Apologies to Kermit the Frog for hijacking the title of his well-known lament, but in the past few weeks there have been times that I have found it a little frustrating being Australian. (NB: Green and Gold are Australian sporting colours)

Now before other patriotic Aussies report me to the Meat Pie and Vegemite Brigade, I want to say that I love living in Australia. Where I live on the east coast it is particularly magnificent – within 10 minutes I could be at the Lake, in less than 30 minutes I could be at any one of a dozen different beaches. Within an hour I could be in the scenic Hunter Valley sampling some world class wines or relaxing on the Central Coast and in less than 2 hours I can be in Sydney. What’s not to love?!

BUT despite the fact that I live in such a fantastic country, it is hard to deny that Australia is, as so eloquently stated by one of our ex-Prime Ministers, at the “arse end of the world”. (Actually, I think he may have said Australia is the arse end of the world, but I choose to paraphrase).

Aside from some passing language difficulties (more on that another time), the time difference between Australia and the US and UK is a source of great frustration. I always seem to be signing off from Twitter just as others are greeting their tweeps and warming up for the day.

There have been some great discussions launched on Twitter and I always seem to miss them, although I was lucky enough to come online to catch the last half of the recent #BEAtwittyparty hosted by Rebecca at The Book Lady’s Blog.

I’ve also been stewing in my own envy with the regular updates from Book Expo America from Amy (My Friend Amy), Natasha (Maw Books) and Trish (Hey Lady! Whatcha Readin’?). As supportive as my husband is, I don’t think he’s going to let me charge a ticket to New York so that I can attend a book fair. *sigh*

I’m also half a day off with the daily posts like Booking Through Thursday and so on. While everyone else gets the whole day to think about it, but I’m already in the middle of making the evening meal for my family when it is posted.

Oh well, I guess being slightly out of step time-wise with the rest of the world is the price we pay for living in the Land Down Under.

To take my mind off my time-lapse frustrations, add a comment with your favourite thing about the Sunburnt Country.

A recent stroll down the confectionary aisle at the supermarket had me reminiscing on favourite chocolates from my youth.

The stagger down memory lane was triggered by the sight of a Nestle Aero bar. I can remember giving one of these to a friend when they first came on the market in Australia. Unfortunately he wasn’t home when Meredith and I tried to deliver it to him, so we left it tucked into the security door of his house on a hot summer’s day. By the time he got home, all the “bubbles of nothing” that are supposed to melt on your tongue had gathered at one end of the wrapper. Not good.

In my early twenties, I remember buying a Mars Bar and a can of Coke as a pick-me-up on Saturday mornings when I had to start work early. Hey, give me a break. I don’t drink coffee so I had to get some caffeine into my system somehow.

Kit-Kat, Bounty Bars, Mint Patties, Cadbury Furry Friends – not quite the “erotic chocolate box” that Meredith was promised in the back cover blurb of Lee Tulloch’s The Woman in the Lobby, but some fond memories nevertheless.

Do you have a favourite chocolate bar from your childhood or youth? Something that brings back memories of a simpler time when you didn’t know about nasty things like calories and cholesterol?

On Sunday morning I had a brief panic attack as I contemplated the afternoon ahead with Croc Stars bringing their mobile reptile display to my son’s tenth birthday party. I wasn’t worried about having a snake, crocodile and other reptiles in my home but the thought of a house full of 10-year-old boys hyped up on party food was more than a little terrifying.

As it turned out, I needn’t have worried. Before the boys had enough time to commit any serious mayhem, Derek Ingham from Croc Stars arrived with a python, a blue-tongued lizard, a shingle-backed lizard, a rather charming crocodile and an eastern long-necked turtle named Stinky.

The reptile display was awesome. All the kids got a chance to touch each of the reptiles and Derek’s presentation was fun as well as informative. We had a mixture of boys and girls at the party aged from five to ten and they were all fascinated. The kids had a great time, especially my son who got to be Derek’s assistant since he was the birthday boy.

I think that the reptile display was fantastic and Derek certainly kept the kids attention for the whole hour he was at our home. Meredith isn’t quite so enthusiastic in her praise, since her daughter came home from the party armed with the information that she is now old enough to apply for a reptile licence.

So, not only did I keep the kids entertained (well, Derek did but I organised for him to come to the party, so I get to claim at least part of the credit), I also managed to annoy Meredith (an unexpected side benefit) AND I finished the party off by presenting the most amazing reptile swamp cake to fit in with the reptile party theme. I baked the cake and my eight-year-old daughter and five-year-old son did the decorations.

Both Meredith and I have recently had our kids (and ourselves) entertained at local shopping centres by Croc Stars, a mobile reptile display business based on the Central Coast.

After seeing Derek and Karen Ingham and their pets at the Newcastle Mall a few months ago, I booked them to come and entertain the kids at my son’s tenth birthday party. I figured I could use the threat of feeding any troublemakers to the crocodile as a crowd control technique.

Derek managed to keep 15 kids, mostly 10 year old boys, still and quiet for an hour while he showed them a variety of reptiles and explained about each animal, how to care for it as a pet and what to do if you find one in the wild. The kids also got to touch each animal.

I love that the show wasn’t just a lights and whistles presentation of exotic animals. Most of the reptiles they were shown, with the obvious exception of the crocodile, were ones that the kids could quite possibly find in their own yards. Derek’s presentation took away any fear factor but also reminded the kids to treat these amazing and potentially dangerous animals with respect.

We have some incredible native animals in Australia including some really fascinating reptiles and I love that the Croc Stars display offers the kids a chance to learn about how to protect and care for these animals as well as giving them a chance to touch them and ask questions.

Croc Stars is an authorised performance within the Performances for Schools Programme managed through the NSW Department of Education and Training. Derek and Karen have extensive experience with these animals and they are both extremely friendly and entertaining with a wealth of fascinating facts and stories about their own experiences with reptiles to share.

The kids loved the Croc Stars display at the party and it would also be ideal for a youth group or school fair. The website below contains contact and booking information as well as free downloadable reptile fact sheets that are ideal for school assignments and links to reptile related websites.

Croc Stars Mobile Reptile Display
Derek & Karen Ingham
Address: PO Box 243, The Entrance, NSW  2261
P: 02 4388 3055
E: crocstars@bigpond.com
Website: www.crocstars.com.au

This morning I opened my door to a courier delivering a parcel. Not an unusual thing as such. The Australia Post parcel delivery guy is here so often delivering review copies of books that he’s almost one of the family. This parcel, however, was not a book.

Yes, that’s right, it is possible to receive a parcel that isn’t a book. Who would have believed it? Not my children, certainly, who are now extremely blasé about parcels arriving and hardly bat an eyelid anymore.

Anyway, to return to the original topic. A courier arrived with a parcel that wasn’t a book.

Would anyone like to guess what it was? Anyone? Anyone?

It was CHOCOLATE!!!!! Yes, that’s right. I had chocolate personally delivered to my doorstep this morning and it wasn’t even my birthday. Meredith, bless her little cotton socks, had decided to send me a little pick-me-up. Isn’t she sweet?!

This wasn’t just a block of Cadbury Dairymilk in a postpack though. This was one of the awesome lolly gift boxes from the amazing Rainbow Designs.

Owned and run by Jacqui Halls, Rainbow Designs offers a range of lolly/sweets noodle boxes as an alternative to flowers and gift hampers. I have used this website for thank you gifts for teachers, thinking of you gifts for new mums and thought-you-could-do-with-a-sugar-hit gifts for tired, stressed out friends.

Prices range from around $21.50 upwards (prices include postage within Australia). Today I received the amazing Buddy Box with over 500g of freckles, choc buds, caramel buds and white buds. Yummo. There are also a range of lolly boxes suitable for Christmas, Mothers’ Day, Easter, Weddings and other special events.

Well, I’d love to keep telling you all about Rainbow Designs and their wonderful gift ideas, but I can hear my Buddy Box calling from the back of the pantry (where I hid it so that the children wouldn’t find it). So, you’ll have to visit Jacqui at the Rainbow Designs website to get more info. Beware. It’s an enticing site and you might just end up deciding that you deserve a little treat yourself!

Every so often the travel pages of newspapers turn to that old chestnut favoured by comedians and disgruntled passengers: the airline meal.  Lots of fuss is made about the quality (or lack thereof) of the food provided by airlines. It is either free and awful on longhaul international flights, or exorbitantly expensive and awful on domestic and no-frills airlines.

Well – I’ve had enough. As a former travel agent, I’ve flown a lot. I can’t say I’ve ever had a fantastic airline meal*, but you know what? I don’t care!  They’re not serving gourmet meals on flights to Egypt? As long as the pyramids don’t fall down before I get there, it’s all good.  They’re charging $8 for peanuts on a flight from Newcastle to Brisbane?  I’ll save my cash for a beer or two at the pub when I get there.  My plane ticket to Rome guarantees me the worst coffee ever made? I’m sure I can get a decent espresso somewhere in Italy.

When T.S. Eliot said “The journey not the arrival matters”, he probably didn’t have 22 hour flights in cattle class in mind, so you may as well forget that romantic notion. I recommend grouchy airline diners put their seats in the upright position, stow their tray tables securely and look forward to the best part of flying: getting off into the unknown of a wondrous destination!

*Disclaimer: Not counting that 6 am flight on a British Airways business class freebee from Sydney to Melbourne. I remember thinking the strawberry in the sixth glass of champagne was particularly divine.

Time for some wishful thinking – what’s your dream destination? Would you eat a plate of fried worms to get there?

I followed a learner driver as I was taking my children to school this morning. He managed to stall the car twice while I was behind him – once at a set of traffic lights as they changed and again when we had to stop and start in a turning lane on a slight incline.

I could almost feel his embarrassment and it got me thinking about traumatic moments when I was learning to drive. I was working as a secretary at a local bus company when I first had lessons and I think I managed to stall the car at least three times in front of drivers that I worked with. A bit embarrassing when they drove buses for a living and I couldn’t even make it around the block in a car without having it splutter to a stop.

All in all my experiences learning to drive weren’t too bad compared to others. One friend managed to strip the gears in her boyfriend’s car when he was teaching her (yes, they are still together and have been happily married for over 10 years – that’s true love for you).  The same friend almost made her brother’s heart stop when she drove around a bend at full speed onto loose gravel in his LH Torana during a lesson because she “wanted to see what happens when you drive on gravel”.

My favourite learning to drive story involves my mother. Back in the day, driving tests were given by the local police officers. My mother was driving along a street in the city (having a lesson with her mother) when two police officers on foot patrol waved her over and asked her to give them a lift to the police station, which she did. Weeks later, when she went for her driving test, one of the officers was at the station and said that she didn’t have to do the practical part of the test because he knew that she could drive.

She certainly managed an easier time of it than me, with Cranky Franky the driving examiner who felt that it gave you an unrealistic expectation of your own abilities to pass the driving test on the first attempt.

Do you have a learning to drive horror story to share? Any narrowly avoided disasters?

I am most definitely not a vegetarian, but I will admit that I do find it a little difficult to eat food that is watching me – fish cooked with the heads attached for example. As an aside, I have never been able to tackle a plate of baby octopus either. I keep having images of a poor mother octopus swimming about somewhere saying “where are my babies?”

Given my anti-here’s-lookin’-at-you-kid attitude to food, you can no doubt understand my dismay when I peered into the saucepan where I was planning to boil some eggs last night to see this:

Share your food phobias below.

How timely that Natalie at curlywurlygurly should have Soap Operas as her introductory Theme Day Challenge, as just last week I was reminded how much I loved to laugh at soaps “back in the day”.

You see, since my HSC class has started organising our 20 year reunion (yes, I am that ancient), lots of old schoolmates have started crawling out of the woodwork on Facebook. Just last week I renewed acquaintance with a lovely girl who sat in front of me in 3-unit maths in 1989 (Hi Jenny!).

Now 3-unit maths being as fascinating as you all can imagine, a few of us preferred to spend our time dissecting soaps rather than bisecting angles. Days of Our Lives and The Young and the Restless were our faves.  We could all do a mean impression of Jill from Y&R turning her back on one lover and removing one of her enormous clip-on earrings to take a call from another suitor who was  probably the first lover’s (brooding out of focus in the background) father, brother or son. We pretended our calculators were phones, this being the days before mobile/cell phones. (Remember – old?).

I even roped my older brother into my addiction. Since I was still at school while the soaps were on, and he was home studying for his uni exams, I asked him to give me a quick update on a continuing storyline. (I think it may have been the first of the many John Black/Marlena/Roman love triangle plots: He’s John. He’s Roman. No, he’s really John and he’s a bad guy with amnesia. No – he’s a good guy, Roman’s a spy, Marlena’s possessed – wait – what?!). “You’ll only have to watch 5 minutes or so” I recall telling him. Famous last words.

I haven’t watched the soaps in years. Got a little frightened last time I tuned in and Bo and Hope hadn’t aged one bit, and yet their kids had grown from tiny tots into twentysomethings.

Time to ‘fess up. Did you scream “SHANE!” when you first saw Mr Sheffield on The Nanny? Were you also perturbed that Victor Newman only seemed to have one expression that covered everything from love to fear to surprise? Do you now or have you ever watched the soaps?

Congratulations to Anne, editor of Cherry Mag and the force behind Clever Streak writing services.

Anne will be receiving her Chocolate Comfort Pack full of winter chocolate goodies this week.

Thanks to everyone who posted a comment with a slogan suggestion for the lazy patch “duvet” suit. I do agree with Anne that it would be almost impossible to resist asking “Does my bum look big in this?”.