OMG

Librarything is down. What's a girl to do? I work all weekend. I come home. All I want is my slippers and librarything. Is it too much to ask? I bought myself a bottle of Evans and Tate. This is what one does when there is a global economic crisis and your teenager won't come home. I am reading Suite Francaise. I will be very morose when I finish. The writing is so ...very...apropos...perfect...so contemporary...how can it be? It was written in 1940/1941. Nothing changes...we're all the same...year after year...century after century...well of course they didn't have librarything then but you know what I mean. Was Evan and Tate around then? Certainly good wine was around and about....will I twitter or won't I? I suspect I'd be a twat if I twittered. Right then, that's all I've got to say. I'd put up a photo of my blanket that I'm knitting but the cameras out of batteries. What's everyone going to do with their tax bonus thingummy? Mine's been eaten into savagely with a speeding ticket ....typical eh? I am the epitome of a dag and then I go and get a $200 speeding ticket...dag no more...double dag.

toys

I do worry sometimes that I'm not normal....whatever that is....I mean I still keep some moth-eaten toys in my bedroom for goodness sake. Why do I feel I would betray them if I chucked them? This is not even a very good photo of them. They're not looking their best. Left to right....my teddy...does he still growl? No. Oone of the remaining donkeys (a Merrythought toy)...I did have three originally...on a string...dragged round Europe when I was two...the lion my mother made Bel when she was little...especially endearing as it is made from all the scraps left over from the dresses she made Bel when she was a baby...Andy Pandy...who leapt out from behind a cereal packet...Frosties I believe...I just about died from shock apparently...then the doll with no name or not one I can remember...once again made by my mother...one of the Christmas or Birthday dolls she always made me....I hung onto one called Lucy for years....Lucy had blue hair...Istrange when I think about it now - seemed perfectly acceptable then. I remember the Husqvarna always whirring away at midnight when I was supposed to be asleep and if I staggered out, much furious rustling as stuff was hidden and my mother tried to look innocent....to the right of that doll, Mummy's teddy...the growl long gone...we've tipped him upside down far too often...and then another dolly who actually belonged to one of Mummy's friend's children...she's very special...we like her leopard skin outfit.

Who else loved Andy Pandy as much as I did? Who else read the Andy Pandy annual and loved the story about Teddy's Dream Penny?

Here's Andy Pandy, Teddy, Looby Loo, Rags and the White Kitten on Andy Pandy's eiderdown. Who else keeps their toys? Am I mad?

Murray

First of all, may I say just how difficult it is to take a photo of a fish in a tank. Glass, reflected light, moving fish and so on. Excuses, excuses, I know. Please meet Murray the Murray Cod. Murray the Cod please meet the reader. Pets. The recent fires in Victoria have produced many happy and sad stories about people losing or being reunited with their pets. Some months ago I ran into an old friend while we were respectively pounding the pavement in our suburb in search of that elusive goal - the svelte figure. My faithful hound Jessie always accompanies me in this pursuit. She too would like a more svelte figure. Though I suspect now what she would like is much less arthritis. As I blabbed on I finally noticed that my friend was keeping a careful distance from my faithful companion. As we exchanged pleasantries and moved on I pondered that my human friend seemed rather cautious, nay, lets be honest, rather fearful of said hound. My heart went out to her. Up til now I had thought her distaste for creatures was about pride in housekeeping. A distaste for furniture that is impregnated with essence de dog - not to mention hair de dog. And I completely sympathise. Oh for a malodouress (sp?) free home. A home free of having to clean up after animals. I spend my life wrapping up guinea pig poo, cleaning fish filters, removing crap from the bottom of bird cages, picking up dog excrement under the clothes line etc etc etc. But may I say, I would never trade all of that for the looks that Jessie gives me from her possie on the sofa. Her understanding eyes and deepest sympathy when the going gets tough and all the world's awry. When I am at my lowest point, she appears by my side unbeckoned, nudging me with her nose gently. And I'm a cat person !!! And what about the fish? What comfort does he give me? Well he reminds me that some of us swim. Some of us are in a water world where things glide gently. Where things bubble. Tweetie the bird makes washing up and preparing lunches and breakfast in the morning a delight. She warbles away with the running water and does fair impressions of bellbirds in the next valley and if she's particularly desperate whistles one of my inane tunes to get my attention. If she's really lucky she'll score a bit of the guinea pigs' lettuce. I see the gentlest side of my husband as he hunts for a thistle in our backyard for her and presents it to her like a bouquet. Opening the fridge door would not be half as much fun if it wasn't accompanied by insistent squeals from my furry friends in guinea pig tenements out on the back verandah - what about the workers they cry? We mow your lawn! Carrots for guinea pigs!! Animals ground me. They remind me that there's a whole world out there far more important than my trivial worries and strife. In the words of that poet whose name I've forgotten - is it Gerard Manly Hopkins - I lift up my voice metaphorically to sing = All things bright and beautiful. All creatures great and small. All things wise and wonderful....the Good Lord made them all....or something to that effect.

Dead People

I've been busy chasing dead people. The summer holidays has given me the chance to catch up on my other favourite hobby - family history. Bel and I drove up to Woombye a couple of weekends ago so I could mooch around the cemetery (aren't the trees fantastic?)looking for my great-grand-aunt Harriet Rowland (nee Conner). It was a lovely day. Bel was pleased to get her driving hours up and we delighted in completely indulgent icecream at Maleny and were impressed by the number of second-hand bookshops. I didn't find a headstone for great-grand-aunt Harriet but I did find other Rowlands which made me suspect she was there...just being discreet about it. Kathy Wilkinson,Customer Liaison Officer at the Sunshine Coast Regional Council Cemeteries Office was every family historian's dream come true, patiently and swiftly answering my queries. Yes Harriet is buried with the other Rowlands. She is in Section A Row 7 plot 11 to be precise. Now at the risk of losing the small following I have I have to say that I may be testing some family history story-telling out on this blog. I am conscious that I need a focus, that I tend to be all over the place in this blog. So be prepared to put up with stories from the past. I will endeavour to tell them with pictures and make them interesting.

Otherwise life has been fine. I am seeing a nutritionist at Paddington in an attempt to shed kilos. She thinks I have a build up of yeast so now I am on a raft of nutritional supplements and a de-tox diet. No alcohol for a week - I'm up to day five. Did you see I've read three books this year already? Did you see I've lost 2 kilos? And wasn't the inauguration fantastic? Particularly Aretha Franklin's hat.

२००९ Goals

Predictable I know !












I should also improve my housekeeping - I have found fern fronds growing inside the house.

Books

Stufftheturkeywhataboutthepeacock

I cheerfully confess the title for this blog is stolen from an ad campaign for Big Sister puddings I think in the UK in 1979??? And so to Christmas. Well, nature's gift to us this Christmas has come in the form of a peacock. We saw three a couple of days before Christmas on our neighbour's front lawn. Now we are down to one peacock - who seems to have taken up residence in our front door patio area. Where are the other peacocks? An interesting Christmas. One that has kept me on my toes. Where will we spend it? Would anyone like to hazard a guess ? Who will we spend it with? How much can we spend? But enough of that. I was very spoilt this Christmas. I ate far too much food - chicken, ham, salmon, prawns. I made coleslaw, sweet potato salad, green salad. Daddy gave me one of his fabulous puds. The neighbours gave us chocolates. All my senses were satisfied having been given a scented candle, iced sweet honey/ginger biscuits in the shape of a dove, fabulous music from the Fleet Foxes, books to gaze upon, a beautiful shawl, a necklace from Uganda made from recycled paper and handcream. Heaven. I'm a lucky girl. And I got to swim at the gorge on Xmas Eve. Very lucky indeed. Christmas cards this year were an interesting mix - five at the most had religious themes - most featured santa or a xmas tree or decorations. Seven charities benefitted from card sales (30%) - RSPCA, Unicef, Qld Baptist Care, Lifeboats (UK), Kids Helpline, Cancer Council and Oxfam. Four families chose to send email greetings. So I think the grim financial future is having its effect on everyone. Tightening of belts all round - except for mine. I think I'm heading towards size 18 - sigh. So, all you bloggers out there...what should I do about this peacock? I plan to ring the vet tomorrow in case someone has reported missing peacocks. I just don't know if we can take any more into the menagerie of the murray cod, budgie, guinea pigs x 3 (shortly to become 33), dog and two families of magpies (not to mention the rats) who seem to regard us as the local Centrelink office. Robert suggested the other two peacocks have ended up on the Christmas table - what an awful thought....