Holiday Viewing

I've spent the past few days on the traditional post-Christmas family holiday. Usually in Sydney or at the coast, this year my family went all out and visited both locations.

New Year's Eve in Sydney means an evening of watching fireworks. Or, if you're one of those people whose parents let them stay out past midnight, a night of watching fireworks. Exciting stuff.

Sydney, for me, also means seeing my 17-year-old cousin Salamander. Salamander is one of those people who finds the concept of people living in Canberra absolutely hilarious. She can't understand why everyone doesn't live in Sydney, what with the plentiful buildings and beaches. I was hard pressed to think of something Canberra had that Sydney didn't.

LESLIE (L): We have an ice skating rink.

SALAMANDER (S): Yes. So do we.

L: How about museums?

S: We've got museums. AND beaches. You can't beat beaches. In Sydney you can beach it every day.

L: Beach it?

S: As in, go to the beach.

L: We don't need beaches. We have a lake.

S: Do you call up your friends and go 'Let's lake it for the day?' 'I'd like to lake it?'

L: No. Well. We have a war memorial.

S: 'Do you want to memorial it today?'

L: I've lost, haven't I?

S: Yes. Yes you have.

Superior as Sydney is, my family left on New Year's Day for the coast. We were rewarded with lovely pouring rain and plentiful mosquitoes. Not that mosquitoes bite me. I seem to be immune to them, but the RCG hates them. So much, in fact, that she is willing to practically drown herself in Aerogard as long as she's protected from their bites. This is all very well for her, but when there are five of you crammed into a medium-sized car, the scent of Aerogard pervading and suffocating, it's less pleasant. Just one of the many idiosyncrasies of the members of my family.

When forced to spend time with my family, I tend to hear fragments of bizarre conversations. Such as this one between the RCG and Drummer Boy:

RCG: If you could have a superpower, what would it be?

DRUMMER BOY (DB): I don't know. What would yours be?

RCG: I'd be able to fly. And be invisible.

DB: I think I'd like to be able to shoot bacon out of my ears.

Or, even more frequently, I tend to be involved in bizarre conversations. Such as this one on the subject of names. Drummer Boy, the RCG and me are all having our names changed soon. Nothing serious, just adding a middle name, but it did prompt this discussion (bearing in mind that Drummer Boy's full name is currently Drummer John Harper):

L: If we start here, where will it end? I might end up with seventeen middle names. Imagine the trouble filling in forms.

RCG: You wouldn't be able to remember all of them anyway.

DB: I'd like to change my name.

RCG: What to?

DB: Drummer Discus John Batman Batman Brooke Harper.

L: Two Batmans?

DB: How about three?

L: Two is fine.

RCG: Why discus?

DB: I like how it sounds.

That's Drummer Boy for you. He's basically the way I imagine Aviator must have been as an eleven-year-old. In fact, they get on surprisingly well. Aviator recorded a song. Drummer Boy remixed it. Aviator suggested, through me, that they form a musical comedy duo. Drummer Boy, through me, accepted. Considering the five year age gap, and the fact they've only met once, I think things are going well.

When you're at the coast, and it's raining, there's not much else you can do but watch films or read. I read a lot. By the time we went home I'd read all the books the RCG and I had brought, and was so desperate I resorted to reading recipe books.

Anyway, we watched a lot of films.

Some were terrible. One was a murder mystery set in a 13th-century monastery. I don't know how they did things back then, but I'm fairly sure the corpses aren't meant to BLINK while the hero, a former James Bond actor, is examining them. Some were cosmically significant. Those of you who have seen Inception will be aware that, moving aside from the general trippiness/awesomeness of said film, one of the key characters is an old man (the father), who dies. Said old man is played by an actor called Pete Postlethwaite. Well, my family are the kind of pedantic people who Google films right after watching them. And we discovered that Pete Postlethwaite had died an hour and a half previously - exactly when the character he played died in the film. Cosmic.

Some films may have been awful, but one was terrific. Anyone in my family - also Giuseppe, to whom I have expressed my new-found love for this film - will know the one I'm talking about. GATTACA. Awesome.

I found Gattaca on sale in the shops today, and bought it without a second thought. Why not? Jude Law is amazing, something I have failed to appreciate until now. He's the one on the far right in the picture. Jude Law's amazing amazingness is compounded by the fact that he stars in not one, but TWO films with Stephen Fry. One of which, unfortunately, isn't released until December 16th this year. Just a warning to everyone. I'm going to be impossible to talk to in the week before its release. Not quite up to Ariane-Lala-City of Glass standard. But close.

Anyway, this has been leading up to a conversation I had with the RCG on the subject of film. Japanese film in particular. She was criticising the names I'd given our two- and four-year-old half Japanese cousins. 'I mean, An? And Pan? What was that about?'

'I named them after their favourite show. You know, Anpanman?' (see picture to the right.

Anpanman is the hero of a Japanese children's anime. His head is made of bread. So far as I've been able to ascertain, this is his only superpower. Even being able to shoot bacon out of your ears would be more useful.)

'In Japanese, that means Breadman. You basically named Pan "Bread",' said the RCG.

'She won't care. She's two.'

'Yeah, but you could have named her after a different Japanese film or anime.'

'I don't know any other Japanese animes!' I pointed out.

'You must have watched some.'

'I haven't. I don't speak Japanese.'

'Well, I've watched some,' she said.

'You don't speak Japanese either.'

'I learn it at school!' she said indignantly.

'What have you learnt to say?'

'You know, basic things - like asking people's name, about their family, their pets . . .'

'And you're somehow able to watch entire animes in Japanese and know what they're saying?'

'Yes.'

'That's impossible,' I said triumphantly. 'You couldn't do a whole film.'

'Yes, I could.'

'Then how?'

'Because, Leslie,' she said wearily, 'I use subtitles.'

A Harper by any other name

Today's post is a note on names.

As you will know, I use nicknames to refer to people in this blog instead of real ones. I'm still not sure why, as I doubt anyone who doesn't know the true identities of everyone I write about reads this account. But it certainly adds an air of mystery, and is fast becoming the Next Big Craze (and yes, this is my blog, and I'm allowed to exaggerate).

The blog nickname is now a fashion item, something convenient to take with you wherever you may go. Portable, attractive, and personalised. What's not to love? They're extremely desirable, and only available to a select few.

For example, my sister entered my room only a few minutes ago to complain, after reading the previous post. 'You've mentioned me twice, and I don't have a nickname yet! Drummer Boy has one, but I'm only in as your little sister.'

I, who was in the middle of a perplexing question on my Maths assignment, sighed. 'What kind of thing do you want?'

'Um . . .' she stalled. 'How about - Princess - Narnia - Trilogy - um . . . Pi - Ishiguru - Nix . . .'

'Are you reading those names off my bookshelves?'

'Possibly.'

'Well, I suppose you could be - Pntpin. No, that's not a word. How about . . . Pontoon?'

'I can't have that! It makes me sound fat!'

'Well, what do you want?'

'I don't know. But I want you to write a story about me. The last time you wrote about me you just said I was reluctantly grating cheese. I want a proper one.'

Inspiration struck. 'How about the Reluctant Cheese Grater?'

'No!'

'Or the RCG.'

'No.'

'Well, unless you can think of anything better, that's what it's going to be.'

She then hung on my door handle for the next few minutes, whining, until she finally got bored and vacated the room.

Sister o' mine (name unmentioned), you have 24 hours before the RCG sticks. If you want to make another suggestion before that time is up, feel free. Otherwise, Cheese Grater it will be. And as I foresee keeping this blog well into my adult life, and people are doubtless going to be curious as to the origin of the acronym 'RCG', I would use this time wisely.

I generally let people choose their own nicknames, unless I have to write about them before meeting them again. In this case, I choose a name based on what I know about them. I often have to do this anyway, as people can be surprisingly indecisive. Middle names are a good place to start. With Ariane, for example. And partly Marie-Clare. Also Shoelace, but to a lesser degree. Shoelace is half-Chinese (the other half, I think, is Scottish) and her middle name is Suling. This nickname isn't new, she'd had it for some time before I started this blog. It was accidentally coined by Ariane, who, upon hearing the name, went 'You know, Suling sounds a lot like Shoelace.' Since then, it's taken off.

A lot of the nicknames are ones that were already in use. Peanut, for example. And Lala. Giuseppe was never a nickname, but it used to be the subject of a joke between us so it seems fitting to have it now.

Anyway, since the beginning, the nicknames have gained astonishing popularity. As mentioned, Giuseppe now calls me 'Leslie' in school. She even called it across the room in Maths yesterday - to my shame, I looked up. At my school, we get jumpers at the end of Year 10 (just to prove we've been there, probably). They have 'Year 10 2010' (or whatever year) written across the front, and a nickname on the back. Giuseppe, Marie-Clare and I are all considering getting our blog names on the back. Nobody else will get it, but we love to perplex.

I personally will have to go with 'Leslie M.' as there is already someone with the last name Harper in our year. In hindsight, it wasn't the best name to choose. Especially as there's also a photographer called 'Leslie M. Harper' (they couldn't even pick a different middle initial! The cheek!). I suppose I could go back and change it to 'Lander'. But I probably won't.

I even created a coat of arms for the name:

The castle thing is because Leslie means 'grey tower' (or 'holly garden', but when was the last time you saw a picture of a holly garden on a coat of arms?). The owl is the Egyptian hieroglyph for M. Also, I like owls. I'll assume you can guess what the harps are for. If you can't - well, I'll just assume that you can. The character on the bottom right is for my star sign (I'm not so big on the zodiac, but it also looks like an M. It also looks a bit like an MP, which is good, because I like Monty Python. Not because I want to be a politician. As I don't). The motto should mean 'In strange things we trust'. It probably doesn't, though, as I used an internet translator.

Seeing as I've done the others, I should probably put a rationale of my name as well. Leslie is the middle name of the pianist (and member of The Comedy Store Players) from Whose Line Is It Anyway. Boy, was that a vague reference. The 'Harper' is after David Harper, from the second series of an awesome English TV show. Go to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/This_is_David_Lander for a bit of an explanation. Or don't if you don't want to. I'll probably tell you all about it at a later date anyway.

The M is from the character of M in 'James Bond'. I'll tell you what it stands for as soon as he does. Or she, depending on whether you're thinking about the books or the new movies.

Anyway. The history of names. Extremely exciting. I've tried hard, and I'd like to think that everyone is happy with their nickname, from Marie-Clare (who looks French) to Gwen (who wanted Guinevere, but had to settle with the next best thing) to Chinny (whose real name is a nickname anyway: we call her that so often, in fact, I had to give her a new one).

With the possible exception of the RCG, anyway.