Our new number

Hey, WE ARE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PLANET – boom – just like that – 1 minute we are staying in an arty appartment with a hole in the wall between the toilet and the bedroom, the next minute we are watching Maoris dancing.. we are confused and jetlagged and will send more details shortly..

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Buenos Aires

Dogs, dog poo on the pavement, banks, restaurants, pizza, tango, hooting furiously, oak trees, traffic, food, dog walkers, pizzerias, mosquitoes, eating out, walking, cosmopolitan, amazingly European, watch out for the dog poo, the obelisk (“the Penis” as we refer to it) in the middle of the biggest avenue in the world – seven lanes in each direction!

Buenos Aires means “good air” – but I guess that was before the traffic and the 10 million people in the centre. It is the most gorgeous city I have seen in South America and there are so many cosy, inviting, flashy places to sit, drink coffee (I wish I did drink coffee) and watch life passing you by.

The city folk seem suspicious of Chileans and are very proud of their city and country. The service in the eating places is great – but they don’t really seem to want you to interrupt their texting in the shops...

We have been fascinated by the indoctrination of the common man about Las Islas Malvinas. The postcards have maps of Argentina, with the Falkland islands on them, country maps have Stanley printed on them as Porto Argentina, there are books on the best sellers pile about the Falklands, the massive Falklands memorial has 2 soldiers standing to attention in front of it with a continuous flame burning and the weather is duly forecast for the Falklands too! We have created much confusion going through customs with Tim’s Falklands heritagee. The first immigration post they wouldn’t stamp his passport, the second they took a photocopy of his passport and excitedly shook his hand – no doubt he has been the subject of much dinner conversation this evening. He won’t let me tell anybody where he is from – so he is masquerading as a South African.

Look Ma, there's a country called "U R Gay"

I am sitting on the balcony at dusk in Colonia (24th April). It is fairly warm with clear skies, the water of the river Plate is glistening in the distance, there is a smell of washing in the air and a the noises of the town are floating by on the cool evening breeze – beginners playing drums and piano, dogs barking, children’s voices, scooters. Tim’s been inside massacring mosquitoes and now he is playing with the B-day.. he’s fascinated with them!

We were hoping to shop in Montevideo for furniture for the house – but alas the furniture was uninspiring and expensive and the service grumpy so we quit early. Monte did not have much appeal so we caught a bus through the lush cattle farms east to Colonia, a charming, old town just across the river from BA.

We are off to supper with my jeans tucked into my socks to stop the plague of mossies..

The little village pic is in Colonia, the green scene is from the bus window and that's Tim with one of the novel ways he found of removing doggie do do from his shoes..

Santiago

We only had the morning to wander – we took a long, peaceful walk through the sleepy Sunday streets to Santa Lucia. The only people around were the bergies and the perverts in the coffee shops. We ventured into one of these cafes (or “titty bars” as Tim tastefully describes them). There is a long counter which serves as a barrier. Men are lined up drinking coffee, makeup plastered women in teeny skintight skirts serve coffee – guess it beats going to church on a Sunday morn..

Housebuilding

We are nearly done.. it is so exciting. It is sexy, shiny and wholly our (well mainly Tim's) creation. Now we just need you guys to send energy for awesome tenants!

That's Tim doing a headstand in the sawdust.. oops, I mean in the lounge and me opening the grand doors into the main bedroom

Tim having an imaginary shower.. Note the teeny tiny bathroom window. Tim was aiming for cosy but really got more of a prison cell feel - he still won't admit he made a mistake ordering that window, he'll defend it at all costs. It even opens you know. You'd have to go to great lengths to perve through it though! Please also note the excellent tiling by Tim's Step-pa, Peter and the neat grouting by Tim's Ma, Shelley.

The Play

It was called Nobody's Perfect and I had the smallest of 4 roles as "Deedee", a stroppy, sly teenager.



My fellow actors were the Hospital ward Manager (Harriet with her blow up doll companion), the ex Attorney General (who was my outrageous Grandpi) and the Infant Junior School Headmaster (who is both my father and his imaginary pen name, my dear old Auntie Myrtle). The backstage crew were a mix of lovely, supportive people from the town - it was great to get to know some new peeps.
It's a funny play and the audiences seemed to enjoy it. We got good reviews in the Penguin News and I appeared briefly (and embarrassingly) on the local radio station. The only complaints were mostly related to the hardness of the seats! Tim's Mom only slept through one scene, which apparently means the play was great.

For me it was a personal conquest. I hadn't been acted for 14 years and I am really proud of me that I returned to the stage. As a kid I had always dreamt of being an actress. Tim burst that bubble when he told me my acting skills were akin to Joey's from friends when he "acts" - pretty bad then.. but I realised it is something that one has to practice and work at to be good at. It also came clear that I don't have to prove anything to him, he loves me just as I am.