Just sing it.

The recent Rugby World Cup has led to the enjoyable spectacle of several international teams proudly belting out their national anthems. Unfortunately it has also led to the usual, predictable and, frankly, boring complaints about the fact that the Australian national anthem is so [insert your favourite complaint here. Choose from: incomprehensible, boring, difficult to remember, embarrassing, outdated, etc].

There is nothing more wrong with our national anthem than any other. For example, the Marseillaise is a war chant that talks about raising blood-stained flags over the mutilated bodies of women and children; the New Zealand national anthem (while I love the Maori version that goes with it) is an old European hymn that basically asks God to protect the land from all those nasty people who might sail across the Pacific to try and take their country; the Spanish national anthem doesn't even have any words; and even the Star-spangled Banner, for all its victorious chord progressions, celebrates a battle that neither side really won. I won't even discuss God Save the Queen.

The main problem with the Australian national anthem is that no-one sings it. When the French rugby players all lined up they sang the Marseillaise with lungfuls of air; the Kiwis belted out the song in both languages and then launched into their wonderful and inspiring haka; and you can't fail to be moved by a Welsh male-voice choir. Now watch the Aussies: if they sing at all, they barely move their lips and keep their eyes averted (all except Quade Cooper who doesn't sing and stares straight ahead).

I believe we're actually ashamed of singing our national song out loud for two reasons. One, we're afraid that if we do sing, people might realise that we know all the words and think we're showing off. This is ludicrous: apart from the fact we've had more than 40 years to learn it, it's not that hard to remember four lines of verse, especially considering that there's rhyme and rhythm to help you remember. Even a five-year-old can remember all the words to Superbass, so I'm pretty sure even you could recall the words of our national anthem if you wanted to.

I know you hate saying "girt", but you really can't tell me you don't know what it means any more, can you? And is it any better than having to say "God of Nations at Thy feet" like the New Zealanders?

Secondly, we're afraid that if we sing the anthem out loud, people might find out that we can sing and think we're showing off. All those nights singing karaoke at the pub or shouting along to "Am I ever gonna see your face again?", all those thousands of hopefuls lined up outside the auditions for the X Factor or Australian Idol, but ask them to have a go at their national anthem and they avert their eyes, mumble something about the word "girt" and whisper along with the tune... if they sing it at all.

What it comes down to, is that our national anthem is perfectly fine by international standards: it's a good tune and a simple rhyme. All we need to do is stop whinging about it and start singing it.

Reminder...

In case you're curious about why this blog is not being updated regularly, please check out my other blog, linked to my work as artist-in-residence at Culture at Work. Thanks for your interest!

An absolutely ordinary rainbow

It wasn't the first poem I read, and loved, and felt. But I still recall with perfect clarity the tingle of wonder invoked when I, at the age of fourteen or so, read Les Murray's An Absolutely Ordinary Rainbow.

There's a fellow crying in Martin Place. They can't stop him.

Two plain sentences. Using simple words that a child could read and understand, Les Murray opened a door in the world. This one line, at the end of the first stanza of the poem, is the heart and soul of it. It encompasses all the meaning that is supported and explained in the rest of the 45-odd lines.

It's a poem about Sydney, about being Australian and being human. It describes a singular man, and every person. It's about living and loving, lachrymating and laughing all at the same time. Thirty years after I first read it, that line still gives me goosebumps.

I write this now, because I heard Les reading some of his new poems on the weekend, at the Sydney Writers' Festival. He's still got it:

They explode the mansions of Malibu
because to be eucalypts
they have to shower sometimes in hell.

The importance of good spelling

I'm still blogging at Kingdom of the Blind with my friend Adam, but I couldn't resist sharing this photo with you.

We were excited when we heard that Crust Pizza were moving in to the empty shop next door. Then we saw what the builders had spray-painted on the window:

Temporarily blogging elsewhere...

For the next two months I am embarking on an amazing artist-in-residence project for an organisation called Culture at Work. I will be blogging daily at the following blog: Kingdom of the Blind. Please feel free to drop by and comment.

Part 10 of 10: the Nelly Zhang bag is complete!

The Nelly Zhang flea market shopping bag is complete. I have to confess that it looks completely different from the original I imagined when I read Michelle de Kretser's description in The Lost Dog. Some of the changes were made because, when I bought the materials and started working with them, they seemed to lend themselves to particular shapes and forms.






The handle changed at the last minute, for practical reasons, but I am extremely pleased with this gorgeous bone buckle I found at the marvellous King Street emporium All Buttons Great and Small. I think the little eyelets I stitched are neat, too.

Now I'm off to the flea market (not at Camberwell, unfortunately. Perhaps Glebe markets this Sunday?)

Nearly the Nelly bag, part 9

Here is the Nelly Zhang bag, stitched together with the lining ready to be attached.















And here is the almost-finished bag, lined and ready. The only thing remaining is to find a buckle for the strap, to make it adjustable. That wasn't in my original plan, but I think it needs the option of being worn over the shoulder, as well as tucked into the elbow.

Wikipedia, busted

One of our family's favourite TV shows at the moment is How to Look Good Naked. Ms ND and I like Gok's no-nonsense fashion and beauty advice, and who can say why His Majesty and the Dude want to look at women in their underwear...

So, having been influenced by the Gokster, when I decided to purchase a new bra yesterday I thought I would check that I am buying the correct size by measuring my bust and starting from scratch. One reason for this was that, although I have quite happily and comfortably worn size 16C bras for years, when I needed a halterneck bra for the Fire Brigade ball last year I allowed myself to be talked into a 14D. And, although I love what the bra does to my bangers (to use a Gokism), by the end of the day my rib cage feels constricted and slightly bruised. I didn't want to make that mistake again.

So, I dutifully measured my band size (underneath the breasts) and my bust size (around the breasts) and entered the measurements into an online bra size calculator. Imagine my shock when it told me that I should be wearing a size 22AA!

I had always thought that the cup size was roughly the difference between the two measurements in inches, with one inch for A, two for B, three for C and so on. (As it turns out, this is, loosely, correct.) With four inches difference between the two measurements, I thought that would indicate a C or D cup, not a double A! As for the size 22 part...

So I went to Wikipedia to check how bra sizes are determined. The table they use is as follows:

Cup size (UK and Australia)	Cup size (rest of Europe, Canada and US)	Difference between bust size and band size (inches)	Difference (cm)
AA	AA	Less than one inch	10–12 cm
A	A	1 inch	12–14 cm
B	B	2 inches	14–16 cm
C	C	3 inches	16–18 cm
D	D	4 inches	18–20 cm
DD	DD or E	5 inches	20–22 cm
E	DDD or F	6 inches	22–24 cm
F	G	7 inches	24–26 cm
FF	H	8 inches	26–28 cm
G	I	9 inches	28–30 cm
GG	J	10 inches	30–32 cm
H	K	11 inches	32–34 cm
HH	L	12 inches	34–36 cm
J	M	13 inches	36–38 cm
JJ	N	14 inches	38–40 cm
K	NN	15 inches	40–50 cm

It's easy to see where the problem lies. The metric conversions are way off, and apparently every online bra-size calculator has used the Wikipedia data to set up their algorithm. (I have put in a request for it to be corrected.)

Just for fun, when I went into the bra store I picked up a 22B bra (the closest I could get: I don't think they even make bras in 22AA -- I have cellulite lumps bigger than those breasts would be). I tried it on, but my breasts just dropped out through the gap between the bra band and my body.

Guess what size bra I bought? 16C. Plus ca change...

Doctor who?

In today's SMH Heckler we have yet another medical professional (well, he claims to be a doctor, but doesn't give his area of specialisation) stating that hospital birth is safer than homebirth. He states this without equivocation, despite the fact that there are many studies that have shown that, in planned homebirths for healthy mothers and babies, homebirth is at least as safe as hospital birth. Not to mention that those who choose it almost always report that it's a much more pleasant experience than hospital birth.

Contrary to what Doctor Borton believes, just because I support homebirth as a choice doesn't mean that I believe the "Natural is Good" canard.* I do believe, however, in leaving well alone. Medicalising a normal (not "natural") bodily function such as birth is like using plastic surgery for cosmetic reasons: it's a choice, it's not compulsory (but when it's necessary, it's wonderful).

Years ago I saw a dermatologist about a rash that had been appearing off and on at the back of my knees. The doctor labelled it shaving rash, and when I tried to explain that it had first appeared in winter, when I hadn't shaved my legs for several months, she snapped, "I'm the doctor!" I sought a second opinion from a doctor without a god complex, who correctly diagnosed the rash, which had by then appeared on the inside of my forearms as well.

It's that kind of "I'm the doctor, you have to do what I say" attitude, as displayed by Doctor Borton, that makes me want to avoid the whole breed as much as possible. I agree with him on one point: medical science has made birth safer. It's easy to identify most health problems and potential delivery problems during the pregnancy, meaning that the correct choices can be made for delivery and perinatal care. But medical science has not made birth completely safe--babies and mothers die in hospitals too--so why insist that healthy people go there for an uncomplicated delivery?

* I like Tim Minchin's line: Do you know what they call alternative medicine that has been proven to work? Medicine.

Nelly bag, part 8

It's been a while since I picked up the needle to work on my daisy shopping bag, inspired by Nelly Zhang's in The Lost Dog.

Last night I worked the greenery at last, deciding on fishbone stitch, a version of fly stitch also known as closed fly stitch. Now the embroidery is completed and I'm ready to sew the bag together.

How do you say it?

My sister gave me a copy of a book called Origins of the Specious for my birthday last year. It's a book debunking etymological myths such as the one about "posh" standing for "port out, starboard home" and other common misconceptions, so it's right up my pedantic alley.

One section discusses the pronunciation of "schism". Apparently some Americans say "SIZ-em", which is an early modern English pronunciation, from before everyone in England started saying "SKIZ-em". This reminded my of another pronunciation question that I have never been able to settle to my satisfaction:

How do you say "schedule"?

My dad taught me to say "SKED-ule", like school, scheme, schism (!), schizophrenia, schooner, scherzo, etcetera. But one of my favourite English TV presenters, Kevin McCloud, is always worrying about whether Grand Designs homebuilders will meet their "SHED-ule"s, and the dictionary accepts both pronunciations.

I looked at a list of sch- words to see if there was a pattern, and it seems to me that most of the words with Greek and Latin origins are pronounced "SK", and the sch- is generally followed by a vowel. Whereas words of Germanic origin (schmaltz, schnapps, schadenfreude, schist, etcetera) are pronounced "SH" and often have another consonant following the sch-.

So how do YOU say schedule?

Selfish b****d

The following letter appeared in today's newspaper:

Climate? Who cares

I just realised that the important issue isn't whether or not global warming is happening, it is whether or not I care. I don't have any children and once I'm dead I doubt I will notice any change in the Earth's climate. I want the highest quality I can have while I'm here and I'm not willing to sacrifice it to be fashionable.

Christopher Pocock Mascot

He's quite happy to f**k up the planet for everyone else's children, but when he's ill or in a nursing home, I hope it's my children who say to him, "sorry that I don't want to look after you, but don't worry, I doubt you will notice once you're dead".

The high price of domestic violence

I cheered when I read this article about a woman who sued her violent husband for damages. It's not that I think $200,000 (less court costs) makes up for the abuse she suffered, it's the principle of the thing. I hope that more women do it.

I know abused women who have found the Family Court ineffective, because it is in the difficult position of taking one person's word against another's and (especially if there are children in the case) having very little in the way of teeth to enforce breaches of its orders. But a civil case, where you could lose lots of money, your livelihood, and face bankruptcy or even gaol for non-compliance, is a whole different kettle of fish.

There are probably many social and economic reasons why this precedent won't lead to a raft of similar cases, but I wish it would. I think a hit to the hip-pocket nerve would turn out to be quite effective in curbing domestic violence. If you knew that hitting your wife could very well cost you a year's wages, or your beloved V8 street machine, wouldn't you think twice before you threw a punch?

On the origin of meaning

Does evolution by natural selection rob life of a sense of purpose, as many have feared? I suggest that, on the contrary, Darwin has made it possible to understand how purpose, like life, builds from small beginnings, from the ground up.

Brian Boyd, in the Afterword to On the Origin of Stories: Evolution, Cognition and Fiction (Harvard University Press, 2009).

Internet insecurity

Today I received an email that appeared to be from Internet.Filtering@dbcde.gov.au, with the subject line Cyber-safety and internet service provider filtering [SEC=UNCLASSIFIED]. I was immediately suspicious that this was a spam email, because:

1. The main message content was in an attachment to the email (which I did not open).
2. The only email address given was a "no-reply" address.
3. The email was not addressed to me personally, nor was there any indication why I had received it. For example, I have recently signed some petitions to the government about internet filtering, but this email did not say, "You are receiving this email because you signed a petition about internet filtering" or some other such explanation.

This does not improve my trust in the government's plans for internet filtering, not one little bit. Either they have somehow had their email hijacked by a spammer, or they are spamming me! You would think that the Department of Broadband, Communications and the Digital Economy would know how to send an email securely....

New year's resolutions

I make 'em all year round... and I'm not very good at keeping 'em. This year, I refer you to my friend Shayne's blog for a list she posted from a teacher at her daughter's school.

Happy new year!

Quantum lords a-leaping

"Quantum leap" is one of the most misunderstood terms in the modern idiom. People use it to mean an enormous, almost impossible passage from one point to another, and then others complain that, because quantum theory is actually used to describe the universe at the most minuscule scales, a quantum leap is actually a very tiny step. I was one of those people, until yesterday.

I finally finished reading The Elegant Universe by Brian Greene. This marathon explanation of the workings of String Theory took me a few years to digest, mainly because I was mostly reading it in bed–and there is no cure for insomnia like a good dose of supersymmetry!

Despite regularly feeling as though I'd never wrap my brain around the concept of branes, I must have managed to absorb some fundamentals, because it occurred to me in the middle of Chapter 13 that a "quantum leap", like a four-dimensional sphere, bridges both a very short distance and a very large distance, depending on how you look at it. So the idiom as it is widely understood is actually correct, and the pedants (me included) are not wrong, but not completely right either.

Last night when I closed the cover of the book for the last time and turned out the bedside light, I dreamed of Calabi-Yau spaces. Now I've ticked that book off the list of classic texts I must read before I die, I'm not sure what's next: perhaps it's time for me to tackle Marcel Proust at last. Can anyone recommend a good English edition of Swann's Way?

Cutting off your nose...

While I'm on the subject of politicians who can't make a brave decision (*cough* Copenhagen *cough*), what's up with the Greens? I can't believe they voted against the proposed emissions trading scheme (ETS).

As my grandmother used to say, it's like "cutting off your nose to spite your face".

When John Howard begrudgingly gave us the chance to vote on whether Australia should be a republic, he framed the question so that we had to agree to a particular presidential model at the same time. So, despite the fact that more than two-thirds of Australians want to live in a republic, many of them voted "No" in the referendum because they didn't like the model that was proposed. And many of them told me, "We'll vote 'Yes' next time, when they offer us a different model".

I argued that any republic is better than no republic, and any model of presidential election is not going to please everyone. I warned several of my friends and family that there would not be a "next time": Hello! Ten years later, is there any sign of another referendum? Not even close!

This, it seems to me, is what the Greens have done with the ETS. Surely, any ETS is better than no ETS: but, no, the Greens said, "It doesn't go far enough, so we'll vote against it". What they should have done is voted for it, then campaigned for additional, stronger measures in subsequent bills.

There are an awful lot of noseless politicians around Canberra this year.

Playing politics

So, I sent off my protest against the stupid Reclaim Your Vote campaign that the Sydney Morning Herald is running. Today's newspaper claims they have collected approximately 19,500 signatures online and 3000 by mail, and the accompanying opinion piece (written by an Opposition flunky) declares this evidence of the need for a public recall option for elections in NSW. He does, however, add the following caveat:

Yes, recall elections would represent a serious constitutional change. The proportion of the population petitioning for a recall election would have to be suitably large so that interest groups are not able to hijack the political process.

Note those words, it would require a "suitably large" proportion of the population. Now, let's do some maths, kiddies:

Let x= the number of people who want to "reclaim their vote"; let y= the population of NSW. If you divide x by y and multiply it by 100, you get z= the percentage of the population who want an end to fixed terms for state pollies.

22,500 divided by 6,980,000 equals approximately 0.32 per cent.

That means a whopping 99.68 per cent want to stick with fixed terms, either because they believe it's a good system, or because they don't really care either way. What do you think, Andrew? Is 0.32 per cent a suitably large proportion to justify faffing around with the Constitution?

I agree that the current government is doing nothing for the state. I think they should suck it up, spend the next 12 months making hard, unpopular decisions that will have a lasting, positive effect on public infrastructure and social issues, then get voted out with a small shred of their dignity intact at the end of their term. I know that, instead, they will probably spend the next 12 months fighting internal faction wars and achieving nothing of importance. But I don't think that allowing a disaffected minority of the population to petition for more elections (when we can hardly be bothered to vote wisely in the ones we've got) is going to make the pollies of any stripe more accountable; I think it will make them even less likely to do anything that takes real political courage.

His Honour quoted something he'd read recently, and I'm not sure who wrote it: "The Right Wing of the Labor Party are not interested in running the state, they are only interested in running the ALP". I think that just about says it all.

Xmas tree

Here's this year's christmas tree. It's about 50cm high, with a base the size of a dinner plate. I made it out of green wool bouclé, stitched over a cardboard cone. Giant gold rick-rack stands in for a strand of tinsel. The star is a pale creamy-gold printed cotton fabric stuck to a cardboard template, with the edges turned under: I made two and whip-stitched them together around the edges.

The green bouclé fabric remnant was 2.5m x 140cm wide; so I've got more than two metres left over. I think it might make a nice winter skirt, but there's probably enough fabric for two or three skirts. Who wants the leftovers?