My enemy wears a kilt

Some of you already know that I have a mortal enemy. Oh yes – it’s true. I have a foe.

 The very existence of this individual tortures me. Just the sight of him invokes an intensely angry physical response. I almost feel like a red hot wave of hatred is rising up in me and I might go berserk at any second.

Who is this person? You may wonder. How did they inspire such hatred in me?

My enemy is: The Bagpipe man. Yes, you know the one – the shortish fellow with receding hair who tends to loiter on Prince’s Bridge, heaving his lungs out into that wheezing tartan bag of noise.

The Bagpipe Man incessantly plays his repertoire of 3 songs morning, noon and night, rain, hail or shine. When he’s not on the bridge he’s on Bourke Street harassing shoppers with his noise pollution. I’ve even spotted him pestering unsuspecting AFL goers on their way to the MCG.

Like taking hot pokers to my ear drums, The Bagpipe Man puffs out a succession of out-of-tune screeches (notes?) into vaguely familiar songs. How that cacophony can be called music is a mystery to me. I find it utterly perplexing that anyone would give him money, more still that someone hasn’t yet pushed him into the river.

Now that I have vented my anger against The Bagpipe Man, I will now turn to the other buskers and performers who are a permanent fixture of the area where I live. Some of these performers don’t bother me, some I actually even enjoy. Take the old guy in the electric wheelchair who likes to sing country music – now HE is talented.

The guy with the drum kit made out of rubbish cans does pretty well for himself. The men who do the chalk drawings on the pavement are really fantastic – although it would be nice to see something other than Johannes Vermeer's girl with a pearl earring.

The magic trick people I have a growing animosity towards, especially the ones who use dogs for tricks. The gold painted still lady and the bronze man just look bored. But the fire juggling people are, quite frankly, dangerous.

“We need your support.” They plead to the crowd. “We rely on nice folk like you to support us so we can continue doing what we love”. In other words: “give us your hard earned money so we can continue to hazardously throw flaming sticks around while contributing nothing to society and taking up most of the footpath”.

A musical friend of mine once told me that they had a policy of giving to ever busker, but not to beggars. This got me thinking about the difference between busking and begging. Both are actually very similar. In both instances you are requesting money from strangers in a public place. Buskers, unlike beggars, will give you something in return for your donation.  

But The Bagpipe Man, unlike buskers or beggars, is just there to annoy the crap out of you.

So next time you walk past him, do as I do. Glare at him and block your ears. Let your eyes convey the message: You are not getting a cent out of me.

Mind over platter - the detox challenge

For the past week I have been doing a Detox. What does this mean? It means that for 8 whole days I haven’t touched caffeine, alcohol, dairy, wheat or grain products, processed food, or sugar of any kind. Combine that with the fact that I don’t eat meat and have a restricted sex life means that I am feeling pretty nun-like at the moment.

Why on earth would I do this? Why would I, a foodie, who lives for coffee, cheese, wine and chocolate torture myself in this way? Precisely because I’ve lived for wine and chocolate all my life, and it had to stop. My liver was screaming out for an alcohol free day. My jeans no longer fit me and my belly button was threatening to disappear under my tummy flab.

Apparently the jury is still out on whether detox’s are even good for you. Most nutritionists would say no, especially if you go on one of those Celebrity detox diets or that one where you just drink lemon juice and maple syrup.

The benefits of a real detox, like the one I’m doing, WEED: to remove the bad bugs, SEED: replace the good bugs, FEED: improve my digestive function, and SEED: increase the effectiveness of my body to remove toxins. What are toxins? They are substances that reside in our body that are poisonous. Toxins are either environmental (external) or endogenous (made in your body).

Others say that not only do toxins not exist, but detoxing it is not proven to have any benefit and depriving your body of nutrients can actually be dangerous. In my case, I don’t feel deprived of nutrients. I’ve never felt healthier in my life. The challenge is coming up with a variety of tasty meals I can actually eat!

The detox has forced me to be aware of the nutrients within each food, and I am now much better ensuring I get enough protein. This was particularly useful because often vegetarians end up just living on carbohydrates (Next time you are at a restaurant, check the veggie option. It is guaranteed to be mushroom risotto).

I’m not doing this detox alone. I’m doing it with the assistance of a medical nutritionist and 25 others who signed up for this purification process. We are a virtual team (we will never meet) but keep in touch with each other’s progress via email. The nutritionist has tried to make it fun by creating a points system and setting us challenges.

My first challenge was to eat a meal blindfolded. Actually harder then you may think! Thankfully I had assistance from my ‘support crew member’ Alex who ensured I spooned the food into my mouth and not onto the floor. The purpose of this challenge was to actually taste each mouthful rather than just eat mindlessly. I was also instructed to stop eating when I felt full as opposed to just eating until there was nothing left my plate. This challenge was fun and educational, although quite messy.

The finish line is in sight!

I have 5 more days of this to go. After which I plan on rewarding myself with a glass of red wine, a coffee, some vegemite toast and some chocolate. But not in that order of course, and only in moderation. The real reward will be confidently whipping out my bikini at the Goldcoast next weekend. Waterslides here I come!

If you want to read more, this is a really good article on dextoxes:

http://www.motherinc.com.au/magazine/everything-for-mum/health-and-fitness/exercisenutrition/299-detox-diets-do-they-work

Investing by cartoons

Recently I have started working in the investment business. Do not fear – I am not managing any money (I am nowhere near qualified and I technically I am not legally allowed to do so).  At this stage I am just learning the ropes through research and observation. Because of this, I feel I have a unique outside view to a world that, while not entirely foreign to me, is shrouded by some degree of mystery.

In many ways investing, and funds management in particular, operates like a fraternity. How so? Well, it is a male dominated club or brotherhood of people with similar interests who work for their mutual benefit. Sometimes they may come into conflict, at which point the fraternity becomes divided and factions emerge due to the existence of various alliances. Pretty gangster eh?

Investors themselves each have various styles, and they in turn form networks with like minded investors. These ‘guilds’ often span the globe. For example, an investor with a particular style who lives in Japan may have an equivalent in the US who focuses on US markets.

Some tools and methodologies:

Then of course there is no methodology at all, which is really pure speculation often precipitated by mass hysteria:

The world of financial securities is a funny place. I find it fascinating that companies can be bought, sliced up, repackaged and sold again. So can bonds, or tranches of mortgages. You can then even buy insurance on those repackaged mortgages – If you bought credit default swaps on mortgage backed securities in 2006 you would have made a motza during the GFC.

I find shares a lot less complicated than the other financial instruments. I think this is because companies with shareholders are like mini democracies. When you buy stock in a company you are taking a portion of ownership in that company. Depending on the type of share, this may entitle you to rights; The right to receive dividends, the right to vote at the annual general meeting and the right to call an extraordinary general meeting.

If a company is like a democracy, then the board is like it’s governing council. They are elected to act as a nexus between the company and its shareholders.  They must serve in the best interest of the company, which in turn naturally corresponds with the best interests of the shareholders.

Interestingly, some board members do not know this. They treat shareholders (and funds managers) as adversaries and not as allies. A very few see it as their role to be “independent”, which is quite preposterous as members of the board are able to own shares themselves. Indeed, who better to look after the best interests of a company than someone who has ‘skin in the game’ so-to-speak.

This cartoon illustrates this attitude well:

New Yorker Cartoon  by Joseph Mirachi

So if you’d read this far you are probably wondering what the point of this musing was? It may seem like I am arguing that to be a successful investor you need to be a well networked male with a sophisticated investment technique, that you act in a contrary fashion to the masses, that you focus on equities and only invest in companies who’s board members are shareholders themselves.

Not so. Anyone can be an investor. All you need is a cat.

For the love of dog

I have loved dogs ever since I was little.

When I was six-years-old my mum’s heart skipped a beat when she looked out the window and saw that I had tied a belt around my brother’s neck, and was ‘walking him’ in the garden. Suffice to say, shortly after that incident mum brought home a real dog for me to walk. I think she thought it was safer that way.

I don’t know where this love of dogs comes from. I just know that it has always been there. I could hypothesize and say that it came from being read Spot books as a child. But then again I also liked The Very Hungry Caterpillar books and I don’t particularly like caterpillars. So I guess I was just born with a love of dogs, the same way that, mystifyingly, some people seem to be born with a love of cricket.

If I am walking down the street and see someone walking a dog, I have no qualms about greeting a dog before greeting its owner. In fact, I will cross the street to pat a dog. If I am particularly lucky and get a stretch of footpath with lots of cute dogs, I may be at least 5 mins late to wherever I need to be. Even if a dog is wearing a muzzle, that wont stop me from patting it. You see I have this uncontrollable urge to greet dogs, whether they want to be greeted or not.

Common wisdom would suggest that people are either dog people or cat people. But honestly I think you can be both – it’s not like two ends of the spectrum. And dog people and cat people can get along: one of my very good friends is about as crazy a cat person as you can get without actually owning a cat. Sally…. That’s you.

I guess you could describe me as a dog-oholic. Except that I am not confessing this obsession so much as proudly proclaiming it, and it is not something I feel the need to join a 12 step program to change.

Last year, when sorting through my parent’s eclectic book shelves*, I dug out ‘The Observers Book of Dogs’ by Clifford L.B. Hubbard. Now I am not one to judge a book by it’s cover, but I thought the author's name sounded a bit poncy, so I was unsurprised to discover the book was published in 1945, and that Clifford’s writing style is equally archaic.

“For traffic reasons,” Clifford explains to readers, “town dogs are usually walked on leads, and here is where so many dog-owners become quite irresponsible people. I am thinking now of those who allow their dogs to foul the pavements, usually turning a blind eye to the offence, for offence it certainly is, and dog-owners should be urged to avoid such unpleasantnesses.”

I am sure Clifford is no longer with us, but I think he would be saddened by the fact that dogs fouling the pavements is still a common occurrence 70 years on, despite the advent of the pooper-scooper.

Surely though we can forgive this little indiscretions for a species as loyal as the canine (now I’m starting to sound like Clifford…). For those unaware of the story of Hachiko, I suggest you check out this link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hachikō. Now that was a top dog. I cried during the movie Marley and Me, but I have to say that Hachiko kicks Marley’s ass.

I hope this musing was of interest to every dog owner, and also to the many others who have never had the good fortune to have a dog companion.

* other books discovered on the shelves included:

 Teaching the mentally retarded – edited by Gerard Bensberg,  Mind traps – mastering the inner world of investing – by Roland Barach and I love a sunburnt torso – by Christina Hindhaugh. I can't say my parents don't have diverse taste.

My random musing for this week is on: A life of vegetables

What do I have in common with Albert Einstein, Alec Baldwin, Brad Pitt, Aristotle, and Ghandi? Here’s a clue: you’re more likely to find us all munching on carrots than on a steak cooked medium well.

That’s right, those guys were/are vego, like me.

For just over 2 years now I have lived a life of vegetables. I am not actually a full vegetarian – I am what’s called a ‘pescetarian’ because I eat fish. Some would say this makes me a ‘Fish and Chip-ocrite’.

When I decided to stop eating meat, my friends and family were shocked and appalled. Overnight I became a social pariah. I was an inconvenience at dinner parties. I had to cater for myself at BBQs, and I had to justify this decision to everyone at every meal.

Most people were just curious as to why I had become a vego. In fact some were interested in making the switch themselves. However there were more than a few who felt the need to tell me that humans are carnivores who have evolved to eat meat, and therefore a vegetarian diet was unnatural, unhealthy and unsustainable.

Look, the smell of lamb chops on a BBQ still makes my mouth water. And I’m sure sometime in the past two years I may have accidentally eaten meat (apparently marshmallows are not purely vegetarian...). But by and large, I am sticking to my guns. It has been an interesting life change and I have enjoyed it immensely. 

Now don’t think I am going to convince you to do as I do, but it would be remiss of anyone writing about vegetarianism not to mention the benefits. Being vego reduces your risk of many chronic diseases including obesity, diabetes and some types of cancer. So while eating brussels sprouts may not give you hair on your chest, it will help you grow up big and strong.

Of course there are downsides to being vego. Bic Macs are out of the question and bacon is not an option however hung-over you may be. Then there’s the initial social ostracism that I described – which is especially profound in my native land where my fellow countrymen pride themselves on slapping various meats on barbeques. Another con is the limited choice of food at restaurants. But thankfully grilled do have several excellent vege burgers.

So let’s learn something. As well as pescetarians like me there are other types of vegetarianism. These are:

• Lacto-ovo vegetarians – people who avoid meat and seafood, but include dairy foods (such as milk and eggs) and plant foods.
• Vegans – people who consume only plant foods.
• Fruitarians  - similar to vegans but more extreme. If you’ve ever seen Notting Hill, you will remember the scene where Hugh Grant’s character goes on a blind date with a Frutarian. She comments that the boiled carrots they are eating have been murdered.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vXIdcA6mlV4

There are also a diverse range of reasons why people become vego.

There are ethical reasons, and this is the big one for me.  The increase of factory farming in developed countries has made this more popular. The theory goes that if alternative means of survival exist, one ought to choose the option that does not cause unnecessary harm to animals.

Many religions advocate a mostly vegetarian diet; these include Jainism sects of Hinduism, certain types of Buddhism (1). Also the Seventh-day Adventists, the Rastafari movement, the Ananda Marga movement and the Hare Krishnas.

I know a few people who are vegos for Environmental reasons. This is based on the concern that the production of meat and animal products for mass consumption is not environmentally sustainable. Interestingly, the livestock industry is the largest contributor to environmental degradation world wide and is responsible for 18% of the world's greenhouse gas emissions as measured in CO_2. (2)

Thank you for reading this far. I hope you’ve learned something. Why don’t you reward yourself with a healthy treat? Go on, grab yourself a carrot. It might help you to see in the dark.

(1)   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vegetarianism

(2)   Betterhealth.vic.gov.au

My random musing for this week is on: Jumping off the corporate ladder

A month ago I took the plunge. I surveyed the ground below me, took a deep breath, loosened my grip on the corporate ladder, and then let go.

In all fairness, the rung I had climbed to in my 3 year career was not especially high off the ground. I was still a fairly low paid minion, so in jumping I did not have far to fall.

“Why did I jump?” You might ask. Oh, for so many reasons. But that is not what I want to discuss here. Far more interesting is to examine career changes more broadly.

If like me you are wondering how common career changes are, you might find these statistics interesting: those aged 20-24 are three times more likely to change jobs in a year than those aged 45-54. In fact nearly 1 in 4 of those aged 20-24 change jobs in any given year. (1)

So does 1 in 4 of us have an attention deficient disorder or is there something in our nature that drives this need for change? Life Two, a career counselling organisation, says it is common for employees to re-evaluate their current career in terms of how they currently feel about what they want to do, what they want to earn and how they use their talents and strengths.

So if you are thinking about changing, don’t feel disloyal or freakish. Turns out it is completely natural.

Indeed we are no longer serfs tilling the land of our feudal war lords, or prostitutes enslaved to our pimp (although working in professional services can make you feel like one sometimes...). We are in fact adults who have the power to exercise free will. Technology today enables us to exercise our free will and change careers more easily; Career websites like Seek.com.au are easy portals to the great unknown, and LinkedIn is a convenient channel for head hunters.

The main reasons workers consider a career change are fairly obvious:

-       Promotion – i.e. a better offer somewhere else

-       Unhappiness – scraping plates has become somewhat unappealing

-       Obsolete skills – move along check-out-chick, we have machines that do your job now

-       Life needs – You just need a new challenge

And sadly, sometimes people don’t have a choice. If, for example, you chose to come to work naked, well you will likely get fired thereby forcing you to change careers. More realistically, you may find that your job is being moved offshore; I read in The Age today that ANZ bank is estimated to cut around 1000 jobs by the end of this year (2). This is supposedly part of a broader ‘While Collar Crisis’, in which companies are laying people off in a bid to protect their profit margin in this time of economic anxiety. So, depressingly, redundancy may also prompt change.

The American Bureau of ‘Labor’ Statistics reports that men and women hold an average of about 14 jobs by the time they turn 40. The majority of these jobs are at the beginning of their working lives – when they are teenagers and in their early twenties. Apparently Vincent Van Gogh, the impressionist painter, was a schoolmaster, student priest missionary and art dealer before he became a painter.

Now that I stop to think about it I have actually changed jobs quite a few times in my 27 years. I went from baby sitter to ice-cream scooper to Heigh’s Chocolates to the drudgery of Spotless Catering to Kordamentha to Deloitte then to where I am now (with a few other payable stops on the way). All up, that still does not bring me close to 14 changes. So by this reasoning, I am guessing I need to be prepared for more changes to come.

As do we all.

Anyone want to do an impressionist painting class with me?

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(1) ABS Labour Mobility Australia Cat 6209.0

(2)  “ Bank on white-collar crisis” Gareth Hutchens, Mark Hawthorne. January 14, 2012. Read more: http://www.smh.com.au/business/bank-on-whitecollar-crisis-20120113-1pzhx.html#ixzz1jP5bVK7F

My random music for this week is on: Music Festivals

It’s summer. And for many people I know, summer = music festivals.

For me music festivals are a unique concoction of bands, hispters, denim shorts, booze, sun burn, queuing and Hari Krishna food. They are a social phenomenon unto themselves – not quite rave, not quite street party. Each festival is totally different, and yet there are undeniably common elements: 


Risking the mood of the weather gods to bop along with a ray-ban wearing crowd at stage A before moving to stage B to catch the second half of a set. You agree to pay outlandish drink prices on top of the exorbitant entry fee because, you reason, this way you don’t have to go to expensive sideshows to see everyone you want to see.

This clever calculation can be destroyed by the following:

• Your mate getting drunk too early and having to take them home
• The scheduling gods overlapping two acts you really wanted to see
• A freak change in the weather (Apparently muso’s are not keen to perform during lighting. Bunch of weaklings). For those camping, a wind change can also result in untimely tent punctures whereby the Spinifex cheapy you bought on ebay impales itself.
• An extraordinary long wait to get bar tokens backed up by an even longer wait at the bar only to discover it’s a two drink minimum per person.
• Your favourite band cancelling on the day
• The inevitable fight for public transport after the festival. Also known as the “how many people can we pack into one CONNEX train carriage” game
• Or, and this one is the worst, your band playing all their songs EXCEPT the one you’ve been dying to hear (despite the fact you’ve been yelling “sound of settling” for the last half hour. Bloody Death Cab).

But despite all that can go wrong, I absolutely love music festivals. I love the elation of discovering a new band, or the joy of a great posi where you can both see the act and dance around. I love spotting the artists themselves walking around, and subtly photographing those I recognise. Most of all I love the collective peace you feel when you are sitting in sunshine on the grass, beer in hand, mates around you, and, for that moment, no cares in the world. 


I wonder when I will get too old for music festivals. Maybe never. Maybe I will become one of those mums at Falls who bring their hipster babies along. But changing nappies in a tent? No thanks.