Sunday, April 26, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
LETTER FROM THE OTHER SIDE from CYNTHIA
Written by. Elizabeth. M. Thompson.
Dear Del,
Teddy and I were very pleased to read your news and know of all the happenings on your side of the bay.
The weather bureau promised us some rain so I did the right thing and went out into the garden to throw some pulverised cow manure all over the roses and vegetables hoping it would be washed into the soil. Of course I should be neither surprised nor disappointed by now to not have the rain come; however I could have done without the wind which blew quite a thick coating of the manure all over me. I’m sure I was wafting ‘Cologne of the Dairy’ behind me in the breeze as I buzzed up to the local shop for some milk.
The spring bulbs are in and I hope working away under the ground making good roots. They’ve had enough worm juice to enthuse the laziest of them to grow.
Our family has been doing their usual things. William our younger son is back from a quick business trip to Cannes and London. He seems to time these things rather badly because he was in New York the week the markets crashed and there was a bit of chaos in the streets and he was in London during he G20 meeting where there was a lot of chaos in the streets. If he doesn’t watch himself, he may be getting awkward questions from zealous security people.
Adam our grandson went surfing with a couple of friends last week. It was getting quite dark by the time they got out of the water. As he lives just a few blocks from the beach he decided when he took his wetsuit off, rather than get dressed, he would just wrap a towel around himself, hop in his car and drive home and shower. He walked up the track to where he had parked his car near the Great Ocean Road and then realized he had to secure his surf board onto the roof rack. Of course while doing this, his towel fell off onto the ground and he was stark naked. No one was around so he fumbled about with the straps for his surfboard and was just walking around the rear of the car to the driver’s side when a tourist bus, lights ablaze, rounded the highway corner and held him like a startled rabbit, in full view for the bus load of pale amused Japanese faces as they peered through their windows at him. The driver honked the horn noisily just to increase Adam’s embarrassment and discomfort. He swears one person even flashed a camera at him and is now worrying his picture will appear on someone’s face book site soon for the world to see.
He is trying to get over it, but I think his sisters and mates will not let him recover for some time.
Teddy is still banging about in the shed although the stirling engines have made way during the past few weeks for some sort of solar heater. This device he seems to always strategically place where the dazzling light reflects into the family room and blinds me as I walk through the door. He was very chuffed after boiling his first cup of tea with it. It might come in handy on a sunny day if we have a power cut or go camping, but it would at present take up more room than the gas primus.
Teddy shuddered when Aunt Alice and Uncle Rodger asked us to have a meal with them at the Village to celebrate her birthday.
Fortunately I had been thinking about her birthday already, and was able to preamp any further discussion. Unless your taste buds delight in the flavour of reconstituted cardboard mixed with the choicest gristle from horse meat…… Eating at the village it is not the best of experiences.
Instead I suggested a country pub. Aunt Alice had been hankering for some tender lamb shanks for weeks and the likelihood of getting anything tender at the village, let alone lamb shanks, is nil.
When I had made this suggestion to Teddy he had put in a plea to avoid anywhere that served pensioner specials’ as he can’t cope with the watery cabbage, grey cauliflower and glued potatoes they usually contain and suffers indigestion for days afterward.
Uncle Rodger was very quick to agree to a country pub so I spent some time on the telephone until I found one which would accommodate us with lamb shanks. It sounded ideal for the day. It had an ‘old world charm’ which I know can sometimes simply translate to dilapidated and peeling paint with uneven floors and no heating, but this was one Teddy and I had already been to and knew the owners to be very obliging. It was a fair drive but not so far that Uncle Rodger’s inaccurate map reading or constant driving instructions should get Teddy into too much of a state before we arrived.
I thought I should also invite a few other members of the family as Aunt Alice is getting on in age, so I booked a table for about ten of us.
I felt obliged to invite Frightful Fran as we all call her. We called her this because she is a garrulous, parsimonious and interfering niece who is, I’m pleased to say, from Uncle Rodger’s side of the family, and someone I have spent most of my life trying to avoid. However, for some reason he is fond of her. Probably because being deaf her voice doesn’t seem so strident and he doesn’t hear some of her more objectionable utterances. Oh yes, and because she is a great cook and he loves his food so she always arrives to visit them with cream cakes and biscuits; which he isn’t supposed to have.
I don’t think you have ever met her Del, but if you picture that Holbein portrait of Henry VIII where he is standing legs astride, arms on hips and a fixed stare upon his face you would be close. She just has a little less beard.
The trip went well much to our relief and we arrived at the pub in good time. I think it is a building which started its days as a Cobb and Co stage coach stopping place. There was plenty of parking so getting the old folk out of the back seat and walking inside was easy. Aunt Alice was greeted with happy birthday greetings from all and became very regal in the way she nodded to everyone. I expected her to give a small gracious wave at any moment and mention she should have worn her tiara.
The rooms had been redecorated and the dark pink of the walls against the heavy drapes and the dark stained wood looked lovely. The warm log fire blazing up the chimney seemed to set just the right note for the day.
Once I had Aunt Alice settled comfortable and said hello to everyone and made sure I was seated as far from the dreaded Fran as possible I relaxed, feeling everything was going go well. Now all that was needed was for everyone to enjoy their meals and the day would be perfect. You would think by now I would know better than to relax wouldn’t you?
The menus were handed round and we all began to look down the selections and there were so many to choose from stir fries, schnitzel, pies, rice dishes, vegetarian for Monica and Tony, Italian dishes, braised lamb-shanks for Aunty Alice….heaps of things.
One by one we all chose and Aunt Alice happily ordered her lamb shanks and complemented the waitress about some little thing. She was being so well behaved it was a pleasure to watch her.
Uncle Rodger was staring up and down the menu and turning it over when he was asked for his order.
‘I’ll have the roast’ He stated confidently.
The waitress hesitated and caught my eye. ‘We don’t have a roast Sir’
Uncle Rodger was flabbergasted ‘What? No roast!’
I groaned, the day’s unforseen disaster had arrived right on time.
‘You have to have a roast? How can you be a pub and not have a roast? I’ve never heard of such a thing’. Uncle Rodger was blustering about expecting the poor lass to produce one there and then.
She sensibly left and called the owner who tried vainly to explain to Uncle Rodger that they didn’t always serve roast as they had an extensive menu in which most people could usually find something suitable. And often large roasts were wasted when only a few people came to the pub for lunch, also,…. here he gave a meaningful glance at Uncle Rodger’s large paunch,…. many people watching their fat intake now didn’t eat roasts and, as we had explicitly asked for lamb shanks, it was the special of the day.
The poor man then read down the menu item by item explaining each dish. The replies from Uncle Rodger were various,
‘I don’t like mixed up food.’
‘I don’t like rice, saw too much of it during the war.’
‘I don’t like chicken, it’s for pansies.’
‘Vegetarian? No meat at all? You got to be kidding me man!’ and so on and so forth it went until everyone was either laughing or hiding their embarrassed faces behind their hands. The grandchildren thoroughly enjoyed the whole scene.
Eventually the owner looked at me with such a look of sympathy because I swear by this time my face was as red with embarrassment as the jumper I was wearing, took a large breath and said to Uncle Rodger. ‘The char grills aren’t heated up Sir but I’m willing to heat them up, so would you like a really good rump steak, on the house?’
We could see Uncle Rodger weighing this deal up. Free meal, free meat that he would never get at the village and certainly in his mind, one up on Aunt Alice who was having only lamb shanks. ‘Yes, I’ll except that if it’s the best you can do young man, but I expected better than that from your establishment!’
Aunt Alice leaning forward said in her best diction ‘Yes, we are used to better than that you know young man, perhaps I’ll have the rump also.’
I could have run screaming from the place if the owner hadn’t been so nice. Heaven knows what he said when he got out to the kitchen, but before I could do anything; the Frightful Fran stood, rearranged the centre of the table and produced from a large box she had carried into the pub a gigantic Pavlova.
With a sugary smile that matched the contents of the Pavlova she turned to Aunt Alice and said. ‘I made it just for you knowing how much you like them.’
Teddy, the dear man, took my hand and Monica with tears of suppressed mirth welling up and spilling down her cheeks, made for the ‘ladies rest rooms.’ I followed a short while later.
I think dear Del, it is called ‘one upmanship’ and I have to give it to frightful Fran, she has a masterful touch.
I sent a letter of thanks and apology to the pub, for the disarray our group caused in the dining room and Teddy and I have felt it necessary to drive there a few times during the last few weeks to have a meal that is fully paid for, (I have usually ordered the lamb shanks although I don’t like them because they are what I feed my dogs,) but I’ve eaten them uncomplainingly and even ordered sweets and puddings…… made on the premises.
Next week I don’t have any plans with Aunt Alice and Uncle Rodger, we are going to an artist’s exhibition at the gallery Monica owns. So it should be an interesting, enlightening and altogether relaxing evening.
Do you think I hope for too much Del?
Your lamb-shanked out 'flower child' friend
Cynthia.
©
Written by. Elizabeth. M. Thompson.
Dear Del,
Teddy and I were very pleased to read your news and know of all the happenings on your side of the bay.
The weather bureau promised us some rain so I did the right thing and went out into the garden to throw some pulverised cow manure all over the roses and vegetables hoping it would be washed into the soil. Of course I should be neither surprised nor disappointed by now to not have the rain come; however I could have done without the wind which blew quite a thick coating of the manure all over me. I’m sure I was wafting ‘Cologne of the Dairy’ behind me in the breeze as I buzzed up to the local shop for some milk.
The spring bulbs are in and I hope working away under the ground making good roots. They’ve had enough worm juice to enthuse the laziest of them to grow.
Our family has been doing their usual things. William our younger son is back from a quick business trip to Cannes and London. He seems to time these things rather badly because he was in New York the week the markets crashed and there was a bit of chaos in the streets and he was in London during he G20 meeting where there was a lot of chaos in the streets. If he doesn’t watch himself, he may be getting awkward questions from zealous security people.
Adam our grandson went surfing with a couple of friends last week. It was getting quite dark by the time they got out of the water. As he lives just a few blocks from the beach he decided when he took his wetsuit off, rather than get dressed, he would just wrap a towel around himself, hop in his car and drive home and shower. He walked up the track to where he had parked his car near the Great Ocean Road and then realized he had to secure his surf board onto the roof rack. Of course while doing this, his towel fell off onto the ground and he was stark naked. No one was around so he fumbled about with the straps for his surfboard and was just walking around the rear of the car to the driver’s side when a tourist bus, lights ablaze, rounded the highway corner and held him like a startled rabbit, in full view for the bus load of pale amused Japanese faces as they peered through their windows at him. The driver honked the horn noisily just to increase Adam’s embarrassment and discomfort. He swears one person even flashed a camera at him and is now worrying his picture will appear on someone’s face book site soon for the world to see.
He is trying to get over it, but I think his sisters and mates will not let him recover for some time.
Teddy is still banging about in the shed although the stirling engines have made way during the past few weeks for some sort of solar heater. This device he seems to always strategically place where the dazzling light reflects into the family room and blinds me as I walk through the door. He was very chuffed after boiling his first cup of tea with it. It might come in handy on a sunny day if we have a power cut or go camping, but it would at present take up more room than the gas primus.
Teddy shuddered when Aunt Alice and Uncle Rodger asked us to have a meal with them at the Village to celebrate her birthday.
Fortunately I had been thinking about her birthday already, and was able to preamp any further discussion. Unless your taste buds delight in the flavour of reconstituted cardboard mixed with the choicest gristle from horse meat…… Eating at the village it is not the best of experiences.
Instead I suggested a country pub. Aunt Alice had been hankering for some tender lamb shanks for weeks and the likelihood of getting anything tender at the village, let alone lamb shanks, is nil.
When I had made this suggestion to Teddy he had put in a plea to avoid anywhere that served pensioner specials’ as he can’t cope with the watery cabbage, grey cauliflower and glued potatoes they usually contain and suffers indigestion for days afterward.
Uncle Rodger was very quick to agree to a country pub so I spent some time on the telephone until I found one which would accommodate us with lamb shanks. It sounded ideal for the day. It had an ‘old world charm’ which I know can sometimes simply translate to dilapidated and peeling paint with uneven floors and no heating, but this was one Teddy and I had already been to and knew the owners to be very obliging. It was a fair drive but not so far that Uncle Rodger’s inaccurate map reading or constant driving instructions should get Teddy into too much of a state before we arrived.
I thought I should also invite a few other members of the family as Aunt Alice is getting on in age, so I booked a table for about ten of us.
I felt obliged to invite Frightful Fran as we all call her. We called her this because she is a garrulous, parsimonious and interfering niece who is, I’m pleased to say, from Uncle Rodger’s side of the family, and someone I have spent most of my life trying to avoid. However, for some reason he is fond of her. Probably because being deaf her voice doesn’t seem so strident and he doesn’t hear some of her more objectionable utterances. Oh yes, and because she is a great cook and he loves his food so she always arrives to visit them with cream cakes and biscuits; which he isn’t supposed to have.
I don’t think you have ever met her Del, but if you picture that Holbein portrait of Henry VIII where he is standing legs astride, arms on hips and a fixed stare upon his face you would be close. She just has a little less beard.
The trip went well much to our relief and we arrived at the pub in good time. I think it is a building which started its days as a Cobb and Co stage coach stopping place. There was plenty of parking so getting the old folk out of the back seat and walking inside was easy. Aunt Alice was greeted with happy birthday greetings from all and became very regal in the way she nodded to everyone. I expected her to give a small gracious wave at any moment and mention she should have worn her tiara.
The rooms had been redecorated and the dark pink of the walls against the heavy drapes and the dark stained wood looked lovely. The warm log fire blazing up the chimney seemed to set just the right note for the day.
Once I had Aunt Alice settled comfortable and said hello to everyone and made sure I was seated as far from the dreaded Fran as possible I relaxed, feeling everything was going go well. Now all that was needed was for everyone to enjoy their meals and the day would be perfect. You would think by now I would know better than to relax wouldn’t you?
The menus were handed round and we all began to look down the selections and there were so many to choose from stir fries, schnitzel, pies, rice dishes, vegetarian for Monica and Tony, Italian dishes, braised lamb-shanks for Aunty Alice….heaps of things.
One by one we all chose and Aunt Alice happily ordered her lamb shanks and complemented the waitress about some little thing. She was being so well behaved it was a pleasure to watch her.
Uncle Rodger was staring up and down the menu and turning it over when he was asked for his order.
‘I’ll have the roast’ He stated confidently.
The waitress hesitated and caught my eye. ‘We don’t have a roast Sir’
Uncle Rodger was flabbergasted ‘What? No roast!’
I groaned, the day’s unforseen disaster had arrived right on time.
‘You have to have a roast? How can you be a pub and not have a roast? I’ve never heard of such a thing’. Uncle Rodger was blustering about expecting the poor lass to produce one there and then.
She sensibly left and called the owner who tried vainly to explain to Uncle Rodger that they didn’t always serve roast as they had an extensive menu in which most people could usually find something suitable. And often large roasts were wasted when only a few people came to the pub for lunch, also,…. here he gave a meaningful glance at Uncle Rodger’s large paunch,…. many people watching their fat intake now didn’t eat roasts and, as we had explicitly asked for lamb shanks, it was the special of the day.
The poor man then read down the menu item by item explaining each dish. The replies from Uncle Rodger were various,
‘I don’t like mixed up food.’
‘I don’t like rice, saw too much of it during the war.’
‘I don’t like chicken, it’s for pansies.’
‘Vegetarian? No meat at all? You got to be kidding me man!’ and so on and so forth it went until everyone was either laughing or hiding their embarrassed faces behind their hands. The grandchildren thoroughly enjoyed the whole scene.
Eventually the owner looked at me with such a look of sympathy because I swear by this time my face was as red with embarrassment as the jumper I was wearing, took a large breath and said to Uncle Rodger. ‘The char grills aren’t heated up Sir but I’m willing to heat them up, so would you like a really good rump steak, on the house?’
We could see Uncle Rodger weighing this deal up. Free meal, free meat that he would never get at the village and certainly in his mind, one up on Aunt Alice who was having only lamb shanks. ‘Yes, I’ll except that if it’s the best you can do young man, but I expected better than that from your establishment!’
Aunt Alice leaning forward said in her best diction ‘Yes, we are used to better than that you know young man, perhaps I’ll have the rump also.’
I could have run screaming from the place if the owner hadn’t been so nice. Heaven knows what he said when he got out to the kitchen, but before I could do anything; the Frightful Fran stood, rearranged the centre of the table and produced from a large box she had carried into the pub a gigantic Pavlova.
With a sugary smile that matched the contents of the Pavlova she turned to Aunt Alice and said. ‘I made it just for you knowing how much you like them.’
Teddy, the dear man, took my hand and Monica with tears of suppressed mirth welling up and spilling down her cheeks, made for the ‘ladies rest rooms.’ I followed a short while later.
I think dear Del, it is called ‘one upmanship’ and I have to give it to frightful Fran, she has a masterful touch.
I sent a letter of thanks and apology to the pub, for the disarray our group caused in the dining room and Teddy and I have felt it necessary to drive there a few times during the last few weeks to have a meal that is fully paid for, (I have usually ordered the lamb shanks although I don’t like them because they are what I feed my dogs,) but I’ve eaten them uncomplainingly and even ordered sweets and puddings…… made on the premises.
Next week I don’t have any plans with Aunt Alice and Uncle Rodger, we are going to an artist’s exhibition at the gallery Monica owns. So it should be an interesting, enlightening and altogether relaxing evening.
Do you think I hope for too much Del?
Your lamb-shanked out 'flower child' friend
Cynthia.
©
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
THE PINK LADIES.
a selected story from a collecton of work in progress from 'Tales From Colonial Australia.'
Claude had been waiting for this evening with overwhelming anticipation and excitement. He looked around the family parlour with delight and pride.
Mum and Becky, his sister, had swept, dusted, polished, pulled up rugs and beaten them on the sagging clothesline in the yard, until not another speck of dust from the Wilson’s home could be dislodged from the faded fabrics.
Claude had been banned from the room all day in case he should tread mud or leave smeary finger marks on the polished surfaces.
The light from the small window in the kitchen was dimmed by a fog of steam from the cast iron pots on the wood fired stove and delicious smells came through the door each time one of them rushed out to attend to something.
At last the guests arrived and he sat at the table stiff and upright, the collar of his starched shirt digging into his neck and his hair smoothed firmly down by liberal dollops of Dad’s hair oil. His stomach rolled quietly in eager anticipation of the delights ahead.
When he had been told they were to be honoured with Mr and Mrs Humphrey-Smith as dinner guests his estimation of his father grew. However, it had been very forcibly impressed on him with much finger wagging and threats of dire punishment should he say or do anything to embarrass his parents who were about to entertain the wealthiest gentleman in the town.
Claude already knew Mr Humphrey –Smith was a very grand man. He had seen him in various places about the town wearing his heavy gold watch and chain and waving his silver knobbed walking stick. He even drove one of the new horseless carriages which exploded frighteningly as it rushed along the dusty roads shocking the ladies and being a point of envy amongst the men.
He also knew Mr Humphrey-Smith owned a very large and much decorated house which was full of marble figures of lady’s…… not quite dressed. He knew this, because in his apprenticeship with the postal service, he was employed as the telegram boy and in the course of his duties he had delivered telegrams to the mansion. When he had knocked on the door, a maid had opened it far enough for him to see into the hallway. This enormous entrance was every bit as big as his father’s Vicarage parlour and Claude had been astonished and thrilled to observe a large white female form appearing to be coyly draping a diaphanous veil around her as she stood on a pedestal at the foot of a curving stairway.
He would have been more than pleased to have looked for much longer at the almost naked form but the maid noticing his eyes widening shooed him away.
Later in the sorting room he told his friend Tommy of his observations and Tommy agreed it would have been good to have seen more.
Mr and Mrs Humphrey-Smith were to grace the Wilson home because Claude’s father being the local Vicar, had recently had the sombre privilege of conducting the burial of the late Mrs Humphrey who, as the whole town knew, had disapproved of the marriage of her daughter to a plain MR SMITH and had absolutely refused permission for the marriage to go ahead unless the names were hyphenated. As Mr Smith wished to inherit the Humphrey money far more than he wished to retain his name, he agreed with much smiling and obsequious assurances he would be honoured to do as his indomitable mother-in-law wished.
Despite her wealth, Mrs Humphrey-Smith was a homely, and as many ladies believed a lonely woman, who was often left to while away her days in the mansion by her husband as he attended to his many business interests, which she knew little about. He preferred it that way. She and Claude’s mother had become friends in a quiet distant manner, each knowing the other had a position in the town to keep up for their husband’s sake.
The husbands on the other hand, endured each other as society in a small town must, but had as little to do with one another as possible. The Vicar was not a gambler or a frequenter of public houses and Mr Humphrey –Smith did not venture into the church unless it was unavoidable but they did have to meet in functions which concerned the good of the town and its people.
Because of this, the Vicar did therefore know of a very lucrative property on the outskirts of the town in Mr Humphrey-Smith’s possession and which was, to most right thinking men and women, considered a blot on good society. He was sure quiet Mrs Humphrey-Smith did not know of its existence or that part of her fortune had been used to build it and support people who Claude, listening avidly at the door one evening when his parents were speaking, heard his father describe to his mother as ‘scarlet women’.
Mother had repeated the words in hushed, shocked tones and shook her curly head and tut tutted in her most severe manner.
“Poor Rose.” She sighed.
“Indeed.” Father replied, but signalled to mother he had spied Claude hovering at the doorway and for her to be silent. Claude had listened to this information with interest but without understanding its importance.
Now he sat at the table watching the grand guest as he obviously enjoyed the meal mother and Becky had worked so hard to prepare.
The crystal sparkled in the candlelight and plates that were only used for Christmas, or when the Bishop and his wife came, looked lovely on the perfect white of the linen cloth.
He was being as unobtrusive as possible, although as his sister would say, if he listened any harder his ears would have been flapping. Having been told to only speak when spoken to, he thus far, had thought of many things he could have said, but remained obediently silent.
“Now young Claude.” Mr Humphrey-Smith beamed at him during a lull in conversation; a gold front tooth glinted in the candlelight under his upper lip. “What do you propose to do with your life?”
Claude became flustered and was embarrassed to find he was blushing as he became the centre of attention but he was ready with his answer and replied politely, “I should like to be in business Sir.”
“Really young man? You don’t propose to be a cleric like you father?” Mr Humphrey-Smith continued to smile as all the faces around the table turn towards Claude.
“No Sir, I should like to be in a business such as yours. It looks like a great deal of fun.” He was trying to be very polite and properly deferential.
“Do you know anything about my business?” Mr Humphrey-Smith laughed thinking to catch Claude and instruct him and the others at the same time.
“Oh yes sir. I have seen you at work Sir when I have delivered a telegram to the house of the Pink Ladies.”
Claude’s parents instinctively held their breath.
“Oh indeed, indeed,” Mr Humphrey –Smith dithered, aware something had gone awry with the conversation.
At last Claude’s mother after frantically trying to think of some sort of interruption spoke quickly.
“Claude dear, finish your vegetables.”
“Oh, the dear boy.” Mrs Humphrey-Smith laughed. “To whom do you refer when you mention ‘Pink Ladies’?”
Claude smiled, eagerly dabbing a drip of gravy from his chin.
“Oh, you know Mrs Humphrey-Smith. The ‘Pink Ladies’ Mr Humphrey-Smith works with when he is playing cards, the ones who wear those frilly dresses and show most of their legs and stockings. I saw them when I delivered a telegram to the one called Dolly, the one that was sitting on his lap.”
The silence was broken only by the Holland blind flapping lazily at the open window and the mournful caw of a crow eyeing the carcass of a rabbit in the house cow’s paddock beside the house.
Mrs Humphrey-Smith slowly put her knife and fork neatly onto her plate, dabbed lightly at her lips with a table napkin and turned slowly to Claude.
“Which house is this you are speaking of Claude?”
The boy had tried so hard yet he sensed he had said something out of place. But what? It was too late he could not suck his words back into his mouth now. So he rushed on.
“The one in ‘Meadow Hill Lane’, Mam, it has a red light. Oh I know!” He smiled hoping to fix the situation, “they aren’t’ Pink Ladies’ are they Mama, you said they were ‘Scarlet Ladies!’
Claude took some time to learn what he had done and why the dinner party broke up so suddenly when it had seemed to be going very well, and why, if it had been his fault Mother and Father never explained what he had done or punished him.
He did hear his father muttering something about ‘out of the mouths of babes’ but thought he was rehearsing a line from a sermon.
Becky told him what a ‘dolt’ he was but not why. Mr and Mrs Humphrey-Smith never came to visit again and in fact, sold up their great properties and moved to another state.
The End. © ;from ‘Tales Of Colonial Australia’
a selected story from a collecton of work in progress from 'Tales From Colonial Australia.'
Claude had been waiting for this evening with overwhelming anticipation and excitement. He looked around the family parlour with delight and pride.
Mum and Becky, his sister, had swept, dusted, polished, pulled up rugs and beaten them on the sagging clothesline in the yard, until not another speck of dust from the Wilson’s home could be dislodged from the faded fabrics.
Claude had been banned from the room all day in case he should tread mud or leave smeary finger marks on the polished surfaces.
The light from the small window in the kitchen was dimmed by a fog of steam from the cast iron pots on the wood fired stove and delicious smells came through the door each time one of them rushed out to attend to something.
At last the guests arrived and he sat at the table stiff and upright, the collar of his starched shirt digging into his neck and his hair smoothed firmly down by liberal dollops of Dad’s hair oil. His stomach rolled quietly in eager anticipation of the delights ahead.
When he had been told they were to be honoured with Mr and Mrs Humphrey-Smith as dinner guests his estimation of his father grew. However, it had been very forcibly impressed on him with much finger wagging and threats of dire punishment should he say or do anything to embarrass his parents who were about to entertain the wealthiest gentleman in the town.
Claude already knew Mr Humphrey –Smith was a very grand man. He had seen him in various places about the town wearing his heavy gold watch and chain and waving his silver knobbed walking stick. He even drove one of the new horseless carriages which exploded frighteningly as it rushed along the dusty roads shocking the ladies and being a point of envy amongst the men.
He also knew Mr Humphrey-Smith owned a very large and much decorated house which was full of marble figures of lady’s…… not quite dressed. He knew this, because in his apprenticeship with the postal service, he was employed as the telegram boy and in the course of his duties he had delivered telegrams to the mansion. When he had knocked on the door, a maid had opened it far enough for him to see into the hallway. This enormous entrance was every bit as big as his father’s Vicarage parlour and Claude had been astonished and thrilled to observe a large white female form appearing to be coyly draping a diaphanous veil around her as she stood on a pedestal at the foot of a curving stairway.
He would have been more than pleased to have looked for much longer at the almost naked form but the maid noticing his eyes widening shooed him away.
Later in the sorting room he told his friend Tommy of his observations and Tommy agreed it would have been good to have seen more.
Mr and Mrs Humphrey-Smith were to grace the Wilson home because Claude’s father being the local Vicar, had recently had the sombre privilege of conducting the burial of the late Mrs Humphrey who, as the whole town knew, had disapproved of the marriage of her daughter to a plain MR SMITH and had absolutely refused permission for the marriage to go ahead unless the names were hyphenated. As Mr Smith wished to inherit the Humphrey money far more than he wished to retain his name, he agreed with much smiling and obsequious assurances he would be honoured to do as his indomitable mother-in-law wished.
Despite her wealth, Mrs Humphrey-Smith was a homely, and as many ladies believed a lonely woman, who was often left to while away her days in the mansion by her husband as he attended to his many business interests, which she knew little about. He preferred it that way. She and Claude’s mother had become friends in a quiet distant manner, each knowing the other had a position in the town to keep up for their husband’s sake.
The husbands on the other hand, endured each other as society in a small town must, but had as little to do with one another as possible. The Vicar was not a gambler or a frequenter of public houses and Mr Humphrey –Smith did not venture into the church unless it was unavoidable but they did have to meet in functions which concerned the good of the town and its people.
Because of this, the Vicar did therefore know of a very lucrative property on the outskirts of the town in Mr Humphrey-Smith’s possession and which was, to most right thinking men and women, considered a blot on good society. He was sure quiet Mrs Humphrey-Smith did not know of its existence or that part of her fortune had been used to build it and support people who Claude, listening avidly at the door one evening when his parents were speaking, heard his father describe to his mother as ‘scarlet women’.
Mother had repeated the words in hushed, shocked tones and shook her curly head and tut tutted in her most severe manner.
“Poor Rose.” She sighed.
“Indeed.” Father replied, but signalled to mother he had spied Claude hovering at the doorway and for her to be silent. Claude had listened to this information with interest but without understanding its importance.
Now he sat at the table watching the grand guest as he obviously enjoyed the meal mother and Becky had worked so hard to prepare.
The crystal sparkled in the candlelight and plates that were only used for Christmas, or when the Bishop and his wife came, looked lovely on the perfect white of the linen cloth.
He was being as unobtrusive as possible, although as his sister would say, if he listened any harder his ears would have been flapping. Having been told to only speak when spoken to, he thus far, had thought of many things he could have said, but remained obediently silent.
“Now young Claude.” Mr Humphrey-Smith beamed at him during a lull in conversation; a gold front tooth glinted in the candlelight under his upper lip. “What do you propose to do with your life?”
Claude became flustered and was embarrassed to find he was blushing as he became the centre of attention but he was ready with his answer and replied politely, “I should like to be in business Sir.”
“Really young man? You don’t propose to be a cleric like you father?” Mr Humphrey-Smith continued to smile as all the faces around the table turn towards Claude.
“No Sir, I should like to be in a business such as yours. It looks like a great deal of fun.” He was trying to be very polite and properly deferential.
“Do you know anything about my business?” Mr Humphrey-Smith laughed thinking to catch Claude and instruct him and the others at the same time.
“Oh yes sir. I have seen you at work Sir when I have delivered a telegram to the house of the Pink Ladies.”
Claude’s parents instinctively held their breath.
“Oh indeed, indeed,” Mr Humphrey –Smith dithered, aware something had gone awry with the conversation.
At last Claude’s mother after frantically trying to think of some sort of interruption spoke quickly.
“Claude dear, finish your vegetables.”
“Oh, the dear boy.” Mrs Humphrey-Smith laughed. “To whom do you refer when you mention ‘Pink Ladies’?”
Claude smiled, eagerly dabbing a drip of gravy from his chin.
“Oh, you know Mrs Humphrey-Smith. The ‘Pink Ladies’ Mr Humphrey-Smith works with when he is playing cards, the ones who wear those frilly dresses and show most of their legs and stockings. I saw them when I delivered a telegram to the one called Dolly, the one that was sitting on his lap.”
The silence was broken only by the Holland blind flapping lazily at the open window and the mournful caw of a crow eyeing the carcass of a rabbit in the house cow’s paddock beside the house.
Mrs Humphrey-Smith slowly put her knife and fork neatly onto her plate, dabbed lightly at her lips with a table napkin and turned slowly to Claude.
“Which house is this you are speaking of Claude?”
The boy had tried so hard yet he sensed he had said something out of place. But what? It was too late he could not suck his words back into his mouth now. So he rushed on.
“The one in ‘Meadow Hill Lane’, Mam, it has a red light. Oh I know!” He smiled hoping to fix the situation, “they aren’t’ Pink Ladies’ are they Mama, you said they were ‘Scarlet Ladies!’
Claude took some time to learn what he had done and why the dinner party broke up so suddenly when it had seemed to be going very well, and why, if it had been his fault Mother and Father never explained what he had done or punished him.
He did hear his father muttering something about ‘out of the mouths of babes’ but thought he was rehearsing a line from a sermon.
Becky told him what a ‘dolt’ he was but not why. Mr and Mrs Humphrey-Smith never came to visit again and in fact, sold up their great properties and moved to another state.
The End. © ;from ‘Tales Of Colonial Australia’
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Preparing For Our Vintage Years.
Ah yes, the hand of time and years of work have made an impression on my back,…… knees,…. shoulders….. etc, etc. No longer am I the spritely young thing who worked from dawn till dusk without thought of aching muscles and tired limbs. Things have altered, I didn’t do it on purpose and I didn’t mean it to happen but, I have aged!
There is a story my mother –in-law told of her having gone to her garage one evening. In the gloom she misjudged her footing and fell into the pit my father-in-law had dug to enable him to work more easily on his car motor.
When she eventually hoisted herself out (no pun intended) and came back into the house she gave him ‘a good talking to’ that coloured the air for hours. His only reply was that she should have been more careful.
Some days later he fell in the pit, grazing his head badly. Without another word from either of them, he put a sturdy cover over the dangerous hole. The moral……. think ahead and as the scouts say, be prepared.
Age like everything else in life will come and we must face it in the best way we can.
I was born a ‘Grass Roots’ person. As a child, being outdoors and helping in the garden were my favourite places to be and things to do.
During my recovery from a bout of this year’s flu I have been mulling over the
I & H Beilharz letter from the April/May issue of G.G and realize that preparing our place for our older years (husband and I are now in our 60’s) has been one of the driving thoughts in my plans and influencing much of what we have been doing for the past few years..
Up until a the early nineties we had the ideal self sufficient property. Two acres on the idyllic Bellarine Peninsular, with chooks, garden, orchard, bee-hive, horse, everything we had wanted. We lived there for eighteen years. But, developers, suburbia, illness and government trade policies which led to redundancy for my husband, all combined into an irresistible force that pushed us out and off our property. We sold up and moved into a typical suburban home, on a typical suburban block, in a typical suburban court.
I went into mental and emotional melt down. We endured two years of neighbours, noise, no garden to speak of and a lot of tears and soul searching.
Eventually after much thought we put the new house on the market. To our delight it sold quickly to an eager retiree from Melbourne who thought the views of the sea were divine and was oblivious to the gales that views like these also mean. They were happy and so were we as we began to search for our new home.
We made a careful list of the things we thought necessary for our new place. Qualities that would mean we could live into our old age in a place we loved and would give us time to nurture it while it helped to heal us. Finally, at the foot of Mt Buffalo in Victoria’s high country in the township of Myrtleford, we found our place.
Because of my ongoing health problems we knew we couldn’t work on a large block any more, but a good flat quarter acre, good soil and room for our pets, a shed and a house we could grow old in was our idea of the perfect place. Yes we have neighbours, but they are quiet, friendly and get on with their lives and let us get on with ours. They grow their own food and care for the environment and understand it.
Within two months of our arrival, the bush fires began so it gave us an excuse to get to know everyone VERY quickly. So here we are, and what have we learned?
I love my garden and was lucky the previous owner did also. The trees planted are already large and give great structure, shade and colour to otherwise plain landscaping. She also loved bulbs so we inherited a beautiful variety of spring and autumn bulbs. There weren’t any vegetable gardens or fruit trees so they were our first concern.
I know that each year; working in it will get that little bit more difficult. Here for those of you out there who have matured with G.R and are facing some or similar problems are my suggestion.
The garden.
1. Consider raising the beds to make them easier to work in. Don’t make them too wide as reaching can get very hard at times.
2. Try to get rid of any lawns. Not only do they take too much watering and work. The mowers add to the noise and air pollution, cost money to repair etc. There may come a time when you can’t mow or start the mower especially if you are prone to shoulder problems. Replace the lawns with ground covers and gravel or paving which can be cleared of weeds easily and quickly.
3. Take out all ornamental vines and plants that need annual pruning. Getting up on ladders is not something you will be able to do forever. If you want grapevines etc plant them at reachable levels and espalier other plants onto head height wires. Replace the ones you have removed with bird attracting shrubs and bushes that will still give you pleasure, shade and shelter but less work.
4. Shape the fruit trees to allow for easy picking and access. Again you won’t want to get up on ladders forever.
5. If a rough path, a slope or step is a likely hazard, put the grip rail in now. Not after you have slipped and broken an ankle.
6. Make a quiet warm spot where you can enjoy peace in which to relax on the days when you perhaps don’t feel like working your body but your mind and spirit could do with a boost.
7. Placing some solar lights to show your way to the gates or along your paths could save you and your friends from falling in the shrubbery.
It is my belief that fruit and vegetable prices will keep soaring in the next few years as more and more of our good arable land in taken up for housing plus the lack of people to do the labour intensive work of picking and growing will add to these rises.
To remain healthy, eat the best you can afford and grow your own. If you stint on good quality food, you will simply pay for it with poor health and put the money into doctor’s bills. Our vegetable patch kept the two of us all summer and what I didn’t have, my neighbour who never uses sprays etc was happy to sell me or we swapped. I also had enough to freeze and preserve, dry and make my own sauces etc.
My husband has to watch his sugar so we both feel happier preparing and making our own produce. I dry all my own tomatoes, eggplant and herbs.
We still make our own bread. Admittedly we use a bread maker these days but at least we know what goes into it. It also saves time, effort, money and less visits to the shops where impulse buying is too easy.
We have three compost bins and a busy worm farm. The initial cost isn’t much if you see the price of retail fertilisers. The vegetable garden soil we had delivered was dreadful but after mulching, adding compost leaves and green manure it is beginning to be more friable and obviously producing very well.
The watering system is most important. Firstly, if you can use your grey water and put a good drip system through the garden do it. It saves time, money, effort and water. I have tripped over the garden hoses countless time in my life and I’m not really genetically related to a gooney bird. It only takes one trip when we are older to do some real damage. Heavy garden hoses are also damaging to the plants and bad for your back and shoulders. (I know I harp about shoulders but if you have ever had a frozen shoulder you’ll know it is something to avoid.)
It worries me when younger women with children to feed ask, “what’s that?” pointing at a parsnip or as one check-out girl asked, “what do you do with that?’ When I bought sago. The knowledge of basic and nourishing cooking made from fresh ingredients is dying out amongst our youth. I have been told that there are apartments in the U.S.A that are built with minimum kitchen space because people ‘eat out all the time’.
If this is so, when, not if, there is another severe depression, how will these people survive? The skills will have died out.
Inside the home poses some extra problems for us as we age.
1. The bathroom can become one of the most hazardous rooms in the house. If you think you can afford it, make sure your shower has easy access and plenty of room for a chair if the need arises.
Try and make it as easy to keep clean as possible and place grip handles beside your toilets and baths etc. Again, don’t wait for when your sciatica is so bad you rip the toilet roll holder out of the wall trying to grip something to help you up off the seat!
Try and make sure the door can be opened from outside in case of the occupant collapsing or falling.
2. Paint a white line on the edges of all exterior steps. Those of you with bi-focal glasses will know that judging the edge of something can be difficult.
3 Make sure you have long-life light bulbs in as many light fittings as you can and remember the ladder? Well, my theory is to use well placed standard lamps to minimize the number of times the central light globes have to be replaced.
4. In the kitchen put the things you need most into the cupboards most easily reached. Anything you don’t use much put up in the higher ones until your tall sons arrive for a visit.
Make sure all the surfaces are easily cleaned and smooth and your stove will not become a hazard to you as you age i.e.; good door hinges and firm hot plates etc. If you do have kitchen steps, check the hinges etc and make sure they have non-slip bases
5. If you still use wood for heating make sure you have a trolley to carry the wood. It will save your back and prevent accidental droppings. Keep the wood trolley well stocked and in a convenient place to your heater. A fire screen is a necessity in case of hot coals, falling logs, falling grandchildren and tripping grandmothers!
Have your gas and electric heaters serviced; it is cheaper than having a house fire. This too we have experienced in the family and it is not to be wished on anyone.
6. Get a qualified electrician to install a safety switch in your meter box. For the added tip of a couple of bottles of your home made beer, he will probably check your smoke alarms and replace the batteries for you as well.
7. Consider the insulation of your home and do what you can to close off drafts. We found our house very warm but a little dark. Putting in a skylight helped enormously and saved us electricity for lighting.
8. I am happy to search the op-shops for clothing but I try never to stint on good shoes. If your feet suffer, you suffer and so does your spine. It is worth waiting for the sales and buying well fitting good shoes. In the end they are cheaper than many visits to s chiropodist and orthotic inserts.
9. Keep a pet if you can afford it. They give you a reason to love and be loved and will always be happy to see you get up in the morning no matter what you look like. They also give you a sense of security and in the case of a dog will be helpful to the hearing impaired like my husband, who would often be unaware there is anyone about if the dog didn’t tell him.
10. I find some of the over fifties newspapers very helpful. They are free from most pharmacies and contain interesting articles on healthy aging, services available, places to visit and financial advice.
As the body slows it doesn’t mean the mind has to. I now have time to catalogue the birds, animals and insects that visit our garden. We are lucky to have a tremendous variety that we never tire of watching or photographing Put out a bird feeder and more especially a bird bath, you will be amazed at the little friends who will come to visit your place. Even in drought affected areas I know there will be many who will be trying to spare water for the birds and animals.
The computer keeps us in touch with our family and friends. Although we are gradually making new friends, it is to the old ones we turn at times. The people we don’t have to explain ourselves to and who will and have forgiven us our idiosyncrasies for so many years but have still remained close. Keep in touch with them all. It helps to know there is always someone at the end of the phone or email line. With their wealth of funny stories we get at least one good laugh a day, and humour must be maintained
We have craft skills developed over many years (I used to sell candles at markets and through the pages of G.G). I still like to work on these skills supporting local charities. Hobbies are important for those wet, cold days or when the aches are too much to ignore. Remaining part of the wider community is necessary and healthier for us all.
We knew that one day our paid working lives would end. Ours ended at the whim of outside forces and boards of management, not at our timing and planning. The adjustment has been difficult for my husband. After working since he was sixteen to find at sixty he was not needed in that daily routine was hard. It has been difficult but there are many in the same situation, at least our family are grown and have left home and were not directly affected as were so many of the younger people in the industries in which hubby worked.
Fortunately he is a talented artist and this is now his primary interest.
After three years here there are times when I still miss our old, bigger garden and the memories it held. We miss our family left behind down in Geelong and the soul searching about whether we should be down there for them at times still returns. But we have moved on and so have they and all our friends. I suspect there will be no going back
and this WILL be our last home. However, we thought that was the case twenty years ago. As I age, I’ll no doubt find more and more things that could be suggested but these are a few thoughts from my flu’ befuddled brain.
We’ll just have to keep an eye out for that suburban sprawl and hope it doesn’t appear over the horizon too soon.
Ah yes, the hand of time and years of work have made an impression on my back,…… knees,…. shoulders….. etc, etc. No longer am I the spritely young thing who worked from dawn till dusk without thought of aching muscles and tired limbs. Things have altered, I didn’t do it on purpose and I didn’t mean it to happen but, I have aged!
There is a story my mother –in-law told of her having gone to her garage one evening. In the gloom she misjudged her footing and fell into the pit my father-in-law had dug to enable him to work more easily on his car motor.
When she eventually hoisted herself out (no pun intended) and came back into the house she gave him ‘a good talking to’ that coloured the air for hours. His only reply was that she should have been more careful.
Some days later he fell in the pit, grazing his head badly. Without another word from either of them, he put a sturdy cover over the dangerous hole. The moral……. think ahead and as the scouts say, be prepared.
Age like everything else in life will come and we must face it in the best way we can.
I was born a ‘Grass Roots’ person. As a child, being outdoors and helping in the garden were my favourite places to be and things to do.
During my recovery from a bout of this year’s flu I have been mulling over the
I & H Beilharz letter from the April/May issue of G.G and realize that preparing our place for our older years (husband and I are now in our 60’s) has been one of the driving thoughts in my plans and influencing much of what we have been doing for the past few years..
Up until a the early nineties we had the ideal self sufficient property. Two acres on the idyllic Bellarine Peninsular, with chooks, garden, orchard, bee-hive, horse, everything we had wanted. We lived there for eighteen years. But, developers, suburbia, illness and government trade policies which led to redundancy for my husband, all combined into an irresistible force that pushed us out and off our property. We sold up and moved into a typical suburban home, on a typical suburban block, in a typical suburban court.
I went into mental and emotional melt down. We endured two years of neighbours, noise, no garden to speak of and a lot of tears and soul searching.
Eventually after much thought we put the new house on the market. To our delight it sold quickly to an eager retiree from Melbourne who thought the views of the sea were divine and was oblivious to the gales that views like these also mean. They were happy and so were we as we began to search for our new home.
We made a careful list of the things we thought necessary for our new place. Qualities that would mean we could live into our old age in a place we loved and would give us time to nurture it while it helped to heal us. Finally, at the foot of Mt Buffalo in Victoria’s high country in the township of Myrtleford, we found our place.
Because of my ongoing health problems we knew we couldn’t work on a large block any more, but a good flat quarter acre, good soil and room for our pets, a shed and a house we could grow old in was our idea of the perfect place. Yes we have neighbours, but they are quiet, friendly and get on with their lives and let us get on with ours. They grow their own food and care for the environment and understand it.
Within two months of our arrival, the bush fires began so it gave us an excuse to get to know everyone VERY quickly. So here we are, and what have we learned?
I love my garden and was lucky the previous owner did also. The trees planted are already large and give great structure, shade and colour to otherwise plain landscaping. She also loved bulbs so we inherited a beautiful variety of spring and autumn bulbs. There weren’t any vegetable gardens or fruit trees so they were our first concern.
I know that each year; working in it will get that little bit more difficult. Here for those of you out there who have matured with G.R and are facing some or similar problems are my suggestion.
The garden.
1. Consider raising the beds to make them easier to work in. Don’t make them too wide as reaching can get very hard at times.
2. Try to get rid of any lawns. Not only do they take too much watering and work. The mowers add to the noise and air pollution, cost money to repair etc. There may come a time when you can’t mow or start the mower especially if you are prone to shoulder problems. Replace the lawns with ground covers and gravel or paving which can be cleared of weeds easily and quickly.
3. Take out all ornamental vines and plants that need annual pruning. Getting up on ladders is not something you will be able to do forever. If you want grapevines etc plant them at reachable levels and espalier other plants onto head height wires. Replace the ones you have removed with bird attracting shrubs and bushes that will still give you pleasure, shade and shelter but less work.
4. Shape the fruit trees to allow for easy picking and access. Again you won’t want to get up on ladders forever.
5. If a rough path, a slope or step is a likely hazard, put the grip rail in now. Not after you have slipped and broken an ankle.
6. Make a quiet warm spot where you can enjoy peace in which to relax on the days when you perhaps don’t feel like working your body but your mind and spirit could do with a boost.
7. Placing some solar lights to show your way to the gates or along your paths could save you and your friends from falling in the shrubbery.
It is my belief that fruit and vegetable prices will keep soaring in the next few years as more and more of our good arable land in taken up for housing plus the lack of people to do the labour intensive work of picking and growing will add to these rises.
To remain healthy, eat the best you can afford and grow your own. If you stint on good quality food, you will simply pay for it with poor health and put the money into doctor’s bills. Our vegetable patch kept the two of us all summer and what I didn’t have, my neighbour who never uses sprays etc was happy to sell me or we swapped. I also had enough to freeze and preserve, dry and make my own sauces etc.
My husband has to watch his sugar so we both feel happier preparing and making our own produce. I dry all my own tomatoes, eggplant and herbs.
We still make our own bread. Admittedly we use a bread maker these days but at least we know what goes into it. It also saves time, effort, money and less visits to the shops where impulse buying is too easy.
We have three compost bins and a busy worm farm. The initial cost isn’t much if you see the price of retail fertilisers. The vegetable garden soil we had delivered was dreadful but after mulching, adding compost leaves and green manure it is beginning to be more friable and obviously producing very well.
The watering system is most important. Firstly, if you can use your grey water and put a good drip system through the garden do it. It saves time, money, effort and water. I have tripped over the garden hoses countless time in my life and I’m not really genetically related to a gooney bird. It only takes one trip when we are older to do some real damage. Heavy garden hoses are also damaging to the plants and bad for your back and shoulders. (I know I harp about shoulders but if you have ever had a frozen shoulder you’ll know it is something to avoid.)
It worries me when younger women with children to feed ask, “what’s that?” pointing at a parsnip or as one check-out girl asked, “what do you do with that?’ When I bought sago. The knowledge of basic and nourishing cooking made from fresh ingredients is dying out amongst our youth. I have been told that there are apartments in the U.S.A that are built with minimum kitchen space because people ‘eat out all the time’.
If this is so, when, not if, there is another severe depression, how will these people survive? The skills will have died out.
Inside the home poses some extra problems for us as we age.
1. The bathroom can become one of the most hazardous rooms in the house. If you think you can afford it, make sure your shower has easy access and plenty of room for a chair if the need arises.
Try and make it as easy to keep clean as possible and place grip handles beside your toilets and baths etc. Again, don’t wait for when your sciatica is so bad you rip the toilet roll holder out of the wall trying to grip something to help you up off the seat!
Try and make sure the door can be opened from outside in case of the occupant collapsing or falling.
2. Paint a white line on the edges of all exterior steps. Those of you with bi-focal glasses will know that judging the edge of something can be difficult.
3 Make sure you have long-life light bulbs in as many light fittings as you can and remember the ladder? Well, my theory is to use well placed standard lamps to minimize the number of times the central light globes have to be replaced.
4. In the kitchen put the things you need most into the cupboards most easily reached. Anything you don’t use much put up in the higher ones until your tall sons arrive for a visit.
Make sure all the surfaces are easily cleaned and smooth and your stove will not become a hazard to you as you age i.e.; good door hinges and firm hot plates etc. If you do have kitchen steps, check the hinges etc and make sure they have non-slip bases
5. If you still use wood for heating make sure you have a trolley to carry the wood. It will save your back and prevent accidental droppings. Keep the wood trolley well stocked and in a convenient place to your heater. A fire screen is a necessity in case of hot coals, falling logs, falling grandchildren and tripping grandmothers!
Have your gas and electric heaters serviced; it is cheaper than having a house fire. This too we have experienced in the family and it is not to be wished on anyone.
6. Get a qualified electrician to install a safety switch in your meter box. For the added tip of a couple of bottles of your home made beer, he will probably check your smoke alarms and replace the batteries for you as well.
7. Consider the insulation of your home and do what you can to close off drafts. We found our house very warm but a little dark. Putting in a skylight helped enormously and saved us electricity for lighting.
8. I am happy to search the op-shops for clothing but I try never to stint on good shoes. If your feet suffer, you suffer and so does your spine. It is worth waiting for the sales and buying well fitting good shoes. In the end they are cheaper than many visits to s chiropodist and orthotic inserts.
9. Keep a pet if you can afford it. They give you a reason to love and be loved and will always be happy to see you get up in the morning no matter what you look like. They also give you a sense of security and in the case of a dog will be helpful to the hearing impaired like my husband, who would often be unaware there is anyone about if the dog didn’t tell him.
10. I find some of the over fifties newspapers very helpful. They are free from most pharmacies and contain interesting articles on healthy aging, services available, places to visit and financial advice.
As the body slows it doesn’t mean the mind has to. I now have time to catalogue the birds, animals and insects that visit our garden. We are lucky to have a tremendous variety that we never tire of watching or photographing Put out a bird feeder and more especially a bird bath, you will be amazed at the little friends who will come to visit your place. Even in drought affected areas I know there will be many who will be trying to spare water for the birds and animals.
The computer keeps us in touch with our family and friends. Although we are gradually making new friends, it is to the old ones we turn at times. The people we don’t have to explain ourselves to and who will and have forgiven us our idiosyncrasies for so many years but have still remained close. Keep in touch with them all. It helps to know there is always someone at the end of the phone or email line. With their wealth of funny stories we get at least one good laugh a day, and humour must be maintained
We have craft skills developed over many years (I used to sell candles at markets and through the pages of G.G). I still like to work on these skills supporting local charities. Hobbies are important for those wet, cold days or when the aches are too much to ignore. Remaining part of the wider community is necessary and healthier for us all.
We knew that one day our paid working lives would end. Ours ended at the whim of outside forces and boards of management, not at our timing and planning. The adjustment has been difficult for my husband. After working since he was sixteen to find at sixty he was not needed in that daily routine was hard. It has been difficult but there are many in the same situation, at least our family are grown and have left home and were not directly affected as were so many of the younger people in the industries in which hubby worked.
Fortunately he is a talented artist and this is now his primary interest.
After three years here there are times when I still miss our old, bigger garden and the memories it held. We miss our family left behind down in Geelong and the soul searching about whether we should be down there for them at times still returns. But we have moved on and so have they and all our friends. I suspect there will be no going back
and this WILL be our last home. However, we thought that was the case twenty years ago. As I age, I’ll no doubt find more and more things that could be suggested but these are a few thoughts from my flu’ befuddled brain.
We’ll just have to keep an eye out for that suburban sprawl and hope it doesn’t appear over the horizon too soon.
Post Script. As it happened and I dreaded, we returned to suburbia but the struggle with self sufficiency and improving our personal environment still continues.
The End. (C) Reprinted from my article in Grass Roots magazine No 176. 2006
The End. (C) Reprinted from my article in Grass Roots magazine No 176. 2006
Monday, April 6, 2009
An Ability Garden.
This Article Was Printed in Grass Roots Magazine
No 181 In 2007.
An ‘Ability Garden’ For Those With Disabilities.
Many of us suffer from a disability personally, or someone close to us suffers from one. However, many of us also want to live the Grass Roots life style despite the obvious challenges it will bring.
Perhaps the disability is physical, emotional, auditory, visual or a combination of them. Some people may have lived with the problem for a lifetime while others, especially aging ‘ hippy baby boomers’ like us, will have felt Father Time tapping ever harder on their shoulders, necks, backs etc as they grow older.
Whatever the disability there are ways to help the person enjoy the garden and receive satisfaction from being an active participant in the self sufficient life style.
Producing healthy organically grown vegetables and fruit can be one of the most satisfying occupations and as our petrol prices rise ever upwards leading to higher costs in our grocery bills, we will appreciate our own home grown produce more each time we visit a supermarket.
Simple tasks in the garden need not become obstacles and the therapeutic affects of working and enjoying the delights of nature don’t have to be lost. There are some extremely helpful internet sites which list tools designed and available to Australians for people with all types of disabilities. In most major town there are health professionals who will be able to assist in putting a person in touch with shops and business who specialize in special needs tools and implements. Sometimes a little bit if G.R practicability can alter and adapt tools we already own.
It is important when designing a garden to keep it in a scale in keeping with the abilities of the gardener. My husband and I used to have a few acres but as my ability to work in the garden has diminished and he is ‘maturing nicely’, we made the difficult choice to move to a smaller quarter acre block in town.
I did regret it initially and missed the old garden and its years of memories enormously. However I kept reminding myself that when I worked as hard as I could for an entire day in the bigger place, I could barely see the day’s achievements as I looked about and saw all there was still to be done. It left me with the feeling that I never really had it under control or finished.
Now in the smaller garden, we can work for an hour and know we have made a difference. We can even take time to sit back and enjoy it and watch the birds and insects ( and occasional reptile) that share it with us. It’s the old saying over again ‘don’t bite off more than you can chew!” Commonsense must apply where your health and quality of life is concerned.
These are a few of the fundamentals we have worked out during the past four years in our new place.
Because bending to weed and plant seeds and seedlings is so difficult, we have planned built up vegetable gardens and raised flower and herb gardens in such a way as to allow easy weeding. We found that the ideal height for beds must enable the gardener to be able to reach the centre of the bed easily.
Pathways have been a big consideration and we have thought long and hard and planned for the future.
We have concluded they should be wide enough to accommodate wheelchairs, walking frames and people using walking sticks. This may not be a necessity now but could be in the future. Why waste time and money now on paths that a few years ahead you may need to alter again? Look ahead, it isn’t pessimism, its facing reality, we all get older and frailer. The paths should be smooth and non slip especially during times of rain or frost. Different paths could be used to allow people with vision problems to feel and hear the changes. (Perhaps from gravel to stone.) Hand rails need to be fitted at intervals to allow a person to rest or steady themselves. Seats in different places are also a necessity and afford pleasure at different seasons of the year if well placed. Steps should be marked clearly and if they can be eliminated and replaced with ramps, so much the better.
If you use planter boxes or pots, it is a sensible idea to have them placed on wheels to allow for cleaning under them and assist with moving.
Choosing your garden plants is most important. Take into account the future growth and habit of the plant. Don’t buy and plant on impulse, it could lead to years of problems. Small eucalypts for instance can grow into limb dropping, beautiful specimens that belong in the forests or at least a long way from your home and away from other buildings and vehicles during a wind storm. I have seen only this month the enormous damage to property that a single inappropriately placed tree can do to people’s homes. The height of some of these can easily be underestimated. When they fall, they have a long reach.
Some trees and plants such as vines need annual pruning. If this is beyond your abilities and you can’t afford to pay someone to do the job for you, then find another plant. Care should be exercised with some herbs and self seeding plants. They can get away from you and start infesting areas of you garden where you don’t want them creating a constant weeding problem and your own private environmental nuisance. During the 70’ many people used Wandering Jew as a ground cover and have lived long enough to regret it. Mint, achylia, yarrow, lupin, the dreaded ivy! There are dozens in the list of plants that if they are allowed to run or seed freely will be a major problem. I have read in history books of our area, that the Ovens Valley in Victoria became over run with St Johns Wort when a well meaning lady using it for medicinal reasons, allowed it to escape. So check with your local nurseries and environment experts if you are unsure if the plants you are choosing are suitable for your area.
For the vision impaired, use different textures and scents. Keeping shrubs and trees clipped sufficiently to prevent these people from having their faces hit by low growing plants is most important. Fallen branches and twigs also present a hazard.
Some trees have their own special individual sound or ‘music’ as I call it, when the wind blows the leaves. An alert ear can, after some practice, pick up the individual sounds of various species. Native grasses and reeds make whispering sounds in the breeze. It can be a magic experience even for those of us who just sit and shut our eyes and listen.
If you can afford someone to mow the grass and you are happy to pay for the water bills fine, but we are getting rid of ours under, mulch, paving, and ground covers. We don’t want to have to afford the water, petrol, mower costs or the constant effort involved. I also intend for the nature strip to eventually be covered under drought tolerant ground covers.
Eliminating the need to get on ladders and reaching with potentially dangerous implements is something we are trying to avoid. Of course gutters must be cleaned and there will always be a need to have some small tasks done but eliminating all you can is sensible.
Fruit trees are a must for us, so we have purposely chosen special ones in the new dwarf varieties, in apples and peaches and we have espaliered our fig and plums and kept the apricots, nectarines and pears to a manageable hight. The plums are used to keep the sun off the west veranda of the house, as well as provide fruit. Grafted trees can give you two or three varieties from one stock root if space is a concern.
Use safe, well maintained equipment that doesn’t stress your body. Simple tools are often still the best to keep close by. Tie a string to things that you may drop, then you can reel it in instead of having to bend over.
Mechanical seeders are on the market but I find mixing the seeds with sand helps me to see where they have been planted and allows even distribution. Bigger seeds such as beans, peas and corn etc can be sown by dropping them through a small plumbing pipe. This helps to place them exactly where I want them without having to bend.
A bush house or hot house is a wonderful place for anyone who loves to spend time raising seedlings and taking cuttings. It can be a refuge from the elements and will always provide interest. The benches etc need to be built at appropriate levels and a work table where you can sit comfortably is ideal
Ensure you have good exterior lighting for the times when you need to be out after dark. Walking to the chook shed in the dusk or early morning has its hazards. And if you may be likely to slip or are not too steady on your feet, have a whistle hanging near the door (and your hat) so you remember to put both on and then you have it to use in case help is needed. I good friend of mine slipped on wet clay, broke a leg in two places and was lying in the rain for two hours. Her family thought she had gone for a walk. A whistle would have attracted someone’s attention much sooner and saved a lot of trauma.
Hanging plants can be counterbalanced to allow for easy watering and weeding. This works really well for strawberries etc.
Take the trouble and time to install easily maintained watering systems. They save time, money and effort.
An apron with pockets for various things such as secateurs, ties, packets etc can be adapted for a wheel chair or walking frame. It can of course, also carry your mobile phone instead of dropping it out of your pocket into the worm farm like I did.
Scented plants are everyone’s favourite. Lavender, herbs, mock orange, fresh fruit, lovely fresh tomatoes and melons and the beautiful smell of fresh healthy soil is a joy to all.
The birds your small bit of paradise will attract will reward you each day.
Make a place for eating and relaxing within easy reach of the house if you can. It allows access on days when moving about is difficult. When a person suffers constant and chronic pain, the temptation is always there to stay indoors in a comfortable chair and not move about. If you have somewhere with easy access outside or on a veranda where it is possible to sit and watch the activity of the animals, birds and insects (or even someone else’s activity) the day somehow seems to be better. Well it does for me, so I think it would for many people.
Watching television may be good at times but the little dramas and pleasures of our garden can be just as enthralling. I may not always be able to take part in the work, although I’m usually excellent at giving gratuitous advice, I am able to do enough to enjoy the knowledge of knowing I have contributed just a little to the greening of the earth and my own better health.
The End.(C)
Many of us suffer from a disability personally, or someone close to us suffers from one. However, many of us also want to live the Grass Roots life style despite the obvious challenges it will bring.
Perhaps the disability is physical, emotional, auditory, visual or a combination of them. Some people may have lived with the problem for a lifetime while others, especially aging ‘ hippy baby boomers’ like us, will have felt Father Time tapping ever harder on their shoulders, necks, backs etc as they grow older.
Whatever the disability there are ways to help the person enjoy the garden and receive satisfaction from being an active participant in the self sufficient life style.
Producing healthy organically grown vegetables and fruit can be one of the most satisfying occupations and as our petrol prices rise ever upwards leading to higher costs in our grocery bills, we will appreciate our own home grown produce more each time we visit a supermarket.
Simple tasks in the garden need not become obstacles and the therapeutic affects of working and enjoying the delights of nature don’t have to be lost. There are some extremely helpful internet sites which list tools designed and available to Australians for people with all types of disabilities. In most major town there are health professionals who will be able to assist in putting a person in touch with shops and business who specialize in special needs tools and implements. Sometimes a little bit if G.R practicability can alter and adapt tools we already own.
It is important when designing a garden to keep it in a scale in keeping with the abilities of the gardener. My husband and I used to have a few acres but as my ability to work in the garden has diminished and he is ‘maturing nicely’, we made the difficult choice to move to a smaller quarter acre block in town.
I did regret it initially and missed the old garden and its years of memories enormously. However I kept reminding myself that when I worked as hard as I could for an entire day in the bigger place, I could barely see the day’s achievements as I looked about and saw all there was still to be done. It left me with the feeling that I never really had it under control or finished.
Now in the smaller garden, we can work for an hour and know we have made a difference. We can even take time to sit back and enjoy it and watch the birds and insects ( and occasional reptile) that share it with us. It’s the old saying over again ‘don’t bite off more than you can chew!” Commonsense must apply where your health and quality of life is concerned.
These are a few of the fundamentals we have worked out during the past four years in our new place.
Because bending to weed and plant seeds and seedlings is so difficult, we have planned built up vegetable gardens and raised flower and herb gardens in such a way as to allow easy weeding. We found that the ideal height for beds must enable the gardener to be able to reach the centre of the bed easily.
Pathways have been a big consideration and we have thought long and hard and planned for the future.
We have concluded they should be wide enough to accommodate wheelchairs, walking frames and people using walking sticks. This may not be a necessity now but could be in the future. Why waste time and money now on paths that a few years ahead you may need to alter again? Look ahead, it isn’t pessimism, its facing reality, we all get older and frailer. The paths should be smooth and non slip especially during times of rain or frost. Different paths could be used to allow people with vision problems to feel and hear the changes. (Perhaps from gravel to stone.) Hand rails need to be fitted at intervals to allow a person to rest or steady themselves. Seats in different places are also a necessity and afford pleasure at different seasons of the year if well placed. Steps should be marked clearly and if they can be eliminated and replaced with ramps, so much the better.
If you use planter boxes or pots, it is a sensible idea to have them placed on wheels to allow for cleaning under them and assist with moving.
Choosing your garden plants is most important. Take into account the future growth and habit of the plant. Don’t buy and plant on impulse, it could lead to years of problems. Small eucalypts for instance can grow into limb dropping, beautiful specimens that belong in the forests or at least a long way from your home and away from other buildings and vehicles during a wind storm. I have seen only this month the enormous damage to property that a single inappropriately placed tree can do to people’s homes. The height of some of these can easily be underestimated. When they fall, they have a long reach.
Some trees and plants such as vines need annual pruning. If this is beyond your abilities and you can’t afford to pay someone to do the job for you, then find another plant. Care should be exercised with some herbs and self seeding plants. They can get away from you and start infesting areas of you garden where you don’t want them creating a constant weeding problem and your own private environmental nuisance. During the 70’ many people used Wandering Jew as a ground cover and have lived long enough to regret it. Mint, achylia, yarrow, lupin, the dreaded ivy! There are dozens in the list of plants that if they are allowed to run or seed freely will be a major problem. I have read in history books of our area, that the Ovens Valley in Victoria became over run with St Johns Wort when a well meaning lady using it for medicinal reasons, allowed it to escape. So check with your local nurseries and environment experts if you are unsure if the plants you are choosing are suitable for your area.
For the vision impaired, use different textures and scents. Keeping shrubs and trees clipped sufficiently to prevent these people from having their faces hit by low growing plants is most important. Fallen branches and twigs also present a hazard.
Some trees have their own special individual sound or ‘music’ as I call it, when the wind blows the leaves. An alert ear can, after some practice, pick up the individual sounds of various species. Native grasses and reeds make whispering sounds in the breeze. It can be a magic experience even for those of us who just sit and shut our eyes and listen.
If you can afford someone to mow the grass and you are happy to pay for the water bills fine, but we are getting rid of ours under, mulch, paving, and ground covers. We don’t want to have to afford the water, petrol, mower costs or the constant effort involved. I also intend for the nature strip to eventually be covered under drought tolerant ground covers.
Eliminating the need to get on ladders and reaching with potentially dangerous implements is something we are trying to avoid. Of course gutters must be cleaned and there will always be a need to have some small tasks done but eliminating all you can is sensible.
Fruit trees are a must for us, so we have purposely chosen special ones in the new dwarf varieties, in apples and peaches and we have espaliered our fig and plums and kept the apricots, nectarines and pears to a manageable hight. The plums are used to keep the sun off the west veranda of the house, as well as provide fruit. Grafted trees can give you two or three varieties from one stock root if space is a concern.
Use safe, well maintained equipment that doesn’t stress your body. Simple tools are often still the best to keep close by. Tie a string to things that you may drop, then you can reel it in instead of having to bend over.
Mechanical seeders are on the market but I find mixing the seeds with sand helps me to see where they have been planted and allows even distribution. Bigger seeds such as beans, peas and corn etc can be sown by dropping them through a small plumbing pipe. This helps to place them exactly where I want them without having to bend.
A bush house or hot house is a wonderful place for anyone who loves to spend time raising seedlings and taking cuttings. It can be a refuge from the elements and will always provide interest. The benches etc need to be built at appropriate levels and a work table where you can sit comfortably is ideal
Ensure you have good exterior lighting for the times when you need to be out after dark. Walking to the chook shed in the dusk or early morning has its hazards. And if you may be likely to slip or are not too steady on your feet, have a whistle hanging near the door (and your hat) so you remember to put both on and then you have it to use in case help is needed. I good friend of mine slipped on wet clay, broke a leg in two places and was lying in the rain for two hours. Her family thought she had gone for a walk. A whistle would have attracted someone’s attention much sooner and saved a lot of trauma.
Hanging plants can be counterbalanced to allow for easy watering and weeding. This works really well for strawberries etc.
Take the trouble and time to install easily maintained watering systems. They save time, money and effort.
An apron with pockets for various things such as secateurs, ties, packets etc can be adapted for a wheel chair or walking frame. It can of course, also carry your mobile phone instead of dropping it out of your pocket into the worm farm like I did.
Scented plants are everyone’s favourite. Lavender, herbs, mock orange, fresh fruit, lovely fresh tomatoes and melons and the beautiful smell of fresh healthy soil is a joy to all.
The birds your small bit of paradise will attract will reward you each day.
Make a place for eating and relaxing within easy reach of the house if you can. It allows access on days when moving about is difficult. When a person suffers constant and chronic pain, the temptation is always there to stay indoors in a comfortable chair and not move about. If you have somewhere with easy access outside or on a veranda where it is possible to sit and watch the activity of the animals, birds and insects (or even someone else’s activity) the day somehow seems to be better. Well it does for me, so I think it would for many people.
Watching television may be good at times but the little dramas and pleasures of our garden can be just as enthralling. I may not always be able to take part in the work, although I’m usually excellent at giving gratuitous advice, I am able to do enough to enjoy the knowledge of knowing I have contributed just a little to the greening of the earth and my own better health.
The End.(C)
Sunday, April 5, 2009
LETTER FROM THE OTHER SIDE. APRIL
Dear Del,
It was so nice to receive your last letter with all its news.
We have had a few things happen over here also and one of the positives is that
Teddy tells me he is making stirling engines.
I have no idea what these things are by the way, except he is making them from used and washed out cat food tins and various other bits he rescues from the recycle bin. These engines don’t appear to be of much use to anyone but Teddy who seems to think they are endlessly fascinating. He drags me out to admire his little cat food tin steam engines chugging away and I try to find some appropriate words of admiration.……… Of course with all things mechanical, they haven’t always gone to plan and he has exploded a few leaving large dents in his brand new shed. Which he says makes it look more ‘lived in.’
He has also joined a group called TADVIC which I think is a state-wide organization. They help to repair, or redesign aids for people with disabilities. He loves it and comes home after the meetings with various projects to do. It has helped to take the place of all the old times at home when he helped his mates repair aging farm machinery so in between blowing up his sterling engines, he is enjoying it. He has also made a couple of water rockets but I have banned them as he let one go that flew across the block. It was one thing to do that sort of thing in a paddock…entirely another in suburbia.
I became furious with the young boys next door a few weeks ago. There were very loud bangs on our roof and I suspected they were throwing rocks onto our roof in retaliation for Teddy’s explosions. Anyway I contemplated going across to tell them off after a really bad afternoon when I had been trying to have a rest because of a dreadful headache. My blood was up and I had my little speech all worked out.
Teddy was in the garage when there was another bang and I was just about to fly out the door in high indignation when he came in grinning like an ass.
I wasn’t in the mood for his silly jokes so I told him what I was about to do. He said he didn’t think I should and I argued about my right to a peaceful life etc. what with him as well as the boys next door it was all too much.
He took me by the hand and walked me out to the garage. There in the back were the boxes of ginger beer I had carefully stored. One by one with changes of temperature they had been exploding and the tops hitting the shed roof!
I did laugh about it later but I was so mortified at how close I had come to making a fool of myself and perhaps ruining our relationship with the neighbours and their blameless children. Never assume my mother used to admonish, she was right so often.
Teddy and I hope you are well and enjoying the cooler days. Once the rain came after such a dreadful summer I resolved never again to complain about it unless we had enough for the water to be lapping at my doors.
You remember I told you Aunt Alice’s brother was ill well, as expected, he died. I hope you have time to sit and read this letter as I just have to tell someone of our day at the funeral.
I can’t talk to Teddy about it because he is still suffering from the day’s trauma and the mere mention of Aunt Alice or Uncle Roger sends him rushing down to his shed to hide with his sterling engines.
Anyway…… back to the funeral. As you know they have had very heavy rains and some light flooding up Wellsgate way and of course it was just our luck for the day we had to drive up for it to be blowing a strong westerly wind complete with rain squalls which buffeted the car as we drove up the Hume Highway. Semi trailers and B-doubles intimidated the car drivers as the wash and spray from the dozens of tyres they have completely obliterated the windscreens wit their muck.
Monica and her husband Tony were very generously taking the day off from their busy jobs to drive up behind us in case we needed moral support and because she is fond of the old couple. As it happens I’m not sure it was such a good idea.
We had picked the old couple up quite early. They both wore their best winter outfits which having been stored carefully during summer, reeked of mothballs. Uncle Rodger even wore his hat…… which I think was first in fashion during the 1950’s. Aunt Alice was rugged up in mauve and her sharp little eyes peered at us with obvious excitement from under her fluffy woollen cloche.
The idea of the long ride and the anticipation of meeting up with various family members seemed to have dimmed any loss she felt from her brother’s death.
Once we turned off the main road they enjoyed looking at the various farms and pointing out places they knew and remarking about the people they knew who had lived in the homesteads. Their memories were very sharp and some of their comments if repeated in public could probably lead to charges of slander.
I felt a bit sorry for some of the animals standing in forlorn groups with their backs to the wind trying to get some warmth from each other.
Teddy had put a new deodorizer in the car because of Aunt Alice’s flatulence problems but he was still forced to lower the window every so often.
She complained he would make her arthritis act up if he kept letting in the cold air and he, rather acidly for Teddy, remarked under his breath it was ‘ better than the air coming out’
Uncle Rodger asked to stop at every toilet he noticed in between giving Teddy endless driving instructions which he bellowed in Teddy’s left ear because he considers everyone is as deaf as he is.
Between Teddy’s tension- I could see his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel- Uncles Rodger’s incessant instructions and Aunt Alice’s problems; I was feeling thoroughly frazzled by the time we reached the little church.
I had hoped we could make our arrival as unobtrusive as possible and enter the church quietly but Aunt Alice soon put paid to that when she strode up to the front pews remarking very loudly that ‘she hadn’t known Alf knew so many people and did they all expect to inherit something!’
I just wanted to shrink between the cracks in the floor boards.
The old timber church shook with the force of the wind and the doors squeaked and clattered. The organist was evidently not used to doing the services and with such a large congregation, she must have been nervous, so it was quite impossible to pick up the tunes of the hymns she was playing. Most people tried valiantly to sing along but succeeded in making sounds more like the whinnying and braying of animals. Aunt Alice still unaware of how loudly she speaks, used the silence as we all sank thankfully back down onto our pews by remarking ‘That sounded like Brown’s cows’. Some younger people in front of us giggled and turned around and both Teddy and I tried to pretend we didn’t know her.
After the service, it was too cold to stand in the wind to chat outside the church so we raced back to our cars…well race is hardly the right word with the old people…..of course the walking stick, walking frames had to be put into the boot, Uncle Rodger’s long legs folded in carefully for him and all the seat belts clipped properly etc… by which time poor Teddy was soaked by yet another squall. The hearse took off at such a pace we were left behind and so by the time we reached the cemetery, quite a few people were already there.
It still looks scruffy with its old pine trees and enormous clumps of white arum lilies and thistles in the old colonial section which give protection to big populations of rabbits and snakes. The latter bask on the granite gravestones when human are not about on summer days.
Once more we had to go through getting the old people out with their sticks and walking frames while trying to shelter us all from the gale as we made our way up the gravel path to the gravesite. The force of the wind blowing through the old cypress cannoned pine-cones at us and rivulets of water ran down the unkempt path soaking our shoes. I caught sight of the group trudging ahead of us and thought how we must all look like a little flotilla of boats sailing on a rough sea as we held our umbrella’s up like spinnakers to try and gain some meagre protection. Aunt Alice still found the breath to tell me I had worn silly shoes for such a day.
The Vicar trying valiantly to maintain some decorum walked in front of the hearse to enforce the young driver to slow down to a more moderate speed. Unfortunately he lost his footing when a gust blew his white surplice up over his head causing the poor man to slip and fall heavily onto the path almost becoming another casualty when the hearse barely stopped in time to miss hitting him.
With difficulty he managed to get himself more or less straightened out without too much hurt except to his pride and trying to ignore the wet and muddy patches on his cassock and his even wetter and muddier backside…..he began the internment.
All seemed to be going well until we became aware the coffin was not going down as it should. The funeral director walked across to the vicar and whispered something. The Vicar peered closer into the grave and a look of resignation crossed his face. Teddy whispered, to me ‘it’s not going down, it floating.’ Tony turned gave Teddy such a look of utter disbelief,….. he is after all a city boy who hasn’t had much to do with the vagaries of country life…..- so Teddy explained as best he could, that the ground of the cemetery had only been donated by the original settler of the area because he knew it held water and wasn’t useful. So after the recent heavy rain it would take quite a while to drain away.
Aunt Alice who has ears like the proverbial bat remembered this after hearing Teddy and so demanded the pall bearers ‘Pull him up again.’ She carried on saying, ‘He never did like water he was always a sook about water and he shouldn’t be left there’ this encouraged her cousin Basil, who is even older than she is to air his grievances against Alf. Something to do with never knowing when he had worn out his welcome and then there arose an almighty row between the two old people. Basil baring his yellow teeth at Aunt Alice stomped off back to his car, his arthritic legs going up and down as if he were a marionette….. Uncle Rodger leaned over and said plaintively in Teddy’s ear ‘see what I have to put up with’?
The Vicar knew by this time he had completely lost control of the situation and called for calm and some respect for the deceased which did quieten them down to low mutterings.
Eventually it was settled and they agreed to lower Alf the next day. By now we were all soaked and there was sleet in the air.
I just wanted to get back home and so did Teddy. Aunt Alice wanted to continue the argument but we eventually got her back to the church hall where we hoped to enjoy a warm drink and dry out a little..
Teddy was famished and looking forward to eating something when Rose, another ancient cousin of Aunt Alice’s, complained that the nuts in the cake she was eating had got under her dentures. She then proceeded to remove them and place them delicately on the tablecloth complete with long strands of saliva hanging from them. They grinned up at Teddy. He looked across at Tony who had been watching in amazement and the two men picked up their drinks and went outside. We didn’t see them again until it was time to leave.
On the way back things were quiet in the rear seat Uncle Rodger had run out of driving instructions and Aunt Alice, was I thought, asleep, until I mentioned Rose’s teeth to Teddy. From the back seat she scolded ‘Yes, some people lose their sense of decorum as they grow older’
Since she was the instigator of most of the day’s problems and we were still suffering from the affects of the egg sandwiches she had consumed, we remained speechless until we arrived back.
It is the first time since we moved here I was glad to come back. But I think you can understand why Teddy is still feeling rather washed out by our day.
Monica is in America for business this week. She has to travel over the Rockies, driving a Hummer having never driven one before and never driven in snow or on the right hand side of the road.
Like everything I expect she will take it in her stride and come home with tales that will ensure we worry even more about her next time she goes. I also expect she is glad to be away from Tony’s taunts about her wacky family.
The tyranny of having to make another meal approaches so I must go. Thank you for being my silent listener,
I look forward to your next letter, cheers for now, your extremely harassed flower child friend,
Cynthia.
P.S It is Aunt Alice’s birthday next month.(C)
It was so nice to receive your last letter with all its news.
We have had a few things happen over here also and one of the positives is that
Teddy tells me he is making stirling engines.
I have no idea what these things are by the way, except he is making them from used and washed out cat food tins and various other bits he rescues from the recycle bin. These engines don’t appear to be of much use to anyone but Teddy who seems to think they are endlessly fascinating. He drags me out to admire his little cat food tin steam engines chugging away and I try to find some appropriate words of admiration.……… Of course with all things mechanical, they haven’t always gone to plan and he has exploded a few leaving large dents in his brand new shed. Which he says makes it look more ‘lived in.’
He has also joined a group called TADVIC which I think is a state-wide organization. They help to repair, or redesign aids for people with disabilities. He loves it and comes home after the meetings with various projects to do. It has helped to take the place of all the old times at home when he helped his mates repair aging farm machinery so in between blowing up his sterling engines, he is enjoying it. He has also made a couple of water rockets but I have banned them as he let one go that flew across the block. It was one thing to do that sort of thing in a paddock…entirely another in suburbia.
I became furious with the young boys next door a few weeks ago. There were very loud bangs on our roof and I suspected they were throwing rocks onto our roof in retaliation for Teddy’s explosions. Anyway I contemplated going across to tell them off after a really bad afternoon when I had been trying to have a rest because of a dreadful headache. My blood was up and I had my little speech all worked out.
Teddy was in the garage when there was another bang and I was just about to fly out the door in high indignation when he came in grinning like an ass.
I wasn’t in the mood for his silly jokes so I told him what I was about to do. He said he didn’t think I should and I argued about my right to a peaceful life etc. what with him as well as the boys next door it was all too much.
He took me by the hand and walked me out to the garage. There in the back were the boxes of ginger beer I had carefully stored. One by one with changes of temperature they had been exploding and the tops hitting the shed roof!
I did laugh about it later but I was so mortified at how close I had come to making a fool of myself and perhaps ruining our relationship with the neighbours and their blameless children. Never assume my mother used to admonish, she was right so often.
Teddy and I hope you are well and enjoying the cooler days. Once the rain came after such a dreadful summer I resolved never again to complain about it unless we had enough for the water to be lapping at my doors.
You remember I told you Aunt Alice’s brother was ill well, as expected, he died. I hope you have time to sit and read this letter as I just have to tell someone of our day at the funeral.
I can’t talk to Teddy about it because he is still suffering from the day’s trauma and the mere mention of Aunt Alice or Uncle Roger sends him rushing down to his shed to hide with his sterling engines.
Anyway…… back to the funeral. As you know they have had very heavy rains and some light flooding up Wellsgate way and of course it was just our luck for the day we had to drive up for it to be blowing a strong westerly wind complete with rain squalls which buffeted the car as we drove up the Hume Highway. Semi trailers and B-doubles intimidated the car drivers as the wash and spray from the dozens of tyres they have completely obliterated the windscreens wit their muck.
Monica and her husband Tony were very generously taking the day off from their busy jobs to drive up behind us in case we needed moral support and because she is fond of the old couple. As it happens I’m not sure it was such a good idea.
We had picked the old couple up quite early. They both wore their best winter outfits which having been stored carefully during summer, reeked of mothballs. Uncle Rodger even wore his hat…… which I think was first in fashion during the 1950’s. Aunt Alice was rugged up in mauve and her sharp little eyes peered at us with obvious excitement from under her fluffy woollen cloche.
The idea of the long ride and the anticipation of meeting up with various family members seemed to have dimmed any loss she felt from her brother’s death.
Once we turned off the main road they enjoyed looking at the various farms and pointing out places they knew and remarking about the people they knew who had lived in the homesteads. Their memories were very sharp and some of their comments if repeated in public could probably lead to charges of slander.
I felt a bit sorry for some of the animals standing in forlorn groups with their backs to the wind trying to get some warmth from each other.
Teddy had put a new deodorizer in the car because of Aunt Alice’s flatulence problems but he was still forced to lower the window every so often.
She complained he would make her arthritis act up if he kept letting in the cold air and he, rather acidly for Teddy, remarked under his breath it was ‘ better than the air coming out’
Uncle Rodger asked to stop at every toilet he noticed in between giving Teddy endless driving instructions which he bellowed in Teddy’s left ear because he considers everyone is as deaf as he is.
Between Teddy’s tension- I could see his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel- Uncles Rodger’s incessant instructions and Aunt Alice’s problems; I was feeling thoroughly frazzled by the time we reached the little church.
I had hoped we could make our arrival as unobtrusive as possible and enter the church quietly but Aunt Alice soon put paid to that when she strode up to the front pews remarking very loudly that ‘she hadn’t known Alf knew so many people and did they all expect to inherit something!’
I just wanted to shrink between the cracks in the floor boards.
The old timber church shook with the force of the wind and the doors squeaked and clattered. The organist was evidently not used to doing the services and with such a large congregation, she must have been nervous, so it was quite impossible to pick up the tunes of the hymns she was playing. Most people tried valiantly to sing along but succeeded in making sounds more like the whinnying and braying of animals. Aunt Alice still unaware of how loudly she speaks, used the silence as we all sank thankfully back down onto our pews by remarking ‘That sounded like Brown’s cows’. Some younger people in front of us giggled and turned around and both Teddy and I tried to pretend we didn’t know her.
After the service, it was too cold to stand in the wind to chat outside the church so we raced back to our cars…well race is hardly the right word with the old people…..of course the walking stick, walking frames had to be put into the boot, Uncle Rodger’s long legs folded in carefully for him and all the seat belts clipped properly etc… by which time poor Teddy was soaked by yet another squall. The hearse took off at such a pace we were left behind and so by the time we reached the cemetery, quite a few people were already there.
It still looks scruffy with its old pine trees and enormous clumps of white arum lilies and thistles in the old colonial section which give protection to big populations of rabbits and snakes. The latter bask on the granite gravestones when human are not about on summer days.
Once more we had to go through getting the old people out with their sticks and walking frames while trying to shelter us all from the gale as we made our way up the gravel path to the gravesite. The force of the wind blowing through the old cypress cannoned pine-cones at us and rivulets of water ran down the unkempt path soaking our shoes. I caught sight of the group trudging ahead of us and thought how we must all look like a little flotilla of boats sailing on a rough sea as we held our umbrella’s up like spinnakers to try and gain some meagre protection. Aunt Alice still found the breath to tell me I had worn silly shoes for such a day.
The Vicar trying valiantly to maintain some decorum walked in front of the hearse to enforce the young driver to slow down to a more moderate speed. Unfortunately he lost his footing when a gust blew his white surplice up over his head causing the poor man to slip and fall heavily onto the path almost becoming another casualty when the hearse barely stopped in time to miss hitting him.
With difficulty he managed to get himself more or less straightened out without too much hurt except to his pride and trying to ignore the wet and muddy patches on his cassock and his even wetter and muddier backside…..he began the internment.
All seemed to be going well until we became aware the coffin was not going down as it should. The funeral director walked across to the vicar and whispered something. The Vicar peered closer into the grave and a look of resignation crossed his face. Teddy whispered, to me ‘it’s not going down, it floating.’ Tony turned gave Teddy such a look of utter disbelief,….. he is after all a city boy who hasn’t had much to do with the vagaries of country life…..- so Teddy explained as best he could, that the ground of the cemetery had only been donated by the original settler of the area because he knew it held water and wasn’t useful. So after the recent heavy rain it would take quite a while to drain away.
Aunt Alice who has ears like the proverbial bat remembered this after hearing Teddy and so demanded the pall bearers ‘Pull him up again.’ She carried on saying, ‘He never did like water he was always a sook about water and he shouldn’t be left there’ this encouraged her cousin Basil, who is even older than she is to air his grievances against Alf. Something to do with never knowing when he had worn out his welcome and then there arose an almighty row between the two old people. Basil baring his yellow teeth at Aunt Alice stomped off back to his car, his arthritic legs going up and down as if he were a marionette….. Uncle Rodger leaned over and said plaintively in Teddy’s ear ‘see what I have to put up with’?
The Vicar knew by this time he had completely lost control of the situation and called for calm and some respect for the deceased which did quieten them down to low mutterings.
Eventually it was settled and they agreed to lower Alf the next day. By now we were all soaked and there was sleet in the air.
I just wanted to get back home and so did Teddy. Aunt Alice wanted to continue the argument but we eventually got her back to the church hall where we hoped to enjoy a warm drink and dry out a little..
Teddy was famished and looking forward to eating something when Rose, another ancient cousin of Aunt Alice’s, complained that the nuts in the cake she was eating had got under her dentures. She then proceeded to remove them and place them delicately on the tablecloth complete with long strands of saliva hanging from them. They grinned up at Teddy. He looked across at Tony who had been watching in amazement and the two men picked up their drinks and went outside. We didn’t see them again until it was time to leave.
On the way back things were quiet in the rear seat Uncle Rodger had run out of driving instructions and Aunt Alice, was I thought, asleep, until I mentioned Rose’s teeth to Teddy. From the back seat she scolded ‘Yes, some people lose their sense of decorum as they grow older’
Since she was the instigator of most of the day’s problems and we were still suffering from the affects of the egg sandwiches she had consumed, we remained speechless until we arrived back.
It is the first time since we moved here I was glad to come back. But I think you can understand why Teddy is still feeling rather washed out by our day.
Monica is in America for business this week. She has to travel over the Rockies, driving a Hummer having never driven one before and never driven in snow or on the right hand side of the road.
Like everything I expect she will take it in her stride and come home with tales that will ensure we worry even more about her next time she goes. I also expect she is glad to be away from Tony’s taunts about her wacky family.
The tyranny of having to make another meal approaches so I must go. Thank you for being my silent listener,
I look forward to your next letter, cheers for now, your extremely harassed flower child friend,
Cynthia.
P.S It is Aunt Alice’s birthday next month.(C)
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