Baby, I’m sorry. I’m not sorry. Baby, I’m sorry. I’m not sorry. Frig I love that song.
Gosh. What’s the old girl raving on about now. Did you just ask yourself that. Maybe not. I don’t think anyone reads this. Probably a good thing. Phew. On and up.
I’m on the rant. Again. Perhaps I need to rename this. Diary.Rant. You know what I’m going to say... Social media is upsetting me. Just turn the bloody crap off, the husband groans. Yes he’s a smart person. He doesn’t partake at all. He’s bloody right. As always...
My excuse is I’m a marketer. I’ve got to be on it. Across it. Under it. Over it. But do I. Really. Is that being real. I’m still trying to work through that. Being real isn’t liking something or someone I really don’t.
Real. What is real anymore? Did they just photoshop the shit out of that photo. Was that bird really in the sky. Does she really love those hideous biscuits. Is it all just porky pies. They’re making a living from it. Smart people. They never seem ranty. Life is one wonderful coffee after another.
So I made a plan tonight while glancing at the cricket. Bring back Lillee please. Remember his hairy chest and crazy flying necklace. I bet it was real gold. Anyway.
Step one. Unfollow. Ahhhhh. I feel better already. Who cares if I see you. You don’t know me anyway. You give me the poops. Why do I want constant runny poo. No thanks.
Step two. Stop putting people’s handles into Social Blade. Trust your gut. It’s always right unless you’ve got the runny poos.
Step three. Keep being REAL. Take real pics. Of real things. Talk real crap. Not crap crap.
Easy. Different and real wins in my eyes. Who gives a rubber glove about anything else.
Nonite. Kiss. No kiss.
Art of plant. Well I think it makes sense...
I’ve always loved photographing plants. Even weeds. Who cares really. They’re all pretty funky. Much more exciting than the latest bikini don’t you think.
Oh my gosh. I saw a gold lurex Bonds one piece playsuit thingamo in Big Dub yesterday. It was a work of art too.
Don’t worry. It didn’t fall in the trolley.
Back to plants. Next time you’re out and about, take a good look around. Plants are cool.
Have a chat to them too. They don’t answer back either. Nice.
I've got something to say. You know those times when you can't sleep. Of course you do.
I'm worried for kids these days. Actually. For everyone. Social media. It's like a disease. It's part of my work and it's really challenging me. It's like a bad marriage. Good one day. Crap another. How do you let this anxiety go.
And another thing. The fact that people keep writing your instead of you're at the appropriate moments. Oh my gosh I always want to correct them. I'm heading towards having no bloody friends...
This is where my Mid Life Crusade is kicking in. I've been around. Seen a bloody lot. Try my guts out. Help others. Give free advice. Do a great job for my clients. And yes. Life isn't all about receiving.
But why do people my age continue to be overlooked. Invisible. Yes we have brains. Yes we have ideas two years before you even think about it. Yes we have wrinkles. Yes we have cred.
I watched a brilliant Mumbrella vid recently. It hit home. I wasn't alone! Why do young marketers continue to market to their own age audience? Hello!!!!!!! Twenty five year olds aren't buying Mercedes. Or Lexus. Twenty five year olds can't afford to stay at ten star hotels. Twenty five year olds aren't taking luxury tours and eating oysters. They've already got a sex drive.
Look. I love kids. But when you continually feel like YOU'RE past YOUR use by date, it really starts to grate. And you write these types of posts at 5.00am on a Friday.
Now I'm off to gym in my clapped out buzz box. Then I'll have my Acai bowl. Is that how you spell it. Then I'm buying a friggin drone and a bikini. So I can take photos of the landscape. I could be anywhere you know. Telling you zero.
Actually... I'll probably be at home doing the washing. I use Cold Power by the way.
Over and out.
Let's talk about Marketing. Have you switched off already? How about if I say Accounting. Now come on. Marketing is a lot more sexy than Accounting. Don't you think?
I've been like a mad marketing monster these past few months. Don't think it has anything to do with my age. Menopausal mad marketing monster? Well maybe. And don't get me started on age. And demographics. That's another rant for another day.
I know times have so called changed. Social media has taken over the world. Or so it can feel. People don't give a poo about oversharing, do they. And I find these over over over sharers are suddenly marketers, or so they call themselves. It's really starting to irk me. I'm going to go and hug a feather.
Now this might sound like a jelly old woman rant here. But I'm not. I've started the gym. The jelly belly is dissolving. Thank you.
Do you ever feel like a lone voice. You're really passionate about something. To the point of it being like a hot stinky rash. Eeek.
What I'm ranting about here is why do some (not all.. that is true) businesses do lazy marketing. Sending out their products to the new age influencers. I hate that word. Who are they to influence me to buy that yoghurt. Or that chocolate. It's like the 'I think I'm cool' Housewives Club of Instagram.
Also. Who are these so called experts. I look at the comments. It's like school days. "Oh wow, that's so good. Oh wow, your flatlay is so amazing." Oh wow. I want to be sick.
You're telling me to unfollow aren't you. You know what. I can't. It's like a game. What on earth are they going to spruik next. Tampons? That would make a cool flatlay. Perfect colour palette. I'm waiting for the Omo lady to pop up. Remember the chalk.
And then suddenly out of nowhere they decide to spill the beans on their past life. Life before this amazing world of Instagram. I understand everyone has a story. Who bloody hasn't luv! But intimate, personal and publicly on social media just leaves me frozen. Solid. What am I supposed to do. Send you one thousand kisses and love you more. Is this a way to get more followers. Oh by the way, how on earth did you get That many followers. Who.Are.These.People.
Call me a B.... I don't care. I just feel it's all getting so out of hand. And laughable. And if you think getting a freebie product from a company is so niiiiice, and makes you feel so speeeeecial and the company is ahmmmmmmazingly amazing, then think again. You're now working for them. You'd better give them ROI I tell you. And don't spruik their competitor tomorrow. Please.
ROI? Google it.
That is all.
I was very excited. A road trip was in the diary for a few days in September. Oh yeah. And it was a work trip, I guarantee it wasn't boring! I was driving.
My lovely client in the accommodation game in South Australia and I decided to head to New South Wales for a spot of hotel hopping. No not shopping.
Flying into the Gold Coast is always old school cool I reckon. A relatively small airport which allows you to touch the tarmac. Soaking in the sunshine as soon as you land. Love that.
Into the buzzy Avis rent-a-car which I always book. Again old school cool. Remember those old Avis ads? Maybe not. Anyways. Thelma and Louise were set.
First stop for the night was Halcyon House and our stay was second to none. After Insta-stalking the joint for what feels like ten years, we were finally there. It was real. We stayed overnight and honestly, it was brilliant. Okay it's not cheap, but we felt it was worth it. Experience with a capital E. Oh and don't forget to prise yourself away and walk out the front gate to Cabarita Beach. Sunrise Gold.
Next stop was Byron Bay where we stayed at The Atlantic. It's a group of guest houses which took us by surprise. Not a true hotel experience but was interesting to stay in this type of shared accommodation. A good place if you're going with a group of other Thelmas. Oh the loom of big birthdays hey.
Byron is always good for a perve. Girls. Guys. Vans. It has the lot. Sitting at Rae's Wategos for Friday lunch was a big treat. We cheersed ourselves while talking shop. Hotel talk that is. A beautiful view of Little Wategos Beach was the best Friyay I've had for a long while. The sparkly ocean delivered lots of farkly sparkly glitterati. Go. There.
Our last night was spent at The Bower Byron Bay. A renovated motel which has recently been renovated and super styled. A cute spot which gave another entirely different feel for accommodation on offer in this part of Australia.
Okay okay. On our three and a half day roadie we did shop. Of course we bloody did. Who am I kidding. Work shopping. It's a thing you know. Absolutely loved visiting Bangalow, Newrybar and also Brunswick Heads.
I can't wait to return. Mmmmm. Another work trip?... Might take my new Halcyon House beach bag out. Shopping.
You know what it's like. The washing is still staring at you...
I've found as I get older I need nature fixes more often. I even choose it over wine these days. What? Mmmmm. The mornings after are getting rougher.
I've come to realise that sitting and huffing over Instagram that you never bloody go anywhere is ridiculous. You just need to get in the car. Or on your bike. Or horse if you're lucky. And go. Up. The. Road. Who cares if it's not the Caribbean luv.
I did just that last Saturday. With a handful of nature lovers too. The type that know you want your space. Smile and nod. Don't ramble in your ear about the World's problems. Bliss. They're onto nature fixes as well.
So where did I go? Up the road. Ten minutes away... I visited the Waite Arboretum - on 30 hectares in the burbs of Adelaide! It's part of the University of Adelaide's Waite Historic Precinct. Adjacent is stunning Urrbrae House. This grand old dame and amazing surrounds were bequeathed to the Uni by Peter Waite in 1914. I'm embarrassed to say I've only ever driven past.
The beautiful c1929 Dracaena draco tree is amazing. See above pic - it feels like one big hug. Just stand under it and you get your much needed nature fix.
The best bit. Nature fixes are free. And this gem of a place is open every day of the year. No excuses now. Always excuses for doing the washing though. I don't need to tell you any more. Go!
Smile. Nod. Even wave. Then enjoy.
I always said I wouldn't write a blog. I would write a blog. I wouldn't write a blog. What is a blooming blog anyway. We lived without blogs. My husband said, "isn't your Instagram thingo a blog"...
I am still not on board with it all entirely in my head. I'm not about to start up a Mardi Magazine either. So to get some of my stuff out of my head, here is what I am calling Diary Talk.
Did you write diaries or journals as a kid? Secret ones I suspect! I did. Have you still got them?
I was tidying up my junk cupboard the other day. Making way for more junk. I came across an old Travel Diary. Yes, I am old enough to have used them. A PRINTED BOOK with writing in PEN IN IT! I always bought a new one when I went on a BIG trip. Overseas. That was only a couple of times. But I am so glad I did. These old treasures provide HOURS of entertainment. Like Instagram can...
So now to NOT provide you with HOURS of entertainment. But just a bit of lunchbox size entertainment.
Diary Talk will be published once in a while when I feel like it. Yep. I am determined not to be a slave to the keyboard. Or become a pain in the bottom. So here is the first entry. Please don't run away.
So what is the darn point of all this hoo ha I hear you ask. Well. My next ramblings will be about a Trip. Probably about a trip I did this year. Because that is really what I want this to be about. Road trips. Jaunts around my beloved South Australia. Even outside of South Australia! You never know where I might end up. Perhaps the next burb...
Who knows what it will say - it's all about being SPONTANEOUS - now that floats my boat!