I was bored today, there was some good light, and I was feeling arty. So here are a few of my favourite things. No kittens unfortunately. More here but this is a little taste. Read on for my thrilling story of rage and despair in the pool last week. It'll have you on the edge of your seat.

My Vietnamese teapot, broken spout and all. Bought many years ago in Melbourne.

Kyoko Hashimoto acrylic earrings. A birthday present from Jennifer.

My charm bracelets, 18 years worth of memories and still counting.

And some newer memories: my silver bangle, engraved earlier this year with the places I have been.

Oh, and a side story about an incident of pool rage I witnessed when I was swimming last week. There was this man, let's call him Mr Flopper, because I find that amusing. Mr Flopper was swimming in the medium lane and the pool was fairly busy, but unfortunately, Mr Flopper was not entirely up to speed, shall we say, with the medium lane. He was fine when he was doing freestyle or breaststroke and could..you know..see where he was going. But when he started to do backstroke, let's just say things got ugly. Might I add at this point that I was in the slow lane, where I rightly belong, so I watched this whole thing unfold...

As soon as I saw this girl get in the pool I knew there'd be problems. Firstly, she was very muscular and thin, in that way that can only mean she does a lot a working out and actually enjoys it. Probably plays team sport too. Secondly, she was wearing racer back technical looking swimmers. It's always a dead give-away that someone takes life too seriously when they wear those swimmers, because unless you're actually a swimmer (in which case you would most likely not be in the medium lane) I don't see the point. Thirdly, and most importantly, she was wearing a big chunky water-proof watch...as in...one with serious function that isn't only for accessorisation...

Anyway, so there's Mr Flopper, happily swimming laps, while this lady powered up and down the pool. Even underwater (I was watching under the lane rope) she looked scarily agressive. Then poor Mr Flopper decided to do some backstroke...and his direction was a little off...and he drifted....and... she was Not Happy. Instead of laughing it off like I, and the lifeguard, were doing, she chose to be a bitch. There she stood, hands on hips, sporadically jabbing her fingers in the air, giving Mr Flopper a lesson in pool etiquette.

And I was left thinking, wouldn't it just have been easier to swim around him?