Ross Brothers Cabernet Shiraz

“Ben Elton?” he said, ”when?”. I’d been studiously ignoring him since I’d come in and now I was self conscious.

Baggy trousers, an English lisp and dark eye brows.

We began to throw authors back and forth, drinking in each other’s favourites. The conversation turned to English humour and then to Aboriginals.

“Wolf Creek, somewhere between Glendalough and Innaloo.”

I poured that Shiraz down my throat like it was water in the desert (it was a beautiful Shiraz)

His girlfriend’s name is Lisa.

rugby Saturdays in winter

When I was a kid my Dad used to take my sister and me to local rugby matches at the Police Grounds. I remember him in too-short-shorts with thick socks and veldskoens ('felt scoons') and a big green windsheeter ('wind cheater') standing up to cheer but keeping his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Emily and I were more interested in the location of the toffee apple man than in the game. Later, faces sticky, we would prowl under the stands looking for smoking cigarette butts and polystyrene cups, gleefuly pushing the cigarettes through the polystyrene until we were holding cuppy holes rather than holey cups.

It was there that I first saw a Mexican wave and I remember being amazed at the simultaneous mass action. I'd stand and wait and wait and wait and then jump up with my hands in the air, full of self consciousness.

Once, the car was stolen and Dad was angry. Secretly I wondered if a tsotsi from Chikarubi Prison next door had taken it. Margaret our maid had a son who was in Chikarubi, his name was Zanda and even Margaret said that he was penga. After the car was stolen we didn’t go to the rugby as often. Mum wouldn't let Dad because it was her car.

The pot calling the kettle

Andrew Weldon
03 May 06
http://www.chaser.com.au/

Meeting Notes

Currently drafting meeting notes. Not an easy thing and something the Hamish (boss) thinks is essential to good writing development. I used to be KAK at them (emphasis intended, KAK!) but with steady criticizm from the Hamish (I mean guidence) I'm better.

They are tough because you have to get absolutely everything down during the meeting, so there is no eye contact, just mad writing. If you don't understand something technical you have to find a way to make a note to ask the Hamish later. You can't worry about it, you just have to keep going.

Meeting ended, you have to come back to the office and arrange the meeting notes into themes. It's like a puzzle of information that you need to put together because, inevitably, the conversation jumped around a little.

The you have to go away and have a break because you're probably very stressed out and you need to give the notes some space (blogging is a good break option).

Space achieved, you have to draft the separate themes into coherent blocks. Then you have to assess all the information and what it is the client is going to have on paper, from us, where the ATO could read it.

Then you have to write it, well. And the Hamish is not your average breed of senior manager at PwC. The man is like Vetinari. Sometimes... he uses irony.

Did I mention that these particular clients were Japanese and hence incredibly detail oriented so it is doubly important to have every point discussed at the meeting in the notes? Oh? well, that too.

(Still don't quite have the bow- exchange business cards-shake hands all at once thing right)