The Yartz

So we've had a very Canberra sort of day today, starting out with the Fyshwick markets buying comestibles and digestibles. Including, accidentally, two bags of corn chips which probably tells you a bit too much about our attitude to food this week. There may have been mainstream pizza and mini-magnums in the house last night, but not for very long. Although I suppose our stomachs were still in the house, what with it being too cold for ease of digestion outside yestereve.

And if I'm being brutally honest we started the day all piled into the big bed reading, except for the bit where I bullied the poor husband into getting up and making the coffee, even though I had earlier offered to make him breakfast in bed.

So post-lunch (which might have involved cold pizza rather than your more whole-grain, fruit and vegetable option more usual in a post-Fyshwick world) we decided to pop on down to the National Gallery to check out the Yart. They had some. We didn't go and see the Hans Heysen exhibition because some part deep inside of me baulked at viewing a room utterly full of gum trees. Un-orstrayan, I know. So we looked at fantastic pictures of Indian princes and princesses instead, and enjoyed the Pop Art. One of us did not enjoy the Minimalist room - 'too much not-enough' he said. He is going to write a book of art criticism with this as the title, he tells us. He still is not fan of Yves Klein either.

And thence to Canty's, where you will find a pile of Phryne Fishers near the front door, but only if you are quick, I should imagine, since Mr Canty says they are a license to print money. Coming through, I also have the next required A.S. Byatt and a book on women's lives in Richmond in the early 20th century, which is just what I wanted. I also want a 1930s recipe and household book, but it is Not Yet Time, I think. Or I can always go down the National Library and look at one without having to own it.

This may have been the most self-indulgent weekend ever - because I finished all my assignments. I had Friday off work and went shopping on my own with no whining and bought shoes with no whining and also bought opaque tights and footlets and other useful items with no whining and was so grateful that I bought a Bionicle for the person who is frequently responsible for whining on other shopping trips. I hasten to add that I often also whine when shopping, thus setting a very, very bad example.

Oh, and the Noodle informs that he will no longer be known as the Noodle, but prefers to be known by his own nom de blog, Eddie Nedwards.