here. No, they recommend trying smaller, perhaps local competitions, especially if there’s a bit of effort involved. Apparently the 25-words-or-less type of competition cuts out a lot of potential entrants who don’t get around to thinking up a slogan, so this shortens your odds.

Reading the free local newspaper a few months ago, I found an article about renovations being done to a well-known hotel in the main street. As a piece of journalism, it wasn’t all that fascinating – until I hit the last line. They were offering a $100 dinner voucher for the person who emailed them with the best name for their planned roof-top restaurant!

My frisson came back. How many people would read this slightly dull article to the very end? And then think up a name for the restaurant? And then send it in? I figured I had about a 1 in 4 chance of winning this voucher.

It seems that no one else read the article to the end, no one else came up with a name, so together with 6 friends, I enjoyed a delightful $100 meal on my birthday in the rooftop restaurant when it opened. (And fortunately, not named after my suggestion)

Then I was visiting my local bakery a few weeks back when a sign said that if you put your name and address on the back of your docket and left it in the box on the counter, you had a chance of winning 3 bottles of wine.

When they didn’t actually print out and give me a docket for my purchase, I realised that would probably reduce the playing field quite a bit, so the next time I bought bread, I stood my ground, insisted on my docket, filled out the details and dropped it in the box.

Bingo! The next week I got a call to say I’d won 3 bottles of wine. Clearly I was their only demanding customer that week.

Of course, there’ll be endless times when you don’t win anything, but even then, there can be surprising advantages.

For almost a year, I’ve been entering a monthly competition where I have to take a photo of myself in my garden for a particular horticultural company. No luck in the winning stakes of course, but I’ve now realised that I have twelve months worth of terrific photos of my garden in all its seasonal glory.

A clever friend recently told me about snapfish, a website that allows you to convert your photos into all sorts of products, ranging from photo albums, cards, wall art and the like for very reasonable rates. So now I plan to turn my twelve losing entries into a calendar of the garden.

It’s just a pity that I’m holding up the company’s gardening product with a silly grin on my face in every photo…

#6 Become an Extra in a Film or Telemovie

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Have you ever hankered to have a moment, however brief, on the big screen?

If, like me, you’ve no discernable acting talent, this has probably seemed like a pipe dream, but now, I may have found the solution:

#6 Become an Extra in a Film or Telemovie

Extras don’t normally speak, so voice projection skills aren’t necessary. In fact, extras play such an unimportant, unskilled role in the background that they’re barely noticeable until – and this is the vital point – there are no extras present and it becomes glaringly obvious that something important is missing. That ‘something important’ is definitely a skill I thought I could bring to any film.

So when a recent advertisement in our local paper called for extras for the filming of a telemovie called ‘Cliffy’, I immediately put up my hand.

The film is about Cliff Young, a 61-year-old, unheralded potato farmer from Western Victoria who became famous when he won an ultra marathon race (or shuffle as it turned out) from Sydney to Melbourne in 1983.

His tortoise-and-hare approach to the race, where he beat out all the other showier, younger but ultimately slower contenders, was a real feel-good moment for the nation. Here was a chance to snatch a small role in a classic telemovie and live the dream.

After completing the registration forms, I awaited The Call from the Extras Casting Director. When it came I was slotted to play an audience member seated in a television studio as ‘Cliff’ was being interviewed after his race win.

So I plucked my best 1980s-style jacket from the back of my wardrobe – no need for me to visit the wardrobe department on set – and arrived ready for action.

And waited.

Because that’s what extras do. They wait.

Finally my moment arrived, but rather than play a part of the audience, I became what’s known as a “featured extra”. I was to stand in the background pretending to be a studio manager ‘chatting’ to another extra, as the actor playing Cliff was about to go on set for his interview. A real acting role!

My new colleague clearly had great acting aspirations too.

During the repeated shootings of that 10-second scene, he gesticulated in such an exaggerated and unusual manner that I just stood there open-mouthed, perplexed at what he was doing and wondering if I should be doing the same. So I did.

I now have an uneasy feeling that we’ll both end up on the cutting room floor…

***

STOP PRESS

I didn’t end up on the cutting room floor!

If you look very carefully behind Cliffy’s shoulder in this shot from the film, you’ll see the vital role that extras play.

The final word in vanity searches…?

outsidethesquare101

101 fun and frivolous things to try in retirement: a single's guide

Category Archives: Try Something Different

#21 Rediscover the Elegance of Fountain Pens

#20 Have an Outback Experience

#19 Challenge Accepted Beliefs

#17 Indulge in Life’s Little Luxuries

#16 Attend a Major Sporting Event

#14 Celebrate the Ordinary

#12 Play a Game You’ve Never Tried Before

#8 Grow an Unusual Plant

#7 Enter competitions

#6 Become an Extra in a Film or Telemovie