From The Age

At 7.30 p.m. tonight (20/02/2007), Major Michael Mori, Terry Hicks, Philip Ruddock and the lead prosecutor for the Guantanamo Bay Military Commissions will come face-to-face on SBS Insight - over David Hicks' case and how the Australian Government has handled it.

Should be interesting.

(How the hell does Ruddock still have a job?)

Too Exciting!!

The Missing Dot Point

As I paused to press 'Publish' last night, after writing the entry below, I knew I had forgotten to write something. A dot point, no less. Here he is:

• Eagle-eyed readers may have noticed the 'Links of Note' section which showed up to the right about a week ago. Bacically, this list will be of links that i have found particularly funny/poigniant/interesting and will change on a regular basis. God I am good to you people.

The Demise of the Comment

It is with great sadness that I note the demise of the comment. Are our blogs becoming less popular, or are people simply more apathetic towards them as time goes on? Besides the (loved and greatly appreciated) usual suspects diligently putting words to every second or third post (or if you are Geordy/Pete it's pretty much every post) it is becoming increasingly hard to score yourself a comment in this little circle of blogs to the right. I mean, hell - you can even put the cutest footage known to man (baby smiles) - and still get a low return.

Perhaps only these people read our blogs? I don’t know. Well - actually - I KNOW that more than four people read this blog (as although they have never ever added a comment, I know my family trawls it for photos of Fred) - so how do you get these readers to translate into comments? Because besides running a competition (guess the baby fact game) or actually asking for a comment, I don’t really know how. I don’t know what the hell sort of entry is needed to strike the apathy out of you people.

And at the bottom of these ponderings, is the question - why is it even important? Well, believe it or not, it takes fair amount of time to run one of these things. Even more time to run two. And whilst it's a little bit pathetic to admit, comments are the one way of actually knowing that people are reading it and enjoying it and therefore it's to all for nothing. So im not asking for a flurry of comments at the end of this post - on the contrary, as this post is not exactly one which is particularly interesting - but rather consideration in the future to add one when it takes your fancy or if you have enjoyed an entry. It makes me feel love and it makes me more inclined to post regularly. (And while you are at it – if you read any of those blogs to the right, show them the love too). Think of it as donation to an art gallery, which costs a wee bit of time, not money.

NOW - TO HAPPIER TOPICS

• It has come to my intention that the Scissor Sisters must have recently toured Australia. Because as I listened to my messages I received one from Nadise that caused my booty to start wiggling and shaking to the strains of that song I mentioned a few posts back. Last time I listen to my messages at a bus stop deep in the hood….


• Inspired by the idea of seeing live music (as Nadsie has called me from Robbie Williams AND the Artic Monkey and the pool of drool took a week to drain away both times) I went and bought Dave and myself tickets to see Muse at Wembley Stadium. Hoorah. Fred will be 7 months old and ripe for a babysitter and as I won't be living in London forever, its time I started to take advantage of what it has to offer. The next plan is to get tickets to see Spamalot (the stage version of Monty Python's Holy Grail).
• I dont think that I've put this on the blog yet, but Dave and I have booked Freds first visit to Australia from 19/3 to 18/4 and hope to see as many people as possible

(this photo is from a month back)

Happy Two Months Old

Dear Fred,

Today you turned two months old, and WHAT a two months it has been. Our lives have been so much richer with you in it, and the PreFred Period seems an ancient and mundane time. So great is your impact, that your dad and I marvel daily over the fact that it has been a mere two months since Australia stormed to a famous victory at Adelaide Oval, and you ripped your way into this world and our hearts.

Over these past two months your dad and I pretty much only really talk about you and the many marvelous things you have been up to. Which is no bad thing considering that the last conversation we had about anything else revolved around me not having ‘goal-driven ambition’ or something. But our conversations couldn’t be richer or more satisfying.

You are such a good little boy, so easy and amicable. In the depth of my sleepless nights when I find myself barely keeping a very frustrated banshee at bay, I can take stock and appreciate how lucky I have it. Last night you slept from midnight to 8am, for the second time in a few days. You little legend. If you want to give me one of those nights, once a week, I will quite happily take your 3am, 4am or 5am kitten-esque screams for the rest.

You eat ferociously and indiscriminately. Whether it is my boob or a bottle, you latch on with a desperation that suggests you have not fed for days and then proceed to groan and ‘mmm’ away in utter delight. Compliments to the chef have never been so forthcoming before in my meal-making life. It is a privilege to feed you.


Your smiles. Dear god, your little smiles. They are tiny flowers, dancing fairies and golden rays of light on a thousand rainbows. They are the very reason your father and I decided to become parents. To wake in the morning and be greeted by smiles so large they take over your body, causing you to kick and wave your arms, to squeal at a pitch only audible to dogs is absolute bliss. We will never grow sick of these. I will never get over the dimple in your right cheek. You are too ridiculously cute; looking at you makes me forget to blink.

It wouldn’t be fair to celebrate your second month without giving appropriate props to your changing table. You ADORE being changed. When your father and I are unable to settle you, we are safe in the knowledge that the wobbly changing table and its resident 5-headed elephant sponge (don’t ask) will do the trick. It is your happy place – no more evidenced by the fact that your relentless kicking – which has been a constant since you were pretty much conceived – reaches a fever pitch here.


This past month you have started to pick up so many new things. Staring at yourself in the mirror. Poking your tongue out when I poke out mine. Reaching for and holding my hand with a vice-like grip. And talking, wonderful, wonderful talking. A conversation with you where – as it has been pointed out – my dignity is left firmly at the door, is one I would happily forsake all others for. To watch your brain tick over as you consider what I say, to see your mouth move furiously and soundlessly to try to make it work and to then be a part of your triumphant smiles when you elucidate a mumbled 'ooo' or resounding ‘cooo’ is simply joyous. To hear your noises and to see how happy they make you, makes my heart cry because I know, I know, I know, that the reason they make you so happy is because YOU are communicating with ME. You might as well be saying ‘I love you Mum’ because it couldn’t be any clearer.


You are the shining might in our lives. I am so lucky to be able to spend every day with you, watching you learn, sharing your joys and sorrows. Whilst sometimes I dream of an afternoon, nay an hour, to myself, I would not change my days with you for anything. Your dad feels the same. Every day he works himself at 110% to provide you with the very best future he can, and each night he rushes home to try to get some of your bathtime (when you are in absolute peak form). Your time here is flying by, it is such a precious commodity that we don’t want to miss a thing. We love you more than we dreamt possible, in a way that you will only understand when you yourself have children.

Happy Two Month Old, little Freddy. I can’t wait to see what you do next.
xxMum