February 2011

I don’t think I’ve seen a single Oscar nominated movie this year. Two reasons, children and no Gold Class Cinemas in Noosa. Thankfully we’re back in the land of full time baby sitters AND Gold Class access, because seriously, once you’ve gone Gold, there’s no going back! So let’s start with the positives from the Oscars red carpet. Jennifer Lawrence in red – how beautiful is that girl? No idea if she’s talented or not, but exceptionally beautiful that’s for sure. Sandra Bullock and Anne Hathaway also in red – but that style of top just never works for me on small boobs. They do it every year though. And Anne must have been exhausted after all of her costume changes – my word! Halle Berry, Gwyneth Paltrow and Scarlett Johansson all stunning, although apparently Brittany did a better, sexier version of Scarlett’s dress in black a few years back, so what do I know? Oh and how gorgeous did Nathalie Portman look pregnant? I can honestly say I never looked like that for even a millisecond when pregnant. Helena Bonham Carter was probably the best dressed for me – she looked fabulous. I love something different on the red carpet, but she does it in style, as opposed to Bjork’s version of “different.” But there were some concerns. For example Michelle Williams looked like a walking condom. And why does such a pretty girl wash herself away in such pale colours? Amy Adams just looked awful and obviously no one told her blue and green should never be seen. Why accessorise in green when you’re wearing dark blue sparkles? And gingers just shouldn’t wear dark blue! The shocker for me – Cate Blanchett. Undoubtedly one of the most stylish women on the red carpet for years, I hated her frock. Apparently it’s Givenchy Couture, so that’s alright then? Seriously, it was horrendous and I don’t know what to highlight as the worst part of her outfit – the circle around the tit area, the little dash of yellow up top, the colour, the beading or the little cap sleeves? You’ve got to love the Oscars. As per the title, a great chance for a stitch and bitch once a year. Any thoughts from my fashionista pals? Yours, without the bollocksAndrea

I’m a pretty driven person. I always have been. When I was a teenager I decided my personal theme song was Queen’s “I Want it All… and I Want it Now.” I’d like to think I wasn’t so gung-ho these days, what with all the years’ of “wisdom” behind me – but I regularly send myself insane (and frequently exhaust myself) with the millions of thoughts and ideas banging around inside my head every day. I’ve definitely tried to “sort it out,” spending the last few years learning how to calm down, gain a peaceful equilibrium and focus on the moment, but the drive remains and so, to be content, it’s balance that must be achieved. I know “balance” is an overused bollocks word these days, but it is so apt in my case. One of the reasons I decided to blog about drive is I caught the tail-end of a BBC documentary on some Kalahari tribesmen, and these guys herd cattle through the desert – seven days a week, 365 days a year. While I appreciate that there are a lot of dangers in their lives, not the least dying of thirst, let alone getting killed by rival tribes or any of the nasty things in nature – it made me wonder what living every day and every moment would feel like, without any mad rush or scramble involved? I watched these guys and found it hard not to question the pointlessness of the “Western” way – something I’ve done many times in my life – but then we have benefits they don’t. Although getting rid of the mad scramble would be nice? I often watch documentaries on “developing” countries where the women are working the fields with a baby latched to their breast, or about people trying to survive suicide bomb attacks as they negotiate their neighbourhoods to shop for the only family meal they’ll have that day, or people living in massive humanitarian “cities” for YEARS, and somehow eking out a survival. It is a very different way of being and very hard to comprehend for the rest of us. I’m definitely glad to be in the “rest of us” gang though. The reality is millions of people on our planet get up with the sun, eat when they are hungry OR when food is available, live in communities that support each other, and sleep when it’s dark. They live with more disease, a higher level of mortality (and perhaps more grief but that’s hard to define when the value of life is so different), are threatened with significantly more danger mostly from their fellow man, live in less than ideal living conditions that expose them to disease, travel miles every day just to get drinkable water or drink filthy stuff and die, and their daily focus is to survive and thrive as much as they can. Can you imagine how living like that would feel? Can you see a day coming where we all might have to live this? Having encountered people living this way all around the world on my travels, I know that I couldn’t do it permanently, unless the choice was taken away from me of course. Perhaps it’s because I have lived another way and that way enables me to do things most people couldn’t even imagine? Hey, travelling to far off countries is something most people can’t imagine. Having a warm shower every day is unimaginable to many in the world, but for me, it’s one of the key “luxuries” that keeps me committed to the life I know. I’ve got to have a shower! Colonialism (aka Democracy) is all about pushing “our” way of life on the world – which makes sense, because it’s a message of consumption and that’s good for business right? We’re capitalists after all and governments get elected because of big business contributions so everyone wins…well certainly not everyone. But then you wonder, would people living at subsistence level actually want our lives? Sure, they might live longer and there might be aspects they find appealing, but I could imagine them looking at us and thinking “what the fuck are these crazy people on?” The whole question of drive came up for me again full force four years ago when I entered the world of motherhood. If ever there was ever a time to put my ambitions on hold and enjoy time, it was when Lex and Jax came into my life. For the first six months I did well with Lex – I was really content – but then I started getting edgy to be out in the world again. Here I was, late 30s, very happy to be a Mum, but it was apparent that it wasn’t the only thing I wanted. I definitely felt an overwhelming love for my lads + a very strong compulsion to be all I could be for them (they deserve the world), but it left me with no energy and no time for myself. The problem was Jax’s pregnancy was so painful all the way through that I couldn’t sit in a chair and work, and then when he came along, I felt I should spend the same amount of time with him that I’d spent with Lex… and on it goes the guilt, the guilt. Obviously having two kids 15 months apart didn’t help. These recent years for me have been a full-blown-in-my-face-work-out-what-you’re-all-about-woman-‘cos-neither-direction-is-going-to-make-you-happy-and-you’re-turning-into-a-miserable-cow! For the first time in my life, I fully recognised the depth of my drive CONCIOUSLY and decided I needed to embrace that quality in myself and work towards creating a life that enabled it. But why is any of this so important to me? I certainly didn’t have a childhood focused on excelling at all costs. It’s just in me for some reason…. If you know me, you’ll know there’s a LOT I want to do and I’m pretty focused on doing it all, but I have to ask the question –

I’ve just started a cracking book – “The Book of the Dead” by John Lloyd and John Mitchinson – and one chapter in, I’m hooked. It’s a fascinating point of view on some of the greatest dead people from history. The first chapter focuses on people who had a shit start from a Dad perspective, including Leonardo da Vinci, Sigmund Freud, Isaac Newton, Oliver Heaviside, Lord Byron, Ada Lovelace, Hans Christian Andersen and Salvador Dali. So here we have a group of people who changed the world and all of them had abusive fathers or were abandoned by their fathers. We all know people badly scarred by their upbringing, but if you read this book, you’ll see that sometimes it’s how you apply yourself to living within the context of your scarring is what matters most. As Robertson Davies puts it “a happy childhood has spoiled many a promising life.” It’s just a perspective that really resonated with me, because I know too many people crippled by their upbringing, and the reality is, based on these people and what they achieved, a shit childhood can be an opportunity to do something spectacular – if you can just move on and even laugh at what went on in the family home. Or maybe live despite it, although that’s a pretty negative way to be. Many of these people did what they did to piss their Dads off – which really isn’t too healthy, but hey, no one’s perfect. I know many people who suffered really intense childhoods – some move on, others are stuck. You can’t blame the ones who remain stuck, because people really do suffer some shocking shit at the hands of their family. One I know who always stands out is a great friend I’ve known for many years. This friend was sexually abused all during his childhood by his Dad while his Mum looked on. Sure he has some definite anger issues towards his Dad (and his Mum), but he is one of the nicest people I know and has achieved awesome success in his chosen profession. I admire him tremendously. Obviously, most of the folk in this book were bloody weirdos with sexual hang-ups or social misfits, but without their shit childhoods we wouldn’t have the Mona Lisa, psychoanalysis, space travel “or the machine on which these words are written.” Freud is obviously a stand-out for me, because I find it frightening that someone who was so fucked up by his childhood had such an influence on the way people think about sexuality and his perspective on women was just downright twisted. The reality is he started a discussion, and hopefully most people now think his ideas were nonsense, but many still think they had substance… Scary! Now I’ve got to reconsider how I parent my boys. If I do it too well and make them too happy, they might not reach their full potential? Then again, the second chapter is about happy go-lucky people who changed the world too, so I’ll keep my focus on giving them a cracking childhood. Sure they may need some sort of therapy, no matter what I/we do, but we’ll do our best to ensure they are confident, happy and well balanced young men (with impeccable manners and dress sense of course) when they go out into the world. And talking about happy go lucky people, Epicurus was first up in the chapter – a Greek philosopher from 341-270 BC – and three things he thought were the bare necessities for a great life are thought, freedom and friendship. I like the way he thinks! Yours, without the bollocksAndrea

I’m hoping Steve doesn’t mind me blogging an ode to him, but he deserves some recognition for the amazing man that he is. Anyone who knows Steve probably knows that he is a remarkably compassionate man. He’s incredibly thoughtful, funny, loving, affectionate, loyal, devoted, an amazing Dadda and husband, and one of the best communicators I’ve ever known a man could be. He’s awesome and if you get inside Steve’s circle of trust, he’ll never let you down. He’s just not built like that. With Lex on the beach in Freemantle Sometimes I’ve noticed Steve’s willingness to help others can be perceived in a strange way. In these cases, the person he is offering to help or love or give over some hard fought knowledge will pull away from Steve, leaving him feeling very hurt. Did I say he was sensitive too? When this happens, I often say to him that when someone is incapable of doing these things for no benefit to themselves, they cannot cope with anyone else offering it. It’s not that these people are bad; they’ve just never seen any other way and don’t trust the other way when they do see it. The reality is many people are motivated by what’s in it for me (WIFM), but when you’re not motivated by this and just like helping people out because it makes everyone feel good, often the WIFM’s aren’t really comfortable with that. It’s a shame, because Steve always comes from a very generous and loving place – especially when people are important to me, or to both of us. But he’s learning to deal with this and if you are a recipient of his generosity, in what ever form, know that it is completely genuine and always from the right place. It’s something you can trust in. In the last couple of years, especially in Australia, Steve was unbelievable. He had to travel pretty much every week, and when he didn’t travel, he had to get up at 4am to drive to the office in Brisbane. He was exhausted. But every night he would come home and put energy into the boys and into me (cut out the filthy thoughts!). I’ve seen many men escape to their ‘man room,’ or just zone out completely from family, but Steve never ever did. I really appreciated this, because as he knew, I was not made of Mother Earth material and found the whole demands of two small children hard to tackle by myself 24 hours a day seven days a week. He always stepped in to give me a break, whenever he was there, always making himself the last priority in his day. With Jax on Gympie Tce, Noosaville We agreed to move to Singapore last May. Part of our agreement was that Steve needed to get a job – he needed that security. I said OK, but at some point we need to go no matter what and he said OK. In the end, there were no “jobs” in his field, especially in Singapore, and I said OK then, time to take a chance and fly. Can you do that? Steve is the cautious one. I’m the one that thinks money grows on trees. Steve needs a plan, a back-up plan and a back-up plan if the back-up plan fails, I say let’s see how it goes, everything will be alright, it always is. And I’m always right too plus my blood pressure is better. I believe that sometimes you’ve got to throw your fate out to the universe, believe and see what happens. You’ve got to work towards your future too, but believing in the first place is what motivates me. It’s always worked and it’s working for us now. In fact, my belief in the Law of Attraction or the Power of Positive Thinking didn’t come from any books. It came from nearly 10 years of being single (24-33) always with a firm idea in my head of exactly the type of man I wanted in my life, because I did want to share my life with someone. My ideal man had to have the same values and morals as me, he had to be fun, adventurous, funny, with big shoulders and big thighs, and he had to love me for who I was and certainly not be scared of me. Many blokes had been scared and Steve has often been told “good on ya mate. I think Andrea’s great, but wouldn’t have the balls to be with a woman like that.” I always see that as a big compliment – to Steve and to me. When Steve walked into my life seven and a half years ago, he embodied everything I hoped for and so much more. See it’s true and it works single people! Anyway, so we made the decision to fly to Singapore just before Christmas and we left a week later. It was time to take a leap of faith and see what happened. We arrived with enough money to survive three months before we were on the streets, and in Singapore, it’s hot on the streets. The government probably wouldn’t be too keen on a bunch of Caucasians bunking down on Orchard Road either. But we’re never going to be on the streets, and while the first six weeks have been a tad anxious, we have great relationships with awesome business people and the work is starting to come in. The first two jobs are launching new business units for two information companies. But that’s another story. So we’re up and running and getting our teeth sunk in. The boys are in school this week and so far, off to a great start. The teachers are very loving and devoted, so we know it’s going to be OK. After our Australian pre-school fiasco (which was one of the main reasons we left Australia) we will always find it hard being comfortable with schooling for our boys, but

Not everyone who has lived in Singapore will agree with me here, but that’s OK. Sometimes Singapore just doesn’t suit people, like Noosa didn’t suit us, but I’ve got to say, we love it. Since returning six weeks ago, we are getting back in to the groove of the place, and discovering new dimensions to it. Heck you leave Singapore for a few weeks and there’s a new sky scraper up – it is a city on the move and everywhere you look you see progress. I love that. I’m definitely a city girl, and it’s awesome being back in a city where the pulse of life is throbbing away at all hours. Hey the shops are open til 10 or 11pm every night – cool. Shops closing at 5pm really didn’t suit me. Not to mention every shopping centre has kids’ playgrounds of some description and that means if it’s raining, you’ve got a tonne of entertainment options for two adventurous lads and you can do the groceries at the same time. Condo living is pretty much the norm, and while you can live in a house, why would you? Living in a condo means friends for the kids, potential friends for the adults and everyone comes from all corners of the globe, so you find yourself surrounded with a great mix of people – I love that. All national, religious and cultural traditions are shared with parties two seconds out your front door. Not to mention fabulous pools, kids playgrounds, tennis courts, squash courts, and free gym membership. Soon we’ll also be embracing Cathy, our soon to be employed maid, who we hope joins us in the next couple of weeks. With Cathy on board, there will be no responsibility for washing, or ironing (not that I’m doing any), or shopping, or cooking, or cleaning, or anything around the house really. With all that covered, I just need to take care of myself, work as hard as I can, or spend time with my precious family. That is the biggest bonus of being in Singapore and one of the primary reasons for our return. The schools are amazing for the kids, everyone is pumped up to embrace business opportunities (Asia is definitely humming right now), the government positively encourages entrepreneurs, the airport is 10 minutes away where you can get great deals all over the world, the restaurants are amazing, the entertainment options are growing by the minute as Singapore seeks to join the world’s most exciting cities, and architecturally it’s gone from being a pretty dull place to a pretty stunning place – all in the last few years. I get a bit bored with comments like ‘but you can’t chew gum.’ Well guess what, you can, you just can’t buy it here without a prescription. But you know what? I bloody hate the sound of people smacking away on a piece of gum in my ear anyway, so for me that is a very big bonus. It’s a clean place, it’s a safe place, and while the traffic can be shit, the drivers shocking and the cost of living extremely high for foreigners (3rd most expensive city in the world now), it’s a city where anything seems possible, and right now, that’s the perfect place for us to be. I’d have to say one of the biggest bonuses is it’s warm all year round. Some hate the humidity, but after living through London and Boston winters, plus a chilly winter on the Sunshine Coast, I am so very happy about that. Don’t get me wrong, I have my Singapore days too, where everything shits me to tears – the shocking driving, slow walking when I’m in a rush, the occasional encounters you have with pretentious expat wankers, the stupidity of the condo guards, or the crazy expense of many things – it’s not perfect, but it’s as perfect as it can be for me right now. Singapore, derided by many for being boring, I am here to tell you it’s not. After the last two years wandering around trying to find a new life for us, and realising that what we left was better than anything we were finding, I am now fully able to embrace this town for what it enables me to achieve and the lifestyle benefits it offers my whole family. We’re still in temporary accommodation (five months now) but soon we hope to be in our own home, with our own stuff and then life can begin anew. I wouldn’t recommend our last two years to anyone, but we learnt a lot of fabulous life lessons, and we’ve got our eye on the prize now, so let our new life begin! Yours, without the bollocksAndrea

For those who are Christopher Hitchens’ fans, or even for those who detest him, his memoirs “Hitch 22” are a very good read indeed and definitely worth the time. Covering all of the major political events the world has seen over the last three or four decades, his unique position as an intellectual as well as his connections within the halls of power, certainly give a perspective I haven’t always been privy too. I first became aware of what he was all about when I read “God is not Great.” While I didn’t agree with everything he said (mainly because too many things have happened to me that can’t be explained. See my very first blog in May last year – “The Ghost who Tried to Shag me” – for details), I did enjoy his perspective. I absolutely agree that there is so much bullshit wrapped up around religion, and after a thoroughly Catholic upbringing + education, I’ve spent the next 20 years trying to work out what I actually do think about this stuff. I have to say that I definitely think there’s something unexplained out there in the universe, it’s just the “facts” I was bombarded with in my youth that don’t sit well with me. Hitch certainly grabs hold of the bollocks that is the world’s religions. I enjoyed “God is Not Great,” however I couldn’t bring myself to read another of his books where Mother Theresa was the evil one. I actually got to meet that tiny amazing little woman when travelling through Calcutta in 1995. I also witnessed for myself the work the nuns were doing and it would take an amazing person indeed to convince me otherwise. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t agree with her opinions on divorce, abortion, or pretty much any of her faith based statements – hey she was an old lady from conservative Poland, existing within the Catholic Church and her religious dogma was hardly surprising – but there was great work being done for people who couldn’t help themselves. I spent a day cleaning out the intellectually disabled adults’ dorm and was very grateful that a facility like this existed for them. That’s how I remember Mother Theresa – for the real impact she made on people who needed it. Life as an intellectually disabled adult on the streets of Calcutta would not be very pleasant that’s for sure. So Hitch, not with you there. But getting back to “Hitch 22.” His childhood was very interesting for me because it was so completely different from mine. Brought up in a conservative family who loved things like literature, Shakespeare and poetry, along with a Mother who gave up everything to ensure her children had the best education possible, the Nett result being the Christopher Hitchens we know today. A man of incredible intelligence, wit, and a wonderful ability to put the shits up people who think conventionally. My childhood had no Shakespeare, poetry and only my sister, Phillipa, was interested in this side of life – I just couldn’t be arsed with it when I was young. I wanted to be outside, climbing trees, and being free. Christopher Hitchens was definitely more the book worm than the sports nut and his youthful antics made for interesting reading. Especially his boyhood snogs with fellow classmates. Always a curious thing: boys fondling boys within the English private education system? Parent’s are interesting things and a great memoir is going to entertain you with someone else’s perspective plus make you think about your own. For example, while I didn’t get an amazing education like Hitch, I am very thankful to my parents for many reasons. I’m thankful to my Dad for being curious about the world and anything not Australian – he gave me my passion to travel. My Mum for always standing up for herself and never letting anyone tell her she couldn’t do something because she was a woman – my feminist leanings definitely come from that. To both of them for never making me aware that being a woman meant I was any less – and I wholeheartedly agree with that, obviously. For my Dad’s love of sport and the fun things I got to do, like body building and cycling – the kind of sports women rarely do and I’ve always enjoyed being a physically strong woman. For my Dad’s love of fantasy books – the gift of imagination – I still read anything in the fantasy section and love it. For Mum having the guts to go on strike for over a year to gain a better deal for some very valuable professionals in our world – I’ll always remember the nurses strike in the early 80s. It was a SHIT year for us – we were destitute – but I learnt that there are things worth fighting for. So I enjoyed the part about his childhood for many reasons. He also talks about communism, fascism, totalitarianism and socialism – all of which he pretty much experienced firsthand. He came of age at a very interesting time in this world and experienced many major events that happened before I was even born. His chapter on the second Gulf War was interesting. An advocate of the war, much to the dismay of the anti-war movement – his former fans – he was definitely right that Saddam had to go. It was just the way it all came about that I can never agree with and the disaster and devastation that followed these decisions. Can 119,000 dead with 68,000 of the dead non-combatants ever be justified? There you go. One of the more interesting yarns I’ve read in a long time but be warned, if you’re not so hot with words, you might want to read this book with a dictionary. It’s a superb book by a great mind, who I hope survives his current health woes and is around for another decade or more. I’m sure he

Condo living is great. There’s always something going on, people to meet, kids for the kids to play with and even the occasional argument to listen in on. Cool. Sometimes it’s not so great. For example, just now, I hear a shower outside and think it’s one of the boys playing around with the maid’s shower. Nope, both boys are accounted for being buggers in the living room. So I go outside and there is a torrent of dirty soapy water coming down all over our clean dry washing and pool towels. “Stop” I yell, it continues. “Hello can you please stop,” nothing, it continues. I go outside, look up and in the apartment above us there is a maid on her hands and knees scrubbing the outside floors. “Hello can you please stop washing the dirty soapy water over the edge of the balcony?” I ask as nicely as I can ‘cos I was a bit pissed at this point. “Mam said it’s OK.” “Well it’s not OK because you’ve got two apartments under you and we are both getting soaked.” I’d already heard Deb, the British lady below, shouting out too – welcome to Singapore Deb. Finally, it stopped. This isn’t the first time it’s happened. At our last place in Singapore we were on the ground floor (with 16 floors above us) and maids would regularly wash the balcony and spill buckets of filthy soapy water over the edge, right where an 18 month and a three month old were playing. It was infuriating. I always adopted a policy of finding out which apartment was responsible and then getting Vick, our maid, to have a word with them. I didn’t want them getting in trouble, but sometimes I had to speak to their bosses, which meant they did get in trouble. Sorry girls. You should’ve listened to Vick. It boggles my mind how people just don’t think about the impact they have on those around them – well in this case below them – but that’s communal living. Tackle it one incident at a time and stay nice. Being a bitch just makes things worse! Yours, without the bollocksAndrea

Is anyone else being pummelled with Calvin Klein’s Envy advert featuring Zoe? It turns out it’s Zoe Saldana, who apparently was in Avatar – I’m so out of the loop, because I didn’t even know who she was until I just looked it up… but I’ve got to tell you, the best day in the last month was getting a recordable set top box so I could fast forward over these painful ads. I mean she’s a sexy girl and she looks GREAT in her underwear – most women wouldn’t mind looking like that when they roll around in their jocks let’s face it, although slightly small on the boob front if you ask me. I also presume the tantalising taunt of “Calvin, or nothing at all” means she’ll look great out of them too, not to mention that you might even get to see those tattoos she’s alluded to – but puuurlease, enough already. I’ve always liked Calvin Klein ads because they feature sexy people who look great in their underpants – David Beckham was a standout, as was Freddie Ljungberg (+ package) and how could anyone forget Djimon Hounson – yummy! However, I really don’t need to hear the “models” views on life – the perspectives of the stars rarely appeals to me at all. I’m not alone in that am I? Does anyone else actually enjoy them? Do these ads make you buy more Calvin Klein gear? I think my favourite line from a corniness perspective – and it’s hard because there’s a few – is “love is a devil. That’s Shakespeare you know. Boy that man knew about love. He always makes me cry. And I’m a really good crier. You know what’s even better? When a guy cries. It makes me melt. It’s kind of like the rain. I love that too. Everything else just washes away.” I had to listen to the ad three times to get that down… I need to cleanse myself of its corniness… Put her on a poster, show her dancing around but PLEASE, no more Zoe’s perspective on life – I’m too busy working out my own! I seriously want to scream every time the ad comes on and I can’t imagine I’m alone in that? Surely that’s not the advertising executives’ goal – is it? Come on, you did the X series and that was awesome – what’s happened Calvin?? Yours, without the bollocksAndrea

I went to a public toilet yesterday. It was a nice toilet. Your typical Western style bowl – which is my preference – but there were two dirty big footprints on the seat. This is not an uncommon thing in Asia as squat toilets are still very much a part of life so some girls are obviously adapting, however every time I see the footprints it gives me a bit of a chuckle to imagine someone perched up high to do their business. I have been known to perch up high myself on occasion, but not in Singapore, only in places where the toilets are so filthy you don’t want any part of your body touching a thing. I’ll never forget a train ride back in Egypt in 1992 – it was putrid. I could write a book on the toilets of the world (not that anyone would want to read it) as I have encountered every type and standard of toilet possible on my travels. From trenches in China with no walls, to filthy filthy cesspits in India, and a dirt hole in Egypt with a scorpion making a quick exit – I’ve pretty much seen it and “done it” in them all. You certainly lose your delicate nose quickly when travelling and I had an extremely delicate nose when I first started travelling. But the thing I’ve never been able to work out is exactly how do you use a squat toilet and all the accoutrements that come with it? There’s usually a hose, a bucket, a mop and a broom. Rarely is there toilet paper. The problem is I’m keen to learn, because it’s so much better for you to squat (bowel cancer rates are significantly lower in squat toilet using countries,) but it’s not like I can ask anyone. I mean, what do you say? Can you take me through the steps please and how do you do it and not come out soaked? There’s a few gals I know I could ask (but haven’t had the guts) but what if demonstrations were required? I suppose it’s something you learn from your mum or your dad and after that, you just have to work it out for yourself and try not to get too soaked in the meantime huh? All I’ve worked out so far is using a squat when wearing hiking boots versus stilettos is a very very different experience. Oh and always pack your own toilet paper. Yours, without the bollocksAndrea