a lifetime ago...

Most people say that they hated school...Considering I changed schools about as often as most people change their socks, I guess I never really got the opportunity to actually find things to hate about school.
To be honest though, I didn't really spend much time at school. I played hookey probably more than my fair share and it was only after the Truant officers came knocking on the door that Mum realised that perhaps I should take school a bit more seriously...
Personally, I thought for someone who spent much of each school day hiding out somewhere, coming first in subjects like 3 unit English, ancient history, music and domestic sciences answered the argument...hmmmm
Well, I do admit, things made a whole lot more sense when I actually attended several days in a row....
Anyhooo... my last couple of school years were probably my most enjoyable. So much so that when I came down with a very serious case of chicken pocks in year 10 (4th form) I told everyone my pimples were out of control and with a raging temperature, kept going until I passed out in the classroom and my Mother was called to come get me.
In year 10 I threw caution to the wind and became involved with drama, the debating team and made a whole heap of great friends along with it.


Debbie, Peter, Stephen, Me




Bernadette, Jenny, Wendy and Leanne




Me and Deb




Me with my niece, Tammy

I guess my point is that while it is so many years later, life is a blink. I look into the mirror and expect to see that wide eyed young girl looking back at me. All of life's adventures were awaiting me. Not afraid to take chances cause...you know invincibility and all that...
Instead, all I see is how tired and beaten down by life I have become.
Hopefully there are still plenty of adventures awaiting me, but now I choose my path a little more carefully...am a bit more wary of what may go wrong and definitely much less trusting of those around me....

...butter wouldn't melt in my mouth....

Being the youngest, by far, of four girls, I was often...well...pampered..?? okay...spoiled...
My eldest sister Joan was a teacher, so she taught me to read and write before my 4th birthday. My sister Jackie was a dressmaker so she sewed all my clothes, as well as my Cindy doll's clothes and my next sister, Jenny actually paid me to make her a cup of coffee every night when she got home from work
Of course, I wasn't above bribery too...
Like the time I caught Joan smoking out in the front yard...$$$
or the time I spyed on Jenny when she and her boyfriend were canoodling on the lounge when Mum wasn't around...$$$
Or all the times I wanted to go out with one of my sisters and their boyfriends....Having big sisters made me feel very special sometimes!
Of course, there was a downside to all this...
that was the fact that Mum had "been there and done that" with the sisters, so things like school excursions, cake stalls, education weeks, etc were very "ho-hum" in our household full of women, so when I came home all excited about an art show at school, I shouldn't have been at all surprised to find that no one really cared...It wasn't any one's fault, Mum was tired from working all week and it was impossible for her to commit to things like canteen or chaperoned on an excursion, she had done all those things for so many years and now Mum had to work to keep a roof over my head and the sisters were busy having lives and working...but one of them would often attend a function with me.
but there was ALWAYS Grandma!!!!!
My Grandma was an amazing lady! As a child, she was so small, she earned the nickname, Dolly. Her family called her that all her life. I actually thought that was her name and one day when a letter came for 'Mary Gladys Graham', I had no idea who it was for!
She nursed my grandfather, who had suffered ill health since he was gassed in the trenches by the Germans in WW1. She took care of her sister, Belle who lost her hearing when she was 7 - and then some 80 years later, sitting by Belle's hospital bed after making the daily train trip from Pendle Hill to Lidcombe, just to read the paper to her dying sister. (so she knew what was going on in the world!) She held her sister Edie in her arms as she died.from pneumonia. She held her 9 year old daughter in her arms as she died from a burst appendix...this was one tough lady! So wrangling her youngest granddaughter, was a piece of cake....


from left: Jenny, Grandma, Me (Pip), Mum

 I loved magic tricks when I was a kid...you know, card tricks, magic cups, magic rope....
Now Mum was onto me. She knew every trick in my 9 year old's repertoire, but Grandma...well, I tell you, she thought I was amazing! Oh, I forgot to mention what a great actress she was!! Patiently, Grandma would sit and marvel at my appalling tricks, clapping and cheering me on. Of all the people in and out of my young life, I always felt safe and loved by her.
I used to hang around Grandma every chance I got. When I think about it, she taught me how to cook, sew, knit, clean, pretty much everything a female needed to know. But she taught me so much more than that. I learned much more valuable things like patience, understanding, humility and selflessness from her.
 Grandma even carted me off to Church! When everyone else was snoring their heads off, me and Grandma would be belting out hymns down at the Methodist Church... On Mondays, she would sit at the kitchen table with the grocer, Mr. Dobson and give him the grocery order. So quietly spoken was she, but all the while keeping tabs on every penny he was charging her...haha
So thinking about it, while I had so many strong female influences in my life and trust me, I was surrounded by them! My Grandmother stands out....
On days when hurt and anger makes it near impossible for me to want to open my eyes, let alone get out of bed and face the daily dose of crap that has been dished up to me lately,
 I try to think of Grandma.
Nothing ever phased her. Nothing stopped her and nothing ever stood in her way.

A tearful farewell...

It is with much sadness that we say goodbye to a beloved family member. A beautiful old gentleman known as Xander.
Xander Hall was known to us by many aliases.
Mr. Xander, Xandy, Matey boy, Choogie, Fessy....it goes on...
Xander was a beautiful Russian Blue who came to us from the pound. He was found wandering the streets of Newtown and picked up and taken to St George animal shelter, where we just-so-happened-to be going to find a birthday present for my daughter, Natalie.
As soon as Xander spotted her, her ran forward in his cage, knocking over his water dish in the process and drooling uncontrollably, in an effort to get her attention. Of course, it worked!
Home he came and soon became the alpha male. Our ladies, Tigger and Saffy adored him and would always wait until he gave the word to do anything. They always looked to him. Later on, Chloe, a lovely Calico cat and her cheeky son Mania came to live with us and they also had the same unequalled respect for Xander. Mania followed him everywhere and Xander was so patient with him.
When Tigger died, Xander stood guard near her and kept all the other cats quiet for the day. He knew we were all sad.
Only a couple of years ago, when cheeky little Bitbit joined the family, she was a tiny kitten and Xander would let her play for hours with his tail and never got cross with her! He even let her drink his milk!
Xander was magnificent!




Xander jumped into my car and gave me a cuddle!

 



cheeky boy in the gardening bag

 



 


he loved to garden with us!

 His trademark grey/blue coat with the white goatee beard and white blaze on his chest made him stand out...but his tail was also eye catching! it was a little darker than the rest of him and had darker, but quite faint rings down it and when he was wild, it fluffed out to be huge, I can tell you!
He was so strong, in summer he would thin out but in winter he would become huge and you could always hear him thudding down the hallway....
He had teeth like needles as well as very sharp claws and he caught me a few times by sucking me in close with meows and purrs, so when I stopped to pat him, he would latch on and fang into my hand, or whatever he could get hold of! Cheeky boy...

Some of his funny habits:

• Xander would sometimes "pull an all-nighter" by refusing to come inside for his dinner and we would worry all night, only to find him curled up on the front door mat early in the morning!
• He would love to sit by an open window to "shoot the breeze"
• Xander loved to stretch out in front of the fire
• He loved it when Saffy sat with him and gave him a bath
• Sometimes we would sings songs to him, like: he is Mr Xander, swimming underwater....

He retired to the Central Coast last March, where he spent his last days keeping watch over Bitbit, Natalie and his new little human brother, Ashton.

Xander went to sleep, quietly in the sun on Thursday, 19th May, 2011.
We all adored you mate and we won't forget you xxxxx

» rich oxtail soup : recipe

» rich oxtail soup : recipe

ummm...excuse me... I think you dropped something???....

Well, this is probably one of my mother's most famous stories.
As far as I know, it is the absolute truth and has been corroborated by several family members!
It was in the late 1930's or early 40's, but before 1943 when mum got married.
Mum and her sister, Lucy were in the city on one of their usual shopping expeditions. Probably to buy shoes (what else???) or handbags (another given!)
 Of course they were dressed up to the nine's with hats and gloves...you get the picture...

Well, there they were, strolling down Pitt Street when Lucy felt the elastic giving way in her bloomers!
In a state of panic, my mother searched despairingly for a safety pin in her handbag to no avail.
So they kept walking very carefully but as quickly as possible....
Now my Auntie Lucy was a LADY...at all times keeping her cool and never causing a scene...
So with heads held high, Lucy and Mum marched up Pitt street.
As the troublesome knickers finally couldn't defy gravity any longer, they slid downwards at a rapid pace.
Not wanting to make a scene, Lucy gracefully stepped out of them and kept walking....
all the while dragging Mum along and trying to stop her from blushing and screaming with shock...although the giggles must have given them away...

NOW, she may have gotten away with it, if it hadn't been for a lovely young man who, thinking Lucy had dropped her ( albeit rather large) handkerchief, started calling out to Lucy. Of course, she ignored him and walked even more briskly...
He swooped down and picked them up, by now, almost running to catch her and shouting loudly, "Miss, you dropped something!!"
Well, Lucy and mum ducked into a shop and thankfully lost the man, avoiding further embarrassment. They hid inside until they were sure he was gone before making a beeline for the train station.
I was a very quiet trip home on the train that day.
My mother never forgot it, Auntie Lucy never spoke of it...
but I wonder what that young man did with those bloomers?

Have a lovely week xxx

on being a mother....

It has taken me many years to truly appreciate my mother and what she did for me.
Now, I know what you are all thinking....
we ALL appreciate our parents...sure we do, but we also expect them to be at our beckoned call. We expect our mothers to always fix things and I guess we all sort of feel that we "own" our parents. Of course, we are all human and every generation blames the one before (as the song goes), and on becoming an adult there also comes responsibility. Mothers tend to feel responsible for their offspring for their entire lives, taking on their pain  as if itwere their own hurt. I am talking about realising the selfless devotion that a mother has - and not just in humans, animals, birds etc all nurture and care for their children.
By their very nature, mothers nurture and protect, feed, care and go without to ensure their offspring are okay, while fathers tend to show their love by providing, lovingly protecting, Teaching and generally getting to do lots of fun things like sport. It is a completely different type of caring and both are, in their own way wonderful.
Often mum spends all day cleaning, caring, cooking and taking care of the mundane things and in generations gone by, raising the kids was their full time job. These days, many mum's juggle work and parenthood with wonderful success. I, myself worked full time and also did 5 years(or so) of university by correspondence when my kids were in their teens, so I know it is not easy and it is a struggle for any woman to balance home and work and keep a little bit of sanity!!

But...let's get back to my epiphany....
there is no one (and I mean no one) who stacks up when it comes to caring about you. in my opinion.
I had 3 children under 4 years of age. My mum didn't drive, was on the pension, suffered from very bad health and lived close to an hour away, but when she made her usual "checking up on me" phone call, if she thought I wasn't okay, or I really needed help, she would get some things together, raid her kitchen cupboards for treats for us, call a taxi and come - no matter how sick SHE might have been, I was more important.
If only I had appreciated how much of a struggle that was for her. (and she did the same things for all of us) Of course, I was always terribly grateful to her for her help and even though she wasn't able to do much, it was the moral support that meant the world to me. Mum would always "hold the baby" so I could clean, shop or attend to another child's needs, especially when one of them was sick.
When my mother died, it left a hole that could never (and I really didn't want it to be) filled.
So now that my own children are all grown I have had plenty of time to reflect on the years gone by.
My mother didn't have money -- far, far from it! She struggled so much, her entire life, and in fact, when she passed away, my sisters and I not only paid for her funeral, but all her outstanding debts as well. That was definitely not a burden and we were all glad to do it as mum deserved to have a "clean slate" if you know what I mean.
Mum's love was shown every time she went without, for us kids. Every time she jumped in that taxi to come and help me. Every time she rang me and listened while I cried to her about how hard my life was, or how tired I was, or how bad my migraines were she would say, "it's alright darlin' I know" and talk to me for as long as I needed her. (In hindsight, how selfish of me to complain about my life, when I had a beautiful home and healthy children and  mum had nothing and lived in a housing commission flat with barely room to swing a cat..)
Every bag of yummy biscuits like Venetians, Chocolate Monte or Timtam that she bought especially to bring to me as a treat or a bow of Darrell Lea chocolates that I am sure she couldn't afford and would have loved to eat herself! The little chocolates that my kids waited for. My son will remember the special lunches when we took mum to Westfield at Parramatta, to a little coffee shop called 'Reggies' and mum would order Grilled Cheese and Bacon fingers for him because she knew he loved them!

 Mum was very gentle and softly spoken. But she was, as I have told you all before, incredibly strong and she taught me to be proud as well as being kind and gentle. Mum rarely, if ever raised her voice (and never her hand!) to us and taught me to be the same.
Mum had a beautiful voice and in her young days, actually sang in the Sydney Town Hall! Yes, the very same place where I played my violin, many years later! But she gave all that up to be a wife and mother.



Mum and her sister Lucy




Mum on her wedding day, 27th March, 1943 (her 21st birthday)

 When we were growing up, mum would often put one of her records on the old player and we would sing to Gilbert and Sullivan's 'Pirate's of Penzance' or 'The Mikado' or even 'West Side Story' or 'South Pacific' and to hear my mother sing "when you walk through a storm, hold your head up high and don't be afraid of the night' from 'Carousel' was some kind of wonderful, let me tell you. If I live to be a hundred, I will never forget how beautiful she sounded, or how sad her voice was sometimes....
Yes, the world is a very different place now and many of the gentle arts have sadly faded into the background, in favour of possessions and technology. Kindness and gentleness is seen as weakness and the loud and forceful prey on kindness.
Unfortunately,I still need to work full time (and then some) but I try to sew and make things for the grandbabies and as my mother taught me, money is not always the gift of love, as some people think, but it is the time, the true selfless care and the devotion that should be cherished. It is thinking, with love about someone, every day and wishing them nothing but happiness. It is wishing you could take their pain, take their sorrow so they don't have to endure it. Most importantly, it is not gloating about those thoughts and feelings to anyone, but instead, keeping them private and nurturing them, almost as if you are willing them to be so, as if those wishes and dreams, if spoken would evaporate into thin air, so you keep them safe and hidden inside your heart.
I know now that my mother thought that way.
When my mother died, I lost my true best friend. She always defended me, no matter if I was right or wrong. I will always regret the times when we were not as close as we could have been, or didn't see eye to eye, but I know that even then, I was always in her thoughts. If only I had realised so many years earlier, just how much she adored me and my children.
On this Mother's Day, as with every single one in the 18 years since mum died, I tell her silently how much I love her and how much I appreciated what she did for me.
On Sunday, just sit and think about all the selfless things your mother has done for you. Exclude "she bought me..." but perhaps the think about all the times that she dropped what she was doing to pick you up.... or she cooked a fabulous feast at the drop of a hat, or she gave you her favourite recipes in a book...you get what I mean.
For all the nights she nursed you when you were sick...
For all the nights she has sat up and worried about you when you didn't come home....
For all the nights she has cried for you because you were sad....
For all the times she let you vent at her....
For all the times she listened to your miseries and she sympathised with you and gave you hope....
For all the love she gave you and all the things she taught you to be...
For the fact that she let you go to have your own life when she would have much rather kept you close to her....
Cherish those thoughts for a moment.
I hope you all have a lovely day on Sunday.

I love the sand between my toes....

I have decided that I would like to add a beachy theme to our apartment...I just love the beach.
Going for a walk along the Esplanade at Cronulla is one of my favourite things to do. It's got everything! Fresh air, awesome scenery, places to eat, places to sit and watch the ocean or, for that matter, just sit and watch the world go by.
If we start at Wanda, the Husband and I generally walk all the way round to Bass and Flinders point, which for the uninitiated, is quite a hike, let me tell you.
Mind you, I do set a cracking pace, if the inclination strikes me!
....but sometimes, like last Sunday, it was more of a stroll.
Now, we ventured down to Shelly beach at South Cronulla with a clear purpose -- I wanted to collect shells and get a bucket of sand.
My idea was to place a couple of my lovely crystal bowls around the place filled with sand and shells to give the place a more beachy feel.

What do you think?
I am pretty pleased with them. Oh, and by the way, I washed them well, just so they don't get a bit stinky....
Next, I think might be a beach inspired doona....

something to be proud of...

My grandfather died when I was 4 years old. His name: Andrew Phillip Graham and yes, I was named after him...well I was supposed to be a boy (we all were) and clearly I wasn't, so Phillipa was the closest my parents got to a tribute to this wonderful man.
Grandfather was raised as a strict Catholic and Grandma was an equally strict Methodist, so when they wanted to marry, it was frowned upon to say the least. In the finish, they married much to the dismay of both families and they were both well into their 30's at the time! I will tell you more of that story another time!
Today is ANZAC day, so I want to talk about my grandfather.

Now my grandfather was shipped overseas to serve as a soldier in WW1.
Grandfather was a Lieutenant and served as a 'Sapper' in the Australian Army. That is someone who goes ahead and lays communication cables ahead of the soldiers arriving.
It was a pretty tough job, as he would often be digging the trenches to lay communication cables when the Germans came along and gassed the trench he was in. Sometimes he escaped the poisonous gasses, but not always.
Grandfather was gassed twice and suffered horrendous damage to his lungs. He was eventually sent to a hospital in France, spent time there and finally was sent home, but not before risking his life to defend the freedom of future generations.
Grandfather was a carpenter by trade, but was unable to work when he came home. He suffered terribly during the latter years of his life and my only memories of him were seeing him frail and coughing violently in his big high wooden bed. Of course, I was only 4 years old, so it probably wasn't all that high.
I am sad to admit that I was scared of grandfather because he was bedridden and looked so sad most of the time, but my sisters tell me stories about how gentle and kind he was. He adored his "girls" and when he died in 1964, my grandmother aged about 20 years. Grandma worshipped him and cared for him with so much love. She was lost without him.
I am so very proud of my Grandfather and at the same time sad that I was too young to know him.
He must have been very brave to go ahead of the soldiers as he did.
 I do have one keepsake of his...It is a tiny blue glass, about 1 inch (2.5cm) tall, with a handle and flowers handpainted on the side. Grandfather brought it back from France and it is beautiful! I keep it next to my bed and think of him often.
Spare a thought for all our soldiers today...without brave soldiers like my grandfather, we would not be living in such a free and wonderful country.
LEST WE FORGET

Well, here it is, Easter 2011...uh huh...
It amazes me why people think they need to buy a month's worth of food for a long weekend....
Seriously, even if we entertain guests for the ENTIRE long weekend, we couldn't possibly get through THAT much food..????
We have been so very quiet in our shop for the past month or so, but today it was bedlam! Suddenly, everbody needed to get their hands on as many sausages, bacon, steaks etc as they could carry!
Now, I am not complaining, as it is so much easier to pay the bills when the sales are good, but I just wonder how much food we can collectively consume considering the shops are really only shut for 1 day....
Lots of folk, including yours truly go out for the odd meal over the holidays, so the pantry and fridge are left groaning under the weight of all that food!
But lets face it, with the weather getting a bit cooler, it is nice to know that there is a nice little stash of chocky hidden behind the celery and lettuce...
have a safe and happy Easter..xxxx
P.S. hope the weather holds out, I would love to get to the Royal show again this year...I just love it!

ode dear me.....

Of course when I took 3 unit English at school, it was no surprise to my Mother.....I loved drama, essays, writing...well, who doesn't?
It seemed the natural thing for me to do...uh huh...
My sister Joan taught me to read and write before I even started school. Joan was an infant school teacher and I wanted to read and write even more than riding my bike. I was reading far above the other kids in my class, so naturally my imagination was running riot!
The first book I wrote was called "the Poison( spelt poyson - well, I was only 6 years old) Apple and Other Stories" and yes, the word plagiarism was only spoken in hushed voices....It was written in an old exercise book that I covered in brown paper. It had illustrations (which were appalling, even by my standard!) and I still have it to this day...
However, back to 3 unit English...It kind of went hand in hand with 3 unit music (my other passion)...screw maths and science...I seriously failed miserably and was relegated to the very lowest possible grade - I think it was called 2 unit A back in the day...
English was my favourite subject. I was able to let out my thoughts and ideas in the form of plays, essays and of course, poetry...
It was hard for me to remember which class I was in, as often, sitting in maths, I would be totally absorbed in writing some kind of story or poem.
It was on one fateful day, that I was called upon to read from the piece of paper that I had so intently been scribbling on...'No, Sir' ... I replied...'it's nothing'...I was busted, big time and with a lot of encouragement from the rest of the class, I begrudgingly shuffled to the front of the class to read....You see it really wasn't finished and I knew I was going to be in trouhle....
Of course without the visual aids, it loses something, but for the first time in print in over 30 years I present:

ODE TO A TELEGRAPH POLE

by Pip Evans

Oh, Telegraph Pole

How wondrous thou art

With your arms outstretched

streamlined like a dart

the wondrous lines that hang on thee

remind me of a tightropee

Oh, pole of  glory

Oh pole of light

guide me through

the dark of night

with your illuminous top

the end

I know, awesome, eh?....hmmmm

I soon got into the spirit and bunged myself on!

I regaled the class with a very visual performance: arms and legs flailing, my most enthusiastic expressions and despite the class going into fits of laughter, I was beaming from ear to ear!

Pity though, I still got an 'F' in maths.....but an 'A' in English.....

Hope you are having a lovely weekend, wherever you are...xxx

pass me my Stratavarious....

My fifth grade teacher was a musical genius. Well, I was 10 years old when I first thought that. Her name was Miss Felton and she could play the hell out of the piano, flute, cello, violin, bongo's and who knows what else!
At every opportunity, our class would turn into an amazing orchestra, with even the most tone deaf happily clutching a triangle or a pair of public school issue castanets. It must have been something to behold, but we all thought we were awesome!
I attended Westmead Demonstration School, which meant that student teachers were plentiful and classes like ours were given somewhat "different" opportunities. Well, I was like a pig in mud...or should I say a virtuoso in a music store, perhaps?
Being such a music lover, I was quick to volunteer to learn the violin (much to my Mother's horror and the neighbours in our small block of flats!) In fact, just about every child in our 40+ class of eager devotees chose an instrument to learn.
Miss Felton, suede boots, wrap around ethnic looking skirts and rows of beads arranged neatly over her turtleneck jumper, wasted no time in teaching us all to read music, which was no mean feat, I can assure you!
I loved the violin, but also played cello, guitar and every percussion instrument I could get my hands on.
We spent one glorious year playing 'God Save the Queen" every morning at assembly. We also got to play at school fete's, parent nights and many other events. Now this had some interesting repercussions as  it were...not all good, either!
It was great to be part of such a fantastic group of talented kids, it also and more importantly got me out of having to drink the disgustingly warm bottle of government issue milk. I don't know how many times I tried to explain that I was allergic to cows milk, but no one listened...sorry, I digress...that is another story altogether!
The downside was that standing to attention for God knows how long on the cement, in the sun, usually meant several of us (yes, me included) would hit the deck - literally...I regularly fainted while waiting patiently to play the national anthem and would wake up to see the ground moving below me as I was being carried up to the sick bay...
However, the most important part of my story is the day Miss Felton announced that we would be playing at the SYDNEY TOWN HALL!!! I was just so excited, as I was going to be first violinist! All our parents would be allowed to come and we would be playing a piece called 'Hoe Down'. It was a great piece for strings, as it began with 4 bars of violin on our own, then the rest of the string section and included pizzicato.
We practiced every day and I reckon we sounded pretty good! We even made the local paper!
Of course, everything has to have a downside, doesn't it? Well, we needed to dress up for the performance and all the girls were expected to wear a white dress, the boys in black pants, white shirt and black tie.
The only problem for me was the fact that we were lacking funds, so a new dress was out of the question! After many tears and the odd tantrum, my grandmother decided she would cut down my sister's tennis dress. I was mortified! Everyone else got to wear a nice new dress,  but not me....The pleated skirt was detached, a very altered bodice was refitted and grandma lovingly sewed on Gapure lace that was leftover from my sister's wedding dress. I was sure I would be a laughing stock.
The big night arrived and there I was, right at the front of the orchestra, Mum, Grandma and my sister, Jenny beaming at me from the audience...I was so incredibly nervous and so sure everybody was looking at me and saying, "oh, look at that girl, wearing her sister's old tennis frock", that as Miss Felton was counting us in, I somehow managed to start half a beat before I was supposed to, and before everyone else!
Now as I was first violinist, all the strings were supposed to follow me....I think it was a complete disaster, with Miss Felton desperately tapping on the podium and waving her baton wildly in the air, but as far as Mum, Grandma and Jenny were concerned, I was fantastic! The smiles on their faces made me realise just how proud they were of me and it really didn't matter what I was wearing, or how out of time I was,they loved me all the same....
Of course, the same couldn't be said for Miss Felton.....

meanwhile...back at the ranch...

I scrubbed the apartment from top to bottom yesterday...hardly earthshattering news, but anyone who knows me, is aware that when I have a lot on my mind, am troubled, or just need some space, I throw myself headlong into the cleaning duties! You know, scrubbing, washing polishing, dusting...even the cat wasn't game to sit still too long and was giving me evils as I whooshed past with the bucket and mop!  Scrubbing away even the most microscopic particles of dirt is a bit theraputic, you know. Like as if I am cleaning out the bad or negative thoughts...making way for newer, more positive ideas...well, no self respecting germ would be seen lurking about after I was done!
For whatever reason, not only was the little place sparkling, and lets face it, those germs etc didn't stand a chance, even if I am blind in one eye and can't see out the other...(comment courtesy of my dear mother), but I most certainly felt better! (Give me an oh, yeah!) The husband and the cat were not quite sure if it was okay for them to sit anywhere and yes, I was giving them the beady eye...
However, here it is, Sunday night and I do feel a little better...but not quite sure whether to sit down and make a mess.....
have a great week   xxx

Sunday ramblings, ravings and reminiscing....

Well, it is Sunday again. The sun is shining and I am thinking about sitting on the balcony with a cuppa and some sewing that I am trying to get finished. The light is better out there, so why not!
I have just added some very old family photos and it has brought back memories! Like the photo of Jenny and I with the box brownie camera in my hot little hands and wearing the dress my sister Jacki made for me. Jen is striking a pose. It was probably a Sunday...
There is an amazing pic of my father. It was sent to me by my sister, Joan. I had never seen it before and it shows his cheeky grin! He was apparently quite a character!
There is also a 1940's shot of my grandma, looking very stylish in her hat. Women seldom ventured out without a hat in those days, especially to church!
A couple of early 60's pics of me with my gorgeous cat Micky. He was quite the hunter and would bring home his catch late at night, drop it at the back door and yowl loudly until we went out to see what he had caught. The usual parade of birds, mice, large insects was generally the reason for the caterwalling, Once we all praised him on how clever he was, down the hatch it would go...feathers, legs and all! but one night, brought us into fits of laughter when he proudly showed off the big hunk of devon(luncheon meat) that he had "caught". He had obviously been into someones bin and I suspect he thought he was extra clever because it didnt put up much of a fight!
I have many more great shots to post, so watch this space....
Anyway, have a great Sunday, enjoy the rest of the weekend and stay safe..xxxx

for the love of sewing.....

I have always loved sewing. Ever since I can remember, I have always had a project of some kind going on.
Of course, I come from a long line of haberdasherly gifted women....
My grandmother Mary Gladys Graham..(nee Crombie) or Dolly as she was often called, was a dressmaker. It was very rare for any of us kids growing up to have store bought clothes. School uniforms, shorts, skirts, dresses, you name it, Grandma could sew it!
Two generations on, and my sister Jacki also became a very talented dressmaker! Trained and apprenticed at the famous Jean Fox bridal, Jacki became adept at bridal dressmaking, as well as all other aspects of dressmaking. Scary things like pintucking were no match for my sister!. Christmas time for me as a child meant loads of home made, perfect miniature fashions for my Sindy doll...all made lovingly by my clever sister. Dresses made for me were coveted as no one else had the same and even though money was terribly tight, I felt rich getting around in my beautiful frocks! I would hang around Jacki and grandma, watching them devise patterns, Grandma on her old treadle Singer and Jacki with her noisy electric one. (I do think Grandma was a little dubious about the fancy new machine, and quite regularly scoffed at it, while extolling the virtues of her trusty old model which never broke down!) I just loved piecing together discarded scraps of fabric, painstakingly tacking them together, making all sorts of things.
It wasn't long before I also caught the knitting bug!
My Mother was a terrific knitter, so I learned at a very young age how to knit one, pearl one...and so on....
Crotchet I mastered on my own as no one in the family was into it, except for Auntie Belle, so imagine how proud I was when I taught my 84 year old grandmother to crochet!
I made that many throw rugs, several of which are still around as cat blankets!
I have especially developed a love of handsewing, rather than machining.
Patchwork is my favourite, but I also love embroidery, especially cross stitch and I really enjoy the challenges of graphing a pattern, then stitching it. Long stitch is fun and quick to do.
I made my Mother a beautiful cross stitch shortly before she got really sick. It was of flowers with several butterflies. I had it professionally framed and I was so proud when Mum told me how much she loved it!...But after she died, I found it wrapped up in a sheet under her bed. I wish I had hung it up for her...It now hangs on the wall at my place. It reminds me of Mum, but it also reminds me to use and enjoy things and not hide them away...
The Husband has bought me two awesome sewing machines in the last year or so. I needed a new embroidery/all rounder, and my Singer is superb! It is very easy to programme and sewing is a breeze, even when my eyes are so bad...it does beautiful embroidery.
I also have a quilting machine which is a great help when my eyes let me down, as it has guides and a good light. It has come in handy for making cot quilts etc for the babies!
I just finished sewing a gorgeous blouse which I am going to wear out to dinner this weekend! I am not a fan of fixing tears in clothes, replacing zippers etc, but more often than not, those jobs save throwing out an otherwise good garment!
I guess sewing is my lovely escape...when my mind is troubled, or I just want to relax, my favourite thing is to sit and create something with my own hands....so if you ever feel like joining me for an hour or two, let me know!
I can recommend it! xxxx

such a hard time of year for me...

Tomorrow is my Mother's birthday. If she was still alive, she would be turning 89!
Elizabeth Joan Mary Evans (nee Graham) was born on 27 the March, 1922. Second daughter of Mary Gladys Graham (nee Crombie) and Andrew Philip Graham.
Mum had two sisters, Lucy Jane and Margaret Anne Moya (Nancy).
My Auntie Nancy died from a burst appendix and subsequent peritonitis when she was 9 years old.
This time of year is always so hard for me because not only is it Mum's birthday, but it is also close to the time of year when Mum died.
Every 8th of April is probably the worst day of the year for me as I will never forget that terrible day almost 18 years ago when Mum went away forever.
Mum had been operated on 6 weeks earlier for bowel cancer and had been recovering well. What we didn't know at the time was that she had contracted legionnaires disease from the aircon in the intensive care unit.(we didn't find that out until after the autopsy)
Two days earlier, We had taken the kids to see her in hospital in the evening at Westmead hospital.
Mum was not herself and I knew something wasn't right because she couldn't handle the kids being in the room and she was sure the nurses were up to no good.
I found out later that they had been giving her morphine etc for pain and she was hallucinating.
I tried to get her to eat her dinner but she wasn't interested and thought I was conspiring with the nurses and doctors against her. I was so terribly upset when we left the hospital, not knowing it would be the last time she would ever speak to me...
The next day, I was tossing up whether to go over to see her and my sister Jacki rang me. She said not to go, as I had so much housework and washing to do, that she would go and not to worry.
Well, that night Mum went into a coma. The hospital rang my sister Jenny who stayed with Mum all night. I got a call 7am just after I got to work. It was the day before good friday so work was chaotic, but that was furthest from my mind.
I jumped in the car and took off. When I arrived at the hospital, all my sisters and their husbands, my Auntie Lucy and my cousin Kath were there. Mum was all hooked up to machines breathing for her, drips etc and she didn't even know I was there. I wished my children were with me, so they could support me and say goodbye to their grandmother. I felt very alone that day even though all my sisters were there.
I couldn't admit that she was dying and the wonderful nurses were by her side the whole time. We all sat with Mum, talked to her, held her hands, even though she didn't respond and I can still see her lying there...
By about 2pm we were told they had to turn off the machine that was keeping her breathing.
That was so hard to do and just thinking about it now makes it almost impossible for me to breathe...
Mum hung on for about 2 hours after the machine was switched off. We all sat with her until right at the end. The nurses told us to leave the room while they took out all the tubes etc so she could go in peace without all the invasiveness of the machinery. We all said goodbye....
I couldn't go back in at the end. My niece Tammy and (I think my brother-in-law Rick) went in. Tammy said she couldn't let Mum be by herself and to this day, I am so proud of Tammy. I should have been in there, but it just hurt too much. I couldn't see her die. Some days the guilt of not going in there to be with her is so bad I can't bear it.
I miss her so much every day....
Happy birthday, Mum  I love you xxx

when I was a little girl...

I thought my Auntie Lucy and Uncle Ted had the most beautiful house I had ever seen. As a small child, the journey to visit Auntie Lucy and family took us half the day. There were several trains, a bus and a bit of a walk...but it was worth it. These days, it would take no more than an hour! Auntie Lucy and Uncle Ted were also my Godparents! They had two daughters, Katherine and Jeannette! They also had a son, Peter who died when he was only 4 days old - a terrible tragedy and I don't think Auntie Lucy ever quite got over losing him. There wasn't another boy born into our family until my sister, Jacki had her son Anthony in the 70's!
Kath and Jeannette were my cousins and they were 11 years and 9 years older than me, respectively. They were always kind to me when we came to visit and I was always allowed to play with their dolls and read their books!
All manner of wonderous sights greeted me as I arrived. Approaching the front gate, I could already see the beautiful garden sprawling out before me. Azaeleas and Camellia bushes big enough to hide behind! Large wattles, a huge gordona and countless Gardenias (my favourite shrub to this day). Underneath lush folliage, a huge glassy eyed cat or two lay watching the birds as they flew around.
Climbing the front steps, I could already hear my Aunt calling out "is that you Betty?" and my Mother with equal anticipation and excitement calling back "it's only me Lu!"
Once inside, the grown ups kissed, hugged and discussed the newest family gossip over steaming cups of tea, served in very fine china which was always reserved for special visits.
I was allowed to drink my cordial from a special glass (as long as I sat still and didn't interrupt)
After cramming my mouth full of Sao's topped with slices of tomato and cheese, I was then turned outdoors into the magnificent backyard that to this day is one of my very favourite places.
Around the perimeter were large trees, many of them flowering gums, but there was a Magnolia, a Crepe Myrtle and several Cotoniastas. In amongst the trees were more Azaeleas, Gardenias and elsewhere, the garden was thick with fishbone ferns.
Now being a girl with a tremendous imagination, I was able to create a fantasy land in that backyard. There were fairy grotto's, a Princes castle and of course, no garden would be complete without a secret place. I would sit in that secret garden with the sun streaming down on me and dream....when I grew up, I wanted my very own house with a garden just like that one!
My Auntie Lucy was a strong, confident, intelligent and striking woman. She and my Mother, although very close sisters, were like chalk and cheese! While Mum 'made do' and thought things like face powder, hair pins and high heels were terribly vain, my Auntie was NEVER seen without red lippy, hair beautifully brushed and looking sensational in a freshly ironed dress and a pair of heels!
Lucy kept her home as women in the 60's did....loads of doilies around, china cabinet full to the brim with family heirlooms and the kettle always on the boil.
I remember marvelling at the fact that their toilet wasn't halfway down the backyard, but there it was, large as life in the bathroom!
The other thing that sticks in my mind is the tin of Devondale ice cream kept in their freezer! Such a treat was so very rare when I was growing up!
My Uncle died when I was only 17. I wish I had known him better and knew more about his life, as he fought in WWII and although he never spoke of the horrors he witnessed, sometimes I would see a faraway look in his eyes. In the midst of our family get togethers, he would silently slip out the door and sit on the back steps, just gazing out, as if he were a million miles away.
My Auntie died several years ago - at home. Lucy was the last of that generation in my family. A true gentle woman who adored her family and her home. At her funeral, my eldest sister spoke about Lucy and to quote her "ladies and gentleman a lady is present"..and that is exactly how I remember her. I miss her every day, along with my own Mother and all the other female influences in my childhood. They were ladies, in the true sense of the word. Quiet, strong, houseproud fabulous cooks who could fix a hem, give all family members a haircut and new all about the latest gossip.
My cousin Kath still lives with her two beautiful cats in that house. I am so lucky that I can still visit the special garden that holds so many good memories for me.
As a child who grew up with turmoil, fear and sometimes distress, the thought of that garden was my bit of peace....

a fair price...

A show of hands please for all those who have had enough of having to seek out the best price when buying any consumer goods....hmmm that many, eh?
I am appalled by the large discrepancies in prices from one store to another. Wouldn't it be so much quicker and easier if we could just go to our nearest or favourite store to buy what we need, knowing it will be a fair price?
Today, for example, the Husband and I continued our search for the 'ideal' bike for me. We went from one store to another, were given glossy brochures (all the same brand) given the same spiel about each bike - and that in itself is unremarkable. However, had we bought the bike in question from the first place we went to, we might have paid up to several hundred dollars more. None of the retailers we visited had the bike on sale by the way!
This doesn't only apply to big ticket items, but I also was in need of moisturising eye cream. By shopping around, I was able to save 1/3 of the price. The Husband saved over $400 on our notebook for work by shopping around.
Being a retail professional and shop owner, I am extremely aware of special buys, discounts for bulk purchases, advertising promos, bait...call them what you will, most retailers pay the same cost price for an article. As retailers ourselves, though, it costs us exactly the same to buy 1 body of beef or 10... and given that any businesses outgoings, wages etc are factored in at the same percentage rate regardless of the turnover, one has to ask the question: what is a fair price?
Is the answer as simple as "whatever someone is willing to pay?"
It also begs the question, what is the true value of a product? When shopping for jewellery, as soon as the salesperson thinks they are losing the sale, they magically cut up to 25% off, just to close the deal ( was the original price inflated, just so they can look like they are doing you a favour?)...other retailers offer "less for cash" it makes you feel like you have to prepare for a battle of wits to get a fair price.
Never have the words "BUYER BEWARE" been more apt. It would seem that some retailers prey on those who have precious little time to shop around, or feel some sense of loyalty to any given retailer. It does go both ways though. When something seems too good to be true, well it usually is...so some degree of caution must be displayed.
BUT...This is Australia....we were born and raised to pay the ticketed price...what has happened to our retail system?
My advice?
Whenever possible, do your homework...let your fingers do the walking by either telephoning to get prices, or better yet, do some surfing on the net. Regardless of what you are buying,
I feel like I have used just about every cliche in the book to get my point across, but just think about it before you jump in and pay too much for your product.
I guess it comes down to a bit of integrity in the market... or maybe the lack of it...keep your eyes open...

meanwhile...

I am a little disturbed about all these earthquakes, tsunamis, floods...etc..etc..
Some of my friends are touting 2012..armageddon...etc..hummmm
What do you think?
As a (relatively) intelligent, or leastways well educated person, I fail to see how ANYONE can safely predict the future! Especially the date of the demise of humankind...hmmmm again...
As Sarah Connor tells us in Terminator..." there is no fate but what we make for ourselves"
I am inclined to agree. However, to contradict myself slightly, I also subscribe to the "everything happens for a reason" theory.
A little confusing, maybe, but you have to admit, a little less doomsdayish than 'the world will end'
Perhaps saying that all things happen for a reason is just my way of rationalising past events and making some sense out of the senseless.
Either way, it is little comfort to those getting shaken from their beds by an earthquake or washed downstream by a raging torrent.
Meanwhile it has been a very eventful week familywise! My eldest daughter had a couple of days feeling a little under the weather, my daughter Natalie sent me a little snippet of my beautiful grandson chatting away to himself and it made my day and my son and his girlfriend came for dinner on Tuesday.
The husband and I have also had a very stressful week, with shop sales down (including possibly the quietest friday on record) but very busy writing a new cookbook and working on our internet meat business. With all these natural disasters, the price of meat has skyrocketted, thus sending many carnivores scurrying towards grilled cheese on toast. I am not sure what is going to happen in the market, but the bubble must burst soon, or so you would think...but the suppliers gave us another price hike for Monday, so it is anybody's guess.
If the doomsdayers are to be believed, it is just all a waste of time, but I am convinced we are purposefully engaged and working towards something big, rewarding and as a clairvoyant once told me...FRUITFULL!!
Keeping that in mind, at least make the most of the weekend, rain or not and perhaps think about which side of the coin you subscribe to...
cheers...xxx

which version of the truth is true?

I have always been a pretty naive sort of person! Well maybe mot so much naive, but more believing in the good in people, or good intentions to be precise. I have always trusted in the idea that truths are told and people are for the most part, genuine....until recently!
Yes, it may have taken 51 years, but I have finally learnt to become sceptical...I have finally learnt to look deeper before I give over to someone elses version of the truth.
Basically, if someone is nice and genuine towards me, then I am lovely back...but woe betide the person who deliberately goes out of their way to cause me or mine grief!
My entire life has been about "someone else"
You know what I mean...putting friends, family, loved ones' needs before your own. Attending to others needs at the cost of your own... type of thing.
Having said that, wouldnt you think that after all these years of caring, loving & struggling, you would think that people would be happy that at long last, I can relax a bit and enjoy a bit of life...geez it goes so fast!
But NO! The takers of this world(and they know who they are) are hell bent on trying to either make me feel guilty about it, or want me to continue to go without by lying to me and wanting to take more from me...
So be warned those "takers" out there, I AM ON TO YOU!!!!
The sneaky lies, the made up stories to evoke my sympathy so you get what you want, your obvious jealousy, secret messages and the plain rudeness do not escape me, for you are no match for me. Smirk to yourselves while you can as it will not last forever. You do not know me as well as you think for I have survived much worse in this life than you can imagine and I will, with pleasure continue to be a thorn in your side, by my mere presence...
I am extremely patient and as a huge believer in karma, and while you may have pulled the wool over some eyes, you certainly don't fool me...
Your day will come and ....
Meanwhile I am enjoying life, love and especially my family. Time with the ones I love is precious and I intend to take every opportunity to enjoy that!
Hope you have had a nice weekend...

Midweek excitment...

Well the Husband and I were having quite a busy day at the shop, when number 1 daughter, Lisa Jane arrived with gorgeous baby Emma in tow! It was so lovely to see them and incredibly difficult to concentrate on work..hahaha
Emma is such a good bub..so placid, just like her mother was. It really is like stepping back in time, almost to see Lisa Jane in my arms again..but I have to take a second look, as it is Emma!
James and I love having a visit! It really brightens our day! Wish I could see more of Ashton and Natalie...
Meanwhile, my eyes are atrocious at the moment..can't tell you how many spelling corrections I have had to make. Oh, well, back to the specialist next Wednesday for more injections...
Also, I am hanging out for the weekend (again). the husband and I get up to so much every weekend and I so look for to our adventures!