MAN ABOUT TOWN

Memorable things about visiting Numurkah this weekend: The young white-trash couple who fought and argued for the entire three hour bus trip home, who were thankfully sitting two seats ahead of me, but were still close enough for me to hear the hissed "bitch", "lying mole", "bastard" and similar phrases flying back and forth between them. When they got off the bus at Southern Cross Station they erupted into a full-on screaming match, oblivious to onlookers, before storming off swearing in opposite directions. Discovering that the invitation to 'come smoke a spliff down by the lake' from the bloke I'd been chatting with in the pub for an hour on Friday night meant just that, and was not a coded sexual offer (much to my disappointment, and his shock). Speaking of pubs, Numurkah is a three-pub town. The top pub, the Telegraph, is the domain of the local footy team (cricket in the off-season) - boisterous yobs, predominantly. The middle pub is wher...

I'm up at my mum's place in the small country town of Numurkah, in northern Victoria, about a half hour drive from the Murray River. I'm perving on cute country boys and catching up on some reading. I'll post a proper update when I get home tomorrow night.

Yes, I saw Rufus Wainwright performing at Hamer Hall - twice - and yes, he was definitely swoonsome. I just wish I'd been slightly more sober when I ran into him at Miss Libertine the second night. I also interviewed him again, which you might have heard on RRR last week. If not, never fear; you can read a transcript of the interview in The Trip magazine if you're a subscriber next month. Yes, I went to northern Victoria to visit my mum, and no, this time, unlike my visit a year ago , I didn't try and pick up anyone. I did, however, go for a long walk by the river and see a goanna. A very large goanna. Half an hour later I dropped into the top pub (Numurkah has three pubs, unlike the small country town Trafalgar where I went to high school, which has only one) and encountered a large reptile of a different kind - a bilious, bloated man sitting at the bar, whose first words, declared to his equally repugnant friends as I walked in, were "fucken abos fuken lying around ...

My mum, Maggie, came to visit yesterday, and stayed the night. She lives in the small country town of Numurkah, so only gets down to Melbourne a few times a year - when she's not otherwise engaged by driving up to Canberra to visit my sister and her kids; or jaunting off around the country/overseas SPENDING MY BLOODY INHERITANCE GODDAMMIT, who does she think she is, aggreived huff, etc etc. Anyway, as I write she's just finishing off the huge pile of dishes that's been sitting on the kitchen bench for the last few weeks. I did mean to get around to doing those myself at some stage, probably in fits and starts admittedly, so can I just say that I highly recommend having your mother visit if she's going to start cleaning things all the time? Certainly saves me having to clean the place to a presentable standard before she arrives, that's for sure. Thanks mum. xx Took her out to lunch yesterday (excellent Malaysian at this superb little place in a laneway off Bourke St...

Christmas is not my favourite time of year, although I've mellowed towards it as I've got older. Back in the late 1980's and early 90's I actually boycotted it for quite a while, for a number of reasons, ranging from my then-idealistic stance towards religion and capitalism, to an unfortunate reaction by my Mum soon after I came out, years ago. She told me that my grandfather would be unhappy with me bringing a partner home for Christmas (which I read as her being uncomfortable with the idea). Fine, I said, then I just won't come home for Christmas at all; and I didn't, for at least five or six years. During this phase of my life I also refused to give Christmas presents. No I wasn't being cheap; it was a stance - admitedly a slightly pretentious one! - in reaction to the consumer frenzy which Christmas has become; and wherever possible I tried to give back any presents I received (an act which one year greatly upset my late paternal grandmother), while a...