Pricey ole Perth!

This week’s food for thought… is Perth becoming too expensive?

It came as no surprise to me that Perth was recently found to be the 13^th most expensive city in the world to live in. Making it 25 percent dearer than New York.

Our inflated food and drink prices led to a fairly unflattering review by the travel guide bible, Lonely Planet. Critiqued as having an overpriced dining culture and a cashed up bogan night life, the guide stated that where many of Australia’s other state capitals might have a handful of top restaurants charging over $40 for a main, in Perth those prices are fast becoming a norm for any establishment that considers itself above average.

I’d argue this is fairly accurate. While I am all for paying that little bit extra for a swanky dining experience, I’d hardly call the prices at a place like Siennas – which has an indoor childrens playground - reasonable.

What is also becoming increasingly prevalent is the reliance and use of the word 'gourmet'. Café/Restaurant owners seem to be under some delirious notion that by placing this adjective in front of their menu items, it warrants them to charge through the roof. This is a common occurrence amongst the sudden surge in burger cafes that are springing up around the city. I was slogged 48 dollars for two burgers, chips (about eight of them) and two waters when I had lunch with my sister the other day.   

Enjoying a reasonably priced meal in the UK

It is almost ironic that last year when I told people I was moving to the motherland (England), they lectured me on just how expensive it would be. When in actual fact it was the complete opposite. I would often walk the aisles of the supermarket in awe of just how cheap alcohol was. Eighteen pounds for a one-litre bottle of vokda for crying out loud! That equates to roughly $27. I have fond memories of one-pound shots and paying twenty Euros ($26) for four redbull vodkas in Amsterdam.  Needless to say I endured a period of readjustment when I returned to Australia and quickly realised that I couldn’t afford to drink like I had while I was away. One night in particular springs to mind, where I spent $387 dollars in a period of about four hours in Subiaco. My bank statement read very impressively the next day. Note to self: don’t shout shots!

It comes as no great mystery as to why so many Australian’s are flocking in droves overseas; considering it’s cheaper to fly to Bali than within the state. This rising cost is obviously a drawback for Australian tourism. And given the cost of alcohol in this country, our animalistic type behaviour in duty free, where we stock up on as much alcohol as we are permitted, is fairly warranted I’d say.

Instead of throwing my junk mail out I might have to start scouting for the specials to find myself a few savings. That way I can afford myself at least one red bull vodka when I’m next out.

Do you think the Perth is becoming increasingly more expensive? Do you have to invest in an entertainment book so that you too can afford a reasonably priced meal – one that doesn’t involve a children's playground or a value meal?

Bye for now,

Cuttsy

Love thy neighbour?

I’m the first to admit that during my time in Perth I probably haven’t been the most desirable neighbour. I learnt very early on in the piece those residing close to you, do not partake in going out on week nights, nor do they appreciate having a full bucket off spew hurled over their fence and plastered across their entertaining area. As these first months progressed one neighbour even felt the need to send an anonymous letter, documenting how we disturbed the once peaceful neighbourhood. The typed letter went in to significant detail, citing a plethora of different scenarios. While yes, he or she did make some valid points, the majority of it was a blatant malicious attack that really carried no warrant. Fast track two years and I’m residing in the same street as the drug lab where the roof was blown off, due to a make shift drug lab. I ask the question, whose disturbing the ‘peace’ now?

Drug labs and anonymous letters aside, ever since that particular incident - given I was worried we could end up on an episode of Today Tonight, portrayed as the world’s worst neighbours - I managed to build up a fairly good rapport. While I don’t invite them over for a BBQ where we share gardening tips, but a simple exchange of a wave or hello takes place. This was the case until I went to Europe where I left the house in the capable hands of my housemates. One evening, against his better judgement, one of them decided to throw a house party outside that kicked off at 2am. Needless to say they weren’t too impressed with the noise. But you could say the deal breaker was when a few months later he became extremely intoxicated and tried to break in to another one of our ‘delightful’ neighbour’s house. The police were called were diffuse the situation. Upon my return the neighbour informed she had not slept for the 2 weeks following the incident as she was convinced they were being broken in to by a deranged drug addict.  Further strain was also added to the relationship when I insisted in having a number of limbs cut off of their jacaranda tree. In my defence it does create a lot of unnecessary mess.

So with a new neighbour moving in behind me, I am not entirely sure how to approach the situation. Do I go up there and introduce myself, so we aren’t faced with the awkward situation of getting the mail at the same time. Or worse leaving it too long that it would just be strange to say hello given they have lived there for 6 months and you haven’t uttered a single word to each other. Or do I simply just chuck a full ‘welcome to the neighbourhood’ bucket of spew over their fence and wait for them to come knocking the next day… it got a reaction last time!

This brings me to the conclusion; love thy neighbour, while good in theory, not so good in practice.

Do you love your neighbour or am I just barking up the wrong tree (one that has a few branches hacked at)?

Bye for now,

Cuttsy

Back in full swing!

This weeks food for thought… debo’s

It turns out there is a God after all! The powers above have finally come to their senses and granted my beloved Debos’s their license to trade after 3am.  It was longer over due. While I don’t live in Kalgoorlie, having to line up to enter the BO pit, aka Corner Bar, on the few occasions I have been here, was certainly wearing thin.

After this little hiatus where they copped a ‘mere’ $10,000 fine, Kalgoorlie folk seem have a renewed appreciation for the place. With their bouncers that aren’t interested in how many drinks you have had, nor do they send you off to on a leisurely walk around Leederville to mung out on a kebab and try your hand at getting in 30 minutes later, with no lines out the front, for the toilets or at the bar, with being the home of the taste bud tantalising ‘Black Panther’ and a dance floor that never fails to disappoint. What more could you ask for when the speakers blare out the one and only power ballad – You’re the voice – courtesy of John Farnham and the air con drips on your face.  I mean really….

And last night was no exception. The atmosphere was thrilling as always and there was certainly magic happening on the dance floor. You could have found me tearing it up, looking as though I was auditioning for So You Think You Can Dance.  The only thing missing was fat Sue (ever so easy on the eye) bounding through at the conclusion of New York and the lights being switched on. I suppose all in due course.

And by that time you’re probably a bit puffed and really have no reason or cause to enter the Corner Bar… next stop for me is a flavoursome kebab at shish kebab central and then brave the taxi line destined for a home, awaiting the hang over the next day will bring. 

So here’s to Debos’ – everything’s as if we never said goodbye!

Bye for now,

Cuttsy