MOONLIGHT

“How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank.
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.” - William Shakespeare

A relaxing day today, just as I had hoped it would be. And just to finish the day off gently and sweetly, here is a beautiful Hindi song from the film Eklayva. It is called Chanda Re (“The Moon Song”) and sung wonderfully by Hamsika Iyer.

APPLE CLAFOUTIS

“And there never was an apple, in Adam’s opinion, that wasn’t worth the trouble you got into for eating it.” - Neil Gaiman

I am so glad this week is over. It has been full-on and I feel exhausted. I am looking forward to the weekend in order to rest a little and relax. Hopefully there won’t be too many chores around the house and garden to do, although that is too much of a vain hope, as there so many little jobs always waiting, especially as autumn advances...

It was April Fool’s Day today and I heard nothing clever, I’m afraid, only some very tired and corny jokes, pranks and tasteless pictures. It surely is a sign of getting old, I think.

A French-inspired autumn recipe today, to take advantage of the wonderful new season apples that are now appearing in great numbers and variety in the markets and greengrocers’ shops at the moment. The clafoutis is a typical French dessert, which is like a tart crossed with cake and typically consists of cherries baked in a sweet batter. Numerous variations on this theme exist where different types of fruit take the place of the cherries. Here is such a seasonal variation:

Apple Clafoutis
Ingredients
4 cups peeled, sliced apples
1 ½ cups whole milk
4 eggs
½ cup self-raising flour, sifted
½ cup sugar
1 ½ teaspoons vanilla essence

Icing sugar and ground cinnamon for dusting

Method
1) Preheat oven to 175°C. Lightly grease a deep 25 cm pie plate.
2) Arrange the apples evenly over the bottom of the plate.
3) Combine milk, vanilla, sugar and eggs in a blender until smooth.
4) Add the flour and blend 5 seconds.
5) Pour batter over apples. Bake 60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out dry.
6) Serve warm after dusting with icing sugar and cinnamon.

TWILIGHT

“The greatest gift of the garden is the restoration of the five senses.” - Hanna Rion Ver Beck

I got home a little earlier than usual this evening and made the most of the fine, mild autumn evening and went out into the garden. The sun was setting, the evening air crisp and cool and the garden starting to become filled with violet shadows as it surrendered to the reign of approaching night. The sun turned the treetops a golden orange and the white flowers of the cosmos only shone out like beacons, but as the eye examined them the white was an illusion, their petals more a steely-greyish, light blue, their normally chrome yellow centres a drab beige. The red flowers of the azaleas and the roses were a crimson brown and the bright orange of the marigolds had turned a dull terracotta.

The crepuscular mood suited me well and I lingered in the advancing dusk, smelling the sweet fragrance of the late flowering jasmine, the bracing pungency of rue, the freshness of mint and pennyroyal, the flowery softness of rose geranium. I examined the reddish lantern-like physalis, the burgeoning seedpods of dying summer annuals and the yellowing leaves of the tomato plants, still holding on tenaciously to their ripening fruit. The foliage of the orange tree was a dark, vivid green and the small green unripe oranges full of life, promising bursts of juicy sunshine in the depths of winter ahead.

We rush around and keep ourselves forever busy, not really taking in much of what surrounds us. A veiny fern leaf hides so much beauty, a sun-warmed rock possesses a wealth of tactile pleasures, a sprig of rosemary conceals a thousand memories of the spicy aromas of Arabia. A ripe apple bursts in our mouth and releases sweetness and honeyed favoursome juices and remembrances of spring blossoms. The two-note chirping of a bird echoing in the evening light as the leaves rustle in the rising breeze, with the distant chiming of a wind-harp become a sweet symphony. Such simple things can give so many and such great pleasures, if only we sit, relax and take it all in…

The back garden this evening became a serene place, a quiet refuge, a cloister, an isolated hermitage. I secluded myself there and removed all thoughts from the rush of the day, the petty squabbles, the deceit and the treachery, the mad noise of traffic and the loud hubbub of crowds. The silent statues looked on complicitly and their smiles frozen in stone seemed to signal approbation of my little respite. I shut my mind to the harshness of environmental disasters, the agony of wretches battling for survival, the torment of populaces embroiled in wars and battles. I meditated on my good fortune and thanked with all my being the happy accident of my existence that was generous enough to allow me to enjoy this quiet time in the peace of an autumn garden.

It was in the mauve depths of late twilight that I made my way back into the warmly lit house, as the wind began to blow and its bite could be felt through my clothes. I had entered a temple and had prayed, I had mediated and had rejoiced. My senses had been refreshed and my mind lightened. Now it was time for me to return to the everyday routine and anticipate tomorrow as yet another day full of the mad rush of urban living. But I was grateful and refreshed, my mind was at ease and my heart was delighted…

crepuscular |krəˈpəskyələr| adjective
Of, resembling, or relating to twilight.
• Zoology (of an animal) appearing or active in twilight.
ORIGIN mid 17th century: From Latin crepusculum ‘twilight’

BETRAYAL

“All a man can betray is his conscience.” - Joseph Conrad

Betrayal is hard to cope with, but it is perhaps felt even more sharply and keenly when it is combined with ingratitude on the part of the traitor. Such behaviour can highlight the worse in human beings and shows the basest kinds of motivations and urges that people can display. While we may all have been betrayed to an extent at one or another stage of our life, major forms of disloyalty and treachery that affect us can crush us and have widespread effects, psychologically and emotionally.

THE WORLD

BY day she woos me, soft, exceeding fair:
But all night as the moon so changeth she;
Loathsome and foul with hideous leprosy
And subtle serpents gliding in her hair.
By day she woos me to the outer air,
Ripe fruits, sweet flowers, and full satiety:
But through the night, a beast she grins at me,
A very monster void of love and prayer.
By day she stands a lie: by night she stands
In all the naked horror of the truth
With pushing horns and clawed and clutching hands.
Is this a friend indeed; that I should sell
My soul to her, give her my life and youth,
Till my feet, cloven too, take hold on hell?

Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

THE VEXED CASE OF JEREMY MORLOCK

“Never think that war, no matter how necessary, nor how justified, is not a crime.” - Ernest Hemingway

Have you heard of Jeremy Morlock? He is an unfortunate 22-year-old American soldier who was found guilty in a court martial on the 23rd of March 2011, for his reprehensible actions while part of a “rogue killing squad” that murdered unarmed Afghan men between January and May in 2010 in Afghanistan. He was sentenced to 24 years in gaol The judge, Lt Col Kwasi Hawks, said he had intended to sentence Morlock to life in prison with the possibility of parole but had been bound by a plea bargain under which Morlock would be sentenced to a maximum of 24 years in prison in return for testifying against his comrades.

Morlock pleaded guilty to three counts of murder and one count each of illegal drug use, conspiracy and obstructing justice. He told the court that the killings were planned in late 2009, and that he and his comrades had conspired to plant weapons on the corpses to make the killings appear justified. Morlock admitted that he and his fellow-soldiers were killing people who were completely innocent. He said the murder plot was led by the unit’s leader, Staff Sgt Calvin Gibbs, who is also charged in the killings but who maintained the killings were justified.

These proceedings came two days after German magazine “Der Spiegel” published photographs showing US soldiers grinning over the corpses of Afghan civilians they had allegedly killed. In addition to Staff Sgt Gibbs, charged in the murders are Pte First Class Andrew Holmes, Spc Michael Wagnon and Spc Adam Winfield. Other soldiers are accused of dismembering the victims and collecting body parts in a grisly trophy hunt. The photos published by Der Spiegel were said to be among many seized by US Army investigators.

Morlock perhaps was typical of his generation, being brought up in uncertain times and having few options in terms of a job or prospects, given his underachieving school career. He was originally from Wasilla, Alaska, and he enlisted in 2006 after stopping his high school studies at 19 years of age. When he was training in boot camp, he was homesick and often became depressed. His condition deteriorated after his father’s death by drowning in 2007.

Two years later, while on combat duty in Afghanistan he suffered a concussion. There are letters to his mother, which indicate that he was not sleeping well and may have been traumatised. He was prescribed over ten different medications (including painkillers, anti-depressants, and sleeping pills), so the medical doctors treating him knew that something was seriously wrong. The big question at this stage is where is the duty of care shown to their patient by these doctors? Why wasn’t he sent home as he should have so that he could recover? He needed his family, and close to his mother he could perhaps have overcome his father’s death and put back together the broken pieces of his life.

Instead, Morlock stayed on in Afghanistan and began to become habituated to the local hashish, diagnosed by his doctors as cannabis dependence, PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder), post-concussive disorder, and a slew of other psychological disturbances. The soldier was still not sent home and he continued to serve actively in combat duty. Is it surprising that this young man with a multitude of psychological problems, heavily medicated and addicted to cannabis became involved in the plot to kill Afghan innocent civilians?

Who is the real guilty party here? Morlock or his doctors? Morlock or his military leaders? Morlock or the government that sent him thousands of kilometres away from home to fight an invisible and ever elusive enemy? Morlock’s brief was to kill terrorists and enemies of democracy. In the dark every cat is gray. In Morlock’s blackest hour is it surprising that every turban-wearing Afghan became a terrorist threat and easily accessible target to shoot at? In his hashish-addled mind was it so difficult to transform the heinous acts he was committing to glorious and heroic deeds? Perhaps he was a sad victim of circumstances, a pitiful casualty of the bewildering war he was sent to fight. Morlock committed acts of extreme barbarity and inhuman savagery. As a society we condemned him as we would a rational human being that committed these acts in full possession of his faculties. But was this a sane, rational man who possessed his faculties and thought through his actions?

The judges thought he was. Morlock admitted that he was aware that he and his comrades-in-arms were shooting innocent civilians. The brutality of the callous acts was magnified when every detail of the slaying was immortalised on video and film and the savage cries of triumph were recorded for posterity. In their minds, these soldiers were on a holy mission for their country, for democracy and freedom, fighting against terrorism and communism and everything un-American. The results of their actions were that some poor innocent Afghan wretches did not return to their family that night and their wives and children had to weep over their bloody and mutilated bodies.

What society can look at its actions and forgive itself the wrongs that it meted out to Morlock and his comrades? What society can forgive itself for the killings perpetrated by Morlock and every other soldier like Morlock on a phantom battlefield, fighting ghostly enemies, jousting at windmills because they viewed them as ogres? What society can forgive itself when it commits these acts of barbarity in the name of freedom and democracy? By what strange delusion can such a society masquerade cruel and calculated acts that serve its economy as idealistic and kind acts of liberation? The answer is the same society that absolves itself by sacrificing scapegoats like Morlock. The same society that creates monsters in order to send out posses to destroy them in self-righteous rage…

ONE WEDDING INVITATION NOT TO ACCEPT...

“The Wedding March always reminds me of the music played when soldiers go into battle.” - Heinrich Heine

Under sufferance, at the weekend, I sat through one of the worst movies I have seen recently. It was Gary Winick’s 2009 “Bride Wars”. This very definitely falls into the “chick flick” genre, and more specifically (I guess) the teenager market. I took one look at the synopsis on the back of the DVD and was certain I would not go for this film. However, one has to make concessions and I braced myself and watched it. In the end although none of the four of us watching it liked it particularly, the other man and I really disliked it, while our women companions were the ones giggling now and then (while we were rolling our eyes up at the ceiling!)…

The plot is formulaic and pulls every cliché out of the tattered bag of tricks in order to concoct the unlikely and ostensibly funny story. In New York’s Manhattan there are two childhood friends who have grown up to be a successful lawyer, Liv (Kate Hudson), and the underachieving schoolteacher, Emma (Anne Hathaway). They both have boyfriends and both are obsessed with marriage, having planned lavish weddings at the Plaza Hotel from their childhood when they were playing at being bride and groom in their attic. They are proposed to by their boyfriends on the same day, and as they always dreamed, they plan their wedding parties at the Plaza Hotel. They use the services of the most famous wedding planner, Marion St. Claire (Candice Bergen); who else would plan the perfect wedding? However, due to a mistake made by Marion’s secretary, their weddings are scheduled for the same day, at the same place at the same time. Neither of them wishes to negotiate and neither agrees to change the date of her wedding. From friends they become mortal enemies and for most of the film they keep trying to sabotage each other’s wedding preparations and the ceremony itself.

Unfortunately, the film is too contrived, the characters two-dimensional, the acting average and the jokes too sparse and too predictable. If you see the trailer, you’ve seen all the jokes, I think.  As is usual in these films there is a transformation and a happy end (of course), but it is all just so tedious! The production may be slick and the sets (especially the Plaza) lavish, however, at the end of it all I could think was “what a waste…” Waste of money, waste of actors, waste of production staff, waste of resources, but most of all waste of my time.

I was so intrigued by the film’s under-average performance that I googled it to see what the critics had to say. I was not surprised to find out that Mark Kermode (BBC’s film critic) found the film execrable. He nominated it as one of the worse films of 2009 and in fact, threatened that if this film was not one of the 10 worst films of 2009 he would quit film criticism! Fortunately, he was not wrong.

This film is not particularly challenging in terms of your attention span, not really funny, nor original. It is not a romantic comedy, not particularly successful as a film about friendship, nor is it a film that is memorable or one that I would recommend to someone to watch. It’s enough admitting here that I watched it. Maybe I should now consider joining “Terrible Film Watchers Anonymous”…

SCULPTURE AT HEIDE

“Sculpture is the best comment that a painter can make on painting.” - Pablo Picasso

It turned out to be a beautiful autumn day today. Sunny, mild and calm. We went out for a drive and after visiting a market we went to the Heide Art Gallery, but rather than confine ourselves to the interior and the exhibition of some rather freaky Albert Tucker Australian modernist paintings, we decided to spend the whole of the beautiful day on the grounds. It seems that many people had the same idea as there were visitors all over the place, people having picnics, tourists, families with children and elderly couples out for a stroll.

There is a huge range of sculptures on show on the grounds and one can find all sorts of styles, but largely the theme is modern art, with some outrageously cheeky pieces, as well as some horrific concoctions that make the wonderful art there even better. Nevertheless, as much as one enjoys the art, nature is the supreme artist on the grounds and every season one can find a number of blooms on show, as well as various fruits and magnificent trees, herbs, ground covers and wildflowers displayed in the way that only nature can.

One of the best places to start from is the kitchen garden, with its rows of seasonal vegetables, herbs and flowers, which offers not only a crop for the table, but also delights the senses with wonderful colours, forms, rich smells and delightful textures. Even in autumn this garden was beautiful and we enjoyed rambling around its paths and admiring the plethora of plants growing there. There were ripe figs (delicious as we sampled them), acorns, wild strawberries, rose hips, haws, seeds of every kind ripening on the spent flower stalks. There cleomes in bloom, geraniums and sage, mallows, jack-in-the-pulpit, late roses, callistemons, naked lady lilies, bachelors’ buttons, cyclamens, and many kinds of daisies and asters.

For Art Sunday, here is a sculpture from the Heide grounds. It is David Wilson’s “Small Sculpture for my Grandmother’s Vase”, created in 1990. David Wilson arrived in Australia in 1965 having studied painting at the Harrow School of Art in England. He completed his Associate Diploma in Sculpture from the National Gallery School, in Melbourne in 1970. Much of his earlier sculptural works were very much within the welded steel tradition often associated with the work of Anthony Caro. From the 1980s onwards, texture and later paint became key elements in his work. With a painter’s eye, he uses colour for constructing space and volume.

I like this particular sculpture as it is compact and reminds me of something familiar and homey, although one cannot quite say what it is exactly. It looks like a table, or maybe even a chair or a stool, a magazine rack, or a letterbox. At the same time it’s quite fluid, graceful, organic and almost floral in its arrangement. Truly something fit for a vase. It is pleasing and perfect for the garden setting it is in.

The artist has this to say about his sculptures:

“Much of the inspiration for both forms and colours comes from observations of landscape and skyscape, particularly the skies which I often photograph as a source material. The look of the sky seems to be one of our few remaining daily surroundings unblemished by human interference - it is distant, uncompromised, both innocent and indifferent – and it is these aspects of its character which make it so suitable a source for an artist who has become somewhat contemptuous of our culture’s preoccupation with itself. A kind of incest where humanity and its delusions are treated as the measure of all things. The look of the sky, shapes and colours, seems untouched and invulnerable to our conceits. I want my sculptures’ physical presence and painterly textured surfaces to seem to share that cited innocence and indifference, to be unequivocally ‘there’ and ‘here’, but apart, never really known except in the experiencing of them, alluding to things natural, without ever being able to be placed.”

SCHUBERT ON SATURDAY

“No one feels another’s grief, no one understands another’s joy. People imagine they can reach one another. In reality they only pass each other by.” - Franz Schubert

A full day, but also enjoyable. We went out, did some shopping, visited a friend, came back home, did some gardening and some chores around the house. Then it was time to have some lunch and to watch a movie. Went out this evening and now it’s time to enjoy some Schubert played wonderfully by Valentina Lisitsa. Here is his Impromptu in B flat major…

CRETAN CALTSOUNIA

“It is better to rise from life as from a banquet - neither thirsty nor drunken.” - Aristotle

Today is Lady Day, the Feast of the Annunciation of the Virgin Mary. On this day Mary received the news from the angel Gabriel that she was to be with child. It was a textbook pregnancy and nine months to the day later, baby Emmanuel was born. It is an important Feast in both the Catholic and Orthodox Church calendars, with much rite and pomp accompanying the doxology of the proceedings. It is one of the high holidays of the church ever since the cult of the Virgin became widespread in early Christianity.

It is also the Independence Day of Greece, as it was on this day in 1821, that the Greek Revolution began, having as its goal the expulsion of the Turks who had held it in thrall for 400 years. It is a public holiday in Greece, it being a double feast day, both a religious one, as well as a lay one. It is customary for big military parades to be organized on this day in the big cities.

As it is the Great Lent and everyone in Greece would normally fast for 50 days before Easter, here is a Lenten recipe which is healthful and vegetarian, but also adheres to the rules of the Greek Orthodox fast. It is from the island of Crete, where during the 17th century the Venetian occupation left some linguistic and culinary traditions. The Cretan Caltsounia are a derivation of the Italian “Calzoni dolci”.

CRETAN LENTEN CALTSOUNIA
Ingredients
1.5 kg flour
1 tsp baking powder
3 heaped tbsp. sugar
1 cup tahina (sesame pulp, available in Greek or Middle Eastern shops)
1 cup marmalade
1 cup sultanas
1 cup roasted, coarsely ground walnuts
1 cup chopped glacé fruits (cherries, citrus peel, apricots, figs, pears)
Orange flower water (available in Greek or Middle Eastern shops)
Icing sugar for dusting

Method
•    Sift the flour and baking powder, adding the sugar and tahina, mixing well with your fingertips so that it becomes crumbly. Add a few tablespoonfuls of water and knead gently to form a soft dough.
•    Mix the marmalade with the sultanas, walnut meal and glacé fruits.
•    Take a piece of dough the size of two walnuts and roll out till it becomes as big as a saucer.
•    Put a large tablespoonful of the marmalade mixture on one half of the rolled out dough, wet the edges of the dough and then fold over the filling to shape like a half moon. Use a fork to seal the edges.
•    Repeat to use up all the dough and filling.
•    Bake in a moderate oven for about 20 minutes until golden brown. As son as they are out of the oven sprinkle with orange flower water and dust with icing sugar.

POSTCARD FROM ADELAIDE

“The difference between a job and a career is the difference between forty and sixty hours a week.” - Robert Frost


I am in Adelaide for the day today and unusually for Adelaide, the day was rather dull and gray, with the temperatures low in keeping with the season. I say unusually, as Adelaide generally has warmer weather than Melbourne and more often than not one can expect a sunny day here. At least it did not rain and I was able to go everywhere I needed to by walking. Adelaide City is a very pleasant one to walk in and as well as going to our College Campus here I also visited the TAFE SA campus and the UniSA campus. It ended up being a very hectic day, but at least many things got done. It does make for a long working day, however, when one leaves home at the crack of dawn and doesn’t get back until well into the night.

One of the things I had on my agenda today was to have a meeting with students who had some issues with the way the College processes operate. I always like to talk to students directly as someone in my position rarely gets a chance to do this under normal circumstances and I tend to get shielded from such contact by various academic and administrative layers. Information can be distorted as it passes through these layers and sometimes I am unaware of some important issues, or they are reported to me second and third hand, which can give me an inaccurate perception of them. Talking to students directly gives me an accurate idea of what the student experience is like and I can then investigate the issues they divulge in a more informed manner.

I think politicians, CEOs, directors and other executives should always strive to listen to the voices of the people they serve, lead or represent, and if possible do it in a manner that is the least intrusive possible (maybe incognito?). That way they will get an idea of what is really going on and they will be able to understand what is happening at the grass roots level in an unfiltered and undistorted manner. One would have to ensure that the sample was an unbiased and representative one, but many small samples is another way of getting to appreciate the truth of the matters at hand.

My meeting with the students today made me see certain matters in a new light and I took out of that meeting several action items. Tomorrow I shall be able to confront some members of my staff with some apt questions that will certainly highlight a few deficiencies in our system. Acting on the information that I gathered today will be a very delicate matter. One has to be informed, certainly, but one must also allow any party involved the right of reply and justification. We all know that after one hears both sides of an argument, the truth must lie somewhere in between…

The other interesting thing that happened today, was an information session that I attended regarding the changes that are happening in tertiary educational regulation and quality assurance in Australia. Legislation has been introduced into Parliament, which will allow the creation of a single national authority that will take over all such regulatory and quality assurance activities in Australia from January 1, 2012.

The new body is TEQSA (Tertiary Education Quality and Standards Agency), which will take over from AUQA, various Offices of Higher Education that are state-based, and will also assume the responsibility of overseeing the education of international students in Australia. This new system promises to be a unified and unitary system that will have greater power to intervene and enforce compliance, combining regulatory and quality improvement activities.

It will simplify much of the bureaucracy that now rules several related areas in regulatory and legislative compliance and will increase the efficiency of all processes relating to oversight of tertiary education in Australia. It is something that was triggered by the 2008 review of Tertiary Education in Australia carried out by Denise Bradley. I am personally overjoyed at this turn of events as it will reduce the cost of our regulatory compliance, decrease the time we need to accredit and approve our degree programs, but also increase the overall efficiency of all of our compliance-related activities.

LOVE LOST

“An act of love that fails is just as much a part of the divine life as an act of love that succeeds, for love is measured by fullness, not by reception.” - Harold Lokes

I’ve had a very busy couple of days at work, and in particular, today was rather stressful as the whole afternoon was taken up by a couple of staff mediation interviews that were very tough going for everyone concerned. Dealing with staff issues and their resolution can take up a great deal of time and one must invest in the process much effort and sensitivity, as well as proceeding in a fair, transparent and unprejudiced manner. These interviews today were unpleasant, but I was satisfied with what was achieved under the difficult circumstances. Nevertheless, I felt drained at the end of the day…

The autumnal weather is continuing and more rain is predicted for tonight and tomorrow. Temperatures are low and the skies leaden, with the occasional shower bathing the vegetation and carrying messages of winter’s approach. More leaves turn to yellow and the chrysanthemums are budding, while the garden is slowly becoming a place less attractive.

Here is a poem I wrote a long time ago, but remembered today as it was written in a autumnal mood and during the time of fall.

Pity

Pity…
A pity that you failed to accept me
As the gift that I made of myself to you,
Freely and earnestly given.
You sent me away, lost me, forgot me,
Killing what was most beautiful in me.
I am a desert now, a burnt and barren wasteland
Filled only with cold gray ash.

Pity…
A pity that you didn’t learn the language of tangerines,
You didn’t catch the moonbeams I handed to you plaited in a skein,
Forever lost as they sublimated around your clenched fists.
You failed to appreciate their worth,
Failed to even outstretch your hand in a token gesture of acceptance,
Leaving without turning back,
Leaving behind all of my offerings.

Pity…
A pity that the syllables I whispered in your shell-pink ear
Secretly spoken with vowels of daisies and consonants of lilacs,
Fell softly, echoing briefly in empty rooms.
A pity that you stopped your ears lest you hear
The speech of affection and the song of love.
You didn’t feel, didn’t understand, didn’t even sympathise
With my savage need and urgent desire.

Pity…
A pity that I was lost to you, was distanced from you,
All on a whim, you exiled me and banished even my memory,
Leaving with me only the remembrance of your rejection.
A pity that my heart remained a scorched place,
Refused the nourishing rain of your presence.
A pity that you left me, negating even my ability
To say that I lost you as I never had you.
A pity, as the greatest loser is you.

WORLD WATER DAY 2011

“We never know the worth of water till the well is dry.” - Thomas Fuller

Water: Essential for life, indispensable nutrient, great solvent, excellent cleanser! Our bodies are about 70% water and 71% of our planet’s surface is covered by water. However, only 3% of this water is fresh water and even less is safe for human consumption. We can live many weeks without food, but without water we die within a day or two depending on our environment…

International World Water Day is held annually on 22nd March as a means of reminding people of the importance of fresh water and advocating for the sustainable management of fresh water resources.

An international day to celebrate fresh water was recommended at the 1992 United Nations Conference on Environment and Development (UNCED). The United Nations General Assembly responded by designating 22 March 1993 as the first World Water Day. Each year, World Water Day highlights a specific aspect of fresh water.

This year’s theme, Water for Cities: Responding to the Urban Challenge, aims to spotlight and encourage governments, organizations, communities, and individuals to actively engage in addressing the challenges of urban water management. This is the first time in human history that most of the world’s population live in cities: 3.3 billion people, in fact are city dwellers and the urban landscape continues to grow as urbanization becomes more widespread in the very populous developing countries. A significant proportion (38%) of the growth is represented by expanding slums, while the city populations are increasing faster than city infrastructure can adapt.

The objective of World Water Day 2011 is to focus international attention on the impact of rapid urban population growth, industrialisation and uncertainties caused by climate change, conflicts and natural disasters on urban water systems. We expand our cities, our population grows, pollution becomes more widespread, rainfall less reliable and ground water contaminated, while demand for fresh water of good quality increases every day. And even in cities where tap water of excellent quality is to be found (we are fortunate in Melbourne to enjoy this), the amount of bottled water marketed is ridiculously high.

Water is life and without water, there is no living. Water is so essential, that when scientists explore the universe for life out there in the galaxy, they look for signs of water. Over 1 billion people in the world lack sustainable access to fresh water. Safe drinking water and basic sanitation are intrinsic to human survival, well-being and dignity. Cities cannot be sustainable without ensuring reliable access to safe drinking water and adequate sanitation. Coping with the growing needs of water and sanitation services within cities is one of the most pressing issues of this century. Sustainable, efficient and equitable management of water in cities has never been as important as in today’s world.

Within two decades, nearly 60% of the world’s people will be urban dwellers. Urban growth is most rapid in the developing world, where cities gain an average of 5 million residents every month. The exploding urban population growth creates unprecedented challenges, among which provision for water and sanitation have been the most pressing and painfully felt when lacking. Next time you turn the tap on and you fill your glass with clean, fresh water that is safe to drink and bathe in, spare a thought for the majority of the people on our planet who cannot do that and many of whom risk dying of thirst and dehydration, or of water-borne diseases.

MOVIE MONDAY - DORIAN GRAY

“Every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.” - Oscar Wilde

At the weekend we saw the 2009 Oliver Parker film “Dorian Gray”. It is based on Oscar Wilde’s only novel, “The Picture of Dorian Gray”, first published in 1890 in Lippincott’s Magazine. The plot concerns a handsome young man, Dorian Gray, who becomes the subject of a painting by artist Basil Hallward. Basil is infatuated by Dorian’s beauty and believes that this portrait and Dorian’s beauty is responsible for a new phase in his art. Lord Henry Wotton, a friend of Basil meets Dorian and the young man finds a surrogate father figure in Lord Wotton. Unfortunately, Lord Wotton is a hedonistic roué who suggests to Dorian that the only things worth pursuing in life are beauty and fulfilment of the senses. Dorian realises that his beauty is ephemeral and he half-jokingly expresses a desire to sell his soul to ensure the portrait Basil has painted would age rather than himself. Dorian’s wish is fulfilled, and he plunges into debauchery and heinous crimes. The portrait serves as a reminder of the effect each act has upon his soul, with each sin displayed as a disfigurement of his form, or through a sign of aging.

The novel of course is powerful and allegorical, it is full of Wilde’s wit and beauty and holds a worthy place amongst the great literary works. It is a gothic horror story but nevertheless, full of philosophical questions, explorations of the human condition and the nature of the soul. The film follows the novel, but is an adaptation and introduces some variants, stresses some parts (the bawdy bits) and glosses over some other more important ones (the philosophical and emotional bits), which is an attempt to make the film more marketable and appealing to the 21st century audience with the jaded palate. It is inevitable that any novel adapted for film will be changed and reinvented for the new medium, however, a good adaptation preserves the spirit of the novel, rather than magnifying the sensationalist parts and ignoring the essence.

In terms of the actors, Ben Barnes as Dorian Gray was miscast, in my opinion, as he is not striking handsome nor “beautiful” in the way that Basil sees him. His acting is poor and he simpers throughout most of the role and once cannot garner enough emotion to love him or hate him. He inspires boredom more than anything else. Colin Firth as the hedonistic dandy Lord Wotton is a better choice, although his part is rather static (at least for the first three quarters of the film) and his lines predictable. Ben Chaplin does a good job of tackling a bit of a pastiche of the role of Basil as there is not much time nor character development meted out to him in the film. Rachel Hurd-Wood as Sybil Vane looks delightful and plays her small part beautifully.

The scenery, costumes and cinematography are well done, however, the special effects are more worthy of a B-grade horror film. The music was not memorable, therefore unobtrusive and adequate. The direction a trifle pedestrian, and the emphasis placed on Dorian’s licentious sexual escapades in the bedroom overly long. Not much is done to explore Dorian’s fascination with murder, drugs and his relationship with Lord Wotton. As was mentioned above, this is an eminently marketable film, and as it aiming towards the masse of illiterate crowds, it did the best it could.

BRUNSWICK ST GRAFFITI

“Graffiti is one of the few tools you have if you have almost nothing. And even if you don’t come up with a picture to cure world poverty you can make someone smile while they’re having a piss.” - Banksy

The weather was just perfect today, warm and sunny with a slight breeze. We had a leisurely breakfast, ambled about in the back garden and then decided to go for a drive down to Brunswick Street in Fitzroy. This is a famous Melbourne street which is trendy and modern, old-fashioned and retro, sophisticated and daggy all rolled into one. There, one can find restaurants and cafés, galleries and exhibition spaces, bookshops and clothes stores, gift shops and flower shops, pubs and wine bars, warehouses and boutiques. The people are as mixed-up and crazy as the shops. Innocent young teens, goths and missionaries, arty types and yobbos, rednecks and multicultural intellectuals, flibbertigibbets and strong silent hulks, druggies and squeaky clean preppies, straight and gay, all are represented here. Add to that the “sightseers” and “tourists” who are always ambling up and down to check out the place.

For many years I had a part-time job in a College off Brunswick St, so I know this neighbourhood and its denizens quite well. It is still a fashionable place to have a stroll in and as we hadn’t been there for ages, we decided to go there and have lunch in one of the many cafés. One of the features of this neighbourhood is its many pieces of street art. There are mosaics on the pavements, decorated ceramic benches, statues, cast ironwork, fancy shop signs but also lots of graffiti and posters on many walls. This street art together with the galleries and exhibitions lend a rather bohemian, arty cast to the street.

Many people are annoyed by the graffiti, but I feel there is a place for it if it is confined to certain areas. It can be harnessed to decorate and make a social comment, it can amuse and surprise, it can sometimes achieve interesting and amazing visual effects. However, there is also the mindless, destructive graffiti of the “piss-on-the wall”, “mark-my-territory” variety that is boring, ugly and defacing. Also of course, graffiti that is inappropriately placed is rather hideous and obtrusive, as well as offensive.

For Art Sunday today, here is a large piece of Brunswick St “graffiti art”, well in keeping with the unconventional and avant-garde nature of this non-conformist part of Melbourne. It is brash and colourful, more than a little tongue-in-cheek and very well executed. Not the sort of thing most people would want to have on their wall, but for where it is just right… I know some people that object violently to any graffiti, wherever it is and whatever it is. In many parts of Melbourne, graffiti is part of the streetscape and some progressive councils actually collaborate with graffiti artists in order to use graffiti in a decorative and streetscape-enhancing manner. What do you think?

MARCH "SUPERMOON"

“Moon! Moon! I am prone before you. Pity me, and drench me in loneliness.” – Amy Lowell

The biggest full moon in 19 years is with us tonight and the rags have already dubbed it “supermoon”. This Saturday, the moon will arrive at its closest point to the Earth in 2011: a distance of 356,575 kilometers away. The moon has not been in a position to appear this large since March 1993. At its peak, the “supermoon” of March may appear 14 percent larger and 30 percent brighter than lesser full moons (when the moon is at its farthest from Earth). Yet to the casual observer, it may be hard to tell the difference. The variation of the moon’s distance is not readily apparent to observers viewing the moon directly.

Unless the moon lies close to the horizon, when it can appear absolutely enormous. That is when the famous “moon illusion” combines with reality to produce a truly stunning view. For reasons not fully understood by astronomers or psychologists, a low-hanging moon looks incredibly large when hovering near trees, buildings and other foreground objects. The fact that the moon will be much closer than usual this weekend will only serve to amplify this strange effect.

Driving back home tonight, I saw the moon up in the clear sky and yes, it looked stunningly beautiful but not much larger than usual. Obviously I did not catch it early enough when it was close to the horizon.

The “supermoon” will not cause natural disasters such as the Japan earthquake, a NASA scientist has stressed…

For Song Saturday, something apt: A piece from Karl Jenkins’ suite “Imagined Oceans”, which set in music lunar landscapes, and more specifically the names of the imagined oceans on the moon;s surface. Here is his Mare Serenitatis – “Sea of Serenity”.

PROFITEROLES

“Look, there’s no metaphysics on earth like chocolate.” - Fernando Pessoa

It has been a short but extremely busy week at work. There have been non-stop meetings, numerous urgent things to take care of, hundreds of emails and a couple of crises to resolve. I am certainly glad it is the weekend. As a special treat this weekend the following will be made:

Profiteroles
Ingredients for the Choux Pastry
260 mL milk
1 tsp sugar
pinch of salt
100g unsalted butter, diced
120g plain flour
4 free-range eggs

Method for the Choux Pastry
•    Preheat the oven to 220˚ C.
•    For the choux buns, combine the milk, sugar, salt and diced butter in a heavy-based saucepan. Heat gently and stir until the butter has melted.
•    Quickly sieve the flour into the saucepan and whisk together with the liquid ingredients.
•    Keeping the heat low, beat the ingredients together vigorously for about five minutes.
•    The paste is ready when it clumps together in a smooth ball and comes away cleanly from the sides of the pan. Remove from the heat and allow to cool.
•    In a mixing bowl, beat the eggs together thoroughly until there are no strings of egg white. Slowly, in two or more batches, beat the eggs into the paste.
•    Fit a piping bag with a nozzle and spoon the choux pastry mixture into the bag.
•    Pipe balls the size of a 50 cent coin onto baking sheets lined with silicone paper, or greased baking trays.
•    Bake in batches in the oven for 20-25 minutes, or until golden brown and crisp (if the buns are just yellow, they will deflate upon cooling). When they are done, the inside should be hollow. Tip them on to a wire rack to cool.

Ingredients for the Profiterole Filling and Sauce
Vanilla ice cream
250 g of couverture cooking chocolate, cut into small pieces
200 mL milk
100 mL double cream
50 mL crème de cacao liqueur

Method for the Sauce and Assembling
With a small knife slice open each choux ball.
Fill with vanilla ice cream, and put in the freezer immediately.
Make the chocolate sauce by heating the milk, cream and liqueur.
Once the milk mixture is just about to boil, add the chocolate pieces, stirring all the while.
Remove from the heat once the chocolate has all molten and the mixture is a rich dark brown colour.
Once ready to serve, put 5-6 ice-cream filled choux balls into a dessert or parfait glass and pour hot chocolate sauce over them.
Serve immediately.

SIEVERT

“Self-sacrifice is the real miracle out of which all the reported miracles grow” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

The word of the day today is sievert.
sievert |ˈsēvərt| (abbr: Sv) noun
Physics: The SI unit of dose equivalent (the biological effect of ionising radiation), defined as that which delivers a joule of energy per kilogram of recipient mass.
ORIGIN 1940s: named after Rolf M. Sievert (1896–1966), Swedish radiologist.
1.0 Sv = 1.0 joule/kilogram or 100 rem.

The sievert has the same units as the gray and is equal to the absorbed dose times the quality factor, which compares the health consequences of that type of radiation with those of x-rays. The rem bears the same relationship to the rad as the sievert does to the gray.

Just in case you got lost in that definition, let’s put it in a practical context. Firstly, one Sievert of radiation is a huge dose, which will do great harm to living things. That is why we generally speak of millisieverts when talking about daily or even yearly exposure under normal circumstances. A millisievert (mSv) is a thousandth of a sievert. Contextualising it further: An average person would probably absorb six millisieverts per year from natural and artificial (e.g. X-rays for diagnostic purposes) sources. A radiation worker would be expected to absorb about 20 millisieverts per year, averaged over five years with a maximum of 50 millisieverts in any one year. You can see now what I mean about the sievert being a huge dose of radiation…

The workers in Japan working to limit the effects of radiation leaks in the stricken nuclear reactors have to access areas where their exposure is 600 millisieverts, equal to several years of daily exposure limit. These workers are putting their health and life at great risk as exposure to such levels of radiation can be highly destructive. These effects are divided into short-term and long-term:

Short term effects: Exposure to high levels of radiation can harm exposed tissues of the human body. Such radiation effects can be clinically diagnosed in the exposed individual; they are called deterministic effects because once a radiation dose above the relevant threshold has been received, they will occur and the severity depends on the dose. They include the symptoms of radiation poisoning such as burns, tissue damage, blood cell damage, death of rapidly dividing cells (causing nausea, vomiting, diarrhoea, hair falling out, anaemia, immune deficiency, etc).

Long-term effects: Studies of populations exposed to radiation, especially of the survivors of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, have shown that exposure to radiation can also lead to the delayed induction of cancer (thyroid, leukaemia, bone, skin, breast, lung, etc) and hereditary damage. Effects such as these cannot usually be confirmed in any particular individual exposed but can be inferred from statistical studies of large irradiated populations.

Let’s contextualise again: Exposure for a short time to a single 1 sievert (1,000 millisievert) dose of radiation would cause (temporary) radiation sickness such as nausea and decreased white blood cell count, but not death. However, exposure to 1 sievert of radiation is estimated to increase the lifetime risk of fatal cancer by around 5%. Above this, severity of illness increases with dose. For example, a single dose of 5 sieverts (5,000 millisievert) would kill about half those receiving it within a month. Survivors would have chronic disease and a greatly increased risk of cancers.

There about 180 emergency workers at Japan’s damaged Fukushima Dai-ichi complex of nuclear power stations. They are already being lauded as heroes by the Japanese as they are putting themselves at a huge health risk and premature death through radiation exposure. Another word springs to mind immediately:

kamikaze |ˌkämiˈkäzē| noun
(in World War II) A Japanese aircraft loaded with explosives and making a deliberate suicidal crash on an enemy target.
• The pilot of such an aircraft.
adjective [ attrib.]
Of or relating to such an attack or pilot.
• Reckless or potentially self-destructive: He made a kamikaze run across three lanes of traffic.
ORIGIN Japanese, from kami ‘divinity’ + kaze ‘wind,’ originally referring to the gale that, in Japanese tradition, destroyed the fleet of invading Mongols in 1281.

The last definition of the word may be applied to these workers in that they act self-destructively in order to achieve their mission. Which makes me think of:

altruism |ˈaltroōˌizəm| noun
The belief in, or practice of, disinterested and selfless concern for the well-being of others: Some may choose to work with vulnerable elderly people out of altruism.
• Zoology Behaviour of an animal that benefits another at its own expense.
DERIVATIVES
altruist noun
altruistic |ˌaltroōˈistik| adjective
altruistically adverb
ORIGIN mid 19th century: From French altruisme, from Italian altrui ‘somebody else,’ from Latin alteri huic ‘to this other.’

We are a strange species, we humans. A curious mixture of the angelic and the demonic; of the evil and benevolent, the bad and the good. We may choose to kill others of our kind with abandon, or go to great lengths to preserve the life of strangers, not caring about our own well-being or our own life… We destroy and then preserve, we demolish only to build up again. We exploit and then relent, in order to conserve. Oh, the glory and curse of being a human!

SIX HAIKU FOR AUTUMN

“Youth is like spring, an over praised season more remarkable for biting winds than genial breezes. Autumn is the mellower season, and what we lose in flowers we more than gain in fruits.” - Samuel Butler

Autumn sunshine ushers in the beautiful warm days and cool nights of a Melbourne autumn. We have been warned that this year may be another one where we may have lots of rain and a cold winter. I always have my doubts regarding these long-term weather predictions, considering the weather report is so often wrong for the day, but it was explained to me once in terms of planet-wide atmospheric modelling and input from historical statistical data, which at the time made sense. However, I am inclined to believe more in crystal ball gazing, especially these days where climate variation is becoming more marked and ever more uncharacteristic and unpredictable…

One of the wonderful things about the public holiday last Monday was our walk in the Darebin Parklands. The day was glorious, warm and sunny, not too hot, not too cool, not windy and the vegetation was lush and verdant, hints of autumn colour here and there, but still looking its best as late summer would have it; the added bonus being that the frequent rains had kept everything green.

I remember the day and luxuriate in it and I am mindful of the rich offerings of nature that we are privileged enough to enjoy here and now. Furthermore, we are fortunate enough to live in a peaceful country, I have a job, a home, a family, friends, prosperity enough to be lacking none of our needs, no threat of calamity in the near future. How grateful this makes me feel, especially in the context of the recent disasters and atrocities that are occurring worldwide! How lucky we are and how thankful we must feel…

For Poetry Wednesday, a seasonal offering six haiku specially composed for the mellowness of approaching Autumn.

Haiku for Autumn

A thrill in the bough:
A hidden bird? No, surprise
At first yellow leaf…

Warm sun; fair, mild, day;
Benign, calm nature. Yet the
Dusk brings bad temper.

Flowers finish blooming,
Leaves turn to red; grass to hay –
Fruit turns to honey.

The first chill needs wool;
Long night needs heavy blanket;
Sandals exiled now.

Contentment of Fall:
Rich harvest, vintage, nutting –
But grasshopper dies…

Cold sheets, lengthening night
Beg your warm embrace. Alas!
You left; like summer.

THE IDES OF MARCH AND FALSE FRIENDS

“An open enemy is better than a false friend” -  Greek proverb

On this day, the ides of March, in 44 BC Julius Caesar was assassinated. According to second century historian Plutarch, Caesar was warned to beware the Ides of March by a soothsayer while his wife Calpurnia also insisted that he not venture out on that day as she had dreamed that he would be killed.  Caesar dismissed them both and went to the senate as he had planned. When entering the senate building he saw the soothsayer and greeted him ironically with the words: “The Ides of March be come…” upon which the soothsayer replied softly: “…but yet they are not yet past!”  Moments later Caesar lay dead on the floor of the senate, murdered by his colleagues and “friends”.

Amongst the 16 conspirators wielding daggers was his good friend Brutus. Caesar seeing Brutus attacking him, is said to have uttered: “Et tu, Brute…” meaning, “You too, my friend, Brutus?” However, this may not have been what Caesar actually uttered. Some other authors claim that Caesar in fact said, in Greek (which he as other noble Romans spoke fluently): “Kαὶ σὺ, τέκνον…” translated as “You too, my son…” While both of these phrases are taken as evidence of Caesar’s recognition of utter betrayal, the Greek words may have a more sinister meaning. A proverbial Greek phrase common amongst Romans at the time began in this way, and translated was: “You too, my son, will have a taste of power…” Caesar was thus pointing out to Brutus that his turn too would come when he was powerful to be betrayed in a similar way. His last words therefore rather than expressing bitter despondency at the betrayal of his friend, may be interpreted as a threat or a curse…

Betrayal is hard to stomach, especially if it comes from someone that we are close to. Its normally bitter taste becomes a hundred times more unpleasant in that case and we find it hard to contain our misery and distress. False friends are indeed more pernicious and destructive than open enemies. Their actions bring to us great heartbreak. Our feelings of misplaced trust and our lost faith in our friend adds insult to our injury.

Japan has placed its trust in an old enemy that has been masquerading as a friend. Nuclear power wrought the shocking destruction in Nagasaki and Hiroshima in 1945 when the atom bombs were dropped by the Americans in a desperate and horrific act that ended the war. It is this same old enemy of nuclear power that was befriended by the Japanese and their trust was placed in this false friend fuelling the nuclear reactors that supplied their country with electricity – cheap, efficient, non-polluting power…

In the wake of the quake and tsunami, damage to the nuclear reactors has caused consternation as radiation leaks and a potential meltdown have alerted the world to the possibility of a nuclear disaster bigger than Chernobyl. Dangerous levels of radiation leaking from the crippled nuclear plant has now forced Japan to order 140,000 people to seal themselves indoors after the explosions and fire in the power stations dramatically escalated the crisis at the Fukushima Dai-ichi plant. The old scars on the psyche of the Japanese people have been scratched and the threat of another contamination with its concomitant misfortunes have awakened painful memories of Hiroshima, Nagasaki, the Hibakusha (survivors of the nuclear blasts) and the nation’s terrible aftermath in the wake of the atom bomb blasts.

Anti-nuclear demonstrations have begun in earnest worldwide, as our fragile planet is once again threatened by our inane activities. It is surprising that a sentient species such us continues to repeat mistakes of the past, continues to play with the fire that has burnt us deeply previously, and we fail to learn from our past experiences. We continue to strike up friendships with pernicious and covert enemies and we act surprised when such false friends are revealed for what they are.

MOVIE MONDAY - EAT PRAY LOVE

“Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live.” - Oscar Wilde

It was a public holiday in Melbourne today, Labour Day. The day was sunny and fine and we started it by taking a long walk to the Darebin Parklands. It seems that many other people had the same idea as us, with the place was full of families, cyclists, children and adults, people walking dogs and many others like us. Yesterday it had rained fairly heavily and the creek was full of water, the rushing water flowing rapidly and carrying now and then debris. Twigs, broken branches. On the banks there some uprooted saplings and one could see on the banks that yesterday the water level was much higher.

We came back home rather tired and seeing how I still haven’t recovered from my cold, we sat down and watched a movie. We saw the Ryan Murphy 2010 film “Eat Pray Love”, the screen adaptation of Elizabeth Gilbert’s best seller. We had got this film yesterday at the Latrobe University Sunday market and seeing how we had heard so much about it, we decided to watch it today. It was really quite disappointing…

First, let me say that we haven’t read the book and most of the good things I have heard concern the book. Yes, yes, I know, don’t judge a book by its film, but this is a book I have now not been inspired to read. However good the book is, the film has ruined it pre-emptively for me. This was a movie that went on and on for two-and-a-half hours and the only relief was the scenery in Italy, in India and in Bali. But it was no travel documentary, but a “deep-and-meaningful voyage of self-discovery by a woman who is going through a mid-life crisis”. Yawn… Wake me up when it’s over, please.

Julia Roberts plays Liz Gilbert who has achieved success as an author, has a husband, friends, a house, a career she likes, and lives the good life in New York. Yet like so many others in her shoes (those who have not experienced real misfortune, or need, or poverty, or deep tragedy), she finds herself lost, confused, and unsatisfied with all the wonderful things that life has offered her. She decides to start searching for what she really wants in life. She gets a divorce (and presumably with quite a lot of cash in hand), embarks on a journey around the world that becomes a quest for self-discovery. In her travels, she discovers eating in Italy; praying in India, and, finally loving in Bali. Her character comes out as selfish, ungrateful and mawkish in a self-pitying sort of way. She whines a lot…

The travels of Liz are inward-looking and her whole wide-world is an insulated water-coloured one untouched by economic crises, wars, terrorism, natural disasters, poverty, uncertainty, climate change, religious intolerance, or any other major issues of philosophical importance. The world inhabited by Liz is Lizocentric and everything revolves around her paying homage to her shallow existence and short-sighted view of the narrowest perspective.

She visits Italy and her Italy is a caricature of some 50s and 60s films of the type “Gidget Goes to Rome” or “Three Coins in the Fountain”. She goes to Italy for the food, not the art nor the literature; not the history nor the philosophy. Even her attempts at learning the language are pathetically related to the food… She goes to India next and her India is some mystical fun-fair that reeks of supermarket-shelf religion: “On Special Today – Guru Meditation at Ashram”. Nothing deep and meaningful, no insight, no true enlightenment, no involvement in Indian society and its multitudinous current-day problems. No involvement in the religious issues posited by the coexistence of Islam and Hinduism. She is not touched by the real India. Her interaction with other inmates of the Ashram is self-serving and her brand of Indian spirituality is that which she could have found easily in New York. She flies to Bali and Liz’s Bali is shallow and comfortable. Her interaction with the medicine man is trite. Her only selfless act is her charitable gesture towards a traditional healer in need. But is it really selfless or does she do it as a moral catharsis that makes her feel better? She finds love in Bali and she scorns it because she doesn’t need it, or so she says. She has no compunction in telling the man that offers her his love: “I don’t have to love you to love myself!” Amazing self-obsession!

This is an extraordinary story of a woman who is so selfish for the most part, that all she wants out of life and people is to take, take, take. There is no natural selfless giving, no gracious sharing, no acceptance of the bounty of good fortune, but always a quest for ever more things and people according to what she feels she needs at that moment. This is a spoilt brat all grown up, an egotistical woman, a mediocre human being (not really evil, but at the same time not really good or virtuous or gracious), a boring person, a shallow existence. Poor Julia Roberts does her best to give the role all she can, but this is individualistic and selfish bilge dressed up as a philosophical-religious-mystical-emotional homily. Is this heroine what modern women aspire to?

I may sound a trifle acerbic, but the film was quite annoying in many ways. It was a fantasyland of platitudinous, facile and superficial tediousness. It was presented in such a didactic, life-changing, aggrandising way that one was immediately distanced by it. I did not want to do anything with this Liz woman, as shown by the movie. This was not a human being that I felt had made the world a better place to be in. Liz had striven hard to make Liz feel better, more comfortable, more loved, more spoilt, more content. And of course for Liz and every other Liz, “Après moi, le déluge”…