Life Is Good. Especially In The Dark. And Underwater.

1. I went night diving yesterday evening and Oh. My. God. It was marvellous. Wonderful. Splendid. Fantastic. Generally Jolly Good.

Its amazing how much breathing through a hose in the pitch black focuses the mind.

And it is beautiful down there at night. Really, quite indescribably lovely.

Peaceful – with only the sounds of your own bubbles and with every movement made in graceful slow motion, trailing phosphorescence.

So, what did I see in the sweeping beam of my underwater torch? Crested horn sharks, wobbegong (or carpet) sharks, yellowtail barracuda, red morwong, octopus, cuttlefish, cardinalfish, bullseyes and even some anemones with their bright red tentacles out.

I didn’t have my camera, but here are some other photos* of the creatures mentioned above, since they are, I expect, none of them immediately recognisable to non-Sydney divers.

So, above is the crested horn shark…

this chap is the spotted wobbegong or carpet shark… for obvious reasons…

Barracuda are recognisable anywhere with that underslung jawline…

Octopus, however, are masters of disguise and are almost as unexpected as the Spanish Inquisition…

Cuttlefish are my favourites. Any creature which can change the colour of its own body and flash lights along its sides, not to mention having an expression like that, earns my respect…

And those guys are the red morwong, who look to me as though a child painted them, which makes me smile. No mean feat when you have a regulator clamped between your jaws, believe me.

So, night-diving: if there is a better way to spend Thursday evenings, I don’t know what it is.

2. This afternoon I have been ’storyboarding’ (i.e. drawing up concepts for) a new children’s book about Leonardo da Vinci. If there is a better way to spend a Friday afternoon, I don’t know what it is.

3. Tomorrow I will be baby sitting for 4-month old Hugo in Balmain, which is one of Sydney’s more relaxed and artsy quarters, accessible by ferry from my house. If there is a better way to spend a Saturday, I don’t know what it is.

*Obviously, those photos were all taken during the day, but you get the idea…

Sculpture and Pregnant Women by the Sea

The weekend before last I went to Nelson Bay with friends – 2 of the women in the photo above used to work with me, 2 of them still do and 2 of them are pregnant.

That is beginning to sound rather like one of those dreadful questions from a GCSE Maths exam. “Which of the women has the most oranges? Explain the formula below.”

We walked along the beach, had a delicious brunch, chatted and watched ‘Footloose’.

Last weekend I joined about eleventy-squillion other people – including my mate Running Accountant and his heavily pregnant partner – for a walk along the sea front between Bondi Beach and Coogee, as part of the annual ‘Sculpture by the Sea’ exhibition. This year, there was even a sculpture in the sea, much to my delight. Oh, how we pointed and chortled.

The two weekends were both enlivened by the presence of pregnancy. Sydney is currently in the misleadingly soft maternal grip of an unprecedented baby-boom, apparently.

I, however, am still single and the closest I’ll be coming to having a baby anytime soon is being able to borrow one (I mean, er, babysit), which I’m doing for 3 month-old Hugo this coming weekend while his parents are sailing.

How To Get A Job In Publishing

Lately I have seen a lot of CVs* from people looking for work with our company. We make illustrated reference books for the international trade publishing market, as I’ve no doubt mentioned before, and, since the bottom has dropped out of said market worldwide, there are plenty of people seeking employment in the sector as editors or designers.

If you’re one of them, let me give you a few tips.

1. In answer to the question “Why do you want this job/want to work in publishing?”, do NOT reply “Because I love books!” This is the answer most guaranteed to make any reputable Publisher roll their eyes heavenward and strike you off the list of possible candidates with ruthless speed and efficiency. Why?

Well, its like telling a professional nanny that you love children, or enthusing to a vintner about how you love booze. Everyone knows that there are pleasant children and little monsters, just as there are excellent wines and shocking plonk. Similarly, there are good books and there is a load of complete trash which should be pulped by any right-minded person because its quality is so appallingly poor.

Discriminating taste – in any field – is a virtue. Exhibit it.

2. The publishing industry is dominated by women. So, when you arrive for an interview, do NOT wear a short skirt, a low-cut blouse and make-up applied with a trowel**. Sex may sell books… but not to female Publishers. Being more attractive than your colleagues is not going to endear you to anyone.

Nor should you rush headlong to the other extreme and ‘go corporate’. A severely tailored skirt-suit and heels will simply make it obvious that we can’t afford you. Publishing pays badly (which, in my opinion, is why it is dominated by women. The same goes for the charity sector and nursing). You need to look reasonably smart, but as though your real worth is in your head, not down your blouse.

Fashion magazine publishing is the exception to this rule. There, you need to be wearing an outfit 10 years too young and 2 sizes too small for you. And if you can’t so much walk as totter in it, even better.

3. When preparing your CV or resumé, you will score extra points by formatting it in InDesign or another publishing program. Quark is now a little old-fashioned, but you’ll probably still get away with it. Just as long as its obvious you didn’t just type it out into Microsoft Word using Times New Roman or – horror of horrors – Comic Sans MS.

You don’t need to over-design it: style is a matter of individual taste, after all, and unless you are comprehensively familiar with the preferred design style of the firm to whom you are applying, don’t risk it.

Lastly – and this ought to go without saying but, sadly, doesn’t – triple, nay, quadruple check your CV for typos, spelling mishaps and grammatical errors. Yes, even if you’re applying for a design rather than editorial role – being a ‘creative’ is no excuse for poor syntax or a lousy vocabulary in this industry.

Good luck.

 

* Curriculum Vitae or resumé. What? Latin or French, take your pick.

** Especially if you’re male.

How Dare He?

I have just been shouted at by a senior* colleague.

Really, actually yelled at. In front of his two staff – at least one of whom is fairly regularly yelled at, I’m told.

I walked away and came back to my desk.

It made him look childish and unreasonable, and I hope I retained my dignity by refusing to stoop to shouting back… tempting though it was.

I’m more angry than upset, but should I:

a) apologise for walking out but explain that I won’t stay to be yelled at in the workplace

b) forget it

or

c) tell the boss – who is away on leave this week?

 

* senior in the sense that he is older than me and has been here longer, but he is in Sales and I’m in Creative, so I don’t report to him in any way. And I’m pretty senior myself.

OMG OMG OMG

Ohmigod, my brother and sister-in-law, parents of my adorable niece Beatrice, have undergone a second successful IVF cycle and are now expecting not one but TWO babies in June.

Ohmigod.

Twins.

Oh. My. Gawd.

My New Most Favourite Thing To Do In a Wetsuit

Ever been canyoning? Nor had I, until yesterday. As of now it is absolutely my Most Favourite Thing in the whole world bar none.

My canyoning buddy was Tim, partner of one of my friends at work and general all-round Good Chap. He’s the ideal person to do this kind of thing with: he has all the kit, he’s fit and capable without having anything to prove and he explains things exceptionally clearly and then doesn’t fuss while you get your head around it.

Also, while he can hold an interesting conversation, he doesn’t chatter incessantly – he’s quite comfortable with silence unless he has something to say.

Canyoning involves trekking – with ropes, wetsuit and harness – to the entry point and then abseiling down the cliff to the river which has cut the canyon, where you alternately swim and scramble down stream to the exit point. Then you haul out and trek back up to where you left your car… and your dry clothes, if you’ve any sense.

“Hey Tim, this is like hiking in bondage gear with a water fetish” I said, as we made our way along the track, clad in neoprene and with harnesesses securely fastened round our nether regions.

“Yeah” he said, and grinned.

I hadn’t abseiled before so while we were hiking to the canyon entry point he demonstrated how to attach the various ropes and metal bits and then let me practice a couple of times on some rock steps.

It’s pretty simple, really.

Our entry point was a tree growing out of the canyon wall, above a waterfall. The cliff dropped steeply below it with a little overhang and the walls were obviously very slippery because of the water, so it was just tricky enough to be challenging for him without being so tricky that it was beyond the enthusiastic but untested novice.

I can’t describe how quietly beautiful it was down there, with crystal clear water sparkling in the rays of sunshine which reached us from far above, and no sounds other than our own splashing.

My god, the water was cold in the swim-through pools at the bottom of the canyon though!

I saw my first superb lyrebird, as well as several large orange freshwater yabbies.  The waratahs were in bloom all over the hillsides, too.

[Those are not my photos - I didn't have my camera with me, rather stupidly]

All in all, a perfect Sunday. Even if I did have to get up at 5.30 after a late night at a friend’s Hallowe’en party dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow.

Cat Doppel-Gängers, Rules for Life and Publishing Deadlines

1. On my walk home from work in the evening I trundle along a little street of beautiful ‘Federation style’ detached houses with mature gardens and terribly smart, shiny cars in the driveways.

One of the houses has a brick wall, about 5 feet high and painted white, at the front, atop which usually sits a large black and white cat. If the cat is not sitting on the wall it is almost invariably sitting on the bonnet of one of the nice cars – presumably recently parked and therefore still pleasantly warm to a generously proportioned furry underside.

Every evening I stop briefly to pet this cat, who always gets up politely to say hello.

Last night, I turned the corner into this street, looked left and, sure enough, there was ‘my’ cat on the wall. Then I looked right, too, and, wait, what? There it was again, on the car.

Huh? Magic cat? Two places at once? Optical illusion caused by light refracting off the shiny BMWs? Or a reflection, somehow, with like, physics and stuff?

For several seconds I actually considered these explanations seriously as I walked forward but no, turns out there are actually two, very similar, black and white cats at this house. Maybe even siblings.

Of course.

Talk about the brain over-complicating one’s life…

2. I have devised a new Rule For Life which will become law as soon as I am made Empress of the World, which can’t be far off now, surely…?

Men, when seated, should always have their knees wider apart than their ankles. The opposite is true for women.

3. I often wish I had Douglas Adams’ insouciance when it comes to the stress of a rapidly-approaching deadline.

“I love deadlines”, he famously said, “I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by.”

As it is, I confess I am just a teensy bit anxious about whether all the art, photos and text for this MASSIVELY IMPORTANT FLAGSHIP CHILDREN’S LIST SERIES will, in fact, be in, edited, reviewed and approved by Friday.

I need a sandwich-board sign and a handbell:

The End of The Week is Nigh!

 

The Most Boring Book Ever In The History Of The World, and other rants

1. This morning I had to check the plotters (by which I mean printer’s proofs, in sections, folded in the order they will be bound into the book) on our 512 page book on Weather.

Good thing the scalpels are several feet away and that the book had stupified me so deeply into lethargy that I couldn’t be bothered to get up and reach for one, or I might have taken my own life. As it was, I had to content myself with banging my forehead on the desk a few times and groaning.

I mean, yes, okay, illustrations of the various types of cloud can be quite interesting. But no, really, I do not give the most arse-waggingly remote of tosses about maps showing the prevailing winds and average precipitation levels for every region of the entire bloody planet. And I care even less now, having first commissioned the illustrations, then checked them, re-reviewed the amended versions, double-checked the CRA-ready files, triple-checked the proofs from Repro and now been faced with the same dull buggers yet again.

2. Spring is here, and more flesh is currently on display in Sydney than is decent. In my opinion.

Look, I know its sunny but if you’re over 25, less gazelle than wildebeest, and you have to walk up stairs in public at any point during your day, DO NOT wear a mini skirt.

I have no desire to see your wobbly thighs and dimpled bum cheeks ahead of me as I climb the steps by the bridge on my walk to work.

3. Please do not water my plants. I will water my plants. They are my responsibility. They are on my desk and outside my window. They are succulents: I know how much water they need and I provide it. If you water them as well, you will kill them. And then I will kill you.

Oh alright, I won’t kill you, but I will be very cross.

A Quick Vox Pop

Okay, folks, I need your help.

We’re in the early stages of development on a new series of books for adults – pocket sized illustrated guides on a range of subjects.

Here is the proposed list of subjects. Which titles would you buy? Please choose your top 10.

aborigines

ancient china

ancient egypt

ancient greece

ancient rome

architecture

astrology

aviation

barbarians

big cats

birds of prey

buddhism

cars

castles

cathedrals

christianity

cinema

civil rights

clippers

codes

communism

cowboys

democracy

deserts

dinosaurs

early civilisations

earthquakes

elephants

evolution

exploration

first humans

fishing

forensic science

ghosts

global warming

greek myths

heraldry

hurricanes

impressionism

islam

jazz

judaism

king arthur

longitude

medicine

modern art

moon

mountains

mozart

norse myths

native americans

picasso

planets

prehistoric life

railways

rainforests

renaissance

revolutions

rivers

sacred sites

shakespeare

sharks

shipwrecks

skyscrapers

space travel

stars

sun

troy

vampires

vikings

volcanoes

weather

whales

writing

And, at the risk of adding to our present predicament, do you have any other suggestions for topics we’ve missed?

One caveat: they need to have international appeal as our books are translated and sold in 42 languages.

Back off bitch

You know how some girls are scarier than others? I have a well-developed radar when it comes to such people and I do not, EVER, intentionally annoy them.

Alright, not until I know them well enough to judge how much damage they can do, anyway.

On Saturday night I toddled along to a pub I’d never even heard of before, in a harbourside suburb I had never visited (other than running through it on the City to Surf course a few months ago, which hardly counts since I was not paying a great deal of attention to the ambiance for obvious reasons), for the birthday celebration of a new friend, Bondi Brunette.

BB and I hit it off the moment we were introduced by our mutual male friend, Not-So-Vanilla IT Guy, and most of her friends who were there on Saturday night were equally lovely. I had a wonderful night.

One of the girls, however, did that thing of subtly looking me up and down as we shook hands and then pretty much ignoring me. “Fine”, I thought, “You clearly don’t like me for whatever reason. No problem.”

Then she bumped into a group of guys while going to the bar. She’d apparently had a one-night-stand with one of them several years ago – they’re all from similar school and college circles – and mentioned this fact when she rejoined us.

“So, is he hot? Is there any potential there?” we all asked.

“Oh no. I’m not going to hook up with him again. Definitely not. He’s drunk.”

Leaving aside the fact that its a bar, so yeah, people are going to be more or less inebriated, okay. You’re not interested in him. Understood.

A little later we all shifted into the main bar area and were introduced to the group of guys.

“Oh-oh”, methinks, “I bet that this tall interesting-looking fair-haired guy is the one that the girl who doesn’t like me has the history with. That would absolutely be just my luck.”

I was right. It was indeed he. A little tipsy but very funny and, if I’m not very much mistaken, trying to flirt with lil’ old me. As we laughed and leant close to speak into each other’s ears (it was pretty loud in there) I was aware of hostile eyes boring into my skull. Goodness, if looks could kill…

So, I backed off. Right off. In fact, so far off that I left abruptly and early, without making any effort to get his number or giving him chance to ask for mine.

I’m an idiot, I know…