I wish I had a photograph to show you my “Frida Haircut” I had briefly back in the 1980s. Alas it was in the pre-digital photography era when taking photographs was a costly process. When getting a roll of film was a significant purchase for a teenager, let alone getting a roll developed.
But yes it’s true. I have a strongish memory of going into my local hairdresser at about the age of 17 and asking for a haircut like Frida from ABBA, and showing the hairdresser a copy of her from the “ABBA Magazine”.
In a scene reminiscent of that moment in “Shirley Valentine” (I think) when the largish woman goes into a hairdresser with a photograph, asking for a “Lady Di Haircut” I’m sure it gave my hairdresser a good laugh when he went home that night.
Unfortunately the attached pic fails to convey what I desired most – a rats tail.
Younger readers may not be all that familiar with the rats tail. Wikipedia describes it as…
A rattail is a haircut that is characterized by a long “tail” of hair growing from the back of the head. The rattail usually curls naturally; however, it can be braided, treated as a dread, permed, straightened, or curled with an iron. This hairstyle saw a brief period of mainstream popularity during the 1980s and has rapidly fallen out of vogue.
Though I never had a long rats tail, I, nonetheless, had one briefly in the 80s, as did Frida from ABBA.
Well, guess what? They’re coming back. On three occasions this weekend I’ve seen someone with a rats tail.
The latest occasion was tonight when I was having a drink with my friend John. There was a bloke maybe 20 years old who walked past us. Not entirely the most fashionable man around town. but certainly fashion conscious. And yes, he had a rats tail. It’ll be interesting to see if the fashion takes on, and for how long.
There were also a few 80s haircuts in a terrific film I watched on Foxtel this arvo called C.R.A.Z.Y.. It’s a film about a father’s relationship with his five sons, focussing mostly on one son, the gay one, Zac. It’s a beautifully made film with a good story, a wonderful poetic quality, and one which kept me intrigued the entire way through. Although we never got to see one, you just know for a while Zac would have had a rats tail too :)
“Do you remember much about the incident?” I was asked by the detective this afternoon.
“Yes I do”, I told him, “as I keep a blog and recorded my memories of the incident in a fair degree of detail”, I added.
I know this sounds awfully cryptic, I can’t blog about what happened today, but suffice it to say, it’s good news in response to a fairly traumatic incident which happened in my life a few months ago.
As it’s a current legal matter, that’s all I can say at this stage. Regular readers, stay tuned…
“You’re up late?”, I said to a former colleague who I knew needed to be at work at about 5am in the morning. “Well it’s a special occasion” she told me, as we both arrived at The Basement at about the same tonight. And indeed it was, with the launch of a “come back” CD by Dave Mason, former lead singer and songwriter for legendary Australian band, “The Reels”.
I’d grown up with their music and I really like “The Reels”, but I was probably about five years younger than most of the audience (even moreso for Damo) who were clearly big fans of Dave Mason and his work. As I looked around the crowd, it was kind of amusing to look at a crowd of people in their mid to late 40s who were nodding their heads in time to the music, whereas 20 to 25 years ago, when The Reels were popular, they would have been jumping up and down.
With the exception of one or two of their earlier independent releases, I knew most of the songs, although they were re-interpreted in many different ways. Some of the songs had a country-swing flavour to them, others were re-interpreted as Kransky Sister-style tuba numbers. For one of their biggest hits, “Bad Moon Rising”, Dave adopted the persona of a madman shouting through a megaphone, warning people of the end of the world. It was like Tom Waits on crack!
Dave Mason at The Basement
Musically, the tunes of “The Reels” were always very happy. However, when re-interpreted 2007-style in a variety of musical genres, the blackness of the lyrics became evident, especially in songs like “Quasimodo’s Dream” and “World’s End”.
Dave also performed a new song which I thought was quite good, and added a lot of fun to the room with his sing-a-long version of Melanie’s “Look What They’ve Done To My Song”, in which he added the line “Look what they’ve done to my flag”, during which he ripped an Australian flag to shreds and screamed about American imperialism.
Yes, it was that kind of night. Kinda predictable, but also kinda unpredictable. Dave Mason is a gifted song-writer, but he’s also a very gifted interpreter of his and other people’s songs. As I was watched him perform, and reflected on an obviously wild life with lots of drugs and alcohol, I imagined him for a moment in twenty or thirty years time still on stage, still finding life and meaning in the classic songs he sang tonight.
She wasn’t as “candid” as I’d hoped she would be, given the machinations in the Liberal Party over the last few weeks, but she was still interesting. Amanda Vanstone was the latest “political guest” at Giant Dwarf, having followed in the footsteps of Tony Windsor and Julia Gillard.
I missed Gillard, due to my overseas holiday, but had previously enjoyed Windsor, so when a friend asked me if I wanted to attend I signed up straight away. The premise is simple: Julian Morrow and Kristina Keneally chat to a former politician, and ask them to select some photographs from their “public life”.
Interestingly, Amanda Vanstone chose a lot of photographs of her dogs. Clearly there were some photographs chosen by Julian/Kristina, as there was one photograph which the former Senator had absolutely no recollection of, and one which she thought was a “montage”.
Although I was hoping she would reveal more about the recent machinations in the Liberal Party, she noted it was seven or eight years since she was a member of Parliament. That said, she revealed a few things. For example, she said she thought Peter Reith could have been a great Prime Minister. Sadly, Julian and Kristina didn’t press her on this, so we never learned about why. She also revealed the close friendship she had with Christopher Pyne and his family. I knew he had been her Press Secretary, but I never knew it had extended to a family friendship, and that she and Mr Pyne remained close friends.
That said, there were no further “reveals” and that disappointed me slightly. Also, the conversation at close to 100 minutes probably went on a little too long. Maybe an extra glass of wine might have helped all of us? :)
Julian Morrow, Kristina Keneally and Amanda Vanstone
James in the garden of Dianne d'Poitiers at the Castle of Chenonceau.It’s been another exhausting day on the “Castle Crawl of the Loire Valley”. I’ve changed into a pair or shorts and a t-shirt (and enjoying the relaxed nature of a queen-sized bed), while David is resting up in track pants reading a book. After a long day visiting three famous castles in the valley, we’re both pretty exhausted. In fact, I can barely keep my eyes open, so it might just be a few words today and some lovely “castle porn”.
After a light breakfast of coffee and croissants (I had a pain au chocolat) this morning, we set off to visit the first castle of the day, Azay-le-Rideau. Throughout most of its history it was privately owned, eventually sold when the final owner ran into some financial problems. Only once did a king, Louis XIII visit the property. The house had a very intimate friendly feel about it, and I especially enjoyed walking in the gardens.
We then came back for a bite to eat in Tours where I ate the very typically French liver pate on a baguette.
After lunch, we visited Chenonceau which mostly belonged to women. The occupants included Gabrielle d’Estrees, a favourite of Henri IV; Diane de Poitiers, a mistress to Henri II; and when he died it was taken over by his wife, Catherine de Medici. And after that, it became a refuge for the widow of Henri III when he was assassinated. For many years, the house was also in private hands, though it was turned into a military hospital. and during WW2, the house, which crosses the river, marked the line between occupied and free France for a period.
James in front of castle of Azay-de-Rideau.
Walkway leading to the Castle of Chenonceau.
Castle of Chenonceau.
Castle of Chenonceau.
James in the garden of Dianne d’Poitiers at the Castle of Chenonceau.
Castle of Chenonceau which crosses La Cher.
Beneath this stone lies…
David at Amboise.
Renaissance bed at Amboise.
One of Leonardo da Vinci’s party inventions at La Festa del Paradiso at Alboise.
Amboise: the first of the medieval fortresses to be turned into a renaissance palace.
Le Close Luce where Leonardo de Vinci died.
And then we visited Amboise: the place where Charles VIII died; a residence of most of kings of Fance in the Loire Valley until Henry IV. including being the place where Francois I had many famous parties. Some of the parties, incidentally, were designed by Leonardo de Vinci who lived just down the street for a number of years. Leo died nearby, by the way, and was buried in a chapel at the castle. We made a brief visit to the nearby house where he lived, though with only a few minutes to closing time, didn’t think the entry fee was worth the investment of time.
On several occasions today David has asked me to nominate a favourite. I don’t think I can since all three have their own special qualities. Some are beautiful, some are homely, some are architecturally or historically interesting. Sorry if that’s a cop-out.
Back in Tours we had dinner, and now we’re back in the room, ready to hit the sack. This is hard work, you know.
“What would David Stratton say?”, I thought to myself, when Margaret Pomeranz described the film as a “masterpiece”. She was the MC for the red carpet premiere of the new Netflix film, “The King”, a modern take of the story of Henry V.
I’m not exactly sure how, but I scored an invite, and invited my colleague and friend, Jo to come along with me. There was a red carpet, there were several glasses of champagne, and there was a lovely pack of cheese and crackers. What’s not to love?
There were also lots of young men and women (and maybe a couple of 50-somethings) impressed by the premiere night presence of lead actor, Timothée Chalamet. Memorably, he was in the movie, “Call Me By Your Name”, a wonderful story about the summer relationship between two young men. The relationship is complicated by one of them being under eighteen, though there’s not a huge age gap between them. The end of the film is very sad, and I shed a few tears. Oh, and there’s the scene with the peach.
Liz Watts, Joel Edgerton, Timothée Chalamet, Margaret Pomeranz and David Michôd
Though he’s a wonderful actor, Timothée is also a bit of eye candy, and there were lots of screams of delight when he appeared on stage. With a much younger audience, there were also a few moments of audience response in the midst of the drama, which, to be honest, didn’t really match with the intensity of it all.
Though I’m not sure I’d agree with Margaret’s assessment that it’s a “masterpiece”, I thought it was very good. It was an interesting combination of different genres including a thoughtful, psychological drama and an action film. There were moments of violence, where I had to turn my eyes away. The muddy, bloody battlefield scene, where it was hard to tell the difference between the two sides, and where you gained an intensity of it all, is memorable.
I arrived in Sundsvall for Melodifestivalen and immediately hit a snag that defines the modern Swedish experience: the “Swish” struggle. In Sweden, “digital only” has moved beyond credit cards; many local transactions now rely entirely on Swish, a mobile payment system tied directly to a Swedish bank account and a personal identity number. Without those local credentials, you are effectively locked out of a primary way people pay for everything from bus fares to a bottle of water.
When I tried to board the bus to the arena, it was explained to me that the system was Swish-only. Once I clarified that I’m Australian, they were incredibly understanding of my dilemma and were very helpful.
That kindness followed me all the way to the venue, where I queued for a significant amount of time just to get some water to get me through. When I finally reached the front, I discovered that even the bar was Swish-only, with no option for a standard card payment.
I must have had a look of utter defeat or confusion on my face as I turned to walk away, wondering how I’d survive without even a bottle of water. However, the people working there were once again incredibly helpful and recognised the situation immediately.
Melodifestivalen in Sundsvall
The journey north from Stockholm had been a four-hour train ride through a truly stunning, shifting landscape. The sky stayed a piercing blue for most of the trip, reflecting off a scenery that varied considerably as we moved north.
The views shifted from frozen lakes to paddocks where the snow was no longer hanging on the trees but still clinging to the ground. It was a really beautiful trip, which I enjoyed very much.
I’d met someone years ago in a Stockholm bar—an immigrant living in Sundsvall—who mentioned many people moved there for work. I can see why; it is clearly an industrial hub, defined by smokestacks and heavy industry.
The city sits on water that was, for the most part, frozen over.
Even though I’ve been to Melodifestivalen a couple of times previously, I was really excited to go again while I was in Sweden this time.
My obsession with the contest peaked around 2010–2013. During that period, I genuinely thought the quality of the songs and the “wacky” risks they took were actually better than the Eurovision final itself.
In more recent years, I feel it has become a little more predictable and a little more boring. You can usually set your watch by the line-up: there is always the classic “Schlager Diva” and the young artists designed to appeal to the tweens.
Despite that, I really wanted to come to this heat. The final in Stockholm is next weekend, and while I could have extended my trip, I thought it would be more fun to go to a community-based celebration like this one.
This is Clitos Clitou who is a prominent Cypriot television director who became a “Eurovision icon” in Sweden for his recurring role on the Melodifestivalen international jury, eventually becoming so popular that he was invited to perform a special interval act in his honour during the 2026 Swedish national selection. The punchline for the act was “Yes, that really is my name”.
The audience was filled with families and a lot of kids. I noticed a mother and daughter sitting right in front of me; the child, maybe six or seven, was dressed up in a hat and the full kit, but the mum seemed to be enjoying the show even more.
It felt like a generational tradition; the parents grew up with this, they still love it, and they want their kids to learn to love it too. As for the songs tonight, there wasn’t much in this final heat that truly grabbed me, to be honest.
Sanna Nielsen, a total pro and former Eurovision representative, returned with Waste Your Love. It was a classic disco-schlager track, reminiscent of Loreen’s Euphoria, and she sailed straight through to the final.
There was also an American artist with a Swedish songwriting team whose song was pure 1990s Britney Spears. She kept referring to it as “K-Pop” and spoke only in English, though she made sure to tell everyone how much she loves Sweden.
Personally, I thought the most interesting part was seeing what was going on behind the scenes. I had a seat right at the front near the stage, but it actually backed onto where all the performers were.
While I didn’t see a lot of the actual show—and one performance used a set where you couldn’t see anything at all—I did get to see the performers come off stage, which was a really nice thing to experience.
My favourite moments were the nods to the past. Seeing Caroline af Ugglas perform Snälla Snälla for the Hall of Fame was wonderful—it still has that raw, soulful grit that stands out in a sea of pop glitter.
Caroline af Ugglas at Swedish Radio, when I met her over a decade ago.
Sarah Dawn Finer also performed, and having seen her in a live concert years ago in Sweden, it was lovely to see her again. I also have a lot of time for Robin Bengtsson, whose song got through to the final next weekend.
I remember his Eurovision entry I Can’t Go On—the one where he had to change the lyric from “fucking beautiful” to “freaking beautiful” for the international broadcast. It was cool to see him again and watch him do interviews for Swedish radio and TV afterwards.
Robin Bengtsson at Melodifestivalen in Sundsvall
All in all, it was a really lovely experience, even if the songs were a bit average. Seeing the inner workings of the show and receiving so much support from the people there made it feel special.
In my younger days, I would have looked for a venue to go out for a drink afterwards, and I did check a few months ago if there were any in the area. But in the end, the bus dropped me 150 metres from my hotel.
I just came back to the hotel and hopped into bed, content to solve the world’s problems from under the covers. It was a lovely experience coming to Sundsvall for this.
Tomorrow, I’m heading back to Stockholm Airport, for a flight back to Bangkok.
