Storytime

On Sunday we went down to Geelong to visit my step-mum K and to have a 'memorial' lunch to celebrate Dad. Sunday was one year since he died and she wanted to have some kind of celebration. With my aunt and uncle (Dad's youngest sister and husband) and K's niece we went to one of Dad's favourite restaurants by the water.  We enjoyed a lovely meal, watched the boats come and go, raised a glass to PJ and then went to visit the grave site. I'm not a big one for visiting graves but it was fitting on this occasion. As K said, it is hard to believe it has been one year already. In some ways it seems like a few months ago, especially when you ring their home phone and Dad answers. 'You have called Kildare, the home of Peter and Kate.' So surreal to hear his voice like that but comforting in a strange way as well. I wrote a lot of poems when he was very ill. Those months when we all knew the end was very close. I wrote his eulogy, trying to describe ...

Last week I ventured to another library and ran a memoir writing workshop for Seniors Week. It was a lot of fun (and boy was I nervous!) and I'm glad to say not only was there a good turn out but I received some very good comments. In fact one lovely bunch of women would love me to come back each week and help them step by step through their writing. I did make them write and the majority were more than eager to share their work. It was so interesting to discover that while most people know exactly  what they 'want' to write about, when it is said out loud it does sometime lose it's glamour. It becomes a bit humdrum. What we discovered during these two hours was the glory of the aside. People would say 'I''m writing a story about this time when this happened and this happened and I remember vividly this happening". All nice, all great social commentary...but then they would say something like 'and that's when she got the gun out and trie...

This has been my third Relay for Life  , and once again not only was I amazed at the sense of community but it was a very bitter sweet time for me. Last year Dad had a white luminaria bag, as a survivor. This year his was a memorial luminaria bag. Honestly there is nothing so touching as walking past all these lit bags. Each one in memory of someone, either someone gone or someone surviving. It's an amazing experience....and a great bonding one. Once again, the Mobile Bookworms stormed away. This photo is of those at the end of the relay. Most had been walking for hours and hours. This year we had over 40 members, some came with their children, some came with their spouses. Everyone walked. Our amazing leader, Fay, walked over 40 laps. Over 32 kilometres...well deserved cup of tea and hot bath waiting for her that night! As I walked, my thoughts turned to Dad. Of his random visits to see us when Kate was working in Melbourne. How he would always take hom...

I've just had a birthday. Not one of those big ones that end in a zero, although this did end in a 5 so half way to a big zero one. And although I know exactly how old I am, and some days I really feel that old or even older, other days and I swear I have the mind of a teenager. Looking at it mathematically...I have lived for over 20 000 days. I have had roughly 28, 908,000 minutes. And frankly a lot have been wasted  misused perhaps. However I have lived in interesting times. The year I was born JFK was assassinated (don't remember a thing about it).  I was 6 when man walked on the moon (ditto about not remembering seeing it). In those days not everyone had a television...and those that did saw everything in black and white. I grew up watching Mr Squiggle, Adventure Island, Bellbird and Homicide. Colour TV wasn't in Australia till 1975...and once again...not everyone could afford a colour TV. We grew up eating Kraft cheese that came in a big blue block...in s...

When we got our new lounge a few months ago we had to move furniture- give some away- and move some more furniture. One of the 'moved' objects is Nan's china cabinet. My sister actually bought it (29 years ago?) after Nan died, but when she moved had nowhere to put it so I have 'looked' after it. Quite happily in fact. It houses a wealth of nostalgia. From holidays and birthdays, sentimental curios that cost nothing but mean a lot. What intrigued me was when it moved to an open area, when my other half stomps    or walks past it rattles and shakes and I am instantly transported back in time to Nan's house. Not in the front room, where I'm sure the cabinet was, but walking into the kitchen. Past the huge dresser that stood on the right hand side. It always shook and everything in it, all the bowls and cups rattled happily together. Every time I hear that clink and rattle of our cabinet, then I'm instantly back at Nan's. Waiting to hea...

I have my Nan's china cabinet in the lounge. It's nothing fancy but it houses bits and pieces, odds and ends, bits and bobs. Nothing in the cabinet is worth anything, but it (like the cabinet)  is full of memories .  There are the Babushka dolls Steve bought back from Russia- the glass candle holders painted with Christmas decorations we bought back from the Christmas market in Cologne - the plastic Eiffel Tower that the man in the grubby coat beside the Seine was selling ( 5 for 2 Euros )  -  the tiny Delft plate from Amsterdam. Little trinkets that instantly remind us of a great time and place. But there are others... The first is a doll's tea set. Very tiny, very delicate. It was my mother's and I never knew she had it until it was given to me, years after her death. I also have some of her cup and saucers, none match, but they were her 'special' ones, the ones brought out only for visitors.  There is also the teddy bear. Frankly I don't remember hi...