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The Book
I always wondered if I had a book to write, and many others have tried over the years to convince me that indeed I have.
But I have resisted, it's been done, much earlier and in much better fashion than I could ever hope to achieve. But more about that later.
and so...My intention is to blog as I go, creating a journal of the experience of writing what might (or might not) turn out to be my autobiography.
But we will see what develops along the way...
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Communication
It's fairly common to hear people complaining about having to wait - on the phone waiting for customer service, for banks and telecoms, power and water - insurance companies are notoriously bad, and computer/internet support - watch a movie while you wait! I was working in an accounting office in Adelaide, many years ago when the fax machine was in it's infancy. One of the partners had an urgent need to get some paperwork across to Hong Kong, about eight pages, with charts and diagrams for a meeting that was taking place over there while we worked on the figures in our office. Because I was the computer 'guru', it was assumed that I had a better knowledge of all things technical (not true, actually, any machine not computer related can still defeat me!) so I was the one entrusted to send these pages using the new fax. All went well, and the pages were slowly (slowly) feeding their way into the machine. Too slowly, as it turned out, because the next minute I have the boss over my shoulder... "What's up? whats the holdup? hasn't that report gone yet?" "umm.. it's on it's way, see, 6 of the pages have gone, there's only 2 left, and, lets see..", me, checking the dials and screens to check the progress ".. and so far it's only taken 7 minutes." "oh.. well then, I'll ring and tell them they should have it.." "thanks!" And then I thought, 7 minutes to send vital information to a meeting being held on the other side of the world. The complexity of the report was such that it could never have been presented over the phone; internet video conferences with blackboard presentations were still a thing of techo's dreams... snail mail would have taken at least days.. and here we were complaining about the speed of the fax. So many of the things we do today have been changed by technology, we can do our banking on the telephone, or online, we can pay our bills and register our cars, we can put books on hold at the Library online - we can talk to anybody, face-to-face via video, anywhere in the world.. we can shop and track the status of deliveries without leaving the house... the list is endless. How on earth can we complain about having to wait a few minutes on the phone - when the alternative often meant a long-winded trip into town, or weeks wait for a technician to come to the house, when it's something that can be fixed over a few minutes ? Della [putting my soapbox back under the desk] Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 8:22 AM
posted by: DellaB
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non verbal communication
My daughter's career has pretty much just happened, taking her along with it on the way. She did have plans, at one time, of becoming a marine biologist; years spent diving in the waters of the North Island of New Zealand with her father had given her a love of the sea and the creatures. Her room was always covered in the most fearsome of shark pictures. Deciding after two years at University that this was not a practical career choice, she quit studies and continued to work at the part-time job which had been mostly supporting her while she studied. She worked in a hamburger shop on a busy main road in North Adelaide. It was your real old-style hamburger shop. Open All Hours. White tee-shirted cooks working in the heat behind the counter, big old drinks fridge and a couple of slot-machine games against the wall. Carlena worked the night shift, starting at around 8p.m. and working through till the breakfast rush was over. She worked there for years, was badly underpaid on the cash-in-hand award - but she did get on with the bloke who owned the shop, and the other workers; a strong bond developed between them, and I believe that friendship still holds today. The boss was a gambler, betting on the horse races, and he would often arrive and distribute betting tickets to his staff - little windfalls they were happy to get from time to time. She graduated from this job when she took up an offer to work in the kitchen in the local Greek Club. I don't think she really enjoyed that, and when the opportunity came to move, she took it and moved to a very upmarket restaurant in a posh area in North Adelaide. This job came about in a strange way; her father happened to be visiting us from New Zealand, and while he was there he met up with an old friend who happened to be the chef at this posh restaurant. And so Carlena's career in cooking began. It wasn't long before she was promoted from kitchen duties and learned to do the never-ending preparation required, even getting to cook occasionally. When a new chef took over, Carlena knew so much, and was so good at managing that he quickly recognised this and took her under his wing. Over the next few years, whenever he changed jobs, he took Carlena with him, with her learning more and more as they went. Eventually there came a time that he moved on, and she was offered her first job as Head Chef. She stayed, in fact she stayed for another seven years, and this was an even posher restaurant, in an even poshier location. Problem was, she knew she was worth more than she was being paid, but she worried that if she raised the point with the owners, they might remind her that she wasn't actually qualified, and that she was getting the benefit of them 'letting' her get the experience. But she decided that she would do the unthinking, and ask for a raise. She asked the female boss, who said she would ask the man, and that he would come back to her with an answer. Later that day, she rings me (I'm living up in Queensland by now), just to talk through the situation and to tell me that she is very very nervous about having to carry this through. So I tell her not to worry, when the time comes for the meeting, I will send her one of my angels; to sit on her shoulder and give her strength. We both believe in Angels, mine go way back to the early childhood days in my Catholic upbringing. Come the day for the confrontation, Carlena is working in the kitchen, the phone rings and it's the boss... it's time... later that night... She's on the phone again, "Mum, mum, it's me - I've just got to tell you... ". "hang on, hang on, just let me wake up properly, do you know what time it is?" "yes, but I had to ring, the strangest thing happened, and I had to ring as soon as I got home, sorry" "oh, okay, tell me .. what?" "Well, you know how you said you would send me an Angel, for the meeting with the boss?" "yes, I remember.." "Well, the phone rang, and it was Peter, and he said 'come up now Carlena, and we'll have that chat', so of course straight away I got nerves, and the next minute, would you believe it, the radio we always have on in the kitchen started playing the most amazing song - do you know the one I mean? about the angel in the morning? it was that one! and we all freaked out, because I'd told the others I work with about it, and they knew and heard the song too! wow, mum, that was SO special - thank you." Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 7:00 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Poppa
My friend and housemate Noel graduated at age 55, about 4 years ago, with a degree in Social Science, after 4 and a half years of part time study. He too has used this degree to make his way into a very compatible job. We went to the graduation ceremony, with Noel properly attired in cap and gown, amongst quite a large crowd of other graduates and their families. Noel's daughter, her husband, and her very young son came with us. Treena and I got to go and sit down near the front of the stadium shaped hall, as her husband agreed to keep the youngster up at the top at the back, just in case. All went well as they filed one by one past the University Chancellor.He shook hands and had a little chat, and a photo was taken. As they walked off the crowd clapped politely, with each individuals little support group giving cheers and whistles. Then came Noel's turn, and as he walked across the stage, came this little voice from way up the back, clear as a bell.. "Poppa! Poppa! hellooo.. Poppa?" The crowd loved it, and Noel got the loudest clapping from everybody. When I later had his graduation certificate framed, I had them engrave the name "Poppa" together with the date on the frame. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 8:02 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Education (or lack thereof)
I grew up thinking I was stupid (and ugly, but that's another story..) My clever sister Roberta, who was 2 years ahead of me, always came top in her class. No competition, she was just the best. On the other hand, no matter how hard I tried, I hardly ever came top - not never - but there was a girl in my class called Barbara, and she was our top student. We competed, of course, Barbara and I, and there were a few times I was best. We were also friends, we were both very sporting types, and tall. We were a considerable force in the netball team and at school sports events. But it was my sister's achievements that dogged my school years. I recall she scored well in the 90's in the Scholarship exam, when all I could manage was an 86... One very painful lesson I learned came about because of my need to be top, I cheated, changed a mark on a test.. and was caught.. I'd have been about 10 at the time, and the experience was so painful, that I have made it a lesson to live by, when I am tempted to cut that corner, tell that lie, embellish or fudge, I can quickly take myself back to that embarrassing day, and think twice. That doesn't make me a more moral person, just being afraid of punishment and disgrace tends to keep me honest. However, neither of us (my sister or I) were able to carry on with High School studies. She left at 14 to go nursing, and I, thanks to the learning I was forced to do during my time with the nuns in Brisbane, went to work as a shorthand/typist at age 15, in the office of a local real estate agency. A lot of my life's experiences revolve around my being 'black', not an easy thing to be in North Queensland in those days. The man who owned the real estate business was called Eric Kloske, I remember this very clearly, because my getting the job was a direct result of his largesse. It was a very courageous act of his to hire a black girl to work in his office. He was the first of a handful of men who have given me this sort of chance. I have been very lucky over the years to have been given a chance to prove myself, and fortunate to have been blessed with the ability to use these chances to advantage. (many more stories about this to tell, but not here, yet.) And so it was that I was 28 years old, when I realised I was not stupid. I had carried on with my 'office work' with a few departures along the way, like when travelling around Australia in my mid-teens, and in the early years in New Zealand, I took whatever work was available. But one day I realised that I didn't want to be a factory hand all my life, and I took a little time off and brushed up my typing skills, and got my first job in an accountant's office. It was a small office, and it didn't take me long to move into the position of office manager when it became available. (This was boss-sent-from-god No.2). From that point on, I have been an avid student - learning accounting by correspondence, computer studies, business and management courses, I even got accepted into and successfully completed an under-graduate course in ecommerce at a well-known university. My lack of formal education/qualifications has always been more of a problem for me than it has for the people who have employed me. I started out in the call centre where I now work, part-time on the phones, to allow me time to study, but then I was chosen to work in the training department, where I spent 2 and a half years training new staff. So, I can honestly say that lack of an education has not hampered my career, I've had a very good one, working at something I have always enjoyed.. but I sometimes can't help wondering - what might I have been if I'd had better opportunities when I was young? Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 10:59 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Story - my sister Dessie
I must have been about six years old when my oldest sister Desma got married. I can remember her being around, and then not being around, but I have no recall of a wedding, not surprisingly I suppose. Her first son Neville was born early in the marriage, followed quickly by two more boys (both of these boys died very young, although again I have no detailed memory of these events - this is family history). Dessie was to have another 5 children, 2 girls and another 3 boys, and all before she was 30. Dessie was my favourite sister, and as I grew up I was to spend a lot of time with her and her family. I was just at the right age to be helpful, with all those kids, and had the privilege to name her first girl, Theresa, and become her godmother. It was Dessie who taught me to drive, in her big old Holden station wagon. One of the problems Dessie had, was that her husband was an alcoholic, and violent with it. Countless times she would arrive at our house, battered and bruised, with a carload of crying children. She was a worker, doing laundry and cleaning houses, anything she could do with the kids in tow, unless I was available to look after them while she worked. I didn't find out until many years later that Dessie wasn't a blood sister at all, she was the daughter of one of my mother's sisters, and came to live with us at age seven, after her own mother had committed suicide. Eventually, she had had enough, and decided to run away. I was 17 at the time, and thought it was a great adventure. We packed up the kids in the middle of the night and set out for Brisbane, about 1400kms away. We had driven nearly half-way, and were just outside of Rockhampton, when we turned a corner on the highway and saw a vehicle ahead of us in a ditch. It was obviously in trouble as the headlights were still on and shining brightly up into the sky. We stopped, of course, and climbed down to see if anybody was in the car. Now, what I didn't know, was that we were not running away alone. Dessie had formed a relationship with a man called Peter, a younger man, nearly 5 years younger, an American, as it turned out, and he was the reason she had decided to pack up the kids and run away, with him. Of all the amazing coincidences, it was him in the upturned car, and it was us that were first on the scene. Looking back, we must have been following him, but I hadn't noticed this, or even known about it, I guess I was too busy with the kids, or just easily fooled. When the ambulance came and took him back to Rockhampton and the hospital, we all went with him. He wasn't seriously hurt, but they did keep him in overnight, and Des and I spent the night in the car in the car park, with the kids tucked up in the back of the station wagon. Next day we resumed our trip, this time with Peter in the driving seat, and continued our trip to Brisbane. Over the next years, Des and Pete went from strength to strength, they were prepared to turn their hand to anything, Pete worked on the wharves, he was in fact a seaman, and Des did a variety of jobs, including driving a taxi in Brisbane until the night she was attacked and beaten up. They started and ran a range of businesses, cafes and take-away shops, once a bookshop, and tried their hand at different types of manufacturing. They moved several times, back up to Cairns, down to Brisbane again, until they eventually settled in a manufacturing company making canvas products, sails and awnings for boats and caravans. This was a huge success, and they had a fantastic lifestyle, holiday home on Stradbroke Island, huge big boat that Pete loved to take out fishing with the kids and their friends. Over these years, I had lost touch with them, my own move to New Zealand meant that I only saw them briefly on my few visits home. When I finally returned to the Gold coast, one of the first things I did was to resume my close friendship with them, but sadly this was not to be for nearly long enough. Des had been battling cancer for nearly 7 years, and the treatments had weakened her heart. Peter was a rock, he must have always been, to run off with a woman with 6 kids - and they had remained a very caring loving couple. But more was to come, Peter was diagnosed with an inoperable cancer himself, and was dead within 4 months, he was sixty years old. Nobody had expected that it would be Des burying Peter, but that is what happened. Des survived another 12 months, and died at the age of 65, she was buried one year to the date of Peter's funeral. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 9:05 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Dialogue
It was a stifling hot night. All during the day we kids had taken turns to stand briefly under the lukewarm shower, hoping for just a few minutes relief from the dry burning heat which seemed to radiate from somewhere inside us and threaten to set our very bodies on fire. The one small ceiling fan turned slowly above us, almost as if the movement itself was slowed by the smothering heat. Arguments broke out frequently as the children competed with the adults to position themselves where the faintest air flow could be felt. "I've got an idea", said Nellie. Nellie was an older lady who lived with us and helped mother around the house. She had travelled a lot and always had a solution to any problem. She went on, "I've seen them do this up in Darwin, but we'll have to get hold of some ice." "Ice?" replies my mother, "Where on earth are we going to get ice at this time of night?" "From the ice works down in the town, you know they are working in there all night, making the ice blocks ready for the delivery vans to start their early morning runs." Nellie went on, "I'm sure they'd let us have a few blocks if we went and knocked on the door." She was right, of course, Nellie was always right. In those early years, the ice man was still a common sight. Many of the houses in the town didn't yet have the new gas or electric refrigerators, and relied on the huge blocks of ice that were delivered daily to keep the food safes cold. We lived up a small lane, too small for the ice man's van to deliver directly to our door, and I can remember we had a small hand cart that we would use to bring the ice blocks up the steep little lane to the house. A short time later, the men having been cajoled into making the trip to collect the ice, Nellie showed us her plan, which was to set the ice blocks in a metal tub immediately under the turning fan, the air being pushed downward, collecting the cooler air around the ice blocks and distributing it across the room. Needless to say, this lasted only as long as the ice blocks did, but it was a great relief, and I have used this same plan many times over the years, discovering that the newer pedestal fans do an excellent job, especially if you place the ice block between yourself and the fan. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 9:12 AM
posted by: DellaB
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American Father - Mt Isa
[reply to Hans] [Hans - original]In the time we were in Mount Isa, we had a few very anxious times with severe illnesses, but we survived them, somehow. There are a number of books written about ‘The Isa” and I think that I read all of them, the writing invariably spans some of our time there. At one time there were over 50 different Nationalities represented in the workforce with a large contingent of Finns and 2 Icelanders. Talking about Ice; Mount Isa has a hot and dry Desert Climate, yet it was there that I finally sold our Ice Skates which we had since we were living in Sydney earlier and had dance ice-skating lessons, incongruous! Guess the purchaser was leaving the district for a cooler climate.Despite the very large proportion of single men, there was no violent crime and it wasn’t unusual for the kids to walk unescorted to an outdoor cinema at night. The outdoor cinema was free and run by the Miming Company. You would take your own chairs and sit at the back or spread a blanket and lie down on the sandy ground with your head on purposely sited logs. The Movies were of a 16 mm. variety and often were the same as the new releases in the Cinema’s of the cities on the East Coast. At the time we also had a good view, while at the ‘cinema’ of the first Satellite, Sputnik, a little moving light point. - add original too][me] Hi Hans,I was born in Townsville, in 1945, so the Mt Isa of the 50's and 60's was just like a part of our big backyard. Rumour has it that my mother was living in Mt Isa when she met the man who was to become the father of my older sister and myself. Apparently she worked in some sort of cafeteria where they served American servicemen, here in the protection of Northern Australia, from Townsville to Darwin during the war. I wonder if those Mt Isa books you have read would throw any more light?My father was black, an American serviceman, but in those days they weren't allowed in the fighting regiments, so he, we believe, was with an engineering and supply division. I remember, as a small child, we didn't go without much in the way of fresh fruit and vegies!Good story, brought back lots of memories for me, thankyouDella [Hans] Hi Della,Thanks for your interest. Most the books about Mt Isa hardly touch the time during the war, except to state that the Mt.Isa-Camooweal-Darwin road was build mainly by the Yanks, Engineering Division. Most the books focussed on the mine from the original discovery and subsequent development of the Town. There is still an area in Mt Isa known as the BSD, which is the abbreviation for ‘Base Supply Depot’ (not that many people knew that) left over from the Yanks. There was a large dining area/cafeteria there and heaps of single men quarters (ex US service personnel barracks), also many female personnel, for the Dining room as well for Housekeeping duties. I did know a couple of them. I came to Mt Isa in 1954, and if I can source any record of the US engineering service personnel in Mt Isa, I’ll let you know, but don’t expect it tomorrow! I also suspect that to source any record from the time you maybe interested in one should look under the generalized Heading of Northern Territory (WW2) Supply Strategy. This may include some details of the Mt Isa-Darwin road construction by the US Engineering Division Regards, Hans [me] Thank YOU... wow... this is more detail than I had even known before. Looks like the mother/father story could be exactly what happened. We have tried over the years to do research, not for a while though, so there could well be more information available now. I know the whole 'American serviceman/left behind babies' thing has been the subject of scrutiny all around the world, one lady sent me a video of a program about it made in England. If you do come across anything else it would certainly be appreciated. Labels: booknote, miscellany, U3Acoursework
posted at: 9:29 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Friends
Loss of friends has been a winding thread through my whole life. At age 21 I moved away from home and across to New Zealand, losing contact with everybody, even some family. For the next 16 years, I met or saw nobody who had been in my life previously. Then I moved to South Australia, and lost all the friends I had made while in New Zealand. My new husband's family lived in South Australia, and the next years were spent mostly among them and their extended families. When we separated, it was a bit acrimonious, and it was impossible for me to maintain any sort of relationship with any of them. We had also socialised a lot with his work colleagues, so again I found myself almost 'friendless'. Moving once more, this time back to Queensland, lost me the few friends I had made of my own in Adelaide, except the one, who has visited and we still keep in contact, but it's not the same as having somebody to hang out with... Last month, one of the women I had known in New Zealand, came for a visit, her daughter now lives in Queensland, and she was able to spend a few days with me - hadn't seen her in 20 years, but we used to be very close. It was surprising how the years fell away. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 9:26 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Humour - Funny How
Isn't it funny (no pun intended) how all the ideas that flow through your head while reading the topic and Mardi's handy hints disappear the moment you open the page and start to write about them? So, let me practice my 'free-writing' for a few minutes and see what comes out. Thoughts: What passed for humour in my family growing up, was more of what I think they would call today 'sledging'. My mother had a very caustic tongue, a sharp wit, and a biting sense of humour. This of course rubbed off on all of us, and our household contained much laughter and attempts at one-up-manship. (Sadly, I think this groundwork may have contributed more than a little towards some of my marriage breakups, but that's another story). I believe this is true of many Aussie households. International opinion sees us as larrikan and laconic; certainly this was the nature of Aussie humour as I remember it as a child. We were great readers also in the house, and the reading choice was not selective. My step-father was a barber, the original kind who had his shop in one corner of the local pool-hall. On weekends we kids got to go with mum to do the cleaning in the shop. Mostly the pool hall was closed so we got to wander around and inspect these mysterious rooms, it was the first time I had seen a man's latrine, and that fascinated me for quite a while. (I was a small child then, remember..) We also got to see an assortment of magazines that we would not normally have in the house. One of my favourites was the Australasian Post - remember that one? - One of the features I most loved was the tall-story telling, supposedly true stories which were often way over the top in believability. But, back to humour... I remember one thing that stuck with my poor mother. We were talking about other members of the family, and where they might be then, when somebody asks: "I wonder whatever happened to old Auntie Nellie? We haven't seen her for a while - I wonder if she's still alive?" To which my mother promptly answers, "Yes, that's right - I've got an address for her somewhere - why don't we write and ask her?" Needless to say, forever after, when the occasion arose, somebody would be sure to ask her:"Why don't you just write to old so-and-so, and ask them if they are dead yet?" Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 9:15 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Unexpected Surprise
I miss my daughter quite a lot. I guess it's because since the day she was born she had been the one constant in my life. After husband No. 2 left, and I moved to Australia with husband No. 3, my son stayed behind in New Zealand, but Carlena came with us. When he left 13 years later, she was still with me. Even after she started University, she still lived in the townhouse right next door to me. It was only when I eventually left Adelaide to come to the Gold Coast, that we were truly separated for the first time. It was about the 2nd year I was here, and it was my birthday. The phone rang and it was Carlena, calling from Adelaide to sing me Happy Birthday. We got on to talking about our plans for the day, and she said that she was working, expecting a big crowd at the restaurant and would have a very busy day. While we were talking there was a knock at the front door, and I went to answer still holding the phone and talking to her. Imagine my surprise to find it was her on the doorstep! She was talking to me on her mobile phone, and had rung me while she was in the taxi coming from the airport.. Actually, I didn't really recognise her at first, she had cut off all her hair, down to a tiny crewcut, and she had had a LOT of hair. She told me later, "I saw that look when you first opened the door, you didn't know it was me!" She was right, I knew I knew the face, something familiar about it, but hey, I was supposed to be talking to her in Adelaide, so it didn't register - only for a split-second though.. But I should have known something was up, it was very early in the morning, and Noel had leapt up early and was vacuuming the house. Not something he would normally do - at all - but he knew she was coming, and he knew that if I had known, I would have cleaned... Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 4:02 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Health
I remember my mother as a very caring, loving person, ready with a quick hug and cuddle when she thought it was needed. She also had a very caustic tongue and a quick fiery temper, but that's for another story. When we were ill, we were put to bed, with hot water bottles or poultices, temperatures taken and warm damp cloths on our head. We were fed warm sweet tea, and little fingers of vegemite toast, with the crusts cut off. My own kids know this routine very well, and in fact I've had the benefits myself over the years when I have been ill and one or the other of the kids has been around. Sadly, my current 'significant other' was obviously not raised in this same type of environment, as he manages somehow to remain completely impervious to my hints for a bit of TLC (tender loving care) when I am not feeling well - or, as one friend recently suggested, 'He's a man, that's what they are like...' I wonder if this is true? If it is, it explains a lot about why I have had such a disastrous history of marriage? My expectations have been too high? hmm.. looks like I can skip back and do the next ten minutes on yesterday's topic.. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 3:43 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Music
We grew up with a piano in the house. My older sister Roberta had lessons, but she didn't need them. She could play by ear, we only had radio in those days, but she could hear a tune and then play it on the piano. Amazing. I couldn't play, and am actually tone-deaf, but I was given one year of guitar lessons, just to be fair, I reckon. Mostly I don't sing in public, my style is a bit Tiny Tim, but I do recall one situation where I was required to stand in front of a class that was doing a management course, and sing something. I did my Tiny Tim version of 'I am a Little Teapot' - and honestly... those that didn't rush out of the room crying, were rolling around on the floor laughing. Mostly men, not many women got to do these sorts of management events in those days. I won that section, got a prize for the best performance (it was that sort of course). But music has played a large part in my life, from bunking off school as a teenager, spending money and time in the local milk bars playing songs on the jukebox, to a recent project which has involved converting all of my life-long collection of vinyl records into digital media that I can play on my computer. I was talking one day with my son about how strange it was that he has a lot of my favourite music in his own collection. Music dating back to my time as a young woman and mother. He called it, he said, "you know mum, I was there too!" Of course he was... he grew up with my music... I am a great fan of Willie Nelson, I think if I was asked I would say that Country is my favourite music, but not exclusively. There is one song that he does, with a very special memory for me. I can remember when I was a child, my mother used to sing a lot, waltzing around the house singing and humming the latest hits. And one of her very favourites was 'Stardust'. I was living in New Zealand back in 1978 when Willie Nelson released his album Stardust, mum was in her early seventies then, but I couldn't resist, I made a tape of the album and sent it to her for a mother's day gift (much more story here, mum and her mother's day expectations) - anyway I got a phone call from one very excited lady, she admonished me "you bad girl, you, sending me that, I have done nothing but dance around the house and sing all day!". Later I was involved in the arrangements for her funeral, and I was allowed to choose the song Stardust as the music which played us out of the church after the funeral service. Not a dry eye, which is how funerals should be. Celebrate birth, dance at weddings, and cry at funerals. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 3:59 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Letter to Myself - Not
It was probably lucky that I was taking the time to eat a sandwich while reading through the notes on this exercise. No way I could have typed as fast as the thoughts came flowing through my head. When we were studying and writing assignments, if stuck for something to write about, or not motivated to start, we used a technique we came to call "just type The.." which I guess is the same as just putting fingers to the keyboard and letting the sub conscious get on with it. Now I have to try and catch some of those fleeting thoughts... practice some free-writing... The first things that come to mind are, as always, the bad bits. I have a real penchant for beating myself up, but then I think I also have reason. I was a bad child, I think I've said that somewhere before but that doesn't make it any less true. I could start with the stealing of money, only pennies, at a time, but it got to be a habit. We were supposed to take this money to the nuns at the school, I don't remember why, but each Monday morning we were given a small sum to hand in. School fees maybe, or just to put in the collection for the poor starving black babies on the other side of the world. They were big on that... Anyway, I devised this scheme that meant I got to spend the money on lollies and things like that. On the way to school I would find a place to hide my coins, often buried in the dirt beside a fence or under a tree. Then when we were asked who had money to hand in, I could say no, as I didn't have any money. Later I would retrieve the money and head off to the shop. The strange thing was that I rarely spent the money just on myself, it was special to be the one who had money and could buy lollies to hand around to the other kids. I got caught, of course, often, I was after all only a small child and didn't see that adults always know about these things, but it didn't stop me lying about it and getting beaten for it by the nuns. This happened quite a bit, didn't really seem to matter if I had done anything wrong or not. I was a target and copped the ruler to the back of the legs and across the hands many more times than as a child I thought was deserved. They were sadistic, those nuns, these beatings would often be carried out in front of the whole school. The school was a large Queenslander style building, on poles with a wide verandah that faced the school grounds. Every morning all the kids would assemble in the grounds, and if our name was called out we had to go up the stairs to the verandah, so that the punishment could be seen by all the other kids lined up in the grounds below. I didn't know it then, but I do now - as a child and all through primary school, I suffered from Tourettes Syndrome. Today it is recognised as a symptom of nasty things that might be happening on the home front, but in those days it was seen as a cheeky child poking faces. Being strapped for it by the nuns didn't make it go away, and in fact I can still get up a bit of a twitch when I am tired or don't have my stress guards up. I think I might stop there for now, this is only the first of the childhood/schooldays memories, and the rest don't really get any better... enough to add that I do realise now why I was that bad child, what was happening to me then, and the affect it had on the teenager I grew into. reply On a lighter note On reflection, after this dip into writing the 'dark times', I thought perhaps I would just add a little light, for balance. Although many of my memories may be on the 'dark side', and yes there's more to come, my story, at the end, is a story of triumph. I have achieved far beyond what could have reasonably been expected. I am still alive, for one thing, and I have never been to jail, well, only for one night, and that wasn't really my fault, more a case of my stupidity, but I was only sixteen at the time. I have had a full and happy life, with loving children, a career in work I have enjoyed, and many friends. I have even had 3 happy marriages, sad that they turned out to be with the wrong men! Interesting, Mardi, isn't it... that I felt I had to come back and add this... I'll have to explore that one a bit... Della Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 3:40 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Tastes
taste - golden syrup on fresh bread crust I was young, I cannot place exactly when, and my sister was nearly 2 years older, when we were placed for a short time in an orphanage while our mother was in hospital. We were there for some months.
I don't know where my younger sister was, and although we sometimes think it might have been her birth, that would make me very young, just over three, and I don't think my memory would be so clear at that age?
Because she was older my sister was in a different group and even dormitory than I was... hmmm.. I was with the 'babies' so maybe it was Leonie being born?
The older kids had 'jobs' to do and one of Roberta's was to bring the big trays with our midday food to wherever we were at the time. Mostly playing in the yard, we were outside a lot, I seem to remember. And very often the food would be these great big slabs of fresh bread, smothered in golden syrup. She knew I loved crusts, and when she got to me she would dig into the bottom of the tray where she had hidden me a beautiful thick crust.
You know - I still do that, golden syrup on fresh crusty bread ... Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 3:33 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Weekends
When I lived in New Zealand with my young family, weekends were about sport. My son played soccer with the Oratia United Football Club. He started in the under-eights and played until the under-sixteens. I was your genuine article soccer mum, managing the teams (wash the jerseys, bring the oranges, make the phone calls), and worked on the club committee. It was a very new club, started the year before we joined with only one team, our first year had two teams, and when we left eight years later, there were 24 junior teams and several senior teams, even represented in the local A league We had also managed to fund and build a licensed clubhouse which was the focal point for a lot of the community. This time in my life I consider one of the most important, being the time I spent raising my family. I was involved in the community through the soccer club, and made many friends across a very wide range of cultures and society. The chairman of the club, whose boy played in our age-group was the Orb carrier for the Mayor of Auckland, and a very distinguished person. There were teachers and lawyers, dentists, doctors, taxi drivers, road workers, truck drivers, even morticians and ministers. It was a wine-growing region, and the nationalities crossed almost every country you can think of. English, of course, and Dutch and German and Italians and Yugoslavians, Scots and Finns, all the soccer playing nations and all about the boys and their soccer. And they were good boys, almost all of them. Only a very few lost their way as they grew up, there was very little trouble, I think they were kept too busy, we had two training nights a week, and quite often a 'social' game on the Sunday, following their league games on the Saturday. Over the years we were there, we had on average three teams playing in our age group, and many of the boys who started with us were still there when the team graduated from the 'midgets' to the 'juniors' when a lot of the boys took a break from playing. It was always hard after that to fill a team for the under-eighteens. Watching so many boys grow into young men, spending very many hours on the sidelines with their parents, working together with the community to develop the playing fields and the clubhouses - yes, a very special time. When I moved to Adelaide my daughter took over from her brother, and started at about eleven, to play netball with the Uniting Church competition. She too joined a team that stayed together for many years, even after most of the girls had left school and started work. On one occasion we had to laugh, Carlena was a very good player and was chosen to go with a team representing Australia to play in a tournament in New Zealand. She was mortified, how could she go and play against New Zealand (she is a born kiwi and proud of it), wearing the Aussie green and gold? She did go though, and had a wonderful time, kiwi rellies even turning out to cheer her on. Neither of them play any team sport now, we all switched to golf, and Craig surfs regularly with his wife and his mates. I can't wait to see Craig coaching his little soccer daughter, when she starts, and I guess it'll be back to weekends on the sidelines for Nana. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 7:24 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Shows/Fates
Ekka /'ekuh/
noun an agricultural show held annually in Brisbane, Qld, usually in August.
Official name, Royal National Show.
Also, the Exhibition.
[colloquial variation of Exhibition]I know that Queenslanders have their own brand of Strine... but I didn't really expect to find an official entry for the Ekka in the Macquarie Word Dictionary. I was living, at age eleven, with my older sister who was fourteen, my younger sister aged eight, our mother, and an elderly aunt, called Maisie, when a man moved into our house. His name was Arthur, he was my mother's friend, they stayed together for the next 42 years, and were married in 1995 when she was ninety years old, just 2 years before she died. Our household was never the same again, and a lot of my story is intertwined with the relationships that developed within the family, and the extended family, as a result of his arriving in our lives.
He was a great show-goer, and insisted on taking us kids, and later grand-kids to any and every show or exhibition we could get to. One of the big ones, was the Brisbane Show, the Ekka as it is fondly known. We were living in Townsville, so getting to the show, some 1400kms away, was always an adventure, whether we drove down, or went on the overnighter train. We went several times over the next few years. Mostly we stayed with a sister of my mothers' called Aunty Glad, who ran a boarding house in a South Brisbane suburb.
One year, we rented a house. It was a big old ramshackle Queenslander, a style of house popular for it's design, raised on poles, surrounded by wide verandahs, it is entirely suited to the hot conditions and outdoor living style that most Queenslanders (the people) still enjoy today.
The house was across the road from the showgrounds, with easy entry to a staff gate immediately opposite. We were there for the two weeks of the show, and it was a very exciting time of my life. Lots of the houses around us were rented to the show workers, itinerants who travelled with the show exhibitions and carnival rides.
A lot of families, and we quickly made friends with the show kids, and because the adults were mostly busy working, we kids had free run around the showgrounds. With the parents manning the rides and the stalls, we were well catered for, and armed with the obligatory 'stranger-danger' warnings, we could pretty much do what we liked.
All the farm animals were there, and we got to know them, there were calves and lambs born and every sort of chook. We had fresh milk, and eggs, and got to help feeding and cleaning in the stockyards. And boys, of course, if I think really hard, I do believe this was my first experience of a broken heart, the end of a holiday 'romance'. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 6:36 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Six Sentences - life story...
The middle child of 3 girls, I was born in North Queensland, at the very end of WWII. These were the depression years, and our household was a constant stream of comings and goings as returning veterans, displaced persons, and assorted children in need of short-term fostering found their way to our house and my mother's loving care. As young children we attended the local Catholic school which mixed boys and girls, but as we reached mid-school age we were separated and the boys were sent off to the Christian Boys College. By the time I was 12 years old, my rebellious nature had surfaced, and after several episodes of running away and other bad behaviour I was sent off to Brisbane to what we then called a 'home for deliquent girls' run by The Good Shepherd nuns, where because of my tender age I was allowed, regulated actually, to continue my schooling. By the time I left, I was nearly 14, the official school-leaving age in those days, and I had very little schooling after that, so that today I can say, "yes, well, I left school at age 14, and that was reform school!". Many turbulent years were to follow, and it wasn't until I reached my early twenties and found myself living in New Zealand, with one failed marriage and my small toddler son, when I began to realise there was more to me than 'that' - I discovered I had brains and ability and luckily was guided by some very wonderful people whose influence was to put me on a path that has taken me through a wonderful and fulfilling career. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 8:07 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Where I Live
Why you live where you live/or have lived: Today write of where you life – or have lived in the past.How did you come there? Was it chance? Design?How does the neighborhood affect it?Tell us about the house?Were you happy there?How did the house affect what you did?Neighbours?Try and use some descriptive words.Anything else about where you live/lived. I did a bit of a count-up, since I was 21 and moved with my very young son to New Zealand, I have lived in a total of 12 different dwellings. Of these, six were minor moves into rented properties, the other six are houses I have owned, or co-owned. The first of these was a bungalow style, 3 bed-room house in a suburban street in Auckland. A typical what they call 'first-home buyers' investment. The 2nd house we moved into about 8 years later is probably still the place I have the fondest memories of - it was on the crest of a hill, and the views were spectacular, on the one side the lights across Auckland to the ocean, and in the other direction across vineyards in the valley below and the rainforest mountains of Titirangi. When I first moved back to Australia, we spent several months living in a caravan on an almond orchard, the property of my 'new' husband's sister. The accomodation left a bit to be desired, but living in the rolling hills of Willunga, surrounded by almond blossom and the beautiful South Australian beaches was wonderful, and a memory that will stay with me. We bought our own place, in the foothills of Adelaide, a walk away from natural conservation parks, and lived happily there until the notorious Adelaide soil did it's damage and the house began to fall down around us. We patched, and sold, and moved closer to the City, this time into a very large double-fronted sandstone villa, with high ceilings and stained glass door panels. During the time we lived there, we were both working very hard and long hours, tending to our careers, and the biggest benefit we got out of the house was it's quick trip to work, and the house itself which was great for entertaining, something else we did quite a bit of. The period of my life I call my 'high-roller' lifestyle. (more here for another story!) When I sold that house (I was lucky, the judge gave it to me in the divorce settlement, since it was mostly my money that had bought it in the first place), I bought two cute little townhouses, brand new, also just on the outskirts of the city. This was the first time I was to live alone, and my little unit was so cosy, with just enough room for a small garden outside the back door. Even better, my daughter moved into the 2nd unit, she was at University and working by then, and we had some wonderful times, close enough for comfort, individual space to enjoy. And then, the current move, back to Queensland, ostensibly to help with the care of my mother. She suffered with diabetes, and needed virtually full time care, her mind was who-knows-where, and her partner was having a difficult time. I moved into a small flat attached to their house, and this proved to be totally disastrous, it wasn't very long before he and I fell out badly and I had to get out and away. I sold the Adelaide houses (managing rental properties from so far away was very stressful), and bought the little house I now live in. It is only a small place, I guess cottage, it was 2 bed-room, lounge, dining room, at some stage, but the last owners had added an extra bedroom and a sort of family room. It is less than 500m to the beach, but enough to fit a 4-lane highway in between. We don't have any problem with the highway, we are far enough back not to even know it's there, until we leave the house. The block is a large one, a double, and will take development into duplexes at some time in the future, but at the moment it is my garden, which I can see from my bedroom, the dining room, my computer room, and the kitchen window - so I have spent a lot of time making it a place to sit and contemplate, and enjoy the incredible range of bird and butterfly life that it attracts. I have a friend, Noel, who shares the house with me. He has his own 2 rooms at the front of the house, so we have his and her computer rooms, and a relationship that fits very comfortably, companionship and space to each do our own thing. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 8:05 AM
posted by: DellaB
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shopping on eBay
I just had a look, to answer your question, and I see that I first joined eBay in October 2005, and I have made 31 purchases in total. Only once did I pay more than I needed to for something and that was because I was too impatient. It's about clever shopping, to get the real bargains, and I have had plenty of those. The thing (my thing) is to not buy on impulse - and to include the cost of any postage/shipping when calculating if you could buy it cheaper from the shops. An example, I fell in love with Talavera pottery when I bought a gift for my 'opposing' mother-in-law for her 60th birthday - how is it we buy the things we really like then give them away as gifts? - but it is very expensive and quite hard to find in the local shops. I found a supplier on eBay who lives in San Francisco, and have bought several pieces, and even with the shipping, which is quite high because it is pottery and reasonably heavy, I paid about a quarter of the price it would have cost me in a shop here. It can also be a bit like using the local classifieds or trading post - I recently bought a solid timber 8-seater outdoor setting, with bench seats, for $300. I had done the research (always before buying), and the closest I could get to what I wanted was around $600... (we are talking 2nd hand of course). With items on sale in your own area, of course there is no shipping, so we restrict our shopping for heavy/household items to 'pick-up Gold Coast'. We got 4 dining room chairs, very good condition, for a total of $80. Same chairs anywhere else $120 EACH.. We don't usually buy, or recommend buying, electronic gear from eBay; but having said that Noel did buy an almost new TV and a new upper range computer, and paid less than a third of the price he would have paid elsewhere. So, it's about looking for bargains, for things you would have bought anyway, doing your research thoroughly before bidding, and taking note of the sellers 'reputation'. It's also quite good fun, especially if you like to go to auctions. The thrill is still there, it can get quite exciting in the last few minutes, to see if you are going to 'win' the item with your highest bid, the trick of course is not to be tempted to bid higher just for the sake of winning, sometimes people get carried away with the moment and then it's the seller who wins. wow - see, I can write half a novel on anything... Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 8:04 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Influence
So for today’s writing we will think about a relative or friend who had a significant impact on your life. How, why, when, who. Were you a child? Adult? Looking back do you think that they meant what was said/done?I can list very quickly the people who have most influenced the paths my life has taken. I don't know if this is a good thing, or a bad thing - I am mostly a Taurus by birth, and can be very bull-headed when I think I know best, so maybe I've missed being guided by some of the people I should have listened to? First up, is my mother. Some would say her influence might not have been a good thing, she was married more than once, but mostly raised her assortment of kids as a single mother. There is a big story there, and if I do ever write a book, it might well be her story that I write. But she was also a very intelligent woman, in a time when this was not necessarily recognised in women, she worked extremely hard, and did her very best to raise us to think for ourselves and to keep our heads held high. Up until the time she 'lost' it in her late eighties, she was the one I went to when I needed advice, and her advice was always spot on... Next came a woman, an apostlic(spl) nun, who came into my life when I was 12 years old. She seemed old to me at the time, but thinking back she was actually quite a young woman. She took me under her wing, and tried very hard to make me see my 'good' points. She lifted me off a path that could well have become self-destructive, and showed me that, despite my then circumstances, there was potential within me for growth and achievement. Then there was my grand-mother-in-law. An old Italian lady, who we all called Nona, my husband's father's mother. She was well into her sixties when we first met, and she would gather the extended family around her for meals on given Sundays. During these meals she would call each of us 'girls' into her kitchen, on the pretense of us helping her with things. And there she would give each of us her wisdom relating to whatever she saw that we needed. If partners were fighting, and she always seemed to know, her advice was always the same, and it's advice I have lived by all of these years, she used to tell us, "You don't need to fight about anything, just agree to whatever 'he' says or wants - then go ahead and do whatever you want, your way - mostly he wont even notice...". How true this has proved to be. I have really only two others, both men, both bosses. Very similar circumstances, at different times in my life. And, strangely enough, now that I think about it, both accountants... Both hired me, at first interview, when perhaps my qualifications (I didn't have any) didn't really match the position I was applying for, I guess I can say they were prepared to give me a chance, and both helped me enormously to grow and learn in the job. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 8:00 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Names
Touchy subject in my family, and although I am tempted to write a discourse here about naming conventions etc., the purpose of this whole exercise is to start to write my autobiography, saving notes towards the book as I go, so airbrushing or sanitising facts would sort of defeat the purpose. My older sister's full name was Roberta Barkley Patterson, mine is Delores Barkley Patterson, my younger sister, Leonie Mary Patterson. Our eldest sister, who was adopted by my mother at age seven, was Desma. There was also an older brother, almost a generation before us, and his name was James William Appleby. Roberta is an obvious choice, our father's name was Robert Barkley, I've always believed that I was named Delores after a Russian character in a book my mother was reading at the time. I don't know where the Leonie came from - the Patterson was our mother's married name at the time. I myself have cycled through a few names over the years, first at age twenty when I married a man called John Craig Bramley, next came Dozzi [married for 16 years], and finally (probably) Major, married at 38 and divorced 13 years later. It was after the last divorce, which was a messy hurtful time, that I reverted, not to my 'maiden' name, but to the Barkley I had been given as a middle name at birth. There is a LOT of my story in here, I think it's going to take me decades to write this book! My daughter's name has a bit of a story attached, my then husband, Anthony Dozzi, had decided we were going to have a boy, and the name he had chosen was Carlos (who knows why?), but she turned out to be a girl, so we changed it to Carlene. Now, although Anthony was born in New Zealand, his family background is Italian, and one of the dearest people I have ever had in my life, was his paternal grandmother Caterina, and from day one she would pronounce the baby's name with the traditional 'a' at the end, so my daughter became Carlena. My son's name is Craig, and his second name is Lee, called after my sister Leonie, and her eldest son is called David Lee (we wanted to give the boys a link)... my daughter's second name is Rachele, after my mother's second name - her full name was Muriel Rachael, but she was always called Rae. My daughter-in-law has named my grand-daughter Angelina, after Angelina Jolie... And the Della? - Well, apart from getting fed up with explaining that the name Delores was pronounced with the emphasis on the first 'e' - not as in Dolores, I once googled my name with some quite surprising results. Maybe it was Lolita mum was reading at the time... Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 9:08 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Autobiographies & Reading
Apart from the fact that I will read almost anything - I believe the expression is widely read - if I am asked to name favourites, or books and authors, I will struggle to do that. Some of course stay with me, but it's usually when someone else mentions a particular book that jogs my memory. And it's not just books, I remember as a child I would read the cereal packets at the breakfast table. I read manuals diligently, from technology books to instructions for putting together furniture and children's toys. Newspapers, magazines, even the monthly newsletter from the Neighbourhood Watch people. There was a burglary in our street last month; somebody entered a neighbour's house through an open door. I have a small library of books, those I couldn't bring myself to get rid of when I had to reduce my collection of things after moving into a much smaller house several years ago. Many of my favourite books are about people, so I thought I'd find more than a few autobiographies left on the bookshelves. Surprisingly, there is only a handful, biographies, yes, but autobiographies, not very many at all. These are the ones that I found: Lance Armstrong, It's Not About the Bike, G.P. Putnam's Sons, 2000 Michael Crawford, Parcel Arrived Safely, Tied With String, Random House Fabian Dattner, Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Penguin Books Australia, 1992 Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. The Salad Days, William Collins Sons & Co. Ltd., 1988 Ayaan Hirsi Ali, Infidel Free Press, Simon & Scuster, Inc., 2007 Roberta Sykes, Snake Dreaming, a trilogy: Snake Cradle,1997, Snake Dancing, 1998, Snake Circle, 2000, Allen & Unwin. Tina Turner, I, Tina, Penguin Books, England, 1986 Among the biographies I have is an even more mixed bunch: Gandhi, Frank Sinatra, Bill Gates, Shirley Maclaine, Bill Cosby, Chopper Read, Mary Moody, Hillary Rodham (Clinton), Barbara Holborow. I have only recently joined the local library. I first discovered the joy of book exchange shops at the tender age of 18. I had moved to Brisbane with an older sister and her six children. She was running away from an abusive marriage and I travelled with her and helped her to settle into her new situation. This was a small book exchange shop, with accommodation for the family in the house tacked onto the back. Whenever I have moved, one of the first resources I would search out was the closest book exchange. The system was always the same, second-hand books are marked with a sale price, and the exchange rate was most commonly half of the marked price. Sadly, the book exchanges are closing, no longer able to survive in today's costly commercial environment. Finally, I have taken up a library card, still early days and I have trouble remembering the return-by date, so I can never decide how many books I should get. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 7:40 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Helping
I reckon I just can't help it (no pun intended), but it is in my nature to 'help'. One of those people who cannot stand by and watch something being done, or not done, as the case may be, if it's something I know how to do... Luckily for me, I have been able to turn this natural ability into a life-time career. I have been employed for the larger part of my working life in service and support. Initially as a consultant within an accounting firm, helping clients with their computerised systems, eventually starting my own business to do the same. This was back in the early days when anything computer was new and scary, and the people I worked with were quite often hesitant and unsure. Others would ask me, "how can you work all day with computers?" I could happily tell them, "No, I don't see it that way, I don't work with computers, I work with people..." Over the last few years I worked as a trainer for customer service personnel. The organisation I work for is quite large, and training is done over several weeks with groups of about 12 to 15 people. Because of the nature of the work the groups are always very mixed, all ages and widely varying abilities. Bringing all of the group to a successful completion of their training was a great source of satisfaction to me. These days, since I have opted for part-time work, I still work for the same company, but now using the skills I used to train, responding to customer queries and complaints, and helping others to identify and resolve problems. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 7:39 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Gardens
You probably wont be surprised to know that you are not alone. I happen to like geraniums, I once had a beautiful big red geranium, and every time I had to move, I would take cuttings so that I could have the plant at my new place. But very often visitors would look at my geranium and say something like, "oh, I don't like geraniums, never have.." I could never understand it, but your friend was right, it's care that makes them thrive, for every dead flower head you remove, two more come in it's place and you end up with a beautiful bush full of brilliant colour. We recently had a brief stay in a lovely rainforest retreat called Calurla, (you can google the word calurla to see it), and when I admired their plants they gave me some cuttings to take home. I now have a little patch that I call my 'Calurla garden' - there are pinks and reds and they are coming along nicely. About gardens in general, after the fourth time circumstances meant I had to leave a garden I'd spent years in the making, I determined that 'never again' and for the first 3 years I lived here, I steadfastly refused to plant anything - mow the lawn and trim the trees, nothing more. But of course I relented and slowly started marking out the garden space, and planting just a lttle thing here and there. Unlike June, and her NPW (never pass a weed), an idea I really like, I do not manicure my garden, and like to think of it as an 'informal garden'. Everything has to be able to grow in sand, as we are less than 500m from the beach, we have some beautiful big trees around us, fig and mango and avocado, eucalypts and silky oak, so the smaller plants also have to fight for sunlight. My very favourite sites on the internet are the garden sites, of which there are many, and all around the world, gardeners love to take photos, and to share them with us via their blogs, I've spent many happy hours oohing and aahing at some spectacular displays, and gained a lot of knowledge about plants along the way. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 7:34 AM
posted by: DellaB
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Shopping
Of the various labels I have attracted over the years, shop-aholic would be pretty close to the top of the list. My son remarked to me recently 'Mum, you know you have always been a bit materialistic..' Well, that took me back a bit, and a long train of thought took me to realising that yes, I have always been a gatherer of 'things', a shopper of serious intent. I also clutch and hoard, but that's another part of the story. My first shops? I have recalled three, very early, from primary school years. We mostly walked to school, sometimes met by our mother on the way home, and when this happened we would stop at the small corner shop that served the district with a range of bits and pieces that of course included ice-cream cones. We came to the habit of stopping at the shop anyway, when mum was not with us, because there was always the chance that she had passed by and left money there for us to get an ice-cream. The second is the school 'tuckshop'. Not actually attached to the school, but on a corner very near by - it was the stopping place just as we entered the school grounds, to spend the penny, or even a half-penny on something hard and sweet to give us energy for the morning lessons. And that is where I also developed my life-long appetite for meat pies and pasties, a popular lunchtime treat if we had the money. And the mushy peas that went on top. I still do that, sometimes. We also walked past a green-grocer's shop. There were baskets stacked outside the windows with things too good to resist. But we knew that if we just quickly nipped up a fresh green bean or pea pod, that we would get away with it. Thinking back, of course I realise the the shopkeeper would have been well aware, in fact this particular shopkeeper was to pay a large part in my life as I got older, he was Chinese, and became over the years, a well known figure and trader in the town (note to self to research this man's name). Later, I recall, when I was sixteen years old and the supermarket was an exciting new concept in shopping, I got my picture on the front page of the local newspaper. The story was about the Grand Opening of the first-ever supermarket to be opened in the town. It was a Woolworths store and we 'young people' were hired to be checkout operators. We were trained to within an inch-of-our-lives, and had to wear a uniform with a skirt that was measured to a precise point above the knee. Some years ago I realised that the reason I never had any money was because of my habit of spending it, and I needed to do something about that. So I made a decision just not to go near the shops, which meant that my partner had to take over the household shopping - which worked well, for quite some time I stayed out of the malls and avoided temptation - but for better or worse I have now discovered eBay and online shopping, and I can't resist dropping in now and then, just to buy myself an 'ice-cream'. Labels: booknote, U3Acoursework
posted at: 7:28 AM
posted by: DellaB
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