My wife recently got hold of the new Sick Puppies album “Dressed Up as Life” and told me to give it a listen. Although I generally lean toward the Hard Rock and Metal scenes I decided to give it a go. This band has absolutely blown me away and I’m enjoying every minute of it!

Sick Puppies hail from Sydney, Australia and are 3 piece band. Shimon Moore handles lead vocals and guitar, Emma Anzai is on the bass and backing vocals while Mark Goodwin plays the drums. The band is a typical commercial Rock styled band that sounds very similar to Three Days Grace and Nickleback. Shimon has an incredibly dynamic voice moving between soft ballads and hard rock screaming with ease. The guitar riffs are addictive and very well constructed, with the bass line following the guitars lead instead of the drums, you can hear the bass clearly. Emma’s bass is very clear and sounds outstanding with some very intricate playing. The drumming by Mark Goodwin has been very carefully controlled and is heavy at the times it should be and at other times dead quiet when needed. Personally I feel the cymbals are used to much in the drumming but friends of mine don’t even hear it. Over all, the sound of the band is really good.

Onto the album itself, it is mind blowing. From rebellious anthems like “My World” to introspective ballads like “All the Same”, Sick Puppies have some stunning songs. Each one of these songs make you sit back and think of something in your life. Personally, there are a number of tracks on this album that feel like they’ve been written specifically for me. The album covers a range of emotions but each song gives you a sense of closure on that emotion. This is one of those albums that you’ll listen to in your car for months without really realizing it and so it is incredibly good value for money.

I cannot wait for the next Sick Puppies album, especially if they can find a way to improve on their style or lyrical content. How I haven’t heard of this band before escapes me so go out and give them a try!

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Being a big city guy in a small town is peppered with challenges. My first mission to find a cappuccino yielded filter coffee covered with whipped cream. Oh dear. Imagine my disappointment. The only other place with a real coffee machine was to be found in a pub that also did coffee. It didn’t seem right to be served by greasy-haired vacation kids while listening to The Doors. We needed something else.

So, prior to our trip south, we heard unconfirmed reports of Sedgefield getting its second cappuccino machine, and these demanded an excursion. Our investigation revealed it at the Fresh Bean Coffee Shop and Internet Cafe. The coffee was really great. Another point worth knowing is that all coffee is Fair Trade stock from Ethiopia and Tanzania, promoting the payment of fair prices to producers despite market fluctuations, promoting sustainability and empowerment. [For more info on Fair Trade, read this http://snurl.com/97vmi ]

This place is worth a visit if you’re in the area and wondering how you’ll service your caffeine dependency. Was sad that they had run out of flapjacks on the day, but hey… Anyone else know of other options in the area?

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My Father had huge feet.

When I held his hands and placed my feet on his to dance they seemed enormous. Like sleeping trees or railroad tracks. My Father would say when he was a young man he was so tall he could take stars out the sky and place them in his pocket. That he needed big feet.

But I knew the truth. I knew the fact from the story.

When I was left howling at my father’s door he had nothing except for a new pair of shoes. He sold his sofa, stereo and bed for gin. He sold everything except his two vermilion alligator skin shoes.

They where kept pristine in the box they came in and slept under the wire coat hanger on which he hung his frayed pants, shirt and woolen jacket. Wrapped in cream tissue paper, with a chamois cleaning cloth those shoes would signify that father hadn’t lost everything.

He still had a classy pair of shoes.

Then I arrived at the door of an empty old house. No bed. No chair. No cot. So my father took me crying in his arms. Pulled the shoes out of their boxes, scrunched the tissue paper to make a soft mattress, wrapped me tightly in his vest and covered me with his woolen coat.

I kept quiet and we stared at each other for the longest time. We fell into each others’ eyes and lives. Then he poured a thimble of whisky between my lips and sang me this song:

“Fish fly through dreams;
mercurial silver scales
Alongside billowing sales
Life is never what it seems
Life just ain’t what it seems.”

When the song ended he called me by my name for the very first time: “Charlie Parker,” he said. “I am not a rich man, a good man, a happy man or a wise man. But I will be the best father in the world because I love you.”

And the feet?

Well he never had them big so he could stand up tall and walk with his head in the clouds. They were for me. All for me. So when I arrived I had a place to sleep. And when I could stand he could teach me to dance before I could walk.

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Remember summer holidays with parents at Adventura Resorts, the sea, the Kruger, wherever. The sun warm, luxurious on my skin. Nature resplendent in the best shades of green courtesy of afternoon rains. Sun beetles signing at fever pitch, birds calling to one another, the verdant smell of summer all around. Hours stretched into days, waiting to be filled by any whim, the one just as good the next. Swimming all day long. Cool against the baking heat, I dived in and water immersed my body, pulling at my hair. The sharp smell of chlorine that made eyes red from looking at people under water, just because. Doing handstands and back flips. Hunger would then always come, trek to the house to get snacks; Chips with onions, chutney, curry and mayonnaise sauce that mom would make. Milk ices, cool drinks and left-overs from the braai the night before. Thoughts were no more complicated than these, simple, elegant and almost self-contained. No sharp edges, no confusing inter-linkages. Summer was perfect for its own sake…and so were we.

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Want, want, want. Sometimes I feel like a *’borrower’ constantly hoarding all the goodies I see online and in shops. Accessories are one of them, becoming huge in our fashionable lives, they now as important to woman as the clothes we wear. New brands and blogs dedicated to them are springing up faster than we can buy and only increase the need and greed.

Collage created with images from Gettyimges.com and CGtextures.com

One of these is UrbanKnits, a design collective started by Dolapo James with the aim of providing fresh and interesting handmade fashion accessories that are unique and offer the wearer a sense of individuality.These bags (above) from UrbanKnit remind me of hot desert days with a burning sun and cactus filled environment.

We ‘borrowers’ are evolving into our urban environments no matter where we are originally from. The ability to be and live wherever we want and still have access to the unique and inspirational is a plus side of sites like Etsy. Here you will find the bags that inspired the mythical world I created in the pics above. New designs, shapes and styles are added regularly to the brand and they are constantly exploring and experimenting with new ideas. Cheek it out.

* Borrowers: Little folk who live in houses, stealing and hoarding different things from the house. These (above) borrowers were inspired by the mythical Scandanavian Nisse. These are elves that spend time on peoples farms helping out if you feed them well, and causing trouble if ignored or mistreated.

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