back from two weeks in Hong Kong and Thailand, and a week of jet lag and upset tummy (as you do after travelling in Asia). what do you say about a week on the beach in a gorgeous resort? boring to the outsider yet deeply satisfying to the participants.

in HK we went to Felix, where the duck ruined me for any future duck dishes I might eat anywhere else, not excluding Flower Drum's Peking Duck and the Peking duck I once ate in Seattle at Microsoft's expense. Felix reminded me of the restaurant - what was it called? Hades? in The Matrix. the most dramatic, and beautiful-person (aka Eurotrash)-filled eatery I've ever been to, as well.

back home in lovely autumnal Melbourne, a movie was being shot in our street, at possibly the only grungy student house left in North Fitzroy. I kept meaning to take my cute baby down there to chat up the makeup/catering types and find out if it was the Nic Cage movie, but I got too busy being ill and missed out my one chance at celebrity stalking.

a sniff of work has arisen, but may yet be snatched away. it's not often that fully home-based, internet-researchable, well-paid freelance gigs fall into the lap of the convalescent mother of a toddler. wish me luck with that.

and a memo to the drivers and pedestrians of Melbourne, who resemble the moped riders of Koh Samui (Thailands highest road fatality province) in their apparent death-wish: you are not immortal. it will not hurt you to walk 25 metres to the crossing and back. and the indicators on your brand-new Audi probably work, I imagine. you won't wear them out, I promise.