A while back I raved here about the birthday release of a CD celebrating the music of Australian composer Phillip Wilcher and now Phillip has generously shared the title piece from the CD with the music loving public on YouTube.
Follow the link and just sit back, close your eyes and indulge your senses – but don’t fall out of your chair!
Copyright © 2007-2012 Cultured Views. All rights reserved.I have written here before about my fear of flying. Mind you, once the plane is up in the air and cruising along I settle donw nicely – it’s that taking off part that I find creepy. That moment when the plane first lifts off the ground and the gap between you and the ground gets bigger and bigger, faster and faster…I grip the armrests until that seat belt light goes off because that tells me that the pilot has everything under control.
We usually fly Ryanair when we travel for the sole reason that you can take a family of four to most cities in Europe for as little as £40. Budget airlines like this have opened up travel to many people who might never have been able to afford it. Ryanair gets a fair bit of stick from the travelling public but having flown to and from the UK and Ireland several times, and to parts of Europe as well with this airline, I find that the worst experiences come from the UK based flights.
People say the flight crew are rude, unhelpful and surly; no wonder given how many British tourists behave when travelling. The flights to and from the UK tend to be delayed (a common complaint from British Ryanair passengers) the most due to the heavy traffic over the UK’s skies – flying from other parts of Europe you tend to get a much better flight with Ryanair; better service and – pardon this – but a better class of passenger…
Europeans behave differently to the Brit’s when travelling as anyone will tell you.
So, as I was crossing myself and saying my prayers last week travelling on Ryanair to and from Venice, I counted myself lucky that the flight went without incident. The flight attendants were really nice, friendly and the other passengers were not drunken hoons setting out on stag/hen weekends.
But this is where I say “there but for the grace of God go I “. A Ryanair plane yesterday had to make an emergency landing at Rome’s Ciampino airport when it hit a flock of birds and the landing gear and an engine were damaged. The passengers had to exit via the emergency chute – honestly, if such a thing had happened to my flight last week I think I’d be typing this dosed up on valium.
Fortunately no-one was hurt bar the birds whose remains are splattered all over the plane’s nose…
But it kind of makes you think to yourself ” How long can I stay lucky…? “
I’m considering a cruise for the next trip…
Copyright © 2007-2012 Cultured Views. All rights reserved.
One of the hottest topics around the blogosphere right now is ‘which dog will Obama buy his kids?’ . It got me thinking about the time when I was 12 years old and my dad thought he would get me and my sister, of all things, a pony. Of course we were both at that age when all young girls seem to go through that horse-crazy phase and my dad was going through one of his more impractical phases.
When dad got one of his crazy ideas there was no stopping him…
My sister and I had been nagging at dad for ages for a pony – we had had horse riding lessons and trail rides at a place called Vision Valley at Arcadia just outside of Sydney (where I had a terrifying experience on a mule called ‘Fred’). The trouble was that where we lived at North Manly did not provide the proper set-up for accommodating a member of the equine species. Our front and backyard was all bush, trees, rockeries and even a waterfall – no paddocks, no pastures and no room anywhere for a stable. We had a patch of lawn which was terraced just at the front of the house – about 30 feet wide.
Dad though found someone in the paper selling an old nag called ‘Brandy’ – she was cheap and ancient but dad thought she’d be perfect for us. We went to see her – Mum wanted nothing at all to do with the venture; Mum was always the practical half of my parent’s partnership and could just see the problems that would have occurred had dad bought the horse.
Dad had had experience with horses in his younger days; his sister ran a property in the Burragorang Valley in the days before it was reclaimed by the Govt in the 1940′s and turned into what is now Warragamba Dam.
So we stood looking at this horse at it’s home near Curl Curl beach when dad suggested to the owner that he saddle it up so we could have a ride…
“Oh you cannot ride her, she is not broken in for riding – she’s just a pet. And one other thing – she does not like men so only the girls or your wife can actually approach her”.
So we didn’t buy Brandy. I think dad came to his senses though when he realised soon after how much money he had saved himself when you take in the cost of feeding the horse plus all the equestrian riding apparel that you need for looking the part. I am not sure what became of Brandy but I distinctly recall the owner mention the word ‘glue’ as we were leaving…
Copyright © 2007-2012 Cultured Views. All rights reserved.
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