What started as vignette has turned into a full-blown story! I'm having a lot of fun writing this North and South alternative story, coming up with ideas, getting into the characters' heads. On to Chapter 8 at the moment and I have a few ideas on how to wrap it all up, but I could drag it out for a little while yet!

But away from message boards and North and South, I finally had a decent-lengthed holiday - my first since NZ in August-September 2004. Still went to a cool climate place, this time it was Tasmania. Decided that I wanted to do something a bit more adventurous so I signed up for a guided walking and camping tour (with Tasmanian Expeditions/Craiclair) down the Overland Track. It's probably the most famous track in Tassie, if not Australia, around 80km through the mountainous heart of the island. To be honest I wasn't very well prepared physically but I knew that Tasmanian weather can be fickle so I didn't expect sunshine all the time. It turned out that I got all sorts of weather - storms, showers, hail, sleet, and (thankfully) sunshine. The track, although not impossibly difficult, was interesting to say the least because a wet spring had made it into one big bog! But despite all this I had a lot of fun and although I had to take things very slowly at times I didn't once want to quit. The landscape was stunning and varied - Tasmania is like no other place on earth! Afterwards I chilled in the sunniest, warmest place in Tassie - its north-east coast!

So now Christmas is just 3 days away and I wish everyone a good one. Don't get up to anything too silly will you?

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The Finn Brothers came back to Sydney to do series of shows at the Opera House. Of course, I couldn't miss it. It was one of the best Finn-related gigs I've been to, the best probably the Crowded House farewell concert that happened just outside an incredible 9 years ago. There was a high content of Crowded House and Split Enz (the Enz having been inducted in the Australian music hall of fame the night before), and the band was as tight as I'd ever heard them. But the magic seemed to come from Paul Hester's spirit that lingered in the room. It was especially poignant when Neil and his Maton (literally unplugged) led the faithful in a stirring rendition of "Four Seasons in One Day". The emotion was tangeable.

R.I.P. Paul.

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The Armitage Army is an aptly named troop of (female) fans who are most appreciative of the Armitage Smoulder. Most members discovered "RA" last November when North and South first premiered on BBC1 in the UK, but there are some Aussie lurkers like me around. The Armitage Army board is a good place to share my obsession, ahem, enthusiasm for the man and his works. Plenty of spirited discussions on the virtues of the patron e.g. Why our man should be cast as the next Bond (he can do cool and sophisticated and is very sexy) or should replace Matthew MacFadyen as Mr. Darcy in the upcoming film adaptation (Matthew may be able to brood but RA is an expert smoulderer).

Needless to say, the board and other fan sites are a gold mine for all things Armitage. There is even some North and South fan fiction (some very good), although not in the quantities that a long-running series such as the" X-Files" generates. Yes, I was once an X-Phile, even having a (not so competent) go at writing XF fanfic myself. Now, I'm not quite obsessed enough with RA and "North and South" to start writing fanfic, but ask again in a month's time and I might have changed my mind!

Strangely enough, Richard himself is flattered and quite appreciative of his new fans, even sending out the odd message. Sweet, sweet man... Now, to get myself off to London!

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Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë, North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell, Persuasion by Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (of course).

There's a mystique about the 19th Century and the works of its female authors that is very enduring. I love the language of these novels - complex, fluid, concise and heartfelt. The plots may vary but the common thread through all of these novels is the heroine - women of strength, intelligence and compassion who are catalysts of change. It's no surprise that they attracted the attention of the odd admirer!

Of course, these novels wouldn't be complete without an element of romance, the more repressed the better! Who wouldn't like a Mr. Darcy to cast intense glances at them across the drawing room? Some might find the lack of action dull but the unresolved nature of these relationships is what makes it fun!

A film/TV adaptation also goes hand in hand with a good story. Watching a good adaptation can often spurn an interest in an obscure novel as much as a good novel creates an interest in its adaptation. The BBC usually does a good job of adapting period novels and I look forward to every series that is aired. Films are a bit more hit and miss but can be fun. All of my favourites novels have had at least one good adaptation made of them. My firm favourite is of course the 1995 BBC version of "Pride and Prejudice". My family can testify to my years of watching Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth dance across the screen!

However, my current obsession is North and South. It's Jane Austen with grunt! Margaret Hale is our well-bred young heroine from the South, venturing into the uncouth terrain of the North, where she meets our brilliant but lower-classed hero, mill-owner John Thornton. Thornton may be a bit dodgy at the beginning (cold, heartless and prone to the occasional shouting match and punch-up), but he eventually mellows under the influence of our heroine. Margaret started a little naive but her intelligence, grit and compassion shone through. She was of course in denial for about 90% of the story but after almost 400 pages/4 episodes she eventually saw the light! When resolution finally came (and a surprisingly sweet and gentle resolution it was) I had to let out a long, satisfactory sigh. And of course re-watch the scene over again!

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All of this is wonderful, but doesn't really compare to the view from the little New Zealand town of Kaikoura. On the South Island and half way between Christchurch and Picton, it is where the mighty Southern Alps meets the even mightier Pacific Ocean. I had to pinch myself periodically to make sure I wasn't dreaming because the view was so postcard-perfect!

While I was in town I stayed at the peaceful Sunrise Lodge, where I was able to dash across the railway line to the adjacent pebbly beach to watch the sun rise over the ocean, gradually move across the sky to set behind the mountains. The combination of warm sun, crashing waves and surreal view makes a lazy afternoon sunbathing on the beach just perfect. No wonder Brent and Lynda, the owners of "Sunrise", sympathised with me when I had to leave their little oasis. What's a view of concrete compared to a 360 degree panorama of mountains and sea?

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I woke up at 5.30am and got on the 6.40 train to be at morning prayer by 7.30! Although I nearly fell asleep in parts (quite reminiscent of those early frosty morning walks from our dorms to the church in Taizé itself) by the time prayer ended I was calm, inside and out, and strangely awake! I could face the day ahead with confidence. I like this! You see, most of the time I experience Taizé prayer it has been away from 'real' life, at retreats or one-off special events. To actually experience it in the middle of my life is so enriching. I love it!

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If you care to search on-line you will find a multitude of sites catering for knitters: discussion groups, on-line yarn shops, how-to pages for beginners, and archives of patterns. Celebrity actresses who knitted between takes apparently started the current fad, but how and why did I start?

I first learned to knit in primary school when I was 8 or 9. It was a class activity and although I didn't get any further than basic garter stitch I remembered being rather frustrated with my rather holey scarf! I took the craft up again once or twice over the years, the last time being while the residents of a boarding house for people with mental illnesses. I knitted a doorstop cover with Marge, a lovely old lady who was sweet and gave lots of hugs as well as teaching me how to do a stocking stitch! However, I have never knitted with so much fervour as in the last few months.

Since moving out by myself I've watched a ridiculous amount of bad television and always had a feeling that I should be doing something more constructive with my downtime. I saw an acquaintance knitting a fluffy scarf and thought that that was a good thing to be doing in front of the TV. Since my mother was still a basic knitter like myself, I decided to learn from a book and was surprised at the number of publications in the store that were modern. The book I ended up buying had easy patterns for mobile phone covers, beer holders and halter-tops as well as the obligatory scarf, beanie and mittens. I knitted a scarf in fluffy blue and grey yarn, several mobile phone covers and coin purses as gifts and several beanie hats (it took me a few tries to get the pattern right).

After getting the hang of things, knitting is a surprisingly calming, meditative activity. It is also very practical and people are always happy to receive a knitted gift. I've got a stockpile of warm things for the coming winter but there are still a few more things I'd like to try out. Next, woollen slippers!

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The shock of cold
After a dusty walk
The water breaks
Ripples as I breaststroke
To the pool's centre

The bush an amphitheatre
As cicadas sing
Lizards bask
And I tread water
With the tadpoles

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The weather warms
The summer comes
Flickering screens
Can't restrain my mind
From wandering free
Towards the shore
Of the Tasman Sea
Where freedom awaits

Eight days till Christmas
Ragged carols in bussle
Do not brissle
With the sun overhead
Its feel on my skin
Is so divine
Reminds me of
The sand and surf ahead

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I don't actually recall these events but I've seen plenty of photos as evidence and I can remember bits and pieces of a few Indonesian nursery rhymes. These songs have now intermingled with those I learned in Australia later on. Isn't it funny how 15 years down the track I can perfectly recall the lyrics to John Farnham's "You're the Voice" (No. 1 in 1986) while I struggle to remember the latest Radiohead didley, even if they are my favourite band? Songs in those days seem so powerful and are able to stick in my memory for a lifetime - possibly because I sang them a million times a day.

I loved and still love to sing. As a child I'd even sing myself to sleep. Even though my guitar playing eventually dominated my singing (I play more often than I sing now) singing remains my first love. It is a release, a form of self-expression that I can never do without. When I hit "the zone" and sing a note so perfectly so that it resonates through my whole body I am happy. When I sing a song that I am able to bond with so that it becomes my story I am happy. When I am able to sing and connect with those who are listening I am happy. Singing is therefore more than just a skill - it is a truly spiritual experience.

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Each had a different flavour. The England v. South Africa match was a defensive (hence rather dull) affair. Rolling mauls and a dozen penalties doesn't really make for compulsive viewing. France v. Japan was much more entertaining - lots of attacking and plenty of tries on both sides (quite impressed with the Japanese actually) - but I liked watching the New Zealand v. Canada game the best. Alright, 68 - 6 isn't the closest scoreline in the world but the All Blacks' exciting running and passing game and the overdose of tries was never dull. OK, I admit there was another reason as to why the game was so compelling and it's more to do with tight black tops than tackling.

I'm not usually the type of girl who watches sport for eye candy. When I watch football it's usually for the game and the display of skills, Real Madrid games being the exception (Becks, Raul and Figo are very easy on the eyes). As for the other football codes, although AFL is full of tall, strapping men I haven't the patience to learn the baffling rules. Apart from Anthony Minichiello, I don't find any of the league guys particularly attractive either, and rugby blokes as big as houses with no neck don't really appeal. Well, last weekend I found that rugby could be very attractive.

Although the no-neck forwards aren't much to look at, the back line was something else. Take the All Blacks back line, for example. With their snug-fitting black jerseys they look a million dollars compared to the scrappy Wallabies in their baggy canary yellow. Add to that the way these guys zoom about, throwing lightning-fast passes and it makes for an exhilarating game. In the middle of the action is the main attraction, Carlos Spencer. Man, Minichiello is a schoolboy compared to Carlos who as well as being absolutely gorgeous has also a ton more class and skill - he's the one instigating most of those exciting moves! No matter what the rest of the team is doing, I think I can watch this man for days on end. Pity he's engaged, probably to the disgust of the whole NZ female population. So stuff national loyalty, I'm cheering on the All Blacks! And Carlos, of course.

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"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practise resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion." - Henry David Thoreau, "Walden".

For two years Thoreau lived in the woods by himself in a rough shack he had built, eating mainly food that he cultivated with his own hands. His observations in "Walden" are still relevant, even though so many years have gone by. Although the industrial revolution was still in its infancy and the railways have yet to span across the continent, Thoreau could already see that the pace of life was increasing. He observed his contemporaries, how hard they worked, how difficult a life they led, saw the riches they accumulated and thought, "What is it all for?" Thoreau had the sense to take a step back and attempt to find a life that suited him, not what suited society. People thought he was a bit of a nutter, of course - even today there aren't many who would see sense in going off into the woods for two years - how would they ever cope with the solitude and impending loneliness? But Thoreau wasn't lonely. He entertained the occasional visitor that passed his way, whether they'd be friends or strangers. He worked in his fields, cultivating his beans. He read and wrote. By living quietly he was able to intimately experience nature. His description of the wildlife, the woods, the pond, the change of seasons that took place in his corner of New England is wondrous and reminded of my summer at the Hudson Valley camp.

That summer I experienced a little bit of Thoreau, living in "rustic" surroundings. My home was a small, wooden shack shared with 3 other counselors. The bathroom was a short walk away through the woods and we had daily visits from wild turkeys, deers, squirrels and raccoons. I may not be able to live so self-sufficient, so solitary a lifestyle, but Thoreau has inspired me to think outside the box when it comes to life, think about what gives me meaning a stand by it. Now if only George Dubya took some of Thoreau's advice…

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Naturally, I wandered down to HMV the next day and got their CD. HMV is the most dangerous shop in Sydney for me - too many temptations and with every planned purchase I usually walk out with something unplanned. This time around it was Björk's Greatest Hits CD. I haven't really listened to her stuff since her second album "Post" so there were plenty of new songs for me. She is so unique (to the point of weirdness) and utterly fearless in her creativity and emotions. Listening to "All is Full of Love" and "Jóga" for the first time nearly brought me to tears and my old favourites "Hyperballad" and "Play Dead" still sound fresh after all these years. I saw her mum on "Foreign Correspondent" the other night on a special about Iceland. She is a conservationist campaigning against the destruction of Iceland's vast wilderness. That's one place I'd like to visit one day. No wonder Björk's (and for that matter fellow Icelandics Sigur Rós) music is so rich and expansive when she has volcanoes, glaciers, geysers and the like as inspiration.

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