I had a shitty day yesterday. (And no, Mum, I’m not using bad language.) It WAS, literally, a shitty day. One of those days where a small mess becomes a bigger mess and the time spent trying to solve the problem snowballs into a big pooey debacle.
It started when I woke up early to make school lunches. It was particularly icy and the air was crisp. When I let the dogs out of the laundry and opened the dog-door so they could go out and do their business, I noticed a particularly strong whiff slicing through the chill. For a moment, I wondered whether they’d stashed some of their dinner from the night before under a laundry basket, but quickly realised it was a more potent odour… Surely not? They were well and truly toilet trained…
Lola – she’s the black and white fluff-ball – backed up against me, wiggling her bum on my leg, then rushed around under the kitchen table before heading outside.
The stench grew stronger as I walked back to the kitchen. Then I glanced down and saw why. Lola had left a long streak of runny poo all over my tracksuit pants. EWWWWwww!!
Being a furry canine, Lola comes with an additional health problem. If her bum isn’t regularly trimmed, it means toilet issues can cause matting and the like – stuff which I generally steer well clear of and leave up to Fletch to handle. Today, I wasn’t so lucky. He was on an all-day studio film shoot and when I checked out her rear end – it wasn’t pretty.
First problem – get rid of my icky trakky daks and stuff them in the laundry trough. Apply super large quantities of washing powder and stain remover. Second task – phone Fletch and ask for pet-care advice. I was hoping the answer would be – ‘Take her to the dog groomer or the vet.’ NO SUCH LUCK.
Turns out she’s booked in to the dog groomer’s TOMORROW. ‘All you have to do is put her on the washing machine and get out some cotton-wool balls, use warm, soapy water and scissors and deal with it,’ said Fletch. REALLY?? I’ve had two kids and handled a zillion shitty nappies, but a messy dog’s bum is a whole other matter. But it had to be done. I was worried Lola might not be able to actually relieve herself if I didn’t take action and she was starting to look poorly.
I think I procrastinated for at least an hour, agonising over how to do the whole procedure, before finally tackling the task. Gloves. Black clothes. Gas mask. Well, no, I didn’t actually have a gas mask but wished I did.
Then just as I was about to perform poo surgery, I found ANOTHER streak of runny brown goo all over the carpet under the kitchen table. Yep, Lola had left her mark there as well.
Originally I’d planned a day of writing on a film script. This was fast disappearing down the crapper. Now the carpet ALSO needed urgent work. But Lola first.
I found the best way of keeping her comfy and to stop her wriggling was by placing her favourite sheepskin rug on top of the washing machine. It was vile, but out of the love for my little Lola, I persisted – nose permanently scrunched and gag reflexes in full throttle. Finally, mission accomplished!
The carpet wasn’t so easy. Using newspaper and Chux super wipes, I removed the excess muck and then followed through with a thoroughly USELESS carpet cleaner spray.
That took about an hour. The stains remained. Then I tackled them with warm soapy water and had far greater success. But having gotten out the vacuum – a task in itself – I decided to do the rest of the house – because once you’ve actually got the thing out you may as well use it. More time chewed up.
And while the hours whittled away, Lola just sat there and yawned. Really, she didn’t care at all about the massive workload she’d bequeathed. A shitty day for me but just a dreamy dog’s life for the rest of the canine troops. Life’s a bitch, really.
My friend, Bronnie, contacted me after I ran a story last week – ‘The BEST Chardonnay in the World’ – to say she’d ordered a case of the Tapiz wine and was LOVING it.
Phew. I was relieved, because, YES, I did make a pretty big statement, saying it was the BEST Chardonnay in the world. I’m no wine expert, but I am an experienced chardonnay drinker so felt compelled to share my discovery – especially because the story involved tracking down the liquid gold from London to Argentina to Melbourne.
But when friends take your judgement on board and invest in a case of wine, you feel a huge sense of responsibility. What if they hate the stuff and blame you for promoting it? What if you start losing friends by the droves and making enemies? Taste is highly subjective, after all. Awkward… Thankfully, in Bronnie’s case this didn’t happen and the story she shared made me feel doubly good about running this story.
When Bronnie went to sample her first bottle, she couldn’t find a corkscrew. And yes, the Tapiz chardonnay is sealed in the old-fashioned way, with a cork. So she asked her next-door-neighbour if she could borrow one, and in doing so, offered her neighbour a glass of wine.
As they both savoured their first mouthful and Bronnie declared it a winner, her neighbour asked where she got it. Bronnie said it had to be ordered and it wasn’t cheap – it was $27 a bottle.
‘I don’t give a f***. I’m ordering a dozen!’ her neighbour declared.
(I’m not allowed to swear in my Blog – my Mum reads it…)
SO THERE!! At least two people in the world agree with me that this is one very special wine. I’m just a tad concerned that Victor and Sylvia haven’t ordered enough in their first shipment. I mean look at what’s left in their cellar? Now that the word is out, this lot is likely to go in a jiffy.
Which reminds me, I’d better get on the phone right after posting this so I don’t miss out!
If you’d like to try the Tapiz chardonnay, or any of their other varieties, just contact Red Barrel Importers of Fine Wine by email at
Ah, the small victories in life are often the sweetest, aren’t they? You know, like beating your husband on Words With Friends, getting your children to eat broccoli without sneakily dumping it in the bathroom rubbish bin and finding that perfect parking spot at Chadstone in the middle of the Christmas shopping rush…
I had one last week but could only share it with you today when the package finally arrived. I needed physical proof it was actually going to happen. And YES, here it is!!
Now, don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I’d ordered some cosmetics on-line and they arrived safely that’s the cause for celebration – although that’s always a good thing. It’s the fact that I was actually ABLE to order KEVYN AUCOIN MASCARA on-line for delivery to Australia, for the FIRST time – THAT’S the reason I’m high-fiving myself.
I’m not a big fan of spending huge amounts of cash on make-up. I love wearing the stuff, but I’m slightly resentful of the fact that it puts women behind the eight ball financially compared with blokes in a big way. Again, not blaming anyone, and it’s our own choice to wear the stuff, but some of the prices charged are ridiculous.
(But I digress – I’m not here to discuss feminist issues right now, so I’ll get back to the point.)
The point is the BEST MASCARA EVER is definitely Kevyn Aucoin’s version. If you want proof, check out the blog I wrote on Boxing Day, with added tips about how to get the LONGEST eyelashes. ( It’s at http://wp.me/p29YsS-rf )
Up till now, the only place to buy Kevyn Aucoin mascara in Australia has been from Mecca Cosmetics. That’s a lovely store with some great products, but quite frankly, if you’ve travelled abroad, you’ll know that we pay through the nose for their wares compared with our overseas sisters. If I buy Kevyn Aucoin mascara overseas, it’s about $25 US. Here, it costs $45.
I’ve tried many, many times in the past FIVE YEARS to purchase it on-line. I’d spend AGES filling in data and waiting to join a particular site, then source the product, order it, and sometimes even pay for it, before a BIG RED SIGN appeared on the screen, saying this particular item was BANNED from shipments to Australia. In other words, Mecca had a moratorium on the brand. A very peeving set of circumstances and a situation that repeated itself on many occasions.
BUT, last week, I hopped on to StrawberryNet.com to order my favourite FOUNDATION which is the Guerlain ‘Lingerie de Peau’ – colour Number 3 – and I thought, ‘I’ll just give that mascara one more go.’ So I typed in the order details and it came up as being for sale at $27. I pushed the right buttons and PRESTO, it was processed. I held my breath, waiting to see if I’d receive an email saying there’d been a mistake. Nope. Nothing.
And then today, my package arrived – proving you CAN now buy Kevyn Aucoin mascara on-line. YIPPEE!!!
It took five months and a journey half way across the world to find it, but my mission is complete – I have tracked down the BEST CHARDONNAY in the world.
My extraordinarily patient husband has long endured my obsession with chardonnay. Now, I’m not talking about ‘any old wine’ here – but a beautiful, finely tuned, buttery-oaked, liquid gold piece of perfection. An excellent wine, to me, is nectar from the gods. And I abhor Sauvignon Blanc – EWWW, let me spit to the ground right now with contempt.
So at many a function or restaurant when I can’t find a decent wine, Fletch will give me ‘that look’. You know, the ‘Don’t have a hissy fit, shut up right now and don’t complain,’ look. I give him a LOOK right back. The one that says ‘Sure, I’ll suck it up but I’m NOT happy.’ I won’t say it ruins the evening, but it becomes a less fabulous experience…
I truly wish I liked beer. Life would be so much easier.
But in balance, when I DO find a decent chardonnay, the joy is extreme. I thank the people who picked the grapes, the talented wine-makers who spent years perfecting their craft and the restaurateur who had the good sense to stock the stuff.
Such was the experience last year when Fletch and I were spoilt rotten, and taken to the uber cool GAUCHO CITY restaurant in London, by Channel Five. (Thank you, Greg Barnett!)
As you can probably guess from the chairs swathed in cowhide, it’s not a venue for vegans. Specialising in Argentinean steaks, guests are invited to choose their own particular cut of meat from a well-presented tray that’s brought to your table. And while I also enjoy a rich glass of red, (and did with my steak), I opted for a chardonnay to have with our entree.
One sip and I was hooked. ‘WOW. WOW and WOW!’ I declared to the table, ‘This is the BEST chardonnay in the world!’ Okay, that may have been ‘slightly’ over-stating it, but such is my excitement when I make a NEW chardonnay discovery. So good it was, that I knew I’d want to track it down once I returned to Melbourne, so I asked our waitress to write down the wine’s name and vintage on a business card.
TAPIZ is the name of the winery and it’s located in Mendoza, Argentina. ‘Tapiz’ means ‘tapestry’ in English – appropriate given the fine tapestry of flavours it affords the palate.
When we returned home in September, I began the task of tracking Tapiz down in Australia. I tried the obvious first – Dan Murphy, Vintage Cellars and the local bottle shops, with no luck. Then I went on to a few wine websites – again nothing. How could this be? How could a wine so extraordinary not be available to the masses? The only solution seemed to be to contact the winery direct in Argentina.
I found the TAPIZ website, but that was of no use whatsoever because it’s all in Spanish. If only I was fluent… Nevertheless, I dashed off an email in the hope that someone in their office might be able to translate and help.
Sure enough, a week later I received a reply explaining that the winery had just made arrangements with an Australian wine importer to bring Tapiz to our shores. In just a couple of months, I could contact RED BARREL Importers of Fine Wines to purchase my much sought after chardonnay.
When I learnt Red Barrel had another business – Cosi Duci Gelati in Ivanhoe – I knew we’d get along fine. If I were ever to specialise in food and beverages, I couldn’t think of a better combo than wine and gelati! Owners Victor and Silvia Scalia and I were definitely going to be kindred spirits.
Red Barrel also scored a big, fat gold star for such a prompt follow-up after my initial query. Just two weeks after receiving their first shipment of Tapiz, Sylvia arrived on my doorstep from completely the other side of town, to hand deliver two bottles of their finest for me to sample. She also invited us to a ‘tasting’ at their premises so we could learn more about the full range of Tapiz wines.
It was then, when I held that long-sought-after bottle of wine in my hands that I began to have doubts. Was this wine really going to be as good as I had remembered it all those months ago in London? Perhaps my perception was coloured by the seductive ambience of the lush Gaucho restaurant and the fine food? Maybe this had been one long wild goose chase?
Needing a second opinion and validation, I saved that bottle until I caught up with my fellow-chardy expert and sister-in-law, Penny. Down at their home in Anglesea on a sunny, summer’s afternoon, we finally cracked it open.
Kapow! Yes, there it was! That fine, golden liquid delivered on it’s promise. It was indeed worthy of a blog to share its greatness with the world.
Silvia and Victor Scalia, Red Barrel Importers of Fine Wines
The second validation came after meeting with Victor and Silvia Scalia at their Red Barrel premises. They share a passion for quality wine, which is why they began their importing business in the first place. Victor visits Argentina at least once a year and was disappointed he couldn’t find the best of their wines in Australia. The best solution – import it yourself!
Red Barrel is now the exclusive importers of both Tapiz and Granata wines for Australia. They’ve already made inroads in Melbourne’s restaurants – notably Piqueos in Rathdowne Street, Carlton, Othello at Southbank and a new restaurant called Buenos Aires Steakhouse which is opening soon at 189 Lygon St, Carlton – plus they sell direct to the public. Prices range, depending on amounts and variety, between about $21 wholesale and $27.
Fletch had to film Neighbours on the day of the wine tasting at Red Barrel, so I took my Dad along instead. I think I inherited my love of fine wine from him, after all! Sylvia laid on a fine feast and I was again delighted to sample my now-favourite chardonnay. Although Victor and I disagreed on one thing. He’s convinced the Malbec is the best of the Tapiz range. It’s a mighty fine and mellow red, but I’d still opt for the chardonnay.
You can make up your own mind by sampling this wonderful wine for yourself. Just contact Red Barrel Importers of Fine Wine by email at
Our daughter, Veronica, turned 18 just over a week ago. It’s quite a milestone that deserves a Blog.
She made quite a splash when she arrived in the world, our baby daughter. Born on her father’s birthday, it was the best present I’ve ever given Fletch. By just nine months old, she was a Page Three girl in the Herald Sun.
Veronica – a natural water baby Photo: Craig Borrow
I was as proud a mum as any could be. We took her to swimming lessons, Gymbaroo and Mini Maestros to ensure she got the best start in life. Who knew what hidden talents might surface?
I also spent a fortune on baby clothes in pink, florals and more pink, because the cuter she looked seemed to help compensate for the sleep deprivation we were suffering.
While adorable by day, she was a monster at night who refused to sleep through. Several times we made the call to book in to ‘sleep school’ only to have her perversely start sleeping right through that very night… as if she’d heard our phone conversation earlier in the day. So we’d cancel our booking and OF COURSE, she then instantly returned to her screaming ways. Arghhh…
But we struggled on through and then went for baby Number Two. When Tom arrived, Veronica was delighted to have a sibling to play with. There was a bit of rivalry in the early stages, but generally speaking, Tom and Ronnie have always been great mates. Thank God, Tom was a good sleeper!
As it turned out, Veronica had probably been screaming at night because she hated the clothes I was forcing her to wear. As soon as she was able to speak, she made it quite clear she DETESTED pink. And anything ‘girly’. And Barbie Dolls. EWWWWWww… Bratz dolls however, were an obsession.
I wondered whether her leaning towards the ‘rock chick’ look was a warning sign for the teen years. Perhaps we were in for more sleepless nights as she transformed from monster-baby to night-life-loving-teen-from-hell??
As a child, I found her resilience and sensible attitude startling. There was a bullying incident in Grade Five. I was only made aware of this through another child and a teacher, as I hadn’t noticed her being upset at home. Frantic with worry, I asked her if this was happening and whether she was okay. She shrugged and said, ‘I’m okay, Mum. Maybe they’re just not my kind of people?’ Wow. I wish I could be like that when people are nasty. A good lesson to take on board. Thank you, daughter.
Still, I was prepared for the worst as she moved into senior school. God knows, I hadn’t been an ideal teenager, so I probably deserved to be put through some angst after making my Mother suffer. But, strangely enough, the early teens were very peaceful. In Year Seven, Ronnie shone in the art department, taking out the art prize for her year group with a stunning butterfly painting. She also won ‘Most-improved’ in netball.
In fact, her most rebellious streak came out when we forced her to join us on bush walking treks while holidaying in the Grampians. Bush-walking wasn’t her thing… Check out the face! You can imagine the complaints. Long and loud.
Perhaps she was missing her friends in the city? Because while she wasn’t a wild child, she loved a party.
Veronica’s birthdays have always been cause for much excitement. A different theme and in particular, a special cake, every year. And while she’s not a fan of the Twilight book and film series, (much more a Harry Potter devotee) she opted for a girls’ night out at Dracula’s Theatre Restaurant for her 14th birthday.
By the time she turned 16, there STILL hadn’t been any traditionally bad teen behaviour. No missing in party-action, no lying about being somewhere else, no skipping school and no vomiting from over-indulgence with alcohol. I was starting to get concerned. This wasn’t normal, surely?
When we renovated her bedroom, I suggested we now remove the 70-odd Bratz dolls on her mantelpiece and put them upstairs in the rumpus room. Or in storage. Sixteen is definitely too old for dolls, right? ‘NO WAY!’ she said firmly. ‘They are staying where they are.’
‘But honey, what if you get a boyfriend and bring him home and he sees all these dolls? Surely he’s going to think that’s a little odd?’ I really was trying to look after her own interests here.
‘No, Mum,’ she said. ‘I don’t play with them any more, but they’re my collection and I want them to stay. And if a guy came over and said something critical, I’d dump him.’
‘Okay,’ I said. How could you argue with that logic? While mystified by her passion for dolls, I couldn’t help but admire her determination to stand by what she likes and not succumb to my concerns about potential peer group judgment. I love the fact that she doesn’t care what others think.
And she wasgoing to parties. We’d had plenty of chats about boys and alcohol and she told me other young people were drinking. ‘But don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I hate the smell of alcohol and cigarettes. I’m never drinking or smoking.’
I’m sure I detected a faint suggestion of smug superiority in that comment and the accompanying look she gave me. Regular readers will know I used to smoke and so I credit myself with being such a bad example, I’ve shown my daughter how NOT to behave. Yes, it really started to seem like I had my own version of Saffy, from the TV series Ab Fab in my own home. She was enjoying her seat on the moral high-ground. Which was fine with me.
Some of my friends were doubtful. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ they’d scoff. ‘They all drink at that age. You’re kidding yourself.’ As far as I knew, the closest she’d come to grog was knocking back an alcohol-free Butter Beer from Harry Potter World when we visited Universal Studios last year.
So the next time I picked Ronnie up from a party, we pulled up at a traffic light and I said, ‘Honey, I know this seems silly, but can you blow your breath in my face just so I can be sure you haven’t been drinking?’ After a HUGE roll of the eyes, she complied. Nothing. Clean as a whistle.
THEN she said, ‘But there is one thing I did that was a little bit bad.’
I nearly slammed on the brakes. Shock, horror – perfect little Saffy had sinned?? I tried to hide my excitement. What gorgeously wicked deed was she about to confess? Perhaps she’d pashed and groped some young bloke in the bushes? Maybe she’d even smoked a joint?
‘What did you do, what did you do?’ I asked, desperate to know and trying to look stern.
‘Well…’ she said, glancing at me sheepishly. ‘I drank four cans of soft drink.’
Really? Is that ALL? Seriously?? I have to admit I was a tad disappointed. But I maintained the facade and whinged something pathetic about dentist bills. But Bless Her Cotton Socks. I am indeed blessed. I’ll take a soft drink addict versus an ice addict any day.
Last year there was a Year 11 Formal and for the first time, I saw how she had truly grown from an awkward teen into a beautiful young woman. She chose the dress. Not too short and no revealing cleavage, mind you! She’s much classier than her mother.
And then, two weeks ago, she was just as gorgeous at her 18th birthday party. And still not a drop of alcohol has passed her lips. As for the party, now that’s another Blog altogether. (I’ve got some great tips about teen parties!!) But for now, I just want to say ‘Happy Birthday, Veronica, and thank you for being the most wonderful daughter a mother could wish for. I hope one day I’ll grow up to be as sensible as you.’
