A New Year. 2011

Letter From The Other Side; from Cynthia No 2 2011.

Dear Del,

I think if this time last year anyone had expressed the opinion that they were tired of constant rain, someone would have grabbed them in a headlock and dragged them to a suitable place to be lynched. These aggressive actions would have perhaps attracted a cheering crowd to watch the unfortunate person’s discomfort.
I would have been front and centre at the spectacle with my knitting to maintain the best traditions of bygone days.
But I think today after yet more flooding, anyone could feel free to voice the words loudly while standing among the biggest crowd without being throttled by any irate farmer.

The tourists, with the exception of a few wandering elderly citizens and grey nomads, have mostly left the village and we can once again find parking where we wish and walk the isles of the shops without fear of being trampled by children or their parents, oblivious to where their feet are taking them as they stroll along peering up at the hills. Even the one-way street signs are once again being observed by the majority of the motorists. The gentleman who lives at the end of our road and drives a large Mercedes and is on a restricted license is the one exception, as are a few cyclists who think they can ignore road signs and knock over elderly ladies at will.

At one stage during the summer we were inundated by three thousand Lycra clad cyclists who spread themselves out over the countryside in swarms, clogging the roads and weaving into the motorist’s lanes without a care in the world as they sweated up the mountain roads in pursuit of being first to the top. There must have been a very good prize to encourage them to make the struggle and lose so many litres of fluid.

Many of us entertained visitors to our homes and for most this was an added pleasure which living in such a picturesque place brings.

To one of our friends it became anything but a delightful experience.

While overseas recently during the southern winter, Helen met a couple from Europe who expressed the urge to take part in an adventure holiday.
She is of a generous and hospitable nature but feels now, when she has had time to reflect, was most probably also under the influence of a very good red wine as she issued them an open invitation to come and stay with her.

She discovered to her chagrin that meeting and getting along with people in a hotel, is a very different experience to having them under one’s roof.

The complaints began soon after their arrival. How untidy our bushland looked, how noisy the birds were, how the shops didn’t stock the right sort of food. When faced with the reality of going into the wilder areas the idea of visiting such remote places where there were few people and little emergency help appeared to frighten the life out of them. It was patently obvious to Helen any idea of an adventure trip could be completely thrown out of the ideas pool.

She could understand the culture shock people who had spent their lives in a large city would find when confronted with our great outdoors. Many find them greater and less inviting in reality than on film.

The wildlife is all around us and certainly not trained to think it should stay away from tourists. So when a brown snake about a metre and half long sidled past as they strolled along a bush track, they refused to venture out again unless they were shielded in a vehicle. The snake Helen assures me was going about its business entirely oblivious to the panicking couple. It had probably already enjoyed a meal and was simply trying find a warm spot in which it could take its afternoon nap.

Her temper began to really unravel when the complaints became more personal and hurtful.

She grew up in the large rambling house she lives in. The house grew each time her family grew and her father built it section by section. She admits that the plumbing has never been changed and is known to have idiosyncrasies which can take time to get used to. I can on occasion make a body feel as if it is a lobster about to be boiled or a pack of peas being deep frozen They complained bitterly about these occasional spasms.

The neighbours came to visit and being ordinary not very well educated folk but possessing hearts of marshmallow, tried to welcome Helen’s guests to their home for a traditional barbecue. The offer was met with disdain and the conversation gradually petered out.
It was about this time she remembered an old saying of her mothers. One she had never really understood until now.

Following each of the dreaded visits by her father's unruly and enormous family, her mother would survey her usually neat and dusted living rooms which had been left by the guests looking as if they had been refurbished by an army of wombats. She would mutter quietly.

Outside her eyes would harden as she gazed at her carefully tended garden, now beaten by children who had thrashed about with cricket bats and flattened the herbaceous borders while searching for lost balls. The muttering would become audible and voiced with great emotion.
'After a week, visitors and fish begin to smell the same.'

Helen's patience had dried up along with her housekeeping money.

With nerves twanging, she watched them do as they had done each morning while drinking coffee through pursed lips. The cups would hover in the air and they would look back into the liquid as if suspecting her of adding a pitch of foxglove or hemlock to the coffee beans. It was she had mused not an unwelcome idea.



The days dragged on a little longer while she racked her brain trying to make the signals plain it was time they moved on.....preferably a long way on.

She decided to ask them to leave. It seemed the only sensible thing to do. It was after all, her own fault they were there at all.

Full of resolve, she planned to give them a pleasant day and after they returned home as them to depart, bbegone, farewell, whichever word sprang into her head first or, if her resolve dissolved and she became the vacillating coward she now believed herself to be, think of a sick relative she needed to visit, without delay.


They left after breakfast to visit a local deer farm which boasts magnificent gardens, views and a top class restaurant.
A few miles out of town, they passed an elderly gentleman walking on the rough gravel. He is an old ‘Bushy’ and lives in a shack in the hills. Quite illegally of course because it is Crown land, but no-one worries about that. His plumbing for all anyone knows is non-existent and he is best conversed with upwind and from a distance. He shares his shack with his dogs and they probably share their fleas with him. But he is known to be a dear old gentleman who has lived a very hard life.
It had been a particularly trying few days for Helen. The stifling heat made the effort to cook appetizing meals irksome and she swigged at her indigestion medication while she tossed salads and sizzled steaks; poking them savagely with a fork in an attempt to ease her frustrations.


A brilliant idea occurred to her as she passed the old chap. She pulled up quickly, throwing her shocked backseat passengers forward in their seat belts, executed a quick three point turn while they straightened their hair and clothes and drove back to the old fellow still steadily trudging along in boots which seemed to be ill-fitting and filthy.

“Hello Arthur’ she called, ‘Would you like a lift this morning, I see you are limping a little?’
A lift is a rare treat for Arthur because most people know it takes a good week and half a can of air freshener and insect repellent to rid the inside of ones car with the evidence of his presence.
His cracked lips spread out under about five days of bristle on his leathery face. The few yellow teeth he has left went up and down with pleasure.

“Would I Helen? You’re an angel, you bet I would!” He opened the back door, smiled happily at the appalled couple sitting in the rear, ‘Well, move over.’ he grinned at them, breathing heavily in his haste to make himself comfortable and filling the car with his special aroma.
They moved over, pressing against one another as they tried to avoid making any actual physical contact with Arthur. Helen surmised they had not entertained anyone like him in their vehicle at home.

The following day after much frantic repacking of their immaculate clothing into their immaculate and expensive suitcases they made very insincere farewells to her and she expressed the most insincere disappointment at the thought of them leaving.

As their bus rounded the corner out of sight she executed an impromptu Highland Fling.

After telling me her tales she giggled girlishly, “ I must take Arthur some scones next week, and wrap up some bones for his dogs.’

It’s soggy, but fun living in the country especially during the times we make our own simple fun.
I don’t suppose Helen has done very much for the tourist trade but I don’t think that will weigh on her conscience very much.

The mosquitoes are about in great swarms following the rain and humidity so keep yourself safe from the nasty things they may spit into your bloodstream Del,
I am smothered in citronella oil and lavender so I am very much

Your flower child friend,
Cynthia.

Letter From The Other Side.

It is possible to become an unexpected expense for your friends when you are a writer.

Dear Del,

As you know I have my stories read on a few radio stations as well as your own. It has unexpected results which until I received a telephone call from a friend last week I have never dreamt would be possible.

The phone bleeped for attention and as soon as I answered it her voice bellowed out at me, ‘You cost me a fine yesterday!’

Rapidly my mind went through my actions of the day before and nothing leapt from my short term memory bank which I considered could have caused anyone a problem, especially a fine. I hadn’t left the house or even spoken to anyone except Teddy all day.

Taking a deep breath I answered, ‘I’m at a loss Fiona, how on earth could I have had you fined yesterday?’
‘Well,’ she continued in full flight as only she is capable of doing. ‘I was on my way home from work and turned the radio on in the car. There was a woman’s voice speaking and I thought ‘I know that voice, that’s Cynthia speaking. What on earth is she doing on the radio?
I turned up the volume and began to listen. You were reading the Christmas story they play every year on the local station. I hadn’t heard it before.
I must say it really got me in and I became very interested wanting to know how it was going to end.

When it was almost at the end, something attracted my attention in my rear vision mirror. To my dismay, there behind me was a big four wheel drive police car with lights going like a Myer’s window display and then of course the siren frightened the life out of me. I glanced down at my speed and to my horror I was fifteen kilometres over the speed limit. I pulled over to the side of the road all of a dither which increased when I saw the giant of a policeman getting out of the vehicle. He looked the size of a walking wheat silo. My palms became all sweaty as I lowered the window. Thinking I could maybe talk him around, I explained to the big impassive face peering in at me that I had been listening to my friend on the radio and hadn’t realized I was going quite so quickly.

You see I thought maybe mentioning you being on the radio might impress him and make him think I had friends with some sort of influence. Well it didn’t. He wasn’t the least bit impressed and gave me quite a lecture about concentrating on my driving and not on the radio etc, etc. He made me feel about seven years old to be truthful.

Then he fined me two hundred and forty dollars and took three demerit points off my licence. After turning me into a quivering lump, he rolled back to his car to drive off waving with his great cottage loaf hand in such a friendly way one would have thought he had just successfully saved a damsel in distress.

I sat where I had pulled over for a little while until I stopped feeling shaky and as though my third grade teacher had just chastised me in front of my friends. I can tell you Cynthia my weakness for men in uniform took quite a pounding and to make matters worse I now have to watch for the postman like a hawk to stop Tom (her husband) from getting to the notice of the fine in the mail before I do. He’d never let me forget it and I’d have no ammunition left in my arguments when I want him to slow down when he is driving.
By the time I had started the car again and turned the radio back on you had finished telling the story.’

I held the phone having listened to her tale of woe and wondered what on earth I was supposed to say. Although it was silly of me, I felt guilty and stumbled out an apology.
‘Oh don’t apologize’ she said ‘It wasn’t your fault. It was mine I should have pulled over to listen.’

Relieved I laughed and thanked her for not being cross.
‘Oh I’m cross, but not with you, I’m cross with myself.’
I understood her feelings but what did she expect me to do, pay half her fine?
I suggested this because the guilt lingered on. After all it had been my story which caused the problem.
‘Don’t be daft you silly woman’ she yelled loudly. ‘Just tell me how it ends or else I’ll have to listen again next Christmas and maybe get another fine!’

Writing has some peculiar outcomes doesn’t it Del?
Our parish market is on next week. I had thought of selling a few of my C.D’s with narrations of my stories but I think I’ll make dog biscuits instead.
Hopefully they won’t cause problems. If the dogs don’t like them they will just bury them and won’t ring me up to complain.
Cheers from your expensive ‘flower child friend’
Cynthia.

The Titanic

Letter From The Other Side; from Cynthia


Dear Del,

Have I told you Teddy is making a canoe?

I think it is an Inuit canoe design. Of course to be genuine it should be covered with seal skin or some type of animal skin but as Teddy is loath to skin anything roaming our hills and I would definitely do the same to him if he attempted it, he is using canvas which has been made waterproof by some sort of foul smelling substance.

I think most of the neighbourhood knows he is manufacturing something because there have been thick clouds of wood chips and dust and a cacophony of sawing and sanding sounds issuing from the garage for weeks. The size of the construction has now banished our cars to the driveway.

I have, up until a few days ago been referring to it as the Titanic, but now the ribs etc are being fixed in place and the shape is showing up I think it would be more suitable if I purchased him a fur hat, put some cow horns on it and allow him to invade England.

I know England has already been invaded but the inhabitants are a little friendlier now and seem to welcome back home grown eccentrics to their shores. Also, he really needs to go somewhere he recognizes because his map reading skills leave a lot to be desired.

I’m not at all surprised many of the English explorers who trekked across Australia trying to find various things, such as the other side and inland seas etc, became lost and died. If they were all as bad at finding their way in unfamiliar places as Teddy seems to be then it amazes me so many succeeded at all.
I have to admit that my family folk lore places one of the confused explorers on our family tree. But after reading biographies written about him, he seemed to have survived his treks and grew old enough to become very grand in his own opinion, a thorough snob and racist. Not a person to be proud of really.

Teddy’s idea of a short-cut has often led us into out-of-the-way quagmires and about two hours later for an appointment or a meeting than we would have been if we had stuck to the route on the map. Of course we have also seen some of the country that very few other people have seen and shocked the residents of villages with barely a handful of inhabitants wandering along their tiny streets by stopping to buy exorbitantly priced fuel from a one pump garage for people who are desperate to have enough in their fuel tanks in order to get somewhere else.

I’m quite convinced that had Teddy set out to find the other side of the country on his own when he first arrived in Australia he would probably be still making his circuitous way there forty years later.

As far as the canoe is concerned he has promised me he will take a river canoeing course to gain some knowledge from someone who knows what they are doing before he takes the dowel, rope and canvas construction into a lake or river.

Our former neighbour who seems to have the same odd wish to risk his life has said he wants to be on the vessel for the launching. I shall hope it is a warm day for the rescue team that will no doubt have to follow them into the water.
I suspect our neighbour’s wife will have much the same opinion and voice it to her spouse as I will when they arrive back drenched to the skin.

In the mean time the constructions go ahead interspersed by the slowly improving sounds issuing from the Indian flute.

I sometimes wonder just what genes he carries in his cells that he finds it difficult to become engrossed in something mundane or just a little boring.

He has just been in to complain that the material he is making the ribs from is not as good as he had hoped for because they keep breaking when he tries to bend them.
I reminded him men have since Adam had his rib used to make Eve, if we are to believe the stories, complained about the problems their ribs caused them and it is unlikely to change.

I am going for some sort of nuclear medicine scan test next week which will be handy if it makes me glow in the dark for Halloween. It will save having to think of anything to do to frighten any unexpected ghouls I may come across.

Do you plan any ghoulish things for yourself Del?

Love from your not so spooky ‘flower child’ friend,
Cynthia.

Spring and the Dogwoods Flower.

Letter From The Other Side; from Cynthia

Dear Del,

There was something I saw this week but I’m not sure what it was.

Perhaps an explanation is in order here.

We have a big new supermarket in our village. It was not welcomed by many of the small businesses or the population but their protests were swept away by the powers that decide such changes and of course the supermarket was built.

True to many of the fears voiced, there have been butchers close, greengrocers close and the hardware store and other variety stores run by small business people are struggling to survive as the tourists who keep the town ticking over, unwittingly help strangle the economy by using the giant supermarket they are familiar with in the city.

Many of the local people also enter its doors to buy products they have not been able to previously purchase without travelling some distance. Some go in initially out of curiosity, like mice approaching the cheese in a trap and soon become beguiled by the enormous range and ease of buying everything they need under one roof. Soon it becomes a habit and they remain in its clutches..

I too was in there picking up some products I would have had to travel some distance to purchase so I admit to not being immune.

It was here while perusing the vast variety of cheeses that I saw a young mother who was, I think, in the store for the first time.

Many people here have not enjoyed sophisticated shopping experiences and come into the town from extremely small settlements where they recognise and can put a name to every face they see.

What I watched was this young woman leaving her trolley in the middle of the isle with her hand bag open for passers by to peer into. She walked the entire length of the isle to pick up something she had already passed.

I stood watching partly from concern because it would be an unthinkable act in the suburbs where one clutches one’s handbag tightly under an arm having been warned by signs posted everywhere about shoplifters and the dangers of leaving goods and handbags unattended.

I worried for her belongings wondering why she would just walk off. Was it forgetfulness, a lack of experience in shopping in the supermarket situation, a lack of intelligence, a naive trust in everyone about her?

When I came home I kept thinking about what I had seen. A simple silly act you may say, but not really when you begin to think about it.

To me it is something that would have been accepted as normal years ago because we did trust one another more and people did respect other people’s belongings and property more.

It is a pleasure to think there are still some who have that attitude but I wonder how long it will be before this girl loses her trust in others and in what nasty way it will happen.

The other thing that struck me was that despite the opportunity that any practiced and quick witted thief would have taken of the goodies which could have been so easily been snatched because of her negligence, not one person looked or even gave any indication of noticing the open handbag or showed any inclination of even thinking about removing a purse or mobile phone from it.

So while I initially thought about the young woman and hope she will continue for a long time to feel so safe and trusting, I also began to appreciate the other shoppers in the store.

It is good to see little things sometimes, they often say a great deal about people and places.

Sometimes the small things we see disappoint and sadden us but it is very uplifting to see the pleasant and good.

What were the lyrics the Beatles sang?

‘What the world needs now is love, sweet love.’

There is quite a deal out there, we just have to see more of it.

From your ‘flower child’ friend

Cynthia

Letter From The Other Side; from Cynthia

Dear Del,
Trying to do a kind deed can lead one into all sorts of difficulties Teddy discovered this week.

I think I have said previously that he is quite deaf. Well, to be really honest he is very deaf and it results in some most peculiar conversations in our house at times that can then accelerate into robust debates and a state of huffiness on one side or the other between us.
For instance last week on a day we were walking about in light clothing because of the mild weather, I asked him as he walked up to our study to turn on my printer.

An hour later when I eventually had time to go to my computer in the study I entered to find the printer not on as requested but the heater pumping out stiflingly hot air.

“Why did he not question my wanting a heater on when I was obviously not feeling the cold?” I asked. No answer for a while and then after he had time to think.
“Because I’m not the sort of husband who questions your motives for anything am I? I just do as you ask knowing you would have a good reason.”
Very cunning reply I had to grant him.

Well later in the week we were shopping or, I should say, I was shopping and Teddy was sitting in the car waiting in the car park.
He looked up and saw an echidna making it way across the asphalt toward a car parked in the line of vehicles in front of us. There it stayed underneath to rest in the shade. Thinking it would be killed if the driver returned to his car Teddy decided to rescue the small animal and put it back over into the trees and grass which shade the shopping centre. He was sure it was confused by its unfamiliar surroundings and since it is spring it would probably have young and was resting while out on food foraging jaunt. Taking a short cut through the car park was a very dangerous decision on its part.
He told me of the results of his decision to save it later on after he had recovered from his embarrassment.

He left our car and knelt down on the asphalt to look under the car that the echidna was hiding beneath. He could see it nestled hard up against the driver’s side wheel. Not having anything of much use to put it in or grab it with he tried to use a shopping bag but the little thing held onto the rough surface with a surprisingly strong grip. Its needles were far too sharp and difficult to grab so he thought he would try nudging it backwards into a bag and returned to our car for an umbrella to help extend his reach.

Once again he crawled under the chassis leaving only his bottom and legs poking out from under the car. He heard footsteps and then a woman’s voice asking what he was doing. Thinking it was me he replied he was saving a life.

The woman asked ‘Who’s life?’
“This little fellow,” he called back.
“I want to get in the car and I think you had better get out.’
“Don’t be daft woman, he’ll get killed if I leave him here. Have some patience will you?’
“Will you please get out from under there? I want to go home.”
“Don’t just stand there then do something useful’ he called back, “have a look to see if you can find anything I can use to get hold of him.”
“I’m not getting anything and I don’t think this is funny, so get out.”
“What? You think I’m comfortable lying under here do you? It’s bloody uncomfortable and the dam thing won’t let me grab it.”
He felt a sharp nudge to his leg. “If you don’t get out from under my car, I’ll go across the road and get the police.”

He froze realizing his assumption it was me speaking was incorrect.
A second female voice asked the first one what was going on.
“This person is under my car and won’t get out.”
“What’s he doing under there? Is he mad do you think?” the second woman asked somewhat hopefully.
“I don’t know if he’s mad.” The first replied, “but he’s making me mad.”
“He might be one of them terrorists they keep talking about” The second mused.
“Don’t be silly, he’s probably drunk which is disgusting this time of the day.” The first woman answered angrily.

Teddy stopped the rescue attempt and turned his head enough to see two pairs of ankles he didn’t recognise.

Crab-like he crawled backwards, dislodging his glasses so that when he sat up they hung from one ear across his scarlet face as he tried to peer through the one closest to his eyes.
Although the sun was behind her, he recognised the formidable outline of one of the district’s leading matrons.
Fortunately she recognised him. ‘Teddy! What on earth do you think you are doing down there?”
He sat on the asphalt at her feet like a supplicant explaining his actions and this is how I found the three of them when I came out of the supermarket.

Eventually the echidna was prodded out of harm’s way, Teddy was brushed down and after numerous apologies for calling her daft and swearing at her and various other abeyances, we left for home.
The second woman wandered off rather disappointed there was not to be any further excitement.
We presume the echidna went home oblivious to the trouble it had caused us and not at all grateful for having its life saved.

Teddy is not looking forward to sitting near the grand matron at the next art gallery meeting.

So Del, if you intend to do a kind deed this week, think carefully and listen well,
Your ‘flower child’ friend
Cynthia.

Letter From The Other Side; from Cynthia.


Dear Del,

The late afternoon sun is shining through the windows showing up all the dust that has settled on the wooden furniture, television screen and knick- knacks in the family room.

Aunt Alice and Uncle Rodger have just left following their first visit to us since we arrived. Despite the fact they now live in a retirement village where neither of them has to lift a finger to do any sort of domestic chore, she was very quick to point out to me before leaving that dusting should be one of my first jobs in the morning.
It was of little use my saying I had wiped all the surfaces this morning and the evening sun always shows up the daily accumulation.
There is something to be said for the darker houses of the past with their small windows… and maids of course.

However during the week, courtesy of our aged aunt and uncle, we gained an extra spring in our step after we spoke to one of our neighbours.
It seems while we were still packing to come here Uncle Rodger persuaded his daughter, the frightful Fran, to take them on the short trip from the retirement village to drive them to see where we were to live.
Our neighbour was outside in his garden and Uncle Rodger not being someone to avoid a chat with anyone strolled across and introduced himself.
We had wondered why the young fellow and his wife smiled at one another when we first met them. Now that we know them a little better they felt free to explain that it was because Uncle Rodger and Aunt Alice had told them that their young niece and nephew were coming to live here.
When we met our neighbours of course it was obvious we are far from young and are in fact retired people and old enough to be their parents.
We all enjoyed the joke at our expense while realizing being almost thirty years younger than the revered ‘oldies’ in their nineties must make us appear forever young in their eyes.
After all Uncle Rodger has been retired ever since we met him as this is the second marriage for them both. He was a family friend of another uncle when his wife died and Aunt Alice had been a widow for a number of years. His first wife had not been dead long at the time of their wedding but as she was the mother of the frightful Fran who evidently takes after her mum in every way, it cannot be a surprise that little Aunt Alice who appears to be gentle and compliant would have appealed to him.
How was he to know that tiny body of hers held a steely backbone and a tongue like a cattle prod?
Aunt Alice was seventy when she married him and so far they have been married twenty five years which makes both their marriages longer than many.

They were telling us today that shortly after they married when Uncle Rodger was still legally able to drive and menace the rest of us on the roads, they had been on holiday in South Australia and were given the opportunity for a joy flight in a small plane.
They took off in the plane marvelling at the sight of the countryside below them. The pilot banked this way and that giving them a roller coaster view of the sea many miles in the distance.
Aunt Alice finished the tale by explaining to me that after they were back on solid ground she had been very frightened and white knuckled as she gripped the arm rests while the pilot banked the plane to turn round in readiness to land on the rough dirt runway in the tiny paddock far below. She hadn’t wanted to go for the ride but thought Uncle Rodger had wanted to and so she didn’t wish to spoil his enjoyment.

Uncle Rodger looked at her with surprise. ‘I didn’t want to go either. After some of my experiences during the war, planes scare the living daylights out of me. I only went because I thought you wanted to experience it!’
For a change we all laughed at the same thing.
Still, they have done us a favour this week because we know now that no matter how old we get or feel, so long as they and those of their age are still with us we will always be young in someone’s eyes.
So long as I stay away from the mirror I will remain for a short time your youthful ‘flower child’ friend,


Cynthia.