"IF YOU ARE NOT LIVING ON THE EDGE YOU ARE TAKING UP TOO MUCH SPACE"

"My Ramblings from The Centre"

2011-10-24T05:28:00.000-07:00

Uluru Central Australia

‘People watching’ is one of my favourite hobbies. I could sit at a train station or airport or shopping centre for hours and just watch and invent other people’s lives with only my imagination and see say. My assumptions and conclusions are most likely wrong but I do find it entertaining and it vitalizes the creative juices in my veins, much like a blazing sunset or tranquil desert scene, so it is no surprise that my imagination was ignited on a recent holiday to Central Australia. It was like a box of Continental Chocolates; an assortment of characters to choose from.

‘Desert Beauty’

She couldn’t see me watching her enter the baths but I had the feeling she knew everyone took notice. My spying eyes where camouflaged under the rim of my wide brimmed hat as I bobbed about in Dalhousie Springs.

She was obviously from the city; there was an air about her. Short cropped modern hair style wrapped in a swish band that framed a face that appeared to undertake a regular beauty treatment; smooth and flawless. She had the covering of an overfed city woman maybe the product of too many lunches, yet still firm from a daily workout. Who knows?

It was the way she held herself that stood out; her head raised slightly, chin up, eyes seemed to be caste skyward, almost like you would stand if you were about to receive an award – proud, sure, strong, self-aware. Her partner was a scrawny pale specimen sporting a long skinny plait. A pot smoking muso maybe? She could have been a singer in that case although I fancy she would have been a painter or designer. The way she cocked her head could have been her spirit awakening to the beauty of our surroundings – sniffing in the colours and sounds and smells of the outback paradise.

Maybe when she goes home she’ll design a cloth stained with the memories of her desert trip or paint a scene reminiscent of her dry dusty adventure….well part of it at least. Today she is bathing in 36 degree ten thousand year old water exploding to the surface naturally through a ‘mound spring’. She was wearing a swim suit that only one with self-assuredness would dare. It was a very high cut at the leg affair, that does a cheeky disappearing act and reappears at the small of her back. She had a singlet top on that probably hid an exposed midriff but from the back it made it look like she had no pants on! Her cheeky bits resembled her nature maybe…..

Later I saw her fussing about preparing dinner in her camp kitchen, the wrap no way possible meeting and covering her and when she bent over….well, I’ll not go there. I wonder what or who she thought was impressed by her near nakedness? I was impressed by her sheer nerve and say ‘good on her’, as I blushed and turned away.

‘Old Mate’

Old Mate as I affectionately named him had become more than just a watching game. We came across him three times on our trek through Central Australia. Still we had not exchanged names, yet a familiarity had formed; an anonymous alliance as we journeyed our distinct separate ways that always ended up in the same place, him the quest of a grey nomad, us our annual holidays. Our first encounter was on a green grassy knoll at Kings Canyon Station – an oasis after what we had previously endured making our way down the edges of three deserts. Red and dusty all around but for our camp spot and he was complaining! He reckoned the watered grass bought mozzies. He rambled on about how he liked burnt out scrub for a tent site. “It’s a sure thing there’ll be no snakes around either,’ he said in his broad pommy accent. I reckon he was cadging for a meal, but I was not going to offer. Talk is pretty much all you get from your fellow traveller when on the road and I was not about to change the rules! Besides everything was rationed for the amount of days we’d be out. I didn’t cater for generosity. Mind you his paunchy stature was evidence that his diet was more than adequate.

Our second encounter was at the roadhouse at Kings Canyon Resort the next day after walking a gorge or two. We had our thermos coffee and crackers and cheese, him with his pie and coke. I could see the envy in my husband’s eyes, junk food not on our menu. This is where we found out he was a pensioner spending as many days, or years even, adventuring. No retirement village for this happy chappie. Instead an old green Toyota 4WD ute loaded to the hilt with his tent and spare tyres and God knows what, haphazardly thrown in the back although I am sure he would know where everything was and could put his hand on it in the wiggle of a willy wagtails tail feathers! It all looked rather grubby really, dents and scratches on faded duco that may have never seen a polish rag. The tailgate of the ute was a display case for old car badges. Ford, Holden, Mazda, Toyota; a hodgepodge of all makes and models glued and screwed to the panel. He matched his vehicle; shabby maybe with torn and worn out shirt but not smelly and dirty. His shaven head smooth as a river boulder, a couple of teeth misplaced although I am sure he knew where they were and would have told us had we stuck around long enough to listen! His tattered sandshoes had seen better days. I am positive I saw a sockless toe peeking out through a split. He enjoyed telling us where he was headed and how he managed to get through fences and gates sporting NO ENTRY signs, to put up camp for free.

Our last encounter was at Ruby Bluff Gorge a week later. We had gotten ourselves bogged in a sandy riverbed. It was ‘Old Mates’ fault. We saw him camped and decided to go further into the park to keep our distance from him. Ah…such is the workings of Karma. It was a feeling of guilt that made us stop and at least say goodbye the next day after spending a night stopped in our tracks and up to our axle’s in garnet tinged sand. He looked on with amazement as we told him our story and we, as he told us his intentions of driving alone across the Simpson Desert! He wouldn’t even attempt the riverbed here. How he thought he was going to make six hundred sand dune crossings was a mystery. His front end was jacked up due to broken shocks (new ones floating around the ute somewhere) and there, out on the track, forty six gruelling kilometres from the nearest road that was one hundred and fifty kilometres to anywhere, he was about to fix it! Pure madness. We begged him to please wait at Birdsville and tag along with other travellers. Mind you other travellers wouldn’t want a bar of him I’m sure. The police had even pulled him over the day before we met again and went over his vehicle, asking him all sorts of questions and breathalysing him. At least they showed concern. They couldn’t find anything wrong so off he went on his merry way. At least he didn’t get bogged like we did! He didn’t seem to be the least bit worried…. smiley and cheerful and full of stories – probably a little bit full of himself, but harmless – Oh and very much so ‘living on the edge’.

‘A Childs Play Ground’

Drifting about the Outback and rummaging through historic townships you are bombarded with how hard the pioneers worked and of the difficulties experienced taming the wilderness. The Hall of Fame for men in Longreach and in Alice Springs the Pioneer Women’s Hall of Fame, pays tribute to those who risked all for the sake of earning a quid and making a life for their families at the same time opening up the country. Even though times have changed and machinery and communications have made things easier hardships take on a different hue. I couldn’t help notice how life is for the children in isolated areas. As a mother from a regional city I believe children need other children and socialising was a major part of teaching my lot. What if you are the only child of a family who chooses to live hundreds of kilometres in either direction from another town? I had the pleasure of meeting one young lady who lives with her parents and grandparents together running a hotel in such a place. That’s all there is…a pub after 150k’s or so from a Queensland border town, a building looms up out of the mirage. When you leave to continue your journey the road stretches for another century of kilometres. The hotel has withstood the tests of time for the last 149 years. Floods, wars, droughts and economic disasters, kings and queens and prime ministers move on into forgotten news but this little old pub remains… a comfort to the weary traveller, road gang’s drovers and stockman. It’s hard to imagine working in such a place all those years back without electricity and the creature comforts afforded today. It’s hard to imagine working there now even with all the trappings of modern day living, aircon and flushing toilets. What’s even more difficult is picturing how a child might cope.

We pulled up to what used to be a hitching rail for horses and wagons. We acknowledged a friendly nod and smile from the welcoming committee – four or five adults and a little girl about nine years old. Their party took up the entire end of the verandah. I thought at first they were fellow travellers pulled in for a rest stop just like us. In fact they were some of the owners. You couldn’t help notice the little girl. She stood out for all her smallness. Checked country shirt and blue jeans, dusty boots, hair pulled roughly into a coil – no regard for fashion taken into account – a need to keep it out of the way while she did her daily chores no doubt. Sunday must be funday as she was in her prime performing tricks in the dirt out front with her pink handled whip. Precocious and showing off her ability to control the stockman’s tool of trade and laughing at the sound it made thwacking the dirt. It was a spectacle.

After such a long day we decided to have ourselves dessert… after all, there in the bar was a chalk board that stated for $5 you could get yourself a coffee and a slice of cake. By this time all sunset watching was done and verandah sitters now became cooks and order takers and yarn spinners. Grandad was the yarn spinner specialist, mum was the cook, dad, when he wasn’t flying copters served a beer, grandma was absent tending to other family business in a real town..

“So is the sign up to date?” I ask. “Is that cake still available?”

Grabbing her pencil and order pad the miniature waitress announced that it was. “Yes and the Raspberry cake is the best ‘cause I made it.”

How could you say no to that?

She flicked an errant wisp of her dark hair away from her face then wrote down the order before rushing off to the kitchen. I ignored the fact that her hands had probably not seen a cake of soap since bath time yesterday and that her clothes were not appropriately ‘food handler’ clean. There is a time and place for such things and here was not the place or the time!

Her conversation was more like that of an adult not a child.

“Hey Grandad, we took seven dinners tonight. That’s a good day, hey. Not bad for a Sundy”

The adults both agreed, “No not bad at all” the old man nodded.

Sitting up at the ancient bar along with fellow travellers I listened to all the questions being asked. I sensed that all these inquiries had been asked before and the old man’s answers were dependant on his mood. There was a tad of sarcasm and annoyance having to respond over and over to the same old, same old, when on the wall was a history of how when where why and who about the place! I prefer to listen and wait….

“So where do you come from Boss” the grandad asked me.

My patience paid off and all the information came forth. I read the historical account but how he lived now with his family in this isolated place was what I was interested in. As it turns out he is sick of it and he’s looking to retire. “I’ll swap ya” was what he said to someone pulling up in their Winnebago earlier. “Bus for the Pub”.

Negative reply.

We all get tired; that’s why we were on holiday but there was a child no more than nine years of age willing and able to carry on when grandfather finally gives up the ghost. Before that though she will have to endure formal education; school of the air and probably boarding school. If she is lucky she may get a taste of another life and never return like so many of the young do from remote areas. Or she’ll be here till she is an old lady too or at least till the pub withers away.

We were camped across the road under a rickety old shade covering that was originally a horse shelter. It’s off the road and had a table and rough-hewn benches to sit on. We had our fill of beer and cake and it was time to jump in our swag. All around the makeshift camp area where signs of a little girl at play; a dolly’s pram and bits and bobs that furnished a cubby. It was her play ground when off duty from bar and kitchen duties and there, next to our tent lay something else, hidden.

How he saw it in the dim light of our torch is a miracle. To miss it would have been a shame although of course I’d never have known.

“I have found some ones stash”

What” I reply. “What do you mean?”

Stash to me was….well it could be anything!

“Where?”

“See those rocks in the corner; well they’re hiding a box.”

My curiosity was always going to get to me, no chance of it not.

I carefully unstacked the rocks and exposed a clear plastic lunch box. I felt like I was an intruder. I nearly put it back and left it but something apart from curiosity urged me on.

There were Macca’s toys, Minties, miniature dolls, hairclips, an assortment of treasures and in a plastic bag a small note book and pen. Dare I read it? I felt ashamed of my prying.

The small book was a place to leave a message for the little girl. Others had found it before me and written a few lines and left a small gift. What a find; Comments from all corners of the country from other prying travellers!

I rummaged through my bag and retrieved a pin with some bling on it that I had as decoration. I could live without it but even a nine year old, whip slapping, future manager of a pub in the middle of Australia needs a bit a bling, so that is what I wrote along with thank you for being so creative and allowing us to share a small piece of her life.

I’ll never know what she thought of her small gift and it doesn’t really matter. For someone so young to invent such a game intrigued me. Did she watch out the window and spy on us spying on her stash? She trusted us with her stuff though. If that was here in the city it would be nicked!

I looked in the rear view mirror as we drove away the next morning… I couldn’t help wonder what the future held for the only child in at least a hundred kilometres. Maybe one day I’ll get back there to see.

Look what I have now?

2011-08-09T06:22:00.000-07:00

Isn't she the most beautiful little creature you have ever set your eyes on? Spoken like a besotted Nana for sure. I love being a Nana! She is so much like her dad at that age...but hey...her beautiful mum is there too.

Her name is Brynn Charlotte...born at 12:43 AM 20th June 2011

Visiting Friends

2011-04-13T15:35:00.000-07:00

Dijana and me!

Lots of catching up and sifting and sorting through lifes challanges, a few glasses of effervesence al la 'Yellow Glen'. Summary for the delightful visit from a friend I have not seen for over two years is, two out of three ain't bad!

Crafty Memoirs

2011-04-03T23:12:00.000-07:00

Front of bag!

Back of bag!

Crafty Memoirs: I am to become a grandmother in June. Another first for my list of never before achievements! I am very excited to say the least. I have made a tote bag for my daughter-in-law Kia to cart all the baby bits and pieces around when she is out and about. It's made from the jeans worn by Rob way back when they were in high school together. There is a small white rosette on the fob pocket that is off her wedding gown, a trinket that used to belong to my Mum is pinned in with one of Robs nappy pins. There is reference to their love of the ocean as well as dogs and cats. The back side is literally being booted. Probably something I could have done more of but being a softy ....well I have sewn on his first booties instead. A labor of love! I had been keeping the jeans to make a skirt for myself. I am so glad I didn't get around to it. I am keeping my fingers crossed now, hoping she likes it!

I would like to say thanks to Annette Sibson for the inspiration! She is a very talented artist. You can see her latest creations on display from 15th April to 22nd May at Umbrella Studio.

The bag!

Dya Singh Group at Woodford Folk Festival 2011 - Fire Event

2011-02-17T04:53:00.000-08:00

2011-02-16T23:22:00.000-08:00

Aquapella World choir first nights practice 2011.

ode to joy german chorus

2011-02-16T12:06:00.000-08:00

CYCLONE YASI

2011-02-11T18:27:00.000-08:00

The day before Yasi came to visit

The thing that strikes me is that even though it is still blustery and a tendency to squalls, birds are about. Even butterflies are back on the scene. Where did they hide in the wake of Yasi. Surely not in my garden. My garden doesn't exist anymore.

St Andrews Cross a happy home maker 1st Feb 2011

I loved my driveway. It was always a stroll worth adventuring, always shaded and cool in the heat of the day, always coveting a treasure for me to find whether it be a giant spider in it's web or a Ulysses Butterfly and sometimes if I've permitted their freedom, our hens would loiter in the garden bordering the the stony path.

There is no such place exists anymore. Last night amid the howls and screams of a woman demented with power and destruction all but a few of my palms laid down and ceased to exist other than to be reclaimed back from where they came; mulchified earth teaming with fertility.

Our home stood up to the test and even it's normal creaks and groans hushed in the wake of it's foe. It's as if it stood, planted, fists clenched ready for whatever was dished out. Her window sills seeped barely a mop full of moisture as the cagey contestant tried with her might to infiltrate and overcome. I had been worried. I imagined my homes beautiful timber ceiling peeling like frivolous match sticks into the blackness while we huddled in the smallest room downstairs. Instead we stayed upstairs feeling safe and confident ,waiting for the battle to be over.

Our pride for the house withstanding the war short lived as we viewed the battle field at dawn. Tears streamed down in silent anguish as we counted the dead. Much easier to count the living there are so few.

Driveway looking towards the road.

I can hear the buzz of chain saws; a sound that usually makes me cringe however today it's the sound of music, melodious soprano grinding as metal slices through wood- wood that used to be my shady tranquil garden-garden that has become my prison. I used to love my trees, now they are my enemy keeping me confined to quarters . I can't even start the clean up. Whole palms hang precariously in the forks of a neighbouring gum. No one dare go near for fear of them coming down. The cat doesn't seem to mind though. The vertically challenged has become the horizontally advantaged. Great viewing spots for feline activities. The animals seem to have come through the cyclone unscathed. The dog snuggled into her pillowed bed during the rage outside as did the cat. It was as if the roaring wind tearing away at my garden may have only been coming from the telly. Even the chooks produced eggs from the darkness of their protective cavity at the back of the garage .
All it produced from me was rage and frustration. I am not sure if it was Yasi or a combination of things like, the day before 'she ' struck my friend said "Ya palms wont survive." She was right but why my palms? The neighbours stayed up. She jinxed them. Bitch! Then there is the fact that we have 90 year old grandma with us. The plan was to put her to bed with talking books strapped to her head and she wasn't allowed to turn it off. She woke the next morning happy enough but complained that her tea was cold and that there was nothing on telly that she liked. She also managed to mix her Webster pack up and take 3 days pills in 2. I would trade my turn for hers to get power back on so she can get back into her routine at her home! At least we managed to keep her from being afraid. We got that right! I vented my anger at a foolish manager at Super Cheap too. She threatened to call the police if I didn't leave. Never had that happen before! I am not ready to apologise yet...may never. I'd prefer to do penance doing someone else a good deed instead which I have as we all have done through this diversion from normal life. I can't imagine what it must be like for those in Cardwell and Tully. I have only lost a garden and my patience, easily retrievable. The long hard slog of getting your life back together from scratch must be over whelming.
We have no phone as yet which is a little daunting with a 90 year old who insists on wanting to clamber over cords and leads from the temporary power source to make a cup of tea. We have a generator and gas stove so the stubbies are cold and as of today (5 days later) we have ice cream. My friend rocked up with a tub of chocolate crunch to even the score with her premonition. I forgive her.

My Warrior came through unscathed!

Not for the pagoda.
Anyone for a cuppa? Sorry madam no seats available!

Swimming pool resembles a brackish pond which could be infested with crocs!

12th Feb: Apart from the mess in the garden we are back to normal...the power is on and we have a phone. Ten days without the Internet and phone ..(.I've been to Woodford...I can do anything)! We were asked out to dinner last night just as we were leaving the phone came on. The question was will we stay and catch up with all our friends on facebook or go out? We went out of course and lucky for us we had a delicious dinner finished off with pavlova made from primary point! Yummo!

The Homeless!

Lynn SC artwork

2011-01-15T03:41:00.000-08:00

Lynn SC artwork

My Woodford Story or The Invisable Gumboots

2011-01-12T18:05:00.000-08:00

Aquapella World Choir. First concert at Woodford 27th Dec 2010

My hand fumbled in the dark looking for the clock. I was guided by the light of the telephone stable. A little to the right of that...got it...3 am. Words moulded into opening lines of a story rumbled through my head. I should get up and start my version of the Woodford experience now before it is watered down. My bladder is beckoning too. Get up, get up... get up quick!

My last thoughts before this when I put my head on my pillow at 10:30pm were 'How beautiful the smell of clean white sheets, how soft and comfortable the bed that cradles my tired and sore body, how quiet and peaceful the space outside my bedroom, no thumping beat that penetrates the still washed air. There is no river of mud a metre away guarded by my gumboots, there are no damp foul smelling socks hanging over my head and no bag of soggy soiled clothes patiently waiting for their journey through the wash cycle to destroy the colonies growing rapidly in the armpits and crotches of my shirts and shorts...indeed all over. Everything has returned to normal...well almost. I can still feel my gumboots on.

Boxing Day 2010, ‘flight number J 375 leaving Townsville for Brisbane at 11:10am cancelled. Please ring and discuss your refund,’ read the text.

“Refund! I want another flight and today. No! I can’t go tomorrow. Tomorrow will be too late.”

Tears run down my cheeks after nearly an hour waiting on the phone.

“Okay she said....wait a moment...Qantas has a flight at 4:40pm.”

“I’ll take it!”

If I at least get to Brisbane I will worry about the rest of the trip from there.

Nothing of value comes easy. Anything I have taken on in the past that has been really worthwhile has always been accompanied by mini dramas. Mind you doors falling off airplanes could hardly be called a mini drama which is what happened once while embarking on a life changing event, so by comparison a cancelled flight and a bit of rain seemed trivial never the less a hurdle.

Thankfully the doors stayed on my Qantas flight and I arrived around 6:30 a little ahead of time. I raced to the baggage collection and searched the vastness of the airport lobby for a sign that said ‘WOODFORD’ possibly attached to a person who would take me to a transfer bus.

Found her! She pointed to the direction of a coffee lounge at the very end of the airport.

“Go wait up there with the other artists.”

Artists?

Is that what I was?

Then it dawned on me. I am an artist. I felt rather strange finding myself in a position of being with company who called themselves performing artists. Something new to ponder.

Mud outside our tents. This was the track to the road
which crossed a flowing creek when raining!

I wasn’t there long when Kristine arrived, my tent buddy for the week. She had taken a later flight. I was supposed to get there and set up camp before her. In hindsight, if I did we probably would have got a closer tent and not had to wade through all that mud and a river to get to it. Even a few steps less would have been a bonus! I was due to get on the next bus to Woodford but gave my seat up so Kristine and I would at least be together to find our lodgings. First mistake was to not have gumboots on when I stepped off the bus. At least the track to the tent was still firm even though wet. The first tent already had a lake in it due to a hole in the floor so we decided to check the next one out. You could feel the water under foot but at least there was canvas and a carpet mat between it and us. We took no notice of the two tarantula spiders that had taken up residence before us. As a matter of fact I took it as a sign that we will be dry. I had a chat with them both.

“You are welcome to stay just don’t walk on me through the night or you might find yourself out in the wet.”

Damn thing run up my arm when I was foraging for my clothes the next morning. It had roamed through my bag. It would not have wanted to do that on the last day what with the smell of damp socks and all! I think it got more of a fright than me and I didn’t see it or its friend again .

Unzipping the tent door, tent city by daylight lay before us. The tent across from ours had a hole in each end of the floor. Water was literally washing through like a creek; in one end and out the other. It was empty. Figure that!

We were starting to feel very grateful for our arachnid infested river front lodgings.

At this point in time neither of us had been officially booked in. We had been scurried through the system to our final resting place the night before to avoid getting wetter than necessary (actually I think the bus driver didn’t know he had to stop, it was his first run.) I made a dash back to front gate to get my tag...a tag that said I was an artist. It was official now!

It was on my journey through the village and to the other end of the facility (that doesn’t feel like the right word to use for Woodford does it!) anyway ...I realised that I would be spending the next week lost as I attempted to find my way through the maze of streets... Left-hand Lane, And-off-he Road, Lois Lane, I-love-a Parade . Whoever thought up the road names must have had a great time. I can picture hysterics as they tried to outdo each other.

My first day was a big one. Practice with the Fire Choir and then AQUAPELLA WORLD CHOIR'S concert and meeting up with Gail after nearly a year was of particular importance. I was chastised for waving to her while still at practice; it was bought up every session after as well. I am usually disciplined but it was just too much to expect. I have been running on automatic since her departure. Seeing her sitting there watching I wanted to be next to her. Mind you it made me also want to really be the best I could be for her as well as the choir.

Gail Cyn and me.

We had made a plan some weeks before over the phone that we will stay up all night and play. She was only having the one day at the festival so I would follow her around and do and see what ever she wanted. After all I had the rest of the week to play. ‘Stringmansassy’ had to be one of the top acts....amazing voice and guitar. The sounds that Kacey made where inspired by natures perfectionist, birds. And I thought it wouldn’t be possible to do better!

A bit of Dance Therapy and then off to find a place that sold socks to sort the blisters forming on my feet. I hugged the woman who sold them to me. I had socks but they were back at the tent. I didn’t want to go there any more than I needed to, which was a plan adopted for the rest of the week!

I was lucky to see Kate Miller-Heidke’s only show. She was amazing also. She finished off a song with a burst of operatic gusto. I was doing that for the rest of the night! I am waiting for my chance to do it at practice when I get home. Yeah...I learned something Beat!

Monsieur Camembert, Sally Seltmann and I think a comedy act finished the night for me. It was 1am. Eyes drooping, feet dragging I left my friend to find her way to her car while I took a left instead of a right and ended up at the furthest end away from my humble lodgings, something that would happen more than once during this week of finding my way around the maze called Woodford.

View from tent looking towards Amphi hill.

My tent mate and I had telepathically arranged that we would eat breakfast at the tent. I took a weeks worth of Muesli, juice and milk plus bowls and spoons. She had a mini gas burner with tea and coffee and jug. That cuppa in the morning was the thing that got me through I am sure. It is the simplest of things that make a difference. Everyone should do a Woodford type experience to bring back the simplicity in your life; boil it down so to speak, back to basics. Makes for a whole new approach to life and see things in a different light. For instance I had packed a pillow that I would not take home with me. My intention was to have a bit of space to bring home treasures. It was old and deflated and the stains were beyond removing. Its life would end at Woodford. Packing up done, the last smelly dead sock stashed away and now to remove the pillow slips hiding the shabbiness of the pillow. What’s this I see? A transformation before my very eyes! This pillow doesn’t look so bad after all. That is what a week of living in the damp and muddy hole has done. Things that look grey and dull, now have shining new aura. I still threw it away. I was not going to be fooled by my euphoric state! It was the same with smelly wet socks as I sniffed to measure the degree of repulsiveness each day. “I may be very glad of these sometime this week” as I hung them out to dry.

I decided to have an early night that second night to make up for the previous outstanding achievement. I couldn’t see me doing that for a whole week. Mind you I don’t think I did too badly overall. I didn’t have Nana naps at all and stayed up till 11pm most nights and New Years Eve 1am. By that time I was a bit of a Dya Singh groupie along with the Tibetan and Mongolian singers. Weird I know but I did tap into the spiritual side of their music without any trouble at all. I thought I may have even been able to transport myself back to an ashram in India!

Hare Krishna Wagon

I was in the line up at the Green Room confirming my bus back to the airport on that last day when a nice young man who looked a lot like James Mathieson ( I am sure it was him) was guarding the door and checking that the queue was not jumped. I asked him if I was real...was I actually standing in front of him. He gently ran his hand down my arm and said ‘Yep...you’re real alright. Don’t worry ...it’s just Woodford.’ I had been feeling invisible for a couple of days. I felt like I was drifting through the crowd unseen, moving with the horde undetected, leaving no impression just being. No I wasn’t on weed or alcohol either!

I wasn’t aware that there was still the best yet to come.

We had to be at the Amphi at 7 pm, in white and hydrated. Our practice sessions as it turned out was not going to prepare me for what lay ahead. I have a new found appreciation for performing artists as of that night. The choir stood for 2 hours in total, waiting for the Fire Show to start...the closing ceremony....along with the bands and a children’s choir. As the story unfolded before us with the weeks work of street theatre and creating of lamps and other effects, we sang or played the accompanying songs. Every now and then fireworks would light up the hill and you could see the hundreds of people watching...watching us. It was breathtaking. From where I stood in the choir I could see minimal. Nothing could stop the intensity of the emotion that flowed numerous times during the show though. It was awe-inspiring. The sacrifice and discipline required was well worth the effort for the gratification of both us performers and audience.

Kristine had gone back home earlier than planned, to see her hubby off to another job in another country. Can’t say I blame her sentimentality. I would have been too. I have to say at this point if it wasn’t for the concert I would have gone too. I was over it by this stage... Woodforded out! An entire week was too much for me. What I’d almost kill for was my lounge room or office, QUIETLY sitting and doing nothing! I was still in awe of the concentrated artistic creativeness though that I was immersed in. I had been to more concerts in these last few days than I had in my whole life. I think if I was a true artist I would never be sick of it. At least I was there (and loving it really). I tried to read the programme and plan my days but once I got into the village and wandered around I was mesmerized and ‘channelled’ into shows that I didn’t even know who they were. I just knew they were worth watching and I enjoyed it. There had been so many acts and concerts that I would have loved to see. My disappointment so far now that I am home is looking at the programme I see what I have missed. I don’t think it humanly possible to do all of Woodford even if you had a month!

As the year ended and the new one began I felt nostalgic. It was the first year that Tim and I had not been together at New Year. I decided it was an omen of change for the better...a better time for us...new and improved! I miss him and the comfort he brings me.

Zoe Quinn at Mr Perceval's Singing workshop.

New Years Day I rose early to participate in Mr Percival’s singing lesson. What a treat. I wish I had been able to make it every morning. His program crossed our practice times. He was amazing and especially so that morning with Zoe Quinn a little 8 year old girl whom he coached. She was amazing and the crowd went berserk! I applaud the experienced and stage wise Mr Percival and Mal Webb for the care and enthusiasm shown for the talented artist in her foundation years. Standing ovations for all three! The crowd laughed as both seasoned entertainers danced in the mosh pit as she had done throughout the festival at numerous concerts.

The moods of Woodford are varied. The ups and downs flow over the week; intensity – compression of community. A part from the weather and some of the loud music I decided to take ‘Woodford’ home with me regardless of my sense of fatigue. I was there a whole week and I never heard a person swear. Can you believe that!

Quote from my diary on the day of our departure.

“This morning urgggh! I feel like crap. If I have taken my boots off then why is it I can still feel them on? I would kill for a cuppa. I packed up the cooker to be taken home by someone else, yesterday! I will have to be content to wait till the airport. My bus leaves at 9am. I got out of the tent at 7am. I couldn’t stand it another moment longer. My boots still feel like they are on. I know they are not as I see them on the volunteer’s feet as she runs hither and thither chasing after this one and that one. I wouldn’t be a volunteer no matter how many free days at Woodford I got! She had a sign up ‘donate your wellies’. I made a B line for it. One thing for sure the relationship I had with my boots was fast coming to an end. I did not want to risk the association of me and my boots ever trying to make it for a second time round. I told her they were new and that my feet were clean’ish....apart from the mud under my nails. She must have needed them as a few minutes later there they were...on her feet. Yet why did they still feel like they were on my mine?”

A paper cup drops to the floor blown by the industrial fan which is attempting to circulate the stagnant moist air. Lounge chairs are starting to fill with artists waiting for the bus to take them from this slimy sludgy viscous hell. The pong of wet socks wafts across the room. My feet are now free but I still feel like they a encased in gumboots. The Green Room is now transformed into a bus station. An older lady struggles with an errant sleeping bag that has escaped from its unclasped bag. Much laughter as it snakes its way across the floor. Some of us look particularly fresh and lively...not part of my demeanour though....not yet.

Boots still feel like they are on my feet. Maybe my feet are suffering separation anxiety.

Hire blankets and sheets are being interrogated. They come in all screwed up and in a pile. After shaking and folding a wayward sock and jumper emerge. Lucky that’s all! The girls who were working the office at 11pm last night are still here this morning....have been everyday...smiling and cheerful right to the end!

At last no mud. We wait at the front gate to catch the bus to the airport. Already I am beginning to feel human again. I meet up with a few of the choir and we have lots of discussion about coping and fending for ourselves in almost 3^rd world conditions for the last week and how life looks very different to us now...how we appreciate the finer things in life and from now on we will not take our near perfect lives for granted. Lots of laughter and relief that it’s over for another year...the wettest on record...and my boots still feel like they are on my feet.

Once off the bus it was a B line for the check in. Get rid of the bag that feels like it weighs 10kilos over what it was when I arrived a week ago. I decided it must be that I am weary as it weighed the same. Food, coffee, water, clean dry tables with clean dry floors...ahhhhh!

I love travelling....the people, faces, colours and styles of extraordinary frocks and attire. I could snap away but I dare not. I feel bogan by comparison. Bandaids on my blistered toes are outlined with mud...under my toe nails too. My linen pants crushed and flecked with Woodford Mud from those last steps taken back into the real world...the only testimony that I was there. Hope my washing machine copes. Hair is brushed but only just...who cares? Not me. My boots are still on though, is how it feels. Damn feet are as big as balloons.

I am busy taking notes as I wait for the plane to take off. Cheeky hostie says to get his name right ...DANNI. I assure him the story is about him and he shall have the first copy! I remember saying one time that I would never fly Virgin ever again for some reason ( may have been the time the door fell off) but the nice young man made me feel visible again. He asked me if I was writing about him.

‘Of course I am...how do you spell your name?’I ask.

My ears pop...EVERYTHING IS LOUDER NOW.....feels like we are going downhill descending into Townsville. Yep...turbulence and cloud. Must be nearly home.

Yawning now....sleep stolen during flight has been insufficient. I am really looking forward to my soft comfy bed....clean white sheets, walls that don’t seep, floors that don’t ooze and only the sound of the frogs. Oh, and I hope my boots come off!

WOODFORD OR BUST

2010-12-25T20:08:00.000-08:00

My plane was cancelled this morning and I spent a total of 3 hours arranging another. I am counting my blessings as I am sure a plane full of other travellers were trying to do the same thing. Our first concert is tomorrow (27th Dec) at 10:15am and those of us going need to be there at 9am. And so it shall be as far as this little black duck is concerned! Anything that is worthwhile nearly always has hurdles to jump, climb and in this case possibly swim over. In the past I have found that obstacles are put in the way to make sure you know what you are doing and whether you think it worthwhile. I persevered with the phone this morning listening to Jetstars blurb and then Qantas blurb over and over and over when finally a lovely lady came on and calmed my frazzled nerves and found my name on the list and yes I am booked...re booked on a later flight. PTL(praise the Lord!) Stand by for future updates of my adventures at the Woodford Folk Festival 2010/11.

Grandparents are gobsmacked!

2010-12-20T04:14:00.000-08:00

Parke baby 12 weeks. Apparently all legs and arms accounted for and all bits in the right place.

How proud are we then? And I thought I could wait...NOT!
Rob and Kia will be parents sometime in late June. At last we can tell the world
mind you most of my friends know already. How can you keep such wonderful news under wraps?

Adventures in Paradise

2010-12-17T21:28:00.000-08:00

Today we rode from home to Pallarenda and up to Mount Stuart and back home. Around 98 kls. Not as far as last week when we did the Townsville to Townsville round by Giru, Woodstock and Stuart with a stop at Alligator Creek. That was 170 kls. We are talking even further for our next weekly run. It is getting a little too hot to be out in the middle of the day so it is early morning adventures so far. Tim is taking to this biking like a fish to water. I think I have created a monster.
Mount Stuart was beautiful this morning. You could see all the islands of the Palm Group all the way to Hinchinbrook. Our city looked sublime from up there.

2010-12-04T23:36:00.000-08:00

One really aught subscribe to Artgaze . The number one magazine for the artists of Townsville. You never know who you might see showing her wares! As well the programme for the seasons showings and workshops. Don't miss it!
http://artgaze.com.au/

2010-12-04T23:22:00.000-08:00

Timmy Spunk Rat! Got his Open Licence yesterday.
Our first group ride up the highway to Balgal Beach.
A wee bit hot but we did enjoy regardless.
The plans for a really big ride are in the pipeline brewing.
Stay tuned to see what bike he ends up with!

Aquapella World Music Choir: CD launch 2010 song compilation

2010-11-30T04:19:00.000-08:00

Aquapella World Choir

2010 CD launch at

Sacred Heart Cathedral

Aquapella World Music Choir: 'Naduri' (Georgian working song)

2010-11-27T00:46:00.000-08:00

My experience of joining a choir, sparked by a workshop I did with Tony Backhouse, has been a journey of fun and pure excitement. Finding yourself in front of an audience shamelessly brazen and ready to perform is definitely a place I would never have thought I'd find myself. But here I am with my fellow choristers. I'll be heading off to Woodford after Christmas for the week long folk festival...another first for me. I think I am going to make a habit of 'first's'. They are fun!

2010-11-23T05:06:00.000-08:00

An excellent year!

2010-10-09T18:33:00.000-07:00

www.woodfordfolkfestival.com/
WOODFORD FOLK FESTIVAL

Go check this site out. I'm going to this year for real!

2010-10-08T22:26:00.000-07:00

On the deck with champagne and the easel!

Tim has taken up painting! The deck outside our bedroom has become the artists den. It looks and feels very homely and comfortable. Tubes of paint, brushes and sploshes of colour add to the already ambient characteristics. He sneaks out there and dabbles at least once a day. He says he's getting some confidence up before he ventures out into an artists group. We picked up an old steriogram from Lifeline and made a cupboard out of it after ditching its innards. He keeps his arty farty gear in there and can be ready to work on his masterpiece at anytime he feels the urge. Me? I am on the other side of the house (calling distance) tapping away at the computer creating my own literal masterpiece! Pigs DO fly. We were toasting to thriftiness in the photo. I had found a hairdresser who charges $20 dollars less than the one I have been using for ages and ages and is local, so I went in and bought a bottle of Asti to celebrate! Frugal! Fantastic! Fun!

Our bikes.

This is what you do to shed the excess. Ride around our beautiful 'Borrowing Pit' which is around 3 kilometres (felt like 10 the first day). It's good for our lungs and keeps all the bending bits mobile. The hardest part was the seat but I am adjusting...slowly! Knees are holding up and so far it's very enjoyable. Tim even rides to the shop and back for the paper. Way to go!

One last big job at Salads Galore for the Oldies.

So many of our friends ask us what we do with out time since retiring. Well, I am hear to tell you the nasty news about retirement! Time goes just as fast as it did while working....faster some days! Catching up on all the chores that were on the 'gunna' list are getting done...sort of. At least plans to do them have been made for after we have finished this or that or some other adventure. We were called back into work for a clean up last week....actually we were supposed to do it months ago but never got around to it till just this week. One of the 'storys' from our time at Salads Galore was the Onion Machine that we bought from Barker Boys in Adelaide some years back. Bloody thing would have worked but it didn't...not efficiently at least and so it was scrapped. Literally. Tim and I pulled all the bits off that were not stainless steel and broke it down to a pile of metal on a pallet. Imagine the Italian engineer who originally put it together some 30 odd years back! He'd be horrified to think his work of engineering art being destroyed. Bits of it will hang in my garden when I get around to making them. A big gear thingy that has a great sound when you gong it and the name plate that will serve as a reminder of a chapter in our history. I believe there will be a time when we will need such reminders, or so I am told by our dear children who laugh at us getting older. They can laugh...I know their time will come!

A Week With Eil and Sue!

2010-09-24T00:47:00.000-07:00

Cooktown Pole Dancers

We spent a week in August exploring the north from Townsville to Cooktown with friends. Four of us in our tent! Tim has decided that one wife is plenty. (Whats worse than a nagging wife? Three nagging wives). We covered a lot of ground in an amazing amount of time. It actually felt like a marathon! Enough said for fear of an uprising!

Not only was it rushed but crowded too...no not in the tent...everywhere we went! Kurrimine Beach resembled a nursing home for grey nomads and ...well that is all I am going to say about that too! I have decided that from now on we go where no one goes on our get-aways.

Cassowary at Etty Bay

In our search for Cassowary's we discovered Etty Bay just south of Innisfail. A glorious little bay tucked away around the corner from Mourilyan Harbour. The dangerous critters actually have breakfast with the campers! Apparently they have become very tame after cyclone Larry went through, when locals cut up fruit for them to live till the forest grew back.

Eileen and Susan near the Curtain Fig Tablelands .

We did a day trip to the Tablelands too doing all the falls and all the beautiful vilaages between Innisfail and Malanda!

Mr Smiley was our chaperon. He kept the peace and made us all happy!

Don't know what we would have done without Mr. Smiley. He broke the silence and melted the frayed tempers when things got a little frizzled. Wasn't many times thank goodness. We are actually planning another trip so it must have been okay.

Looking through the figs with lichen growing all over it in Mossman.

Milla Milla Falls.

We decided to go back to Etty Bay last week for a couple of days. We hired a van for the time we were there and for sure and certain I am cured of ever owning one! I suspect there may have been a 'passing' taken place in there. So old and ramshackle but we didn't really care as we ate at the little store mostly and sat on the beach. I set up office under a fig tree and conducted the business of writing poetry. Pure bliss. Next time we will pitch our tent and take our chances with the mozzies. It is a lovely spot and I was inspired to ramble on.

2010-09-24T00:02:00.000-07:00

Ramblings from Etty Bay

The tide half up, half down.

Endless lapping and movement regardless, from both land and ocean blue

Children frolic, castles built, endless search for shells and treasures

Chasing, catching, rolling, romping, screaming and laughter...

Joyful expressions of appreciation.

Junior Life Savers practice their skill

Rotate and take their turn at saving.

Spot the waving arm, march, guide harness, rescue, carry, drop and kneel... kiss of life.

Then there are the boards ...paddle out and glide back, turn ‘round and do it again.

A swayed backed mother leeds her twins to the waters edge

One with bucket other with spade

Sit in waves trying to contain the ocean in their toys

Their little bottoms sandy like crumbed chicken.

People gather; holiday makers, teens stealing time off work,

Mums and dads, grans and granddads hand in hand, not much talking.

No need.

In the silence I sense the spirit of a visitor from another time

Young nubile nymph climbing rocks, jumping waves, the fresh sting of salt on skin.

Crisp, refreshing, dunkings on a hot summer’s day.

Bare feet cautiously climbing, clambering over shell encrusted volcanic leftovers.

Searching, inquisitive, prying and fascinated young eyes.

Waves’ creating an explosion of spray pounding islet rock.

New discoveries as the wash pulls away and exposes secrets.

The shadows almost reach the waters edge

Streams of low, sun rays seep through the giant figs.

My silhouette grows chasing the last of the days light.

A Forest Kingfisher darts across my path

It’s time to retreat to my nest too.

Brisk cold shower, to get rid of crusty sand.

Fold up chairs and tables, baskets, bags of soggy towels, buckets and spades

Eskies, light now, picnic lunch long eaten....all lifted into the boot of the car.

Tired happy children strapped safely into car seats, a far cry from the freedom of the day

But too tired to care. Be asleep before they get home

Dreaming of castles, and wild roaring oceans.

A sumptuous feast for the soul as I sit and gaze into the setting of sweet little Etty Bay.

Carnarvon Gorge and back via Longreach

2010-05-25T08:01:00.000-07:00

If you haven't been to Carnarvon Gorge yet you had better before it's too late. No, they are not mining it or turning it into satellite suburb complete with K-Mart and Bunnings. The reason you must hurry is because YOU my friends are not getting any younger. Leave it too long and you wont be able....especially as walking 22 kilometres in one day will be on the agenda. Tim and I decided that Carnarvon Gorge was our Everest! Over 30 creek crossings, stairs that felt like they were the ones to Heaven, hills that felt like mountains and kilometres that I think where miles! We decided to go to the end of the trail. 'Big Bend' and do all the 'featured' walks on the way back. Big mistake! We knocked over the first three coming back but by the time we got to the turn offs to 'The Amphitheatre' and 'Moss Garden' neither of us could bring ourselves to do it. We did make it to Wards Canyon though and from what we had seen thus far it was the pick. My photos do not do it justice. Our feet where on fire by the time we got there and a soak in the foot bath of freezing cold water got us mobile again for the last 5 ks back. (felt like 25).

It was very cold camping, could have thought it was Tasmania! The camp fire was comforting though as well the Tawny Port we discovered at Dan Murphy's before we left. Our sleeping bags rated at -7degrees worked a treat so we didn't have too much to complain about apart from sore feet. It was well worth the effort and I am sure if we had of done a little more training before hand we would not have thought too much off the distance. Being gobsmacked around every corner at all sights and sounds of the bush made it all worth while. The sand stone cliffs where amazing. The gums living on the edge where of particular interest to me!

Warrumbah Gorge

One of the many creek crossings.

Alive On The Edge

King Ferns at Wards Canyon

Our trip home was interesting. I had not been any further west in Nth Queensland than Charters Towers. Places like Blackall , Longreach and Winton were mere dots on a map till this journey. Still dots on a map but people do live there. Amazing and nothing short of a miracle that they do! In all the towns the emphasis seemed to be on our pioneers and the way they lived. I will always be grateful for the hard work they put into opening up and laying down the communities that make up our precious state. We have no idea what hardship is these days!

Tim and Suzie and the dusty road before us!

We decided to take the 'tourist track' to Tambo from Springsure. I thought it was worth it and Suzie handled the road well even though her 'footwear' was inappropriate. We know we have to get proper 4wd tyres for any more adventures like that. Sliding around in the bull dust in city slick tyres was not all that much fun.

Mr and Mrs Emu out for a stroll along the road to Belyando Crossing.

Tim picks up with a new bird.

Bottle Trees near Blackall.

I bought one home from the Information Centre in Blackall. I am now officially a grey nomad picking up plants where ever I go...except from the National Parks of course!

The Stockmans Hall of Fame Longreach!

The QANTAS Museum.

We found The Stockmans and Qantas Museum very interesting and spent a long time in both. I am not sure I needed to know all that stuff about how a plane stays up in the air though. I was comfortable in my blissful ignorance. Now I will be wondering if all the parts are in good order!

Homeward Bound

The last nights where spent at a motel. I know we piked out of the camping deal but we did make that decision when we first set up the rig. Too tired? Then rent a room! So we did.

Look at the fancy fences out west!

All the posts were wrapped in tumble weeds! It went for miles like that then suddenly stopped. Must have been the edge of the winds space.

Suzie smiling even though she has bugs all over her face.

Till the next adventure....

"Change of Minds"

2010-04-26T17:05:00.000-07:00

We are allowed...we are entitled to change our minds if we want to! Here is a photo of our first adventure in our 'rig'. The car could fit in the tent if we really wanted it to. We have a name for it...Suzie...because of her brand but have attached another...Tardis. If you could see what we put in between her three door frame you would be amazed. We have a state of the art tent Black Wolf go up in a flash model, air beds that blow themselves up (inflate) and a set up that all falls together in the least amount of time possible. From pulling up at the site , wandering around and making sure it was the best spot, to ripping the ring pull off a can of beer was 20 minutes. And that was our first time! Have plans to be getting even better at it with a bit of practice.

Sunset on the banks of the Basalt River 'Bluff Downs' Western Qld.

Our first stop was Bluff Downs a farm stay where you can camp on the banks of the Basalt River. We had the place to ourselves apart from the cows and crows. Quiet? Yep. The river drops down and has a small waterfall that makes itself known with it's shushing music. Birds feed and drink all day long and create a scene that changes constantly. "Hey look....is that a crane? Are they scraggy necked ibis?" All day long we bird spotted. Bluff Downs run deer as well and Tim and I tried to recall all the names of Santas reindeer round the camp fire while dutifully dealing with an over full bottle of Brandy. Shame the internet doesn't work out there or mobile phones we could have dialed a friend!

We came home to attend a party but didn't unpack. Restocked and took off again this time for more civilized spot...Kurrimine Beach Caravan Park. The 'happy campers' from the school holidays had all packed up and gone home and left us to the pick of the plots....beach front . Pub was just a stroll away...no cooking this time...just fishing and making wind chimes out of the oceans remnants, reading and of course those pesky over full bottles of wine! Bill and Bev from Hervey Bay our new neighbours looked on in amazement at our rig and how it all fitted back into the car. That is when we decided Tardis should be Suzie's surname!

Thats all folks!

Decisions Decisions Decisions !

2010-01-08T15:41:00.000-08:00

Since our retirement we have talked lots about the how, when, where and why we will do 'our trip'. You know ...the one you traditionally take after retirement. As far as I am concerned the van thing is out. It's okay if you want to leave home for an extented period of time and maybe 'live' somewhere but hey...we already live in paradice so why would we be wanting to stay anywhere else for more than what it takes to check the place out , see the sights, taste the wine, etc? Soooo... so far, as of today we have agreed on something that we both like. Remember I am the one who is happy with a toothbrush in one pocket and change of knickers in the other and Tim...well lets just say he likes his creature comforts (lots of them). Just as an example he likes a fishing rod and all the tackle while I am happy with a cork real and two hooks! Anyway, at last we have at least landed and idea that we both can work on. Here's the rig so far.
A medium size 4WD
A small tinnie 25hp motor (we pack camping gear in that)
The idea is to hump our swags around lots of watering holes around the country. Thats a bit of us. Like the old times in our yachts (I refuse to go there again; been there done that) only this time on land. Actually Robert was conceived in Cardwell while we fished the Hinchinbrook Channel in a wee small tinnie...there will be none of that this time round!!
There are no photos yet but will leave your imagination to conjour up a picture till we get the rig together. Amazing what reading the Saturday morning Bulletin can inspire sitting on the balconey with wonderland before us.

Klose Kall for Kez!

2010-01-06T00:58:00.000-08:00

Tim said, "Lets clean the loft".
I said, "What for...there is very little up there these days."

Up goes the ladder, a different one, I might tell you, to the one I used last time I went up into the loft (3 years ago). "She'll be right", said Tim and I agreed as it was very long and I would be able to manage better. Mmmmmm! Scene was left till it cooled down ...an indoors activity planned for later.

While Tim and Sooty were off having their evening constitution up to the dam and back I thought I would pop up and give it a sweep and get down the stuff we wanted.

Ladder secure. Mat under feet so we don't scratch the timber floor. Give it a shake and a push... the ladder not the mat! All seemed safe. I was approximately 3/4 the way to the top when ever so gracefully the ladder slid. It was like walking on an escalator in the opposite direction, you know, like when you were a kid! Trouble is I am 56 now!

I looked down as the ladder was sliding and was thinking about how to land, fall, crash and what damage I was going to do to myself. Suddenly the floor was the furthest concern from my mind. Just as the end of the ladder reached the edge of the man hole ( woman hole?) ...it stopped. Stuck on the edge was a small plastic end cover thinggy that broke in half and went flying accross the space called loft. Stuck on the edge was crazy women in knickers and T.shirt hanging on for dear limb. Life was okay I summised but a ride in ambulance was sure to be the nights activity.

Tom was home. Thankfully he was just hanging around waiting to run to my assistance. Normally he'd be asleep by now, aircon blasting just enough noise to dampen my calls for help.

After berating me for doing such a stupid thing without someone to hold the ladder and threatening to leave me there and collect his inheritence early he then held the ladder steady while I went up to finish what I started. Nothing like a bit of drama to finish off the day. Yep...Alive On the Edge!
Keeps the heart pumpin' clears out those arteries!

The ladder stuck on edge.

This is how far it slid.

"Nothing Has Happened Since July"

2009-12-30T04:04:00.000-08:00

Nothing has happened since July! Actually so much happened that month that I have spent the rest of the year getting over it. There was the wedding, visitors from the wedding, Toms 21st, the V8's, visitors for the V8's, our birthdays, Grandma's birthday all in the space of 3 weeks. Whew! Talk about over it and hanging out for an AFD (alcohol free day).

September I dried out a bit in time to attend biannual WWW event and a Birthday Bash three others and myself commit to yearly before taking off to Coonabarabran for a couple of weeks visiting my birth mother and family. I rode down. I had a ball. On the way, while I was there, on the way home; the lot! My bike clocked up 20,000 ks somewhere near Mungindi. I aught not skite...I could of had more up by now if I had put my mind to it. No matter....got plenty of time to catch up. I know I wont be doing it till the weather settles down. As we speak the rain is angrily throwing itself on the roof. Not complaining. Waited long enough for it. Frogs are starting to celabrate with a chorus. Talk about chorus...guess who has joined a chior? Yes me!

"Aquapella World Chior".

We sound like angels...so much so we float on water!

I am not sure what I sing but I do know I sing in upto six different langaugaes every practice night! That has got to be good for brain cells, yes? It is so fun! It replaces my night at Writers In Townsville. My writing is off the boil for the moment...yes, not only the blog but my book as well. At this rate I will be in the nursing home with the publishers lining up on visitors day!

"Grandma's 89th Birthday"

Maddie took Grandma to Billabong Santuary. Hazel and Eric attended too!

"The Start of My Second Day to Coona"

This was the last time I saw my leftie (bag). Somewhere along the track to Injune it came adrift and emptied itself, Grandmas camera included. But never fear! Grandma had her name on it and phone number. David Black from Moranbah found it and had it in the mail heading back to Townsville before the day was out. Believe that? Well what do you think took the photos you disbeliever you!!

"Miss Maddie Rose Trophy Winning a 2009 Kart Race "

Maddie attended the National Kart Series at Easter. She didn't win but got loads of experience racing against a mob of testosterone crazed men out to win at all costs. She may not have won but she put up a reasonable fight .

"V8's in Townsville...awesome!

'SPEAK UP....I CAN'T HEAR YOU! VROOM!"

"The Wild Womens Weekend in Paluma"

The theme this year was Mumma Mia...incase you couldn't pick it. Gee us girls know how to have fun! Aphrodite had nothing on us!

" Birthday Bash...Civic Theatre"

Trish, Delayne, Gail and myself all decked out celebrating our birthdays. This tradition started with Gails Mum, Thelma who went out each year with her three friends to celebrate all their birthdays at once. We are carrying on tradition and enjoying every bit of it. Each year we take a turn and go somewhere different and it is usually a surprise that we keep till the last moment. One year we went Belly Dancing, another year we had a complete makeover. Need I go on? I am sure you get the drift by now!

Have you seen this pair of grey nomads?

2009-07-15T17:58:00.000-07:00

LOST: Grey Nomads, last seen heading out of town. Believed to be going south to escape the warm winter. They go by the name of Good Value Gailene and Grumpy Bum. Grumpy Bum has a distingishing tatoo over his heart and Gailene can be picked out of a crowd as she stands on her head lots! Size 8 shoe probably blingy although because of the cold more than likely furry. If you see them give them a hug . Not the shoes...Gailene and GB silly.

Twenty One, Tom, 12th July.

2009-07-12T16:46:00.000-07:00

Thomas Matthew Parke our second son celebrates his

birthday by going fishing! This photo was taken the week

before at Robert and Kias wedding at which he was groomsman.

Hinchinbrook Chanel, Toms favourite spot to explore on his jet ski or boat.

"I Do, I Do, I Do."

2009-07-12T15:34:00.000-07:00

Introducing the latest and improved version of Mr and Mrs Parke (with an E)!

The mum and dad of the groom

Kerry and Tim

The orginal Mrs Parke (with an E)

89 years young Doris!

We are the generations of Parke with an E. It just so happened that Barry Parke, Doris's husband was the first of Parke with an E. His dad, very excited at the birth of his son stopped off at the pub on the way to the registry office in London and a drunken squiggle evolved. His daughters birth more sobbering stayed with Park but Barry was Parke and that is a true story!

The groom Robert with younger sister and bridesmaid Madilyn.

Groomsman Thomas and bridesmaid Madilyn

The Sun Sets on the Ring Road

2009-06-24T05:51:00.000-07:00

A moment in time when all that exists is beauty!

Taken Wednesday 24th June 2009 on the Ring Road around 5:45

Proof that we are a different species....

2009-06-23T14:52:00.000-07:00

The thought came to me this morning as I was wondering what I am going to wear to my daughter-in-law to be 'hens' party on Saturday night, why did it get called a 'Hens' and 'Bucks' night out?
Should it have been a Hens and Cocks or a Doe and Bucks night? Proof I say that we are indeed a totally different species to support the theory that we (men and women) are indeed from different planets! So girls...keep your eyes open , be alert...aliens disguised as men sent to takeover our lives and wind us around/up/over their little fingers for their own selfish purposes! Ha the laugh is on them hey girls as we turn the tables and show them our GIRL POWER!

"God Don't Make No Mistakes"

2009-06-23T14:34:00.000-07:00

Bull dust he don't! Like my hair for instance. I was supposed to born with red hair and I ended up with what I did...left overs. Oh don't get me wrong, I do appreciate the waves and the strength and the amount but wouldn't you think if he's gone to all the trouble to cover those and make sure my mother had red hair that I would have it too? Thank God for Mark thats all I can say...

Mark James Hair Studio

Flinders Street, Townsville.

Fixes up Gods mistakes! Thank you Mark!

http://www.markjameshairstudio.com.au/index.htm

On Being a Parent....

2009-06-17T21:58:00.000-07:00

There is only piece of advice I'll willingly pass on to my children when it's time for them to have their own, is to love unconditionally; without flinching even when the police knock at the door with a warrant, when they fail exams, when they have chosen the wrong path or girlfriend or boyfriend, or even if they are messy and dishevelled or rude and impolite. Just love them and you'll be okay as a parent and they will turn out fine.

My Thoughts on a Loss... Luke J Matthews 18th July 1988-4th April 2009

2009-06-17T21:44:00.000-07:00

From the dizzy depths of disbelief despair emerges, encompassing my very being. Youth lost, no taken - snatched from our lives never to witness or enjoy again. Wondering what he may have been like as a husband or father or brother or son will do no good. What is left are the memories of how he was till his leaving us....smiling, cheerful, fearless and with the senselessness of a beautiful twenty year old lad who lived each moment as his last.

Winter is upon us......well winter as we know it!

2009-06-10T03:18:00.000-07:00

It's there one minute and gone the next...my hill...shrouded in misty fog. It rises like steam on the river as it ribbons it's way from our dam then floats away misteriously disappearing into the sun rise. As a child living in NSW mist signified bitter cold and wetness but here in sunny North Queensland you can feel the warmth radiating through the dense air. It wafts in ever so gently reminding you that today will be hot and this passing mist but a dream.

PRE WEDDING BELLS

2009-06-04T03:28:00.000-07:00

A busy time at our house as we prepare for our eldest sons wedding to his sweetheart of seven years. He is 23 and she 22 and already they have an accumulation of life experiences. I have been up ladders cleaning where the sun don't shine and beyond! Re decorating and freshening up tired walls with a splash of colour and glitter. A very exciting time...I just hope the next wedding is a few years up the track as I may need that to recoup.

A Quote

2009-06-02T23:25:00.000-07:00

"If living in too much space try the edge"

Andrew King (A twist on the version I use.)

When I first chose this signature a few of my friends were taken aback by it. "Not very kind Kerry" they said.

"Depends how you look at it" was my reply "I don't know about you but somedays just getting out of bed to face the day can be living on the edge."

There I rest my case.

Feast or Famine

2009-05-19T06:37:00.000-07:00

It's either a feast or famine when it comes to weekends away. 'Feast' is on the menu these last weeks I'm glad to say. Some months ago I booked to do a workshop in Cairns with Tony Backhouse. Who's he I hear you ask? Well go check his site out and discover who the 'guru of a Capella singing is'. That's not what he calls himself....it is what I call him! I can cross off my bucket list the 'learn to sing' as I have found a voice and now I feel confident enough to join a choir or a Capella group which I have already made enquiries about.
Tony came to town about five years back and the Friday evening is an open event that anyone who is interested can join in. He had us singing like angels from the very moment we opened our mouths. It blew my mind away. I wanted more of that, so I done got me some, even if I have had to wait till now. I'd follow him into the desert in August to do the 'Walking Tour'. It is the new item on my bucket list. Have a look at his itenery and see where he's going. If he's heading your way DON'T MISS IT! I have uploaded a sample of what twenty eight people who had never sang together before sound like! Allowances please, for my music studio was my trusty mobile phone!

Rehearsing For Heaven
a cappella Singing Workshops
Black gospel & related styles
For the beginner & experienced singer (music reading NOT Required)
With
Tony Backhouse www.tonybackhouse.com.au
Director of award winning Sydney gospel choir
Café of the Gate of Salvation

A Weekend Away.

2009-05-10T02:15:00.000-07:00

(Tim looking from Mt Inkerman look out, our first stop.
Never been here before either!)

Our oldest son and his fiance decided that 2009 would be the year of the wedding in our garden and so we decided that we wouldn't have a holiday this year...lots of work to be done and Mr Rudd's 'stimulation' didn't quite cover the costs of titivating and tidying but it did amply cover the expense of a weekend away or two. The idea was that one of us pick a place we've never been before and is only up to 4 or 5 hours drive away. It was my turn first seeing as it was my idea! Last year in Canada I wanted to do the Flying Fox tour at Whistler but due to my lack of determination I missed out. When I got home I Googled 'flying fox' and up came Finch Hatton near Mackay! Blimey...I went all the way to Canada to do something I could do in my own back yard. In the thirty years we have lived up here in the north we have never ventured off the highway. Always in too much of a hurry getting somewhere or going home. I thought he'd guess but he had no clue that what lay hidden behind the trail of the well beaten track was a beautiful mountain getaway. I have to say that all through our life together weather has always featured heavily in our holidays. Every time we packed the esky for a weekend away on the yacht clouds formed , even cyclones! So why should things change now? It wasn't too bad though...bearable ...good snuggling weather!

Our first night was The Chalet at Eungella. You 'can't' see it for the shrouds of fog. Surprises for no one! I find it exciting though. Something we don't see too often in Townsville and an excuse to light that fire.

Being out of touch with lighting a fire my hero came up with the idea of how to get the flames excited. All you need do is have a couple of rums and your breath sorts that! See his cheeks all billowed and the timber ignite! Don't try this at home kids!

I have to say that my well meaning friends and family have a lot to answer for as far as the success of the simple pleasures of a couple of oldies getting away for a 'naughty' weekend! We started our mini holiday with a cold schooner at the bar. We retreated to the cabin for a snort or two of rum and soda (medicinal purpose only , you understand, to warm us up and give us fortitude to brace the freezing weather and get back to the dinning room). At dinner we emptied a nice bottle of Merlot. It was quiet for a Friday so we were told. We didn't mind as we talked and talked and talked! YES TALKED!
All the better books say that talking is a foundation for foreplay. We'll be right tonight then!
First my sister rang for a chat. Then my girl friend Gail rang to see if we were having a good time! We joked about her timing. I then received a text which I answered. Tim had disappeared ...gone for a smoke I thought. 'Gee he's a long time'. Found him...snoring his head off snuggled up in bed! I have a laugh as only a thirty year bride could!

Before heading off we checked out the Ute competition that was part of festivities being held this weekend.

The second night was at The Broken River Retreat . It was modern and fresh looking by comparison to The Chalet. Quieter too and absolutely nothing to do but walk and talk (yes talk!) and view the platypus which neither of us had ever seen in the wild before. I would have swam with them but brrrrr a little too chilly for me. They are very hard to photograph. I did my best...patience ran out as well as the batteries in my camera!

Sharing a coffee break with one of the locals. Funny old turkey. Didn't say much! This was at the kiosk in the National Park. It was very impressive and made me wonder why our Mt Elliot isn't up to scratch like this?

Eungella National Park (pron: Youngella)

Who said you can't take a Monaro off road!

Or through water.....

Entering the black portals of the rain forest...

A fan dancing faerie?

A tree huggers delight.

Babbling Brookness

Tarzan Tim...King of The Rainforest.

Back into the light......

Chatting with the locals at Finch Hatton

Strapped up and ready for the flight!

Through the tops of the forest we go.

This was really worth it 'Finch Hatton Gorge Flying Fox'. If you do go take cotton gloves with you to wear under the leather ones they loan you or plastic throw aways. Other than the creepy smelly hands you are left with it is an awesome experience flapping around at tree top height with all manner of Gods wonderful critters. Donna and David have total dedication to preservation of the reservation! Above is David myself and Clare a fellow tourist. She was one of the short listed applicants for the 'Worlds Best Job'.

An ancient icon?

Bowenwood.... a modern one!

The mighty Burdekin Bridge

Home Sweet Home...

... Just in time to say Happy Mothers Day to Grandma and give her a handmade pressie from a local market in The Pioneer Valley.It's Tim's turn next and he reckons that it will be hard to beat. I was pleased that he enjoyed the adventure and believe it or not we have plans to return it was that good!

Dangers Lurk Round Every Corner!

2009-03-14T17:01:00.000-07:00

Dangers lurk round every corner ready to strike at any moment. Fear creeps up gradually as the years encroach and stalk us down. The kitchen, an area that was once a safe and happy place to work has now become a war zone with bombs waiting to go off and annihilate the unaware.
I would never have seen MY kitchen in such a light. The knives or hot water maybe but... bombs?
We had been painting...had a little carpentry work done and to cut costs we did the touching up. There was dust and plaster all over the place as well, old sheets to contain the runaway sploshes and drips. This all took place on Saturday. My painter was seeing to his sport Sunday leaving me to clean up the rest. Like any good wife I offered to cook him a breakfast to last him the day.
“That would be very nice” he said.
“Eggs, sausage, bubble and squeak, toast and coffee to go?”.
“Sounds good!” and off he went to finish his packing.
I lit the gas ring and heated up the pan; in with the butter...sizzle sizzle...
“O oh a splash...paper towel to the rescue...AHHHHHHH” a cockroach as big as my foot came running out.
“It’s gone under the stove”.

It’s probably accurate to say that it was at this moment my brain went somewhere else as what I did next was unbelievable.
“I’ll get you ya bastard...come into my clean and sparkly kitchen” I said out aloud to my only listener.
I reached for the spray can...Mortein I believe and lifted the burner from the stove. Remember I had the pan heating on the other...I gave a small shot that would have killed him (if he was there). I give another for ‘just in case’ and another to be really, really sure when, BOOMB! My life flashed before me as the tops of the stove lifted and relocated askew ...dust and bits of plaster blew from where they lay hidden in places my efforts from the night before missed. “Shit”
“What was that?” as man of the house came running.
“I don’t know I think the stove has something wrong with it”
“What are you doing with that?” he asks pointing to the can.
“Oh I was chasing a cocky.”
“Look at this” pointing to the flammable sign on the can.
I guess that would have killed him” I say sheepishly.
“And you”, with a look that says what he is thinking.
I cover it up with a laugh even though my heart is racing. Two frights in one morning and all before my first cup of coffee.
The thing is, the cocky was still alive. Like global warming is going to bother them! There he was the only safe place left, up the centre of the paper towels, laying flat and still so that I could hardly see him. Trained in kitchen warfare and fearless I hit the button on the can again after turning of the gas that is, and POW... I got him. Take no prisoners, that’s what I say....!

I am all calm now and had that cuppa and my Weeties with Muesli sprinkled on the top. Lovely for the taste buds and good for the inside but the smell of burnt hair still lingers. Wonder what I can spray for that?

Went to the movies today.

2009-03-09T02:44:00.000-07:00

When there is nothing else to do, go to see a movie. What better way to do nothing! "Slum Dog Millionaire." For weeks I have avoided it, not even reading the what it was about section of the Saturday news and then I relented and read the critics report. Right up my alley I thought and to think I nearly missed it!
From the opening scene where the kids were being chased from the runway, the police getting no respect at all however all that changed when mum cuts them off and deals with them, to the last scene dancing on the platform of train station, and all the bits in the middle that shocked disgusted and made you feel helpless and the funny and moving parts that made us feel the same regardless of culture differences. If you have always wanted to go to India and couldn't afford it this movie will enlighten you. Very well done. I looked away in the not so nice parts. Shocking yet truthful.

Snake Skin

2009-03-03T18:12:00.000-08:00

This is what I found this morning. While I lay sleeping like a baby last night totally oblivious to the goings on...I mean comings off, out on my balcony. I wondered why the frogs where quiet. I am thinking there may be a few less with this little beauty around in a fresh new suit. It measured 270cm and if you allow for shrinkage when the skin dries I think we may have a 3 metre carpet python as a resident....probably in Tims shed!

What made me do it?

2009-02-17T19:21:00.000-08:00

Probably a midlife crisis! In a panic to reidentify myself as an individual on this planet and not lost in the daily grind and happenstance of life I braved the inky needle! I had been looking for ages for the right image to have tattooed on my shoulder when this arrived via an email. It said everything I wanted it to; mother nature, floral angel,Goddess, She and all things feminine and most importantly I had never seen it before. Also it says, 'I am not what I seem'. What is flowers is really a face...what is a face is really flowers. Nether right, neither wrong just IS.

At first I was looking for something about the size of a matchbox. I ended up with the whole of my shoulder artistically celebrating! So..did it hurt, I hear you ask? Yep! Sure did right on the verge of tears. It was worth it though.

Les from Second Skin in Townsville was the artist.

What I did today.

2009-02-16T20:06:00.001-08:00

I was bored today, too much housework to be done but you have to be in the right frame of mind to tackle a mountain so I decided to take myself to Mt Elliot... Bowling Green Bay National Park (my favourite local spot for a dip). As was predicted due to the excessive rain the road was closed. That did not stop me! I walked in.

The sign as you enter the path down to the swimming area leaves the lone explorer feeling nervous.....

Looks harmless enough!

The swimming hole at last. I have seen it higher but this is still flowing fast. I could swim without moving away from the bank.

Up at the next pond is where I'd like to be but there is no one around to save me if I get into trouble.

Below is a Burtons Legless Lizard (I am not the only one to get that way) Isn't he/she beautiful?

You can make what you want from this next shot and you will probably be right!! No one around and I am never one to let a chance go by....

Hello Mr Turtle!

Hello Mrs Snake

The car park is usually full....not today though.

I only had my mobile camera so this is not very clear...Mr kangaroo is between the trees.

This is why they had the road closed! I could have gone through this but I didn't want to break the rules. I rode through deeper and faster running water during my Big Ride...this was for 'pussies'.

Yeah, right!

The road damage across the causeway into the park. Again the shot does not do it justice. No, I did not ride across this bump. Gave it a wide berth.

Home sweet home and now for.....

a beer and a sanga!

A good day was had by me at least!

The Royal Blue Breed

2009-02-15T04:10:00.000-08:00

+
=

"Sooty"

a pup from the second generation

...now 14 years old.

To commemorate the bi-centenary in Australia it was decided a new breed of dog would be created as part of the celebrations.
Wanting to show the tenacity and fight in the general personality of our fine young country and it's people as well keep the ties with from whence we came, it was decided to combine the breeds of our Australian Blue Cattle Dog and the Queen of England’s beloved Welsh Corgi’s and so with the aid of our IVF program the best ‘Bluey’ bitch was artificially inseminated with a specimen of the a Royal Corgi.
The official name of the breed is logically the ‘Royal Blue.’
It is a small breed not unlike a Corgi but that is where the likeness stops! From deep within the heart of this breed lies a beast strong and brave enough to take on any foe. As you can see by the photo it has the typical blue markings, including the patched eye, of a Blue Cattle Dog.
With the temperament of a cattle dog there is no amount of training or chastising that can stop the rounding up process by the animal; postmen, small children on bikes or in prams, neighbours chooks, cats or anything really and always with the surprise attack from the rear, stealthful and silent in their approach.
Not a breed for the faint hearted as any trace of a gentle and playful corgi disappears behind what the dog believes is a ferocious thick set monster that can bring down a cow and create fear and terror in hearts of grown men and the entire neighbourhood...well she thinks she can!

My Dam Overfloweth

2009-02-03T22:29:00.000-08:00

There is enough water in the dam to let some go and flush the river clean. I love the force of the water gushing and spraying, showing its power, thundering and cutting a course through the usual dry riverbed. Our house is along this river and at the most it has a billabong that gradually dries during the winter. Not so today. A raging flood has covered the plain. The shed has sunk, there is just the roof showing above the brown surly waters! It never ceases to amuse me that we are drenched and mouldy while our brothers and sisters down south are dry and burnt to a crisp. Wide brown...no...green land for me!

A preamble.

2009-01-17T23:31:00.000-08:00

It was an emergency call to my friend and counsellor . "I need it now, I can't wait till after Mass!"
Quickly the ingredients were fetched and dictated over the phone. "It's the creaming methed daughter...you know how to do that".
It was the whipping down to the shop last week, to get ingredients for the pudding of all puddings that we had the accident with Sheree. I will always associate this scrumptious delectable delight with how wonderful my fluffy poodle was. Both comforting!

A Recipe

2009-01-17T23:09:00.000-08:00

Sr Monica’s Sticky Date Pudding

Ingredients:
200 grms chopped dates
1 teaspoon bi-carb soda
150 mls boiling water
125 grms butter
125 grams caster sugar
2 eggs
125 grms SR flour

Soak dates in water and bi-carb soda for 20 minutes.
Cream butter and sugar till light and fluffy adding eggs one at a time beat till creamy and smooth. Add flour and date mixture and pour into a well greased flan dish. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes at 190 degrees.

Sauce:
Put 200 grams brown sugar in a small saucepan with 50 grams of butter and a cup of cream. Stir and simmer for 2 minutes. Glaze the top of cake with a small amount when it comes out of oven. Serve with sauce and custard. I cheat with custard and water down bought custard with cream. It is so rich you don’t need the flavour of too rich a custard. It’s heavenly!

Rain rain go away, little Kerry wants to play.

2009-01-15T14:29:00.000-08:00

An early start to yesterday; earlier than I have been used to for the last few months at least. Tim and I drove to Bowen and back to deliver a pallet of our delicious goodies (soon to have blog of it's own). Anyway...did you know that Ayr has a new car n boat wash?

FULL MOON...I DON'T SEE A FULL MOON!

2009-01-13T20:57:00.000-08:00

Ya wouldn' know it it was full moon up 'ere in the Tropics. It 'asn't stopped raining since Sund'y an as far as I can see there's no bloomin' sky! Oh and won't it be just stewy when the sun does eventually peep through those clouds! Move over 'Obart, ere I come.

Sad day.

2009-01-11T02:20:00.000-08:00

Today was a very sad one. Our beloved pet Sheree was killed in our driveway. The worst thing was she ran in front of Maddie's car. There wasn't a mark on her; it was as though she were asleep. Not so our hearts; shattered and completely broken. She is buried down in the paddock wrapped in her favourite blanket. We all said a few words over her, thanking her for the unconditonal love, faithfulness and loyalty she gave. There will be no greetings at the gate from today; no excited little creature bursting with delight to see us arrive home whether it be an hour or a day or a month. It was quick at least and she suffered no pain. I couldn't believe she could be dead she looked so perfect. I kept touching her and putting my head to her still lifeless body trying to hear a heart beat or sense her breath. But no...she passed on. Poor Maddie. It was not her fault. Sheree ran into her car with excitement. I wish it was me who did it so my daughter didn't have to feel the pain of guilt that comes with such an incident. I wish today could be run again. I'd sleep all day and let Sheree snuggle up beside me, safe. Damn it.

What do you see?

2009-01-10T01:44:00.000-08:00

Comments about this painting caused much concern for the lovely lady who bought it. She thought what a lovely scene...friendship, sharing a meal and company. Yeah right! Much laughter as 9 out of 10 people have said the same thing. Can't go into too much detail about the comments for fear of sounding politically incorrect! What do you think? Whats the first image that comes to mind? All I am going to say is New Zealanders must be very naive !

I have found my direction in life!

2009-01-08T02:44:00.000-08:00

I have at last found a direction; a path to follow. Many of you will question my chosen vocation. You can see by my joyous demeanour that all is well in my world! Bless you all my children.

Me a poet?

2009-01-05T03:16:00.000-08:00

Every now again I produce a poem that I am happy with...I mean really happy. I either have to be in the depths of despair or the other end of the scale unfortunately. The free verse below came from a WITS writing exercise when we simply listened to music for a few minutes and wrote what came. I guess I was in a jolly mood that night!

Grand Opening

2009-01-05T03:09:00.000-08:00

It’s cool. Stars are still visible in the black moonless pre-dawn. A light dew has formed in the chill of the night.
Today will be my first display- an unfolding-a fragrant exhibition
For all the world to see and rejoice.

At last the sun has warmed my petals
And encouraged me to stretch and open.
The dew now gone I bask
In the strong heat of the noon day sunshine.

Oh how beautiful I am!
See my vibrant gold-
Sniff my subtle scent.
Marvel in my magnificence.

It’s cooler now-the sun has faded.
There’s only the light from the galley window
My only stage for an encore
Oh I did make a grand opening – Me a rose!

New Years Resolution

2008-12-30T04:53:00.000-08:00

I decided today that I would pick an old favourite book I have had for 20 years or so and let it unleash it's power over me. No, I am not talking about Lord of The Rings. It's A Course in Miracles. It's a daily lesson over a year that leaves you with a sense of peace, calm and balance and an 'all is well in your world type attitude'. Until I actually start it on Thursday I will indulge in my impatience and intolerance and kick butt when ever I need too...just like today!

My friend and I thought we'd enjoy a movie. Cheep Tuesday is off my list from now on. We sat at the back as my friend is rather tall and she likes to consider others. Shame others didn't have the same idea. On the way out the usher asked how we enjoyed the movie fully expecting a 'great', 'wonderful', 'beautiful story,' 'well acted etc etc.' Instead he got a barage of 'shocking, dreadful', a general rant and rave. "It would have been better if we didn't have to endure the continuous coughing the incessant sniffing and the persistent mutterer behind us" we chimed. I actually got up and moved as glaring at them did not seem to bother them.

We had a chuckle about our indignance once outside and thought lets go and get lunch.
"Good idea."
We made our way to a local shopping centre near by and found a table, ordered fairly quickly....didn't want to make big day of it. Out came my eggs with a hair arranged delicately across the top with the bean sprouts. Not mine nor my friends I pointed it out to the waitress who then picked it off and said "Look ...it's gone," dropping it on the floor (the hair not the eggs). I refused to eat it. Please comment on whether you think I should have! My friend ordered Zucchini Quiche. The menu didn't say it was bacon and zucchini and she is allergic to anything pork, so we sent that back too. Mind you it was looking pretty sad bacon or no bacon. It looked like last months leftovers and I told them so. We reordered and all went well in the end. The nice man didn't even charge us the extra $5 for the change of mind dish. We were happy enough but we probably wont go back.

Fairly confident that nothing else could go wrong we parted our ways...me to the supermarket and my friend home. I only had 10 items in the trolley so I stood in line in the quick exit checkout. I totally ignored the sign that said 'NO TROLLEYS' however the goody goody two shoes checkout chick next to the one that was serving me said in a very loud voice 'WE"LL HAVE TO MAKE THE SIGN BIGGER' and muttered something about me being blind. Not happy with that she apologised to her customer in a loud voice for MY BEING ANNOYING . I have to tell you at this point that I was conscious that the trolley could be in the way and had it pushed up into the corner. The people could move behind me and I have kept my docket to prove I only had 10 items too in case you think I have not been quite truthful! By the time I got home I was phuming. Yes PHUMING! So I rang the nice manager at the particular store and let it rip. Gee it felt good. I wont go into it in detail...lets just say that he was cranky in the end and was about to kick butt as I rang off. He has apologised but I am not appeased...not even a bit...well not till Thursday when I do my first lesson that is. Until then I will enjoy swathing a path before me with my wrath ...after all it is my right... I am a grumpy old woman.

How I came to be alive and on the edge.

2008-12-29T04:55:00.000-08:00

It was 15 years ago when I was NOT having a midlife crisis when all I wanted was a holiday on a Harley with nothing but a toothbrush in one pocket and a change of knickers in the other. My forthieth birthday came and went and with it the notion of such a holiday becoming only a good yarn for dinner partys. My fiftieth came, along with extra weight, failing eyesight and a lot less confidence but I ended up with our neighbours old Kawasaki EL250 with the encouragement of the man in my life. I was wrapped. I did a Top Rider course and rode around the town not game enough to venture out on the highway much. About the same time our son bought a dirt bike and a few months up the track wanted to get rid of it. It had hardly been used but he couldn't sell it. It was my husband (bless his soul) who suggested that to get rid of our boys bike why don't I trade his and mine in on a bigger and better one for me? We where driving back from a visiting a friend up north at the time and I couldn't think of a reason why I should. I got a fit of the Too's Disease; too fat, too old, too blind, costs too much! That put that idea to rest.

Back in our office our manager had received an email from her daughter who was training for the winter Olympics. Her letter was full of her busy days training and what it was like to go tearing down a mountain at 160k's head first with nothing but a thin board between you and the ice! She finished her email with her signature, 'If you are not living on the edge you are taking up too much space."

After reading the account I grabbed my husbands hand and said, 'Come on, we are going.'
'Where are we going?' he asked.
'Around to Honda, where else!'

I knew what I wanted straight up. I had my heart set on a CB750 from my early days of dreaming but they didn't make them anymore. The Shadow VT750 was an option but, oh my ...it was so big! I'd never ride it.

I went and upgraded my licence within the week and was back down at Honda test driving the VT750. To my surprise I could handle it better than the smaller bike and so the deal was done. Two bikes and some cash and I took possesion of my pride and joy. It took me a while to really get some miles up. I did a round trip Townsville -Herveys Range-Charters Towers, Mackay and back for a weekend but that was about it for longish journeys, however in my head I was putting together my first Big Ride. I'd Google maps every night counting the kilometres for every different way you could go to Melbourne and back. I always wondered if I'd really do it; if it would only be a dream that never gave birth, when one morning on the 'no shit chanel' I saw the story of Gaby Kennard the first woman to fly solo around the world. With regular inspiration from 'The Long Way Round' and Netriders online I thought to myself, 'I only want to ride down the highway. It can't be that hard,' and so in January 2008 I set off with an overnight bag carrying less than 10 kilos of clothes and a laptop. That's it in the photo! A bit more than the original plan but not much! The speedo read around 5000k's when I left. When I pulled up in our drive a month later it was 14500k's. I had done 8500k's round trip...alone. I have to say that I had the time of my life. It has etched a memory that will still be a part of me in my next life I reckon! Smile? Like last weeks division 1 lotto winner!