I've been trying really hard to make this garden thing work, but I am hindered by forgetfulness and rabbits.

I have a little green house, but everything in it got roasted by a heat wave. And I've been trying to grow things from cuttings, but I either over-water them, or forget to entirely. I tried to start small, with seeds, and it didn't go so well, and let's just say that seedlings and I have...a strained relationship.

We shan't talk about the geranium, or the mint, or the tomato, or the lettuce. Or the parsley. Or the basil. Or the jasmine, which has turned dry and yellow, seemingly overnight.

I am hoping that succulents will finally break the drought, so to speak. I do remember trying once before, with some cacti, but that ended badly.

A month ago I took some buds/florets from my mother. Some made it, others didn't, some had pups and went a but wild. Last weekend I was home, and I took some more. I'm thinking that it's a numbers game...



As a general statement, I'm thinking that things are going ok. TOUCH WOOD TOUCH WOOD TOUCH WOOD.

You do remember, don't you, the guerrilla knitters? The entire Swedish collective of knitters? The urban knitters of Marrickville, needles clicking under the cover of darkness?

The knitters....

Including in Crown Street, Surry Hills.

On Saturday I was in Chatswood getting my bits lasered. We don't need to talk about that.

At first, going to Chatswood for one errand seemed a really stupid idea, since it takes two trains and almost and hour to get there. Then I remembered that I live in Marrickville, and it takes 20 minutes to drive to the Metro which is shitty, and if I want to go window shopping anywhere except the city (don't like Westfield city, makes me feel like I am in a poorly designed sci-fi movie, I get dizzy because of all the shiny surfaces and low ceilings, and then I have a panic attack), it takes at least an hour and at least two trains.

The first time I went to get my bits lasered, I was on a singular mission and didn't venture off the path. The second time I went, I took a navigator with me and I just followed him (it was Rob). This time, I was on my own and I had a day to myself to wander. I got hopelessly lost, was in there for almost 4 hours, and I blew a big fuck off hole in my credit card. I'm ok with that.

I was being sensible, so I was really only buying sensible workish clothes etc. Except for the bunny sweatshirt.

I was being restrained, so I didn't go into Kikki K.



The last few Kikki collections have been a bit eh for me. Too bright and cheery, but not in the way I like. And also sometimes too geometric. I have a couple of things which I love: my diary and some notebooks from Vår, and a little pencil case and keyring in petrol blue, a card here and there... but I haven't been loving to the point of needing.


But this, this... Landskap....I want it all.



I really really wanted to go in. Instead, I loitered outside looking like a creeper and took photos.




The little dala horse stamp: I have a place for him in my heart, even if I don't have any use for him in real life. And I've no need for an address book or a laptop satchel. But still, I can't help but long for the little orange bird and the beautiful shapes, just as I sometimes long for a cold dusky Swedish winter morning.

Oh Kikki, for you and a staff discount, I would return to retail.

Sometimes, it's just good to be reminded.

Since I am a heathen without a god, Easter holds for me only the promise of paid days off from work, and gluttony. Is that so bad?

Just because I don't believe it doesn't mean I don't appreciate the trimmings... and I must share with you something truly wonderful.

First some back story. As you are probably aware, we live in Marrickville. Before it was the new Paddington and we were priced out of the housing market, it was home to a large Greek population. Now it's home mostly to yuppies who complain about aircraft noise, but I digress.

Vestiges of its time as a Greek centre remain in two major forms. The first, delicatessens with so vast an array of cured meats and olives that your heart stops beating before you walk in the door. The second, Greek bakeries.  Athena Greek Bakery, to be precise.

Imagine a wonderland of baklava, paximadia (biscotti), shortbread, friend pastry, and all manner of things filled with custard. All measured by weight. Except for the vanilla slice, a wedge of which is so huge and luscious it could stop the wheels rolling on an A380, which is $2.50 a piece. Even in Armidale, where gentrification has not yet reached the prices in Moxon's Bakery, you cannot buy a piece of good vanilla slice for such a price.

It is an entirely different world. One entirely governed by elderly Greek ladies who think it's strange when people order 4 biscuits rather than 4 kilos of biscuits. On baking days, the smell wafting up our street almost does me in.



I'm guessing the Greeks take Easter very very seriously. Last year, Athena was taking orders for tsourekia (sweet braided bread with a red egg in it) about 3 weeks out, and in the days leading up to Easter, those egg breads didn't stand a chance. And I did actually see gaggles of 3rd generation Greek women with big hair, tight jeans and lots of gold jewellery, with the husband's Lexus double-parked outside (it's not racist if it's true, right?), reeling off lists written by their grandmothers, ordering boxes of biscuits, painted eggs, egg bread etc..by, yes, the kilo.





Yes, Easter is a big deal around these parts.

And, non-believer and all,  I would totally buy those straw rabbits if I didn't find them just a bit creepy.