The Lair of the Emerald Serpent

It's been a most magical day until the last 20 minutes attempting to establish a working Portkey to Cyberia. Feeling most cranky and frustrated and wishing I had just stayed slinking outside in the garden sniffing the orange blossoms and sipping shiraz.

The big news of the day is the death of Muhammed Ali the boxer. There goes another childhood hero along with David Bowie, Prince and Alan Rickman (technically he counts as a hero of my second childhood ;))
Even as a flobberworm I had a soft spot for folks who gave two fingers to the boss and MA did that in spades. No one could ever accuse him of being a gutless wimp for refusing to sign up for the Vietnam war. That was likely precisely the reason it pissed them off so much. And there was just no comeback from his justification "No Viet Cong ever called me "Nigger""

It was so sad to see him in his twilight years shuffling around like some sad zombie after so many years of boxing brilliance. It is amazing he survived as long as he did given that his brain must have been long ago shaken to a pulp.


There's all sorts of folks out there calling themselves "The Greatest" but very few can ever back it up these days.


Been pigging out on events at an annual heritage festival in the port town of Fremantle which is about 40 minutes from the Lair by bus.

It's a gorgeous town and rather old by Oz standards. It's got far more character than downtown Dursleyville but unfortunately the place is dying and dependent almost completely on tourism since we no longer make very much in this bit of Australia.

It's the same everywhere. The wierd and twisted bohemian sorts make a place vibrant and interesting and suddenly the goblins and yuppies take notice and start swarming in. The artistic sort then get priced out and these days even mainstream businesses are struggling with the ridiculous rents. So of course the artists move on and the whole cycle begins again. Meanwhile what they leave behind usually becomes dull, colourless and rather boring.

In the old days I used to take two weeks holiday to coincide with the festival and just pig out on a feast of fascinating events most of which are free.
Since most of them are on the weekends, it was necessary then but not so much now. Was even lucky enough to get Friday off due to the day job having scheduled downtime for programming. That was perfect timing and just the excuse needed to sign up for the University of Notre Dame historical buildings tour.

From collections of old tools, telephones and prams to grand tours of historical hotels and prisons, it's been a wonderful and most magical week.

Tomorrow they will be tweeking the Time Turner and bringing part of the old town back to the 1960s. There will be only 1960s cars parked along the street and the handful of shops left are draping themselves in the decor of the appropriate vintage. They are also asking visitors to drag out their old 1960s rags for the occasion.

Was a good green fingered creature today and did lots of planting and pottering in the garden before slinking off for the afternoon to the old lunatic asylum to catch the tram for a special heritage festival tour of the town with the history of old buildings and stories of the ones that did not survive the grasping claws of rampaging developers and greedy councillors.

That's what I so miss about Europe. I was happy to spend hours pottering around the canals of Amsterdam just drooling over the gorgeous buildings and Germany is filled with lovely old towns with rickety bockety cobbled streets and wonderful wooden houses like you only see here on chocolate boxes.

It's time to slink off to the serpent sack. There's Time Turner's to be tweeked and weeds to be nibbled.

It has been an amazing and inspiring week away from the mad house. The weather was simply glorious. Crisp and crunchy with delicate sunlight and about the only time of year that it is safe to snooze in the sunshine. The light is almost reminiscent of Europe.
There’s been a heritage festival on which finished this week and only missed one day due to yesterday's return to the goblin job. Adopting the policy of introducing a bit of randomness to events. When faced with several competing options, decided to pick the one not tried before.

So this time the serpent well and truly abandoned the usual routine when visiting the seaside town of Fremantle. First port of call was usually The Juicy Beetroot followed by the library, then the arts centre and a cafe or two after closing time at 5pm.

Depending on how desperate the Izzie is for a fix of decent greens would either visit Juicy B first thing and pay full price or take a chance on half price Happy Hour around 3pm which invariably means all the salads would be gone by then

This week the serpent has visited Fremantle five times in seven days and not one of those included a visit to The Juicy Beetroot. Aside from the minor matter of the annual heritage festival, there are other temptations to lure the serpent away from tasty salads, cheesecake and chai.

For years been drooling over a particularly pretty spot on the foreshore where there are Norfolk pines and a very quaint old train carriage which has been converted to a cafe. Attached to the carriage is a rather large deck and verandah with a tin roof providing shade on the many hot and horrid summer days. They have kindly accommodated these gorgeous old trees by making holes in the tin roof rather than cutting them down as the usual preference for the less enlightened sorts. This alone makes the place worthy of lurking.

It is a most mysterious site. You can tell the cafe is still operational even though there are no signs indicating any sign of life. No signs indicating opening hours or any such useful information only warnings that the place is monitored by CCTV cameras.
So often sat on the round benches surrounding the trees while bathing in the last remnants of sunlight and observing the long shadows cast by the trees.
But for the first time ever, finally managed to darken the door of the place on Saturday. It does open during weekdays too but closes around 3pm which is why the Izzie has never ever seen the place open before.

So in less than a week visited the place three times. Wednesday’s original plan was to be out and about and on the 6.30 bus. After all if we can get up so early for work why not for fun? But the temptation of staying in the serpent sack proved too great and did not leave the Lair until 11am. So the grand plan of visiting the carriage cafe, then Quinlans the cheap and cheerful training restaurant near Notre Dame University followed by a visit to the Juicy Beetroot in time for half price happy hour around 3pm got kind of tweeked

Was sitting at the carriage cafe basking in the sunshine around 2pm and well and truly getting in the zone. Decided it was time to bring out the big cannons which consisted of an A-Z index book for plotting and planning and not one but two decks of cards.
Using a previously randomly drawn sequence of three cards per story means that all 78 get a look in this time. So would then line up the originals from the Wizards’ deck (courtesy of The Cat) and their equivalents from the Bright Ideas deck

It was interesting to see the different take for each card. Decided to do only three letters in one brainstorming session since that seems the best combination for inspiration without the risk of sensory overload

It turns out the juxtaposition of the two sets provided insights that did not occur when looking at them separately. But that’s another story for another time and place.
Looks like the book “Animalia” will also serve as a less random source of inspiration. Including as many objects and names as possible all starting with the same letter of the alphabet should be a limitation that could prove most productive indeed.