Neither my sister nor I care much for reality TV--except a number of programs on HGTV--and most especially (because we are both incorrigible escapists and dreamers) a series on that network entitled "House Hunters International"--the real (albeit carefully edited) tales of absurdly wealthy Americans, Canadians and Brits seeking second homes (fully equipped with air-conditioning and garbage-disposals) in foreign locales.
We have nicknamed this series "The Bead Room Show."
Please allow me to explain--since that, after all, is the whole point of this frivolous blog. One of the earlier episodes in the series involved an American (I think) couple who were intending to relocate to Melbourne, Australia. Consequently (and quite logically) they engaged a Melburnian realtor--a charming fellow with a broad Aussie accent--to show them suitable properties. As he chattered happily away about House Number One, describing the stunning this and that in the kitchen (its "benchtops" and "cupboards"), we began to smile--realizing that Australian terminology was amusingly different from our own. But when beaming Mr. Oz began to rattle on about the soon-to-be-visited "bead" room, both Linda and I were genuinely puzzled. Do antipodal houses have rooms especially designed and/or designated for "beading" or "jewelry making"? Perhaps, we speculated, a "bead room" was the Aussie equivalent of our American "craft room" or "sewing room."
Fortunately, as the camera followed the house hunters into the eagerly-anticipated "bead room," the actual meaning of this term became, well, stunningly clear. How so? Because right there in the middle of the bead room was a most imposing king-sized "bead." And obviously, given the size of the space, we were visiting the MASTER bead room. "Fair dinkum," chirped smiling Mr. Oz.
And weren't these lovely, really stunning walk-in "wardrobes"? And what a stunningly breathtaking view of the "paddock-sized" lawn which, by the way, was a "beaut," perfect for "ripper" parties!
At that point, both my sister and I burst into laughter--as we sometimes laugh when we hear Irish accents or expressions. Not arrogantly or condescendingly (as the British often laugh at Americans), but giddily--as if we had just been tickled with a Kookaburra feather. Aussie talk simply seems as playful and as unaffectedly high-spirited as Mr. Oz himself--not "funny"--but just plain fun.
So now Linda and I both eagerly tune in to any HGTV broadcast involving Australians--as either buyers or sellers. Seems we can't get enough of those bloody bead rooms. And it tickles us to be learning to speak "Strine."