Stool, the seating variety

Easy to put together, enjoyable for the kids to make, trendy, fun to carry, user friendly, environmentally sound and comfortable for your rump. Wallah, the camping stool.

Hey Pa...

Tuesday, was a slightly unusual day in quaint little Punmu town. The hordes of scavenging dogs did not bark. Camp beds were pulled undercover. The early morning hustle and bustle seized to exist. A light pitter-patter sounded on the shipping containers roof. And continued, suggesting it was not a shower of dirt-clumps. The rains came to the Great Sandy Desert on the third Tuesday of June, and everyone was happy.

Broome Broome!

How wonderful it is to see the ocean again, from way up high, the Irukandji, sharks, rubbish, tourists and humidity are too far below for the eye to see. Oh Broome, how you remind me so very much of Byron and Margaret river.

Desert Dreaming

I am fairly sure that the title was taken from a surf movie, or off something with a similar high quality nature. But, if you need a place to your self where time is on your side, pack up the ship and head as far inland as you can. The desert is a beutiful place for dreaming.

Hark! Hark! The Bells Have Rung!

The bells of McLaren Vale have sung in harmonies accord for the wedding of the very so lovely Brendan and Clare Findlay. The wedding was set at their beautiful homestead on Chalk Hill Road, surrounded by the sweet smell of vineyards, the weekend made for a very memorable celebration.

Here's to a bright and promising future!

Purple Portraits

My quaint little house, The Purple Palace, situated in Punmu, seven and a half hours drive east of Port Hedland is the perfect backdrop for a series of portraits.

Blues-Blessed

Byron Bay Bluesfest celebrated its twenty-first birthday in the most wonderful style, having recently moved to the brand new Tyagrah site, some eleven kilometers north of Byron, it was a fitting venue that attracted some beautiful weather, people and musicians from all over our golden globe. Not a single negative word will be spoken from this mouth (although I offer my condolences to those who were inside the Ferris wheel car that fell), however, the fact that almost every minute of the five days that was spent in Tyagrah was filled with new and wonderful experiences has made writing a short review of the festival extremely difficult. I had delayed, put off, started, stopped, thrown out and forgotten until finally, it was too late to go back, and so please find below a jumbled series of notes on some of the artists that touched me maybe only a little more than all of the others. Buddy Guy, what to say… to be in the presence of this man, to breath his life-long love with the dark and heavy west-Chicagoan-blues changes ones outlook on life, Dr John and the Lower 911who was caught in New Orleans’ bad habits and came out a funky, voodoo priest had definitely been ‘In the Right Place’ at the right time, the ever so warm and humorous Taj Mahal, who plays an Afro-funky blues like no other, and Sixto Rodriguez, a favorite whose health has slipped but was able to bring a tear to the eye with his Cold Fact. The ones whose music I thought I’d forgotten: Peter Green and his early Fleetwood Mac, 10 CC and their early, fun lovin’ Brit-pop, Roger Hodgson, a man I will never be able to explain or talk highly enough of, Old Crow Medicine Show and their incredibly traditional folk melodies, The fiery funk of Charles Walker and the Dynamites, Eugene Hutz, a charismatic Ukranian with a beautiful moustache and a true leader of a gypsy folk-rock squadron named Gogol Bordello, the ever-so funky Galactic featuring the voice of New Orleans, Cyril Neville, and, finally the new messiah: Matisyahu.