Wagons and cows and farm girls. Yeehaw!

Henry 's autograph

I went to see my current fave band, Wagons, play instore at Basement Discs in the city on my lunch break today.

Not only did I enjoy listening to them belt out a few songs, I got the autograph of the lead singer, Henry Wagons, who, you might remember, I have a little crush on. I know, that sounds embarrassing, a nearly 37-year-old clamouring for an autograph of a guy in a band who she has a thing for. I felt a little sheepish, although I was only clamouring on the inside. I'm too cool (or more likely to reserved) to clamour visibly. I stood quietly in line but I was pretty chuffed to speak to him.

As I had already bought their new album and didn't have it with me, I got him to sign one of the tickets I had bought for their upcoming gig at the Corner Hotel, which I did happen to have in my bag. He seemed pretty chuffed that I had already bought tickets. He signed his name and wrote "loves you" after it. Teehee. (OK, he signed that for everyone).

Hope his scribbling over the barcode doesn't deny me entrance....

Creeeeeamy

I am having a love affair with full cream dairy products at the moment. I've been buying Gippsland Dairy's full cream plain yogurt (it's plain apart from a little sugar) and it's scrumptious. I eat it straight from the tub all on its own. So rich and thick and creamy. Yum.

And as I couldn't get the light version of my preferred brand of milk on the weekend, I bought the full cream product instead. The difference is amazing. It makes my porridge even creamier (strangely enough) and more delicious.

I feel slightly silly rhapsodising about full cream milk after having grown up on a farm where we got our milk straight from the cow, although Dad was the only one who could drink it while it was still warm. We used to separate the cream from the milk, but even then it was much creamier than commercial skimmed milk. DIY skimming involved the use of a contraption called a separator which consisted of about 320 stainless steel parts and rubber rings and all sorts of doodads. From what I recall, you put the milk in a big bowl at the top and wound a handle or something and cream came out one tube and skimmed milk out another. It had to be pulled apart and washed after every use (which was every day).

After we left the farm, it took some time for us to adjust to homogenised, pasteurised store-bought milk. I'm not sure I will go back to skim again.

Anyway, enough reveries of my rural upbringing. Full cream milk is ace.