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