rugby

Better Red Than Dead

While the rest of the species is descended from apes, redheads are descended from cats. - Mark Twain

Yesterday afternoon, yet again, the bathroom masqueraded as the finest hair salon in town, as Kate On Limited Cash did some thoughtful grey hair coverage, chatted to herself about what she was up to on the weekend (working), what she thought about the budget (nothing that bears repeating in polite company), and how excited she was about the current Wallabies squad, which her stylist completely understood because it was, after all, her. It's quite nice being your own hairstylist at times. You talk about the things that interest you.

Later on, the exclusive salon closely resembled the customary bloodbath/shower scene from Psycho, because let's face it, you don't go red without a little bit of...

Mess.

Who am I kidding.

Buffalo Bill could have been in there crooning 'it puts the lotion in the basket, it puts the lotion IN THE BASKET, yes it does, doesn't it Precious' and making himself an entire new prom dress, and nobody would have noticed. It was a copper-tinged Armageddon.

Naturally I arose like an auburn Phoenix at the end of this process, and promptly posted proof to all forms of social media, complete with new specs, which allowed me to see that I had adequately covered the yuck grey under the red, and that black and white was a better photo option than colour for those who might find very pale skin and red hair a bit challenging with their dinnertime glass of cab sauv.

For those who say that redheads are satanic, this should be adequate proof that we are, in fact, on the side of the angels.

Why do redheads get such a bad rap? Some of the most fabulous women ever to grace the annals of the ages have been rangas; and yes, I am going to mention our first female Prime Minister, because like her or loathe her, she did make history. Lucille Ball. Carol Burnett. Margaret Sanger, who lived to see the birth control pill legalised. Cleopatra (yes, really). Bernadette Peters. Emily Dickinson. My darling Katharine Hepburn. Emma Stone. And of course...

Elizabeth I. Gloriana. She may have only had the body of a woman, but by God she made mischief for a hell of a lot of men's hearts and stomachs.

Redheads rock. They rock. Every single redhead I know has a temper that could shake the trees - but not one of them sulks. They are cynics, but they get a joke faster than anyone else I know. They are generous. They are kind. They are fiercely, fiercely loyal, to their friends and their partners.

And they wear a little black dress like a panther prowling through a roomful full of prey.

Lucille Ball said 'Once in his life, every man is entitled to fall madly in love with a gorgeous redhead.'

This is true.

If he's very lucky, she'll fall in love right back.

Purr.

Fox In Socks

“Being soaked alone is cold. Being soaked with your best friend is an adventure.”

— Emily Wing Smith, Back When You Were Easier To Love

So. I am living in Queensland, yes? Yes. And in theory, that means several things. Slower voices. Strange words like 'port' for suitcase. A sudden overwhelming urge to support the Reds in the Super 15s. Banana bending. (Just kidding, large mob of angry Queenslanders coming towards me with pitchforks). Endemic to where I am living, of course, lots and lots of fake tan, fake hair and fake boo- uh... body parts.

And I assumed, glorious, glorious warm weather. Sunshiny days. Mild evenings. A winter of blissful non-frostbitey 'ha-has' to my Southern sisters.

Yes. In theory... yes.

There is no denying that the people watching is amazing around these parts. It's a veritable smorgasbord of 'come as you are, or perhaps as you always wanted to be, but didn't have the guts to be anywhere else'. I feel bewilderingly normal, and thus stand out like a sore thumb, because I have no image. None. I need to develop one, but as everything I have seen so far involves heavy body inking, tandoori tanning, bleaching and/or inserting of silicone, it might take a while and involuntary anaesthesia before it happens.

As for the weather?

Hmmmmmmm.

I arrived back home Sunday night from an unexpected weekend away, and it was, as our lovely pilot cheerfully informed us, eight degrees. Apparently the night before it had been four; the second coldest night in Gold Coast history.

This is not what I signed up for.

My ugg boots were supposed to stay firmly in the back of the wardrobe; I was only to pull my coat out of same wardrobe when going to more southerly climes - I actually gave away the more substantial layers of style that composed the House of Kate. Winter? Winter, to misquote A Game Of Thrones, was not coming.

Last night I actually had to put socks on. This will not do.

I would like Queensland to get its act together please, and turn on the sunlamps. OK, so I may be the palest person on the planet, and my skin tone may somewhat resemble a speckled trout's tummy, but that is beside the point; I like to feel warm whilst I am sitting in my straw hat and thirty plus. You can be sun smart and smugly happy at the same time.

You may well ask, as I have just spent the last zillion paragraphs whinging, where the gratitude is in this post.

It's quite simple really.

It may be a touch frostier than I was expecting up here in the not so sunshiney state, but when it comes down to it, I am massively lucky. Unlike a hell of a lot of Australians, I am sleeping in a lovely warm bed, and if I need to, I can grab as many extra covers as I want to put on said bed. I have, for that matter, a warm coat.

If you want to get down to brass tacks, I have socks.

Things are a bit rough for me health wise at present, and it has made me more than usually aware of a few things. Every time I think about what I don't have, I am constantly reminded of what I do have. It makes me feel humble, and grateful, and very, very thankful despite all of my groaning and moaning about feeling a slight chilliness in the air, and I know how trivial my complaints are compared to what so many people are facing on a day to day basis - simply trying to survive.

I don't wish to sound preachy, but if you are lucky enough to be a 'have' this winter, take a moment to be grateful, and think about the 'have nots' - and actively do something to help.

You may just find the sun will come out if you do.