Sue's next thing

2nd Apr 202024th Jul 2020

The ‘new normal’ and other ‘unprecedented’ jargon

“Every one of us is losing something precious to us. Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back again. That’s part of what it means to be alive.”

Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

Every morning when you begin to wake up, there’s a few moments between oblivion and consciousness, where your brain is still bathed in a euphoric cocktail of sleep hormones, when you have not yet remembered – savour those moments. When consciousness returns, so too does that gnawing feeling in your gut, the feeling that reminds you that life has changed forever.

I know this place, I’ve been here before, this is grief.

Each morning you relive the pain of realisation that there is a ‘new normal’. Oh, how I hate those words. There is nothing ‘normal’ about this. Each morning you go through a few of the stages all over again, denial, anger, and then depression. I have not yet reached acceptance.

The first time I really felt this ‘new normal’ of grief, was about a week before Christmas in 1999. I was called in the middle of the night by an ambulance driver, telling me my mother was being taken to hospital. A mother who had already bought and wrapped our Christmas presents, which we were to open a week later, without her. She had suffered a massive brain haemorrhage. From that moment on, our life was changed. Each day we would visit her in ICU at the Alfred; my poor 80-year-old mother, a line of industrial staples slashed across her shaved head, a mass of tubes and monitors keeping her alive. She seemed so small and fragile as I held her hand and massaged lotion into her drying skin. We visited her in ICU, then in the ward, where we would talk to her in case she could hear, moisten her dry mouth, check her ‘trachy’ for mucus, cut her nails and massage her feet. Then eventually she was awake, though changed and then it was off to rehab, and finally a nursing home. For another 3 years this was our world, trying to juggle full time work, two teenage kids and visits to Mum until she died. In that same period, my father would fall ill and die too and my father-in-law would also deteriorate and die. There was grief aplenty during those 3 years.

Mum having a laugh

Dad, Jade and I long ago

Mum, Dad and Karl

Each day you wake and remember this new hell; and feel sick and sad.

But then you get up and you get on with it, because you must.

So, it is today, and will be every day to come now, for some time, maybe forever.

Unlike personal grief, this new hell is for everyone. A single act, has allowed a virus to cross from animal to human, as have so many of our recent epidemics (Ebola, HIV Aids, SARS, MERS, Hendra, Bird Flu) and now a chain of events stampedes across the globe, impacting, eventually, every single human being. The butterfly effect in full flight.

What’s true of all the evils in the world is true of plague as well. It helps men to rise above themselves.”
― Albert Camus, The Plague

And so, we get to see the leaders of the world in their true colours. Some are incapable of comprehending, let alone managing this crisis; some rise to the challenge and really show their worth. It saddens and frustrates me that our own leader belongs to the former category, not the latter.

The response in Australia has been slow, confused and incoherent. This has caused bewilderment and subsequently non-compliance, and then for this, we are berated like naughty children and punished. So that while we cannot go to a restaurant or pub or heaven forbid, the beach, we can still get a haircut or go to bootcamp; 5 of us can go to a wedding but 10 can go to a funeral, and in some states schools are still open. Meanwhile thousands of passengers on multiple infected cruise ships have been allowed to enter the country freely without restriction. The inconsistencies are palpable, frustrating and infuriating. ‘Social distancing’, ‘self-isolation’ and ‘flattening the curve’ have come into the vernacular. Our police are moving people on in parks, beaches and playgrounds. Our businesses are closing, thousands of people are losing their jobs, panic is setting in, and the veneer of civilisation is cracking.

In the face of poor leadership, we each need to take our own responsibility for this and maintain our social distance, regardless of the situation. The worst is yet to come; the horror is only beginning to unfold.

Yet there are some positives. Unlike so many of the terrible diseases of the early 20^th century (Polio, Diphtheria, Whooping cough, Measles) this sickness is not taking our children. This virus is focussed on the elderly; and as sad and frightening as that is, it is a blessing that we won’t be burying thousands of babies. That would be too much to bear.

But this virus is killing the dreams of our children. I have recently begun studying for an Arts degree (only the 5^th time I have tried this) via Open University online. This is likely to be able to continue at least for a while, but if I can’t finish it, it doesn’t matter. But it got me thinking about all of those newly enrolled Uni students around the country, who have only just experienced the thrill of getting a placement, going to the campus, choosing their subjects, meeting new people, buying their books, only to have their dreams put on hold by this pestilence. What of the new mothers who have just given birth, negotiating their new world with this added complexity? What of all those who have just begun their dream job, or opened their new business? What of those who have worked for years to establish themselves, only to end up in the dole queue? Or who had only just booked the holiday of a lifetime? Dreams dashed or at least put on hold. You might say these are first world problems, but these are events from which lifelong memories are made. Memories that will now and forever be punctuated by ‘before and after COVID-19’.

“Thus each of us had to be content to live only for the day, alone under the vast indifference of the sky.”
― Albert Camus, The Plague

I consider myself lucky to live in an affluent country with reasonable health care and despite our Government’s confused management of this disaster, I feel I have a good chance of survival if I am careful. I am grateful I live in the countryside so I can easily isolate, and still enjoy the outdoors. The sky, the sun, the trees, the birds, the animals are all indifferent to this, and it is gratifying. These constants keep me sane, for now.

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I worry for my children; for their health, their wellbeing, their livelihoods, their happiness; all in limbo at present. We make contact more often in these times. Video conferencing on weekends to assure each other of our continuance; of our love. I am so grateful for this. Times like these we would normally get together and comfort each other over food at shared tables, with hugs and laughter and closeness. But closeness is off the agenda now, ‘social distancing’ is the order of the day.

chrismas 2019 — Christmas 2019 – Happier times – before COVID-19

We will all be changed by this experience.

Perhaps this will make us all a bit more careful to avoid waste, a bit more mindful of our mortality, a bit more focussed on living in the present, a bit more caring for the vulnerable, a bit kinder to others. It feels like the earth is punishing us for our wilful destruction of the planet. The global shutdown has reduced pollution of the skies and the seas, reduced carbon emissions and reduced consumption, so maybe we can learn from this. It’s an awesome opportunity to change our ways.

I’ve seen so many acts of love and kindness come from this. Sure, there are bad things, people hoarding, fighting and scamming, but there is so much more good behaviour than bad. In Italy and Spain, people singing from their balconies, actors and singers giving online performances for the world; orchestras playing remotely via video; people helping their neighbours with deliveries; zoos and museums are providing virtual tours; people are placing teddy bears in windows and drawing on pavements. Parents are spending more time with their children, finding ways to keep entertained during lockdown. People are learning to cook and grow veggies; doing online study and reading more books; learning to live more simply.

chalk walk — Examle of ‘chalk the walk’ – chalk messages of hope and community on footpaths across the world – photo credit – Lindsay Patterson, Facebook

And so, each day, I try to focus on the positives, live each day as it comes, studying, reading, preparing meals and enjoying the wonderful nature outside my window. I have completed my first two assignments and that feels good.

Each day that I wake up without a fever is a good one.

I have food, toilet roll and wine; I have love, I have life. For all of these I am now thankful every day. The world is still beautiful.

Be safe everyone; wash your hands; keep your distance; be kind to others; tell your family you love them and be well. We will get through this.

27th Mar 202027th Mar 2020

A week alone in Apollo Bay with Clive James and Patti Smith (written Nov 2019)

2nd Nov 20192nd Nov 2019

Counting birds, a Landcare forum and tree nostalgia

Last weekend marked the annual Aussie Backyard Bird count, an activity I have taken part in for the last few years. Now I’m not much of a ‘birder’ although recently I have found that birds in our garden give me so much pleasure, simply because now I have the time to sit and watch their antics. Part of the challenge with entering in the bird count, is working out what the different species are, so I have been doing my homework in the lead up so that I can identify most of the birds. I was blown away when I realised there are more than 22 different bird species visiting our garden. Tiny pardalotes zooming around like fighter planes and hopping fairy wrens catching insects in flight, swallows nesting in the shed, a pair of nervous grey shrike thrushes nesting in our verandah, various honey eaters in the grevillea and mistletoe, squabbling magpies, rosellas splashing in the bird bath, squawking galahs and cockatoos, a pair of crested pigeons, finches, ravens, the occasional kookaburra and mighty wedge tailed eagles circling in the sky. It makes me feel so privileged to live in this wonderful place. My father loved birds and was something of a bird, even animal whisperer. He could get any animal to come up to him and accept food. He always fed the birds, especially the magpies and kookaburras. After every meal we had to put aside any meat scraps for his birds. Each morning he would take the meat out to the garden and the birds would come and take food from his hand. We don’t feed birds anymore, but always make sure we have water in the bird baths and try to plant bird and bee friendly shrubs and trees. We try not to kill insects with pesticides, because they provide food for birds. We have several fruit trees in our garden, but we hardly ever get any fruit, because the birds always beat us to it. Oh well, what could be better than sharing our fruit with these wonderful creatures?

This reminds me of a radio gardening show that was on one day, when a caller rang to lament the lack of butterflies in his garden. The presenter asked, “What about caterpillars? Do you see any of them?” “No,” said the caller, “I got rid of all of them”. True.

On Friday we headed down to West Gippsland for a Landcare forum, where people from Landcare group across Victoria got together to share ideas and learn about what the Gippsland groups are doing. This was held in a place that does school adventure camps and corporate team building sessions. There was a welcome dinner on the Friday night, with a viewing of the movie 2040. A positive look at how we can create a better world and combat the impacts of climate change. Saturday morning the session began in earnest with talks from various people about things they are doing in their communities; from farming sea grass to regenerative agriculture and international Landcare programs, and a great story about some elderly retirement village residents taking conservation into their own hands. Then a packed lunch and off on the bus to visit two farms to see their stories of innovation, on a cold and rainy Gippsland day. One farm was amazing. This family had invented a tractor attachment that digs and aerates the soil in a way that releases less carbon into the atmosphere and helps to improve carbon capture in the soil by improving soil biology, moisture retention and planting multiple species for stock pasture. The results were remarkable, and this farm is paid for its soil carbon capture. The growth rates for the crops were stunning and the soil samples showing the depth of moisture in the soil were amazing. Check out their website:

https://soilkee.com.au/

It was great to see the innovation and creativity in farming and conservation and to meet people who were not just concerned about the environment and climate change but were actually trying new things to help agriculture adapt.

Our journey to Gippsland took us on the scenic route, via Woori Yallock and Cockatoo on the way there. The first home we bought in 1985 was in Cockatoo, so we took a slight detour from the main road to check out our old place. (Well, the place where our house had been, as it had burned down in 1991) There is a new house on the site, but what was really nice to see was the trees we had planted were now all grown and the old Japanese maples along the roadside were still there. Sometimes we forget just how long trees live for. Those Japanese maples were already well established when we moved in.

On our way home, we went through Healesville, the town where I was born and grew up; we have not been there for quite a while. So, after driving through the town, we decided to head up to Toolangi via Chum Creek Road to check out where the house I grew up in once was. We knew that a new house had been built on the site some years ago, and the old weatherboard my parents had lived in since about 1955, had been demolished. Again, though what was gratifying to see was that the old oak tree, was still there in the garden. That oak tree was well grown when I was a child, so I am not sure how old it is, but I used to love to climb in it up to the high branches and look down on the world. I still recall its rough branches and the yellow lichen that developed on its trunk. I gathered the leaves in Autumn and painted pictures on them for the fairies. The acorns were used for making little people to play with and sometimes my friends and I would throw acorns at each other. Often the acorns would fall on the tin roof over my bedroom at night and wake me up with a bang and a clatter as they rolled down. That oak tree provided welcome shade on hot summer days and was always where we sat at the traditional Melbourne Cup Day family get togethers, when cousins and aunties and uncles would gather; there was a Cup sweep, Dad barbecuing meat, Mum’s salads, slices and fruit, lots of drinking, laughter and fun and the “opening of the cricket season” with a game always played at the bottom of the garden with young and old participating.

When I was married, we held our wedding in my parent’s garden, under the oak tree, of course.

I have such wonderful memories of that tree and felt so happy to see that it was still standing after all these years; it must be at least 80 years old.

Last year we planted some new trees in our garden here; a golden elm, a Japanese maple and a weeping mulberry. It’s lovely to think that they will likely outlast me and hopefully give future generations joy and shade and maybe children somewhere to climb.

Next year I think we will plant an oak tree.

27th Sep 2019

Joining the climate strike – There is no planet B

I had decided some time back that I would join the student’s climate strike on 20^th September, here in Melbourne. In the lead up there was a lot of noise on social media, encouraging people of all ages to attend. I felt it was my duty to stand in solidarity with these kids, especially as I am part of the generation that has contributed most to the planet’s destruction.

A bit of history

Back in 1974 when I was in high school, completing my HSC as it was called then, two books on our English reading list were Only One Earth by Barbara Ward and Rene Dubois, published 1972 and Silent Spring by Rachel Carson published 1962.

At the UN conference in Stockholm of 1972, it was already recognised that the planet needed protecting from environmental degradation and pollution, that wildlife needed to be safeguarded and that renewable resources should be encouraged over non renewables, and incidentally that weapons of mass destruction be eliminated. A declaration of 26 principles concerning the environment was created, and action plan with 109 recommendations. This declaration would go on to inform later conferences at Rio 1992 Earth summit, New York 1997 Earth summit II and Johannesburg 2002. We have had the Kyoto Protocol 1997, and the Paris Agreement and untold numbers of conventions on environment and climate change over the last 5 decades. All of these conferences recognised the threat; all of these conferences have written up declarations and protocols about how we need to collaborate globally to avert disaster.

The book Only One Earth: the care and maintenance of a small planet was an unofficial report to the UN on the subject. Silent Spring was about the indiscriminate use of pesticides and chemicals damaging our environment and the health of humans and animals.

My point is; all of this stuff about how we were trashing the planet, using up all the resources and making the place uninhabitable for humans and animals alike, was well known back in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. We learnt about the greenhouse effect in high school. We knew global warming would destroy the oceans, we knew that cutting down forests removed our carbon sinks and destroyed habitat, we knew water management would be a problem, we knew we were wasting too much, consuming too much and polluting too much. Hell, the UN even made a whole bunch of recommendations about how we could manage this. My generation were teenagers then, and like Greta Thunberg, we were worried about the future of our planet. Yet the degradation, destruction, deforestation and pollution has continued almost unabated for 50 years. I know as an individual I am as much to blame as governments and corporations. I and my generation have been consumers of goods and energy at a rate unprecedented in human history. The cognitive dissonance is astonishing.

I have always felt that as an individual I couldn’t make a difference. How would it help the planet if I alone did not waste, did not buy new shoes every season, did not use my petrol guzzling car, did not turn on my air conditioning on hot days, did not buy the latest technology? I think this was what we all thought, so we all kept on buying, using and wasting over the course of our lives. We blamed governments and big business for destroying the planet. Yet it was our demand for things, energy and growth that fuelled what governments and big business did. We must take responsibility for this; our consumption is destroying the planet.

The actions of one schoolgirl have shown us that one person can make a difference. Whether governments and big business will take notice, we are yet to see. But if nothing else, she has sparked discussion about climate change all around the world.

You can be sure if there is an economic benefit to conserving energy, changing to renewables, reducing waste, then it will happen. But will it happen in time? The recent IPCC report on the heating of the oceans, and subsequent impacts across the globe are sobering indeed, we have already reached a point of no return, which will result in severe coastal flooding, coral bleaching and more intense storms, much of which we are already seeing. The earth’s oceans have heated faster than expected and will go on doing so.

We must act now to avert future escalation of this problem, but while we have governments and leaders who deny climate change, who only think of their own present power base, nothing will change. As individuals we can reduce our carbon footprint by using solar panels, consuming less and avoiding plastics, taking public transport etc, but this is just small fry. Significant change needs to be happening nationally and internationally on a global scale; to stop mining fossil fuels, move to renewable energy sources, to stop deforestation, to plant tress on a large scale, protect vulnerable people in developing countries, improve water and waste management. All of these things are possible, but Governments must step up and take action.

So, last Friday, full of guilt and admiration for our young people I headed into the city, on the train, to attend the march last Friday. I arrived at the Treasury gardens about 2pm and watched and photographed as people began to arrive, with their placards and signs. There were people of all ages, school kids, families with babies, grandparents, concerned groups, unions and individuals like me. It was wonderful to see the diversity of people attending, all with the same purpose; to raise attention about the plight of our planet, to demand action from our government and to show solidarity with other concerned people of the world. By 3pm the gardens were packed with people, the speeches began and then the march down Collins street. It took about an hour to move from my spot at the Spring street end of the gardens into Collins street, the crowd was so huge. People in office buildings watched from above, many waving or showing the peace sign in solidarity. Estimates of the crowd numbers have been between 100,000 and 150,000. I have no idea how many people were there, but it was the biggest crowd I have ever been in. I have marched before in 2003 against the Iraq war and in 1975 after the Whitlam dismissal. It felt bigger than either of those.

The great thing was, there was no aggravation, everyone was patient and careful and mindful of being kind to their neighbour. The police were present but discreet, I didn’t see any mounted police or any in riot gear, as I have at previous events. It felt good to be part of something global, and to be able to contribute to such a wonderful gathering. This is history in the making, and I want to be on the right side of it.

When I listened to Greta Thunberg’s address to the UN, I was so moved and felt so sad and angry that she feels forced to do this because no-one else is. She is a very brave girl, and she has mobilised millions of people around the world to stand up and call for climate action. What an amazing accomplishment.

It does make you realise, when you think of people like Greta Thunberg, Malala Yousafzai and Emma Gonzalez, that young girls can do amazing things. These young girls can change the world. Their idealism and ability to articulate the change that needs to happen is just awesome.

There are also, of course, lots of other people working towards this change. Two old men come to mind: David Attenborough and David Suzuki; both have been advocates of preserving the natural environment for decades. I have books on my shelves written by David Suzuki in the early 1990’s; he has been a tireless advocate of conservation for most of his life.

So, what now? I really don’t know. The climate deniers are in power; the Murdoch press, the coal lobby and the oil companies pull their strings. The only way we can get change is to change our governments. Its hard to get people to vote for changes that might harm their immediate hip pocket, because tax cuts now are more compelling than their children’s future. People fear losing their jobs if coal and oil dependent industries have to shut down; but all great changes throughout history have meant that some people lose money, especially those people who refuse to see that change is coming. The idea of abolishing slavery was thought to be unaffordable, because the economies of the day thrived on the backs of slaves; yet it did happen, and the world economy did not fall apart. (Although you could say that slavery still exists, but that’s another story)

Whilst I feel despair and worry about the future of our beautiful blue planet, I am hopeful that things will change soon. I feel the tide is turning, but I know that the people in power who feel threatened will not give up without a fight. Now they are resorting to hate speech against a 16 year old girl, this is a good sign, because it shows that they know they are under attack. It is likely that this generation, especially those old white men in power who refuse to listen, will go down in history as the wilful destroyers of the only planet we have to live on; what a legacy!

As Greta so eloquently said, ‘The world is waking up. And change is coming whether you like it or not.” I hope you’re right Greta.

There is no planet B, there is Only One Earth, and our pale blue dot is beautiful – why would we continue down this path of destruction?

23rd Jul 2019

Memories of 1969 – 50 years on.

Starting High School, a man on the moon, a brush with death, Woodstock, a wedding, gender bending and an important arrival.

“…Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls
It’s a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world
Except for Lola
Lo lo lo lo Lola…”
Ray Davies – The Kinks

The 50 year anniversary of the moon landing, got me thinking about what else happened that year. In 1969 I was 12 years old and in my first year of high school. High school was when I first began to realise how much I loved English; the language, the literature and writing. There was a library of sorts with access to books that saw me reading voraciously. I buried myself in Jane Eyre, The Portrait of Dorian Gray, Doctor Zhivago, Crime and Punishment, 1984, Fahrenheit 451, Brave New World, and of course the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings along with countless others of various genres. I went through a spy novel stage, and a sci fi stage, a classics stage as well as fantasy and contemporary fiction. I think my love of writing and the idea of someday writing a novel, was cemented at this time, and may be linked to my getting A+ on my book report about The Great Gatsby.

There was also a day at school where I had an accident that clearly frightened others far more than me. We were sitting in class, and someone left the room and as they closed the big heavy sliding door, it jumped off its runners and fell on top of my head. These doors were solid wood, with a glass panel in the top third of the door (not safety glass). I heard someone shout and I ducked for some reason, and then heard lots of commotion around me, someone asked, “Is she dead?” I didn’t really realise it was me who had been hit, but then the teacher was telling me not to move, so I opened my eyes and realised I was pinned to the desk with glass all around me. I waited until some other teachers could be found to help lift off the door. When the door was removed, I looked up to see everyone crowding around asking me if I was alright. Remarkably, I had only one tiny cut on my shoulder. The glass had shattered over my head and cut off a little tuft of hair, but my head was undamaged. The fact that the glass hit me was probably what saved me from serious injury, because had the wooden frame landed on my head, I think I would have been knocked out or concussed at least. It felt strange having everyone so worried, when I felt fine. I was taken to sick bay for observation, and even the principal came in to see if I was alright, though he may have been fearing litigation (not that anyone sued for things like this in those days). As it was Friday, my normal way of getting home was to walk from school to the shops to meet Mum where she would be doing the weekly shopping, it was about a 2-kilometre walk. The school decided it wasn’t safe for me to do this, so the teacher drove me, and then came with me to tell my mother what had happened. As I pointed out my Mum in the supermarket, the teacher went up to her an announced that I had been in an accident. Poor Mum, I saw the colour drain from her face; she hadn’t seen me standing next to the teacher, so I had to wave and say, “it’s ok, Mum, I’m fine, really.” It felt like so much fuss about nothing, but I guess with hindsight I realise it could have been far worse.

I recall the day of the moon landing with some clarity, because it was an event we were all excited about. It was a miserably wet July day, and the school decided at the last minute, when the moon walk time was about to happen earlier than planned, to allow students to go home to watch the event with their families, if arrangements could be made. I didn’t think I would get to go home because both of my parents worked and I usually caught the bus home, but as luck would have it, my Mum worked with Mrs B, who organised for her daughter SB to come home by taxi, and as I lived nearby, it was agreed that I would go to her place until my Mum finished work. A few of us piled into the taxi after getting completely drenched just running the few yards from the school veranda; it was bucketing down. SB and her friends were about 15 or 16, much older and more worldly than me. As we turned on the TV and waited what seemed an eternity until the moon walk began, SB’s boyfriend and a couple of other boys turned up with alcohol. So, there I was, a 12 year old detached observer, mostly ignored by a bunch of teenagers hanging out without any adults. There was joking and laughter, smoking, swearing, drinking and some pashing, and as you can imagine, I was as much in awe of what was happening around me as I was about what was soon to be beamed around the world on TV.

The room fell quiet as we watched Neil Armstrong take those first tentative steps down the ladder and set foot on the surface of the moon. We held our breath in fear and anticipation. I was so worried that his space suit was going to explode and Armstrong would be obliterated right there on our TV screens, but of course, nothing like that happened, and the party continued. It was my first encounter with teenage behaviour and the memory of it has stuck with me forever. SB became my hero for a while, she was so grown up and cool.

A few weeks later, the Woodstock music festival took place, and whilst I have little memory of it at the time, a few years later when my friend bought the Woodstock 3 vinyl set soundtrack, we listened to it incessantly, and I began to realise the significance of this musical and cultural phenomenon that changed the way we thought as young people. It gave us hope that we could change the world, and informed music tastes and values that have lasted a lifetime. Peace, love and music, man.

On grand final day, 27^th September 1969, I was honoured and very excited to be bridesmaid at my cousin Marilyn’s wedding. There had been dress fittings and lots of planning leading up to the big day. I got my first bra but needed a few tissues to fill it out so the dress would sit nicely over my non-existent bust, and of course I also got to wear make-up. Wow, this was so awesome. I don’t remember a great deal about the actual day, except for when we were in the church, after the ceremony when we went ‘backstage’ as it were, to sign the registry, Alan, the groom, handed out mints to us all. (maybe they were Lifesavers or Steamrollers) I thought this was a very cool thing to do in a church, not sure why, but it seemed a bit naughty and I loved it. It was a lot of fun; I recall lots of photos and having to smile all the time. After the reception Marilyn and Alan changed into their ‘going away’ clothes and we all stood around in a circle as they said their goodbyes. They were going to Tasmania for their honeymoon, and the day they were leaving we went down to Port Melbourne to say goodbye. I remember we were allowed onto the boat ( The Princess of Tasmania I think) and we saw their cabin and wandered around the deck before the departure. Not allowed to do that any more.

In a few weeks’ time, 2019, along the with the other bridesmaids, family and friends, we will be joining Marilyn and Alan and their children and grandchildren to celebrate their 50^th wedding anniversary.

At the end of the year, our high school had a social. Because there was no money, the entertainment was provided by the students themselves. This particular year, we had a series of acts under the banner of ‘Kommotion’, along the lines of the TV show of the same name. The word had got around that one of the acts was going to be a bit controversial, so we were all very excited to see what would happen.

The aforementioned SB and her best friend were performing the Kinks song ‘Lola’. This song was perhaps my first introduction to the idea that gender is not as binary as we were taught. As the lights dimmed and the song began, SB came on stage dressed in a man’s suit, complete with hat and pencilled-in moustache (kind of reverse of the Lola song, but we didn’t care). She danced provocatively around the stage as the song progressed, and then towards the end, she began what can only be described as a strip tease. (remember this is high school). Slowly removing each article of clothing and flinging it dramatically across the stage until as the song wound up, there she stood resplendent in only the hat and a figure-hugging semi-transparent body stocking. It was magnificent; she was magnificent. The crowd went wild. I was in awe of her bravery, and the memory of this event has stayed with me all this time. I don’t recall if there was any parental backlash, I think in those days, no one particularly paid any attention to what teenagers did. It was a time of great change and great freedom. (I have since discovered that Lola was not written until 1970, so my dates are a bit out, but let’s not let the truth get in the way of a good story)

There was one other significant event that happened in 1969, that was to have the most profound and amazing impact on my life, but at the time I was completely unaware of it.

In early July, a man and his 14-year-old son arrived in Brisbane on a flight from Sri Lanka. The rest of the family joined them several weeks later and then they all moved to Melbourne where the man found work and they started up a new life in Australia. That 14-year-old boy’s name was Neil van Buuren. We weren’t to meet until about 10 years later, although our paths crossed at least once before then, but our fates were already sealed. Lots of love, many adventures, and two wonderful children later, we are still together after 38 years.

It’s hard to understand where all the years have gone, in some ways 1969 seems like yesterday, and in others, it’s a lifetime ago. Watching the moon landing again this week reminded me of what an amazing time it was growing up in the 60’s and 70’s, and how much things have changed over that 50 years, especially with the realisation that the on-board computer they used on the Apollo 11 lunar module had less computing power than our current smart phones; it’s just mind boggling. What a world!

16th Jul 2019

Writer’s workshop and website wrap-up – alliteration abounds

This has been a quiet week, so just a small post to keep the process going. After driving the one and a half hours to Mansfield, via the back roads and seeing a little koala along the way, I attended a writer’s workshop at the Mansfield library. About 15 of us gathered in the room to, as one person put it, “learn to write a novel”. Not sure this can be accomplished in a series of 4 two-hour workshops, but that’s the plan. There was lots of talking about technique and some useful tools for planning out your novel, which I think I can use. We did do a short sprint writing exercise which really highlighted how different people’s approaches to things can be.

The topic was ‘apples’. My focus was on the feelings that apples bring up for me including times as a child peeling and cutting apples in the kitchen with my Mum, sitting beside the warm wood stove and the smell of apples cooking, creating feelings of warmth and belonging. Others had so many different takes on apples. One woman wrote about permaculture and saving the world through sustainable agriculture, another related the apple to Eve and the fall, leading to the patriarchy and misogyny and yet another wrote about a murder through poisoning via an apple. It was apparent that every person sees the world in a very different way, meaning for me that every person has a valid story to tell, and that the number of stories in the world is as varied as the number of people.

I came away from the session feeling somewhat invigorated and also with some useful tools to help structure my story. The writer who was leading the group also does online writing sprints via Facebook, which I am planning to join. Still procrastinating a bit, as I just can’t seem to get myself going on the novel, and I know I need to plan to write on a daily basis regardless of what drivel tumbles out, this is the secret to writing: as always – just do it.

On a positive note, our website is live, if anyone is interested in having a look. www.bluetopbiz.com.au This is a work in progress, but as it stands, this will do for now. My business cards and flyers have arrived, so now I need to start marketing my services around the local community, by using notice boards and some letterbox dropping and of course, networking. Comfort zone – gone.

7th Jul 2019

Website wrangling, an amazing dinner, a waterfall and a coffee encounter

“Take a chance and you may lose. Take not a chance and you have lost already”
Soren Kierkegaard

This week I have been playing around with creating our business website, trying out different platforms and have settled on Wix at this stage. It’s been fun finding my way around this process and experimenting with different looks and templates and it’s likely to be a work in progress for a while. Still wrangling with how to connect my page to my existing domain, so I’m on a steep learning curve trying to understand servers and domain settings etc. (There’s lots of jargon) :~ I’ll need to get a lot better at this if I am to do it for other people.

Last Friday marked 38 years of Neil and I together; so hard to believe it was so long ago, and yet here we are still going on crazy adventures together. We celebrated with a wonderful dinner at home, cooked by Neil, of course.

Starting with a beautiful cheese souffle, so soft and light and his first attempt at a souffle; perfect. Followed by rare beef filet with red wine and pepper sauce, potatoes with duck fat and a green salad, washed down with a lovely bottle of Tahbilk Cabernet Sauvignon, which we picked up the day before at the cellar door.

Dessert was pears in red wine, then choc dipped and served with mascarpone cream. Sooo yum. I am very spoilt.

After going to the Strathbogie conservation session last week and learning about the local area, we decided to go for a drive and check out some local places of interest in the Strathbogie ranges. We headed out to Gooram falls which is a more of a water cascade on the Seven Creeks reserve, and went for short walk down to the water, where we found a lovely spot on the rocks for a picnic lunch, making use of the leftover beef filet in dinner rolls with some caramelised onion chutney. This is a pleasant spot, with easy access to the creek along various paths and with some picnic tables near the carpark. The creek is running well at the moment after last weeks rain, so it looked lovely on such a sunny afternoon. A few photos taken.

We went on to Polly McQuinn’s weir further down the road, and then drove up to the top of Mount Wombat for stunning 360 degree views across the whole area. There are lots of phone and communications towers up there, but it’s still a lovely view.

view from Mt Wombat

By chance, while we were in the area we stopped for a coffee in a café and saw a sign in the window advertising the business for sale. Uh-oh. Here we go again. This has been a feature of our life – thinking about buying cafés and restaurants at various times, as our kids will no doubt attest, we have looked at dozens of businesses over the years, dragging them around to all sorts of places and getting excited about some plan or other, only to have it all fall flat for one reason or another. I suspect that we have never gone through with it out of fear of failing and our secure jobs just seemed too comfortable to leave and risk everything. Now, however, we are in a different position. So, this once again gives us food for thought about what we want to do. Are we capable of running a café? Is this really what we want? Will it restrict our lifestyle too much? Just when we have achieved a kind of freedom, do we want to tie ourselves to a business? Could we ever go on holiday again? So many questions…Of course, after getting this idea into my head, I have redesigned menus, refurbished the premises, planned boozy brunches and Friday night happy hours, all while lying in bed at 3 am.

Sometimes I feel like I just run off with any idea that comes along; whenever some new idea presents itself, I imagine the possibilities to the nth degree in the early hours of the morning, inventing all sorts of scenarios and tangents. Developing a convoluted story in my mind of how it could be done, and where that would lead, and what that would look like, going into all sorts of crazy detail. Envisaging websites, marketing plans and Facebook posts, names, signs, décor, customer interactions…it just goes on and on. Anyway, something else to think about over the coming weeks. Likely it will come to nothing as usual.

No progress on the novel this week again but looking forward to my writing workshop this week at Mansfield.

2nd Jul 20192nd Jul 2019

Good news, some learning and it’s full steam ahead

“Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.’
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (probably)

This last week I received some good news, which has buoyed my spirits and invigorated my focus.

I received a letter advising that I had been appointed to the board of Seymour Health, which manages our local hospital and allied health services. This is such a great honour, I feel very privileged to be given this opportunity, and hope that I can provide a meaningful and useful contribution to the board. Looking forward to my first board meeting later this month.

Consequently, we went out for a lovely lunch to celebrate, at our favourite little Italian restaurant in Melbourne, Massi. This restaurant never fails to please; excellent food, amazing service and a small but ample wine list. We enjoyed a glass of Italian bubbly, followed by a Sangiovese Rose and finished with a dessert Riesling, very enjoyable. And of course, the food was awesome as well.

Earlier in the week we also attended a fabulous session in Euroa provided by the Strathbogie Ranges Conservation Management Network and The Goulburn Broken Catchment Authority. The day was a series of presentations by scientists, students and local conservationists about various topics relevant to the Strathbogie ranges and surrounding areas. We learnt about the local geology, bird life, the trees of the area and issues around tree conservation, native fish species and their habitats, insects and microbes, and a citizen science project aimed at protecting the local populations of Greater Gliders. It was a fascinating day, very knowledgeable and interesting speakers and a great opportunity to meet other conservation minded locals. There was also an excellent lunch provided, so all in all, a very enjoyable day.

I have also started working on getting my business up and running, developing a rough business plan, getting my ABN and registering my business name, designing my business cards and website, so I am feeling likes it’s all happening. No very funky, but I am trying to be serious. 🙂 So exciting.

Neil and I have decided to combine our businesses under the one banner, so we are now Bluetop Business Services, providing affordable administrative and business services for small business and sustainability support for business, food manufacturing and farming.

I am enjoying the website building, learning all the time on various platforms to see which I like best. Hopefully I will have a semi-finished product to share soon. We plan to include blogs within the site so we can write about things that matter to us related to our business interests and share these across our various connections via LinkedIn etc.

No photography or drawing this week, and the novel is still on the back burner, though I am signing up for a writer’s workshop at the Mansfield Library later in the month, so maybe that will prod me to write more.

I have been feeling crook, as I have had a cough that refuses to go away, but I have some new medication this week, and I’m feeling much better. So, I am hoping it’s gone for good.

We had 40mm of rain on the farm on Saturday, so the tanks are all full, the dams are looking much better, and the paddocks are now looking nice and green, a change from the crunchy brown they were all summer and autumn. Here’s hoping for more rain, as the ground is still quite hard.

Pete and Dud enjoying the winter sunshine

24th Jun 2019

Just do it…

“The secret of getting ahead, is getting started” – Mark Twain

Another cold and miserable week weatherwise, but my mood has lifted, and I am now seeing possibilities more clearly. Shopping at the market, cooking for some friends and enjoying a meal in their company has boosted my spirits.

In addition, I attended a council run training session for setting up small business, and this has given me some plans and goals to start up my idea in helping other small businesses with their administrative needs. I was unsure of whether there was a market for my services, but I am buoyed by the enthusiasm this session gave me, so I am determined to give it a go.

Armed with some advice and templates, my actions for this week are to write up my business plan, get my business name registered, and commence building my website.

Just do it.

The weekend brought some nicer weather, so on Sunday, we decided to head out for a bush walk at nearby Hughes Creek. We drove to the area and parked the car, with a view to finding a way to cross the creek and walk along an old abandoned road.

Crossing the creek, now a bit swollen after recent rain, proved more challenging than expected, and required removal of shoes and trousers to walk across a sandy area in the freezing water. Ok, a bit chilly and hard on the winter feet, but we managed the crossing without incident. Needless to say, we were not equipped with towels to clean and dry the muddy feet, so we put our socks back on to grubby wet feet and headed off. We found the old road, mostly overgrown now with prickly bushes, which we had to push our way through. Along the roadside there were several sections of old stone retaining walls, pictured here.

We followed this for a while until it rose above a gorge and then dropped down again to the creek level. The creek here was fast but had more rocky sections of small rapids and a few small islands. We decided to try to cross back over the river here and head back to our car via the normal road.

This appeared easier that it turned out to be. Maybe its because I am no longer young, and nimble hopping from rock to rock is no longer a simple pleasure as it was when I was young. The rocks were much slipperier that they appeared, but we made our way into the middle via a few rocky spots. You know when you do things like this that there comes a point of no return, you can’t turn back, but must keep going. So, there I was, mid-stream, standing on a small rock, trying to figure out how to get to the next rock and to a small reedy island, backpack on and camera around my neck, I pushed off with my right foot, but as I made my leap, the back foot lost traction, slid out from under me, and crashing into the rocks and freezing water I fell. Luckily, I was able to grab the camera and hold it up above the water while I sat there, trying to decide whether to laugh or cry. Some expletives were uttered as I tried to stand up, but couldn’t because everywhere I put my foot, it slipped. Thankfully there was no video footage! Eventually, after taking off my sodden shoes and removing the backpack and throwing it to the island, I was able to get on all fours then push myself up. My left leg hurt and at first, I couldn’t put my weight on it, so was worried that I may have broken something, but as I tried again, it felt stronger, so I continued on despite a small cut and some bruising. It was never like this when I was young! With shoes off and already wet up to my thighs, crossing became easier. I made it to the island, which along with reeds, had blackberries, so walking barefoot across it was not fun, then to the other side across another fast-flowing section of creek to the other bank. Phew! I sat and watched as Neil followed my footsteps, fortunately, avoiding falling over.

Back on the other side, putting on soaking wet, freezing cold socks and shoes wasn’t fun, but there was only a short walk along the road back to the car, so all was well. Off home to a hot bath to warm up and ease the aching body.

I reflected on why it was that when we headed off for what should have been an ordinary Sunday bushwalk, it turned into an adventure, with creek crossings and minor injuries. Next time, I think we should find a walk that has a proper path instead of crashing around in the bush. But then, I wouldn’t have a story to tell. Happy days!

Only creative pursuits this week have been taking photos. A few more added to the gallery and a few here of our walk in the bush.

bark
toadstools
creek from above
rocky cutting
trees
creek bank

17th Jun 2019

Winter funk

The surface of reality

There’s a feeling I get sometimes
It’s like being in a bubble, looking out
Muffles the sound and blurs the vision
Like a drone hovering over the city
I’m floating on the surface of reality.

Skimming across the water
A casually tossed stone in slow-mo,
Rippling out in circles against the bank
Like a boat rocking, it makes me heady
I’m floating on the surface of reality

Can you see me? Can you hear me?
I’m separate from the world,
My mind is on another plane
All your noise and colour cannot touch me
I’m floating on the surface of reality

Well, procrastination has set in and this week I have achieved nothing. My poor attempts at drawing stare at me mockingly from the easel, no words written in the novel either. Even the housework has been neglected, as I have sunk into a winter funk, variously watching the rain patter on the windows, or revelling in the moments of warm sunshine that stream in our north facing glass. Movement consists of getting wood for the fire and making food as needed, binging movies on newly discovered MUBI (arthouse international movie streaming service) and season 3 of the Handmaid’s Tale on SBS on demand. I did take a few photos in the garden, which I have added to the gallery on the right.

I have planted our winter veggies, so I guess that’s an accomplishment. Let’s see if they produce anything. There are some local events I am thinking of attending this week, so that might help to break my cabin fever and get me out and about.

We did venture out on the weekend to watch Melbourne storm win against the Knights in rugby and go to our friend’s Adelaide themed birthday party, with an overnight stay in town and then brunch in Puckle Street Moonee Ponds on the way home.

I recalled that the last time I was in Puckle Street would have been about 50 years ago. This was one of the many places my Auntie Nancy used to take me when I stayed with her in Glenroy on the school holidays. My Mum worked, a bit unusual in those days, so I was sent off to Auntie Nancy who didn’t work. She would take me on all sorts of excursions all over Melbourne by public transport, (these were the days of the red rattlers and W class trams). We had a wonderful time. She would plan out the visits to places of interest, taking the weather and transport availability and timetables into account, not sure how she did it in those days before the internet and Google maps. Places I recall visiting included Como house, the botanical gardens, the zoo, Myer Music bowl, the city for shopping in Myers, Puckle street for the market, the museum (the old one), and the National Gallery of Victoria when it first opened; I recall being mesmerised by the water window and the stained glass ceiling in the great hall. We also went to Queen’s park in Essendon, where we fed the ducks while we ate our lunch.

The thing about going out on excursions in those days, was that you got dressed up in your best clothes and best shoes. For me this was always a kind of torture, because my best shoes were always uncomfortable, and we trudged around all over the place, easily getting our 10,000 steps (an unheard of concept back then) and I would invariably end up with blisters and sore feet, often persuading my Auntie that if I went barefoot it would be better, which she allowed when we were in the gardens so I could walk on the soft cool grass. Its funny to think that we managed to find our way all around Melbourne city and suburbs without any digital aids, not did we carry water bottles, and we didn’t die of dehydration. 😊 Sometimes we would have a sandwich in a café for lunch, sometimes we took our own packed lunch or if we were in the city it would be Coles Cafeteria. I recall the red vinyl and chrome stools that would swivel around. One day I ate a bowl of canned tomato soup for lunch there, spent the next half an hour twirling around on my stool, despite being told not to, while the ladies chatted, and then promptly threw up my lunch all over the floor. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sympathy. Lesson learned the hard way.

My memories of those times are very happy, I think because often it was mostly just the two of us and she would ask my opinion on things and include me in the planning, she would encourage me to be the one who asked for directions or pay in the shop, because I was shy, and she wanted me to learn to be more confident. She also tried to get me to be more adventurous in my food tastes and introduced me to so many new favours and dishes than I had at home. The overarching thing that has stayed with me was how much fun we had, and how much trouble she went to so she could make my holidays enjoyable experiences. I doubt that I ever thanked her properly. Auntie Nancy is gone now of course, but she left me wonderful legacy in those fond memories which have stayed with me for life.

And so another week begins, heading into the winter solstice, a time for hunkering down and hibernating, I seem to be doing that well. at least.