Here is my one allocated ‘I’m a dickhead at breakfast, and i have to photograph my food’ post per year. I have spared you a photo of the actual food, which I consider to be nothing more than a document of a precursor to a bowel movement.
Yep, that’s what I think when I see all your photos of food on Facebook.
Lots of great memories from this place, it was our local drive in theatre. I can remember being smuggled in under a blanket, cowering on the floor of my brothers car. Another time trashy movie enabling sister Rhonda took me along, no doubt after my pleading, to watch ‘Holiday on the buses’.
It was a cold, stormy, rainy night, and for some reason we went along in our jarmies, my sister accessorizing with pink fluffy slippers. the screen was impossible to see without using the cars (a fantastic blue Holden) windscreen wipers. At the end of the movie when we went to drive off we discovered the battery was flat. My poor sister, in her nighty and slippers had to traipse to the projection box and get help to have our car jump started.
What a legend eh?, i would have just fled and left the car. Tho traumatic for my sister, it payed off, as ‘Holiday on the buses’ is still one of my favorite movies ever.
Southline drive in photo’s courtesy of the Lost Wollongong Facebook group.
Scratching around in the bowels of the ‘Tingle audio archive’ I just unearthed this aural trinket. Many decades ago I had a little four track studio set up in my bedroom at my parents house. I’d while away the hours making up songs, recording loops and producing some far out ambient stuff, you know, generally being self indulgent.
Every now and then however a tune would pop up that I’d deem fit to keep (not sure anyone else would). Behold the lo fi wonder that is ‘Mexican standoff’, with me playing everything, except the keyboard which features my buddy, friend and pal Vince Koster.
Just saw this old photo of Hoyts cinemas posted in a retro group.
Talk about a flashback, decades ago it was at these very pinball machines that I came out to one of my best strait mates.
‘Hey, guess what?, I’m gay’.
“Oh yeh?, cool. Can we concentrate now, we’ve almost got the highest score on Terminator”.
Alas, I didn’t get my fill of drama that day.
I have closure!!.
After those thieving, half baked shit wizards from ‘Down south’ stole my favorite cabana wear board shorts from my clothes line, I’ve been on a mission to have them replicated.
Thanks to my international shopping adviser Heidi Linnenbank I was able to find the material in the U.S.
After my exacting measurements and design parameters were delivered to the Jean Paul Gaultier approved ‘Haus of Dianne’, my sister Dianne Thomson whipped them up on her Pfaff for me.
Thank you both for righting the wrongs of the world, and believe me, when someone causes me fashion trauma, there is no greater wrong.
*I should post a warning with this. My legs can be seen in the photo. If viewing this in public, try not to let your hands wander inappropriately.