For the past few years my inbox has been chaos – my unread messages usually hovered around the 1800 mark – I only opened emails from friends and family and even then I barely had time to reply. I had a crazy old life and I loved it.

I subscribed to everything but had time to read nothing. I would often lament the fact that Ticketmaster had sent me alerts about fantastic upcoming gigs and I’d only found out about it after all the tickets had sold out. But it felt nice walking past Tiger Tiger and seeing George Michael giving an impromptu performance, or just knowing that the Brit Awards were on down the road in Earls Court, or that with the right amount of dedication and money, you could – if you tried – get tickets to just about anything you fancied. London was the gig capital of the world.


So when I left, I didn’t want to know what I was missing. Never mind that I probably would have missed most of it even while I did live there – I just didn’t want to know what I could no longer have. So one month after arriving in Perth I went on an unsubscribe-from-everything campaign.

But sometimes you just can’t stop the emails from leaking in. Last week I got an invitation from Ted Baker to Sunday’s Regent Street festival. (I didn’t make it to Regent Street, but I did get to the Freo markets and bought a picture of Regent Street to console myself.) Stelios told me about cheap end-of-summer flights to Naples and Prague and Istanbul. The Southbank Centre told me about a night of readings with the authors shortlisted for the Man Booker prize. And one of my old pimps (recruitment agents) told me about a job I’d be perfect for. In Switzerland.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” I screamed at my laptop. Then I noticed the cat slinking away, casting concerned looks back in my direction, and figured it was time for another cleanup on the mailing lists.


I subscribed to some new things. Weekly pregnancy updates, so I know when my baby’s growing eyebrows and toenails and how to get a decent night’s sleep when you have a small person growing inside you. And a few local bits and pieces, telling myself I’d make the most of the fine opportunities on offer in sunny Perth. Ticketek, and the local bookshop, and the cinema newsletter, etcetera.

I know the east coast of Oz gets loads of great entertainment and plenty of UK and American bands do the festival circuit over here once they’ve finished their summer tours at home, but alas, Perth doesn’t seem to feature on many of their itineraries.

Not that you’d know it. The media’s madly reporting on all the fabulous developments taking place in Perth, a reflection of the state’s resources boom. Tiffany & Co and Louis Vuitton have opened stores on the v exclusive King St, where even Chanel have struggled to get a lease. Last Sunday’s paper featured a page 3 news story which excitedly reeled off all the big name bands coming to Perth. Def Leppard, Judas Priest, Cheap Trick, Rihanna and Chris Brown, Stevie Wonder, and Billy Joel. And John Mellencamp.

All very well if you’re a teenager or an ageing metalhead.

Then I did a little search on Ticketek under WA. Guess who else is stopping by over the next few months? Kevin Bloody Wilson. The Eagles Experience. Steve Earle. The Bangles. An Elvis impersonator. And there’s also a fabulous event called “Wine for Dudes” that promises to teach the blokes how to appreciate a good drop.

And people keep telling me to get out and about as much as possible before the baby arrives.