The times they are a-changing

I'm wondering about the etiquette of borrowing halos--in this case belonging to the lovely Greta, kind co-hostess of myself and the pet human for an exciting weekend in the city of light.

The four-way halo, I know, is more Sgt. Pepper than Bob Dylan--but the song seems appropriate as the assembled Antipodean humans were all terribly excited about the last vestiges of the 1950s being purged from the strange institution they call Parliament.

I'm just visible as a tiny speck in the middle of this photo, taken outside the Australian embassy in Paris on polling day by my equally kind and lovely other co-hostess Steph:

I hope Howard and his crew of misogynist God-bothering lunatics appreciate the irony of being ousted by the forbidden fruit of Granny Smith, in the hands of none other than the sinuous, snaky, sine wave of the ABC! I spent most of my formative years in a plastic box in the electorate of Bennelong, so this [I] was [think] a [I] particularly [love] sweet [you] victory [Maxine]!
Dancing in the streets indeed...

Technology is a wonderful thing: thanks to the internet one can now watch TV footage of a drunken Bob Hawke on the commentary panel from the comfort of a Parisian living room. But even he didn't look as pleased as the old feral abacus who resurfaced to comment on the demise of his old archnemesis.

The way the Liberal party are going I'll soon have to dub them the Knights of the long knives... Coconut tapping anyone?

Thankfully, I didn't have to put up with human company all weekend, as Paolo the Seal and Paddington Bear kept me warm and entertained.

Still no luck on the châtelaine/heiress front so it looks like the human will be migrating south some time around January.