Sunday In London

Today is our last full day in London before we pick up a hire car and head off towards Oxford.

Unfortunately I have been unable to upload photos from the Internet cafe but I have certainly been taking loads of them which I am fully intending to bombard everyone with when I get back.

I am glad to hear that the postcards I sent off arrived at their destinations. There is always something strange about writing addresses in other countries. You wonder if you copied the information down correctly and numbers are long for some streets.

I have to mention that travelling with a child overseas certainly changes the amount of time you may spend in one place. In particular any art gallery you may wish to meander through at leisure. There is a certain amount of intense "me" factor that goes with being a child (the "me" being totally attached to the child). Lots of eye rolling and expressing of extreme boredom prior to and during the event by child member of family. Later however, when looking back at photos and films, he does admit that the effort is worth it.

I have, on the odd occasion, just told him to be quiet and let me enjoy myself.

However, we have only had one major grumpy event and that was when we first arrived in the UK and I shall attribute that to lack of sleep for everyone. There have been a couple of moments where S and I have had to walk away from each other to prevent tension. All in all a big learning curve.

I realise how stressful it can be hanging around in close proximity with each other for days on end. It did take more than a couple of days to get into a groove with each other.

Some of the places we have been to are:

1. Bath
2. National Motor Museum
3. Salisbury Cathedral
4. Stonehenge
5. Imperial War Museum
6. Tate Modern
7. Victoria and Albert Museum
8. St Thomas Old Operating Theatre
9. Covent Garden
10. London Transport Museum
11. Cabinet War Rooms (I went shopping instead, having seen it previously)
12. Tower Bridge
13. Shakespeare's Globe Theatre
14. The Clink Prison
15. Trafalgar Square
16. Hampton Court Palace

I think there are some other places which I cannot recall off the top of my head. It certainly explains why the hotel room is such a refuge at about 5.00pm in the afternoon. We get there and stay there. No late nights for us (is that an age thing?).

The weather has improved and today, for the first time, I actually did not have to put on my jacket. This was also the first time my hair did not go frizzy - which was a daily event that annoyed me no end. I think that shows a level of shallowness on my part. Really, who would worry about frizzy hair on a holiday? But I would leave the hotel room with smooth hair and by the end of the day my hair was like some sort of haystack.

Well, I shall sign off for now and do a bit of surfing the net. Need to empty my mail box of junk mail (of which there is a lot).

Until the next visit to a computer....

Ciao

LC

London Calling

Finally I have access to the Internet!

We are in London and I have had the morning off shopping. Not that I bought much but I did mosey around and just looked. There are lots of summer clothes on show - hard to contemplate when it is so chilly here!

We started our holiday in a small town called Chicklade which is near Salisbury. It was so chilly that one morning it actually snowed. I came seriously unprepared for just how chilly it was and whined a little more than was pleasant before finally just shutting up.

The flight over was long. I think all up it was around 27 hours including transit time. S did not sleep hardly at all.

I have taken loads of photos and cannot wait for another moment to post some. S has been asking me to take him to an Internet cafe and now that I have found one I shall bring him along. I think we both have withdrawal symptoms!

It has been interesting having the three of us in each other's space for the past week.

I have had to be very quiet on occasion to avoid conflict.

I am now heading back to the hotel (which is so gorgeous be the way) where I shall rendezvous with the S and K and then head off to the Victoria and Albert Museum.

Hope you are all well.

Ciao
LC

Last Day Of Work

Today was the hardest day at work I have had for ages.

It is amazing what you can do when you know it just has to be done.

I was just under the pump all day getting things in order to enable things to tick over whilst I am away. Wages, money in, paying bills and other day to day things.

My boss took me out for lunch with the other office staff. And, I know I should not crow about this, but he gave me a great cash bonus which he said was a thanks for all my hard work and for just being so thoughtful, caring and anxious about his business. Told me that the money is not to be used for anyone but me. Look out London - here I come!!!

Got home and started the packing. But now I have run out of puff and shall do the rest tomorrow.

As I drove home from work I just had to scream a tiny bit in the car with excitement. When I got home I did a little dance around the kitchen and then went off to exercise class where I was able to run all the tension away.

I am expecting to sneak the odd post in because I love blogging and would miss it otherwise. In between posts I am keeping a diary as if I don't I run the risk of my drifting thoughts floating off into brain space making it impossible to collect them properly.

I am off to bed to sleep.

While over the other side of the world others are getting up.

That is kind of surreal to think of that.

That we all share the moon and the sun.

That last sentence was from the brain of a tired and over excited person.

Ciao
LC

One More Work Day

Finally I have dropped into holiday mode.

 

There always reaches a point in time where you just have to accept the unfinished things that will be left behind when you go off on a holiday.  I am starting to experience a little bit of "care factor zero".  My boss made this all more acceptable by telling me to just relax and enjoy myself because he is happy to not pay anyone until I get back. 

 

I realised on Saturday that I was putting myself under too much self imposed stress when I forgot my hairdressing appointment!  Seriously, for the first time in twelve years I forgot about my appointment.  Well, I thought it was 1.00 pm and it was 10.00 am instead.  Worse than that, the night before I thought to myself that I should check in my diary to make sure I had the time correct.  But decided I was worrying too much and allowed my misguided confidence to take over.  The phone call from my hairdresser at 10.15am on Saturday morning was surprising to say the least.

 

My son is most put out that he has to go to school on Thursday.  He thinks he should hang around with us whilst we get the house sorted and final things done.  Instead we are sending him to school to be picked up at 2.30 pm, taken home where he will have another couple of hours to all excited before we jump in the car and drive to the airport.

 

Now I am at work doing payroll, sorting out papers and thinking about flying out on Thursday night.  Got my cameras packed and ready, made my list of things to take and collecting names of people who I am sending postcards to.  I like sending postcards to people.  My husband said we only need to send one for the whole trip, but I like sending a couple each week.  The pleasure of sharing what I am seeing I suppose.  Sharing a bit of the beauty of another country.

 

Thinking about it, if you want a postcard sent to you just send me an email.  If you click on my profile it says "email me".  I promise to send you one and will not use your address for any other purpose.

 

I need to confess that I am doing this post from work.  I cannot wait to do one from the plane on Thursday!

 

I love technology.

 

Ciao

LC

Mondayitis Moan

Got to work and no one is here so I have to open door myself which is made worse by fact that I really need to go to the toilet and I am carrying a stupid, big heavy bag which I bangs into the door at the time I am trying to open it. Batteries in computer mouse were dead so I could not do anything for one hour whilst they charged. People who say they were going to pay have not and I cannot pay the people I said I was going to pay. Coffee machine has died and I cannot have my early morning caffeine hit.

 

Spent a lot of my weekend cleaning my house.  I had to make it extra clean as whilst we are away the guy from work will be house sitting for me.  So, when someone else is going to stay at your house you have to lift your standards.  I have to confess that my standards had reached a low point. Hard to be enthusiastic about house cleaning sometimes. Did the whole "move furniture to vacuum thing" and dusted windowsills and tops of doors and all that boring stuff. Hate the sight of my Dyson vacuum cleaner now. 

 

Also, yet another hot day and I have woken up puffy and headachy.  Am very anxious about going away.  Suddenly realised I have less hours to do things that must be done.  Last night I sat at the table and did not feel like going on holiday. 

 

Clothes I put on the morning make me feel fat.  Am wearing brown trousers which reminds me of a tree trunk.  Also have on a red, checked,short sleeved shirt which makes me feel like I should running around on a farm.

 

Have very bad PMT.

 

Which means I will get my period just in time for the plane flight.

 

I could continue along this whiney vein for ages.

 

But that is enough now.  And if you were kind enough to read it I want you to know that I appreciate you listening/reading my cyber venting and I will gladly return the favour any day.

 

I need a holiday......

 

Ciao

LC

 

 

 

Unwelcome Friends

In the early days of having a child you have a lot of control over whom they play with. You might join a mother's group and your child plays with the children of adults who are like minded, but eventually there comes a time when you are not able to exert complete control over the company they keep.

Well, today my son was really exposed to a most unsavoury family.

He has a classmate at school who is one of these sly little boys you may sometimes come across. Little freckly faced boy with sun kissed skin, too quick to smile and sly blue eyes. He is the youngest of three children and from a very difficult family life. He is allowed to roam the streets more freely than I would allow my own son to. Rides his bike everywhere and may go off for a couple of hours on his own.

Recently he and my son have been talking on msn and sometimes catching up in the local park. Both activities have not sat well with me but I have to weigh up allowing my son to make his own choices and not making judgements based on gut feelings and general impressions.

Today they had organised for S to go over and play at this boy's house. I reluctantly agreed. Around midday I dropped him off there. Chatted to the mother for a few minutes and went off to do some things. They have been building their own huge two storey house for years. It is in an unfinished state. They have run out of money, lost interest and it has come to a standstill. Inside the house are piles of timber, doors still yet to be hung, tools, sheets covering the windows for privacy and power cord running from room to room in a chaotic manner.

His mother is tired and worn looking. She is younger than me but her face is lined from too much sun and smoking. I am sure she is on something sort of medication as her responses to what I say are slow. As she is talking to me I see her daughter schlep past and give me a sullen glare. She is the type of teenage girl a mother would dread. Heavy make up, tight clothes and that defiant, yet fragile look of hostility oozing from her. Her insolent look makes a particular type of statement that spells trouble.

Later in the day we get a phone call from S asking if he can stay the night. I am surprised and hesitate before agreeing. I tell him I will drop off his things.

When I get there, the father answers the door. I know what he is like. His son told mine that his father is an alcoholic and yells all the time. I know he drinks to excess. I can see it in his body, his eyes. I can smell it on his breath. I felt anxious that my son was there but had to have enough confidence in knowing that if S felt uncomfortable at any time he would ring me. I chat for a few minutes with the father who is very friendly but as I leave I feel kind of unhappy about the whole thing. That whole gut feeling is constant.

K had gone out to play music so I was expecting to have a rare evening alone. At first I thought I may go for a run once the evening had cooled down but decided to stay home in case S wanted to come home.

Sure enough, at about 7.00pm I get a phone call from my son. He tells me he wants to come home. He says he is bored but I can hear in his voice that it is more than that. Give me five minutes I say to him.

When I get there he is on his bike at the end of their driveway waiting for me. As I load the bike into the back of my car I chat briefly to the mother. She just said that my son told her he was bored and wanted to go home. I made some mention that he was tired so perhaps he was a bit moody. I see his friend smirking over at me, legs straddled over his bike and his arms crossed over his chest.

I jump in the car and turn around and make my way home. S was silent and when I looked across at him I could see he was on the verge of tears.

"Tell me what happened", I asked him.

Here is what he told me and I have to warn you that it has some of the worst language in one collection. I have blanked out the words that I actually found just too offensive to type in full (more than once).

"A is a shit. He called me a f-----g shit n----r. He said my dad was a f-----g weirdo and f-----g ugly. He called me a f-----g c--t and said the was gonna shank me. He kept on calling me f-----g this and that and kept saying I was a c--t. He asked me if my dad watched porn. He told me he watches porn. I f-----g hate him". S starts to cry and I feel my own tears rise up.

He continues along the same vein for a while. I make a decision not to tell him off for swearing because I sense that he needs to get all of this off his chest, out of his head to enable him to get over it.

"I told his mum what he called me and she just said "oh did he" as if it was okay. I tell him that n----r is a nasty word to use. And I ask him why doesn't he like people who are black? What difference does it make? Anyway, his favorite singer is 50cent and he is black. How can you be so awful about people just because they are a different colour. He just told me that I was a stupid f-----g c--t. His dad just sat on the couch drinking beer and smoking and telling the sister to shut the f--k up every time she spoke to him. What sort of father speaks like that to their daughter. And his brother is underage and was drinking and smoking. It just felt bad being there". S starts to calm down and by this stage we are at the pizza shop getting dinner.

Then he turned to me and said, "I felt unsafe".

I explained to him that he will always come across people in life who have different values to his own. It was hard for me not to really, really run this family down to the ground. But I did not have to. S could see what they were like and made his own mind up. That was when he rang me to come home. I felt happy that he was able to make that choice.

Once we got in the car I said that now he had used up all the swear words I did not want to hear another one. Especially the 'c' word. He said he knew what that meant and it was awful and just hearing all those words made him feel bad. It was the way they were said that shocked him. So nasty. On the way home I also told him that I would no longer allow him to ever play with A again. No meeting in the park, no talking on msn, no staying over, no playing at their house. Never. He agreed.

We got home and he sat and ate his pizza. After that he had a warm bath, put his pyjamas on and sat next to me on the couch for a while. He said he felt almost normal and was ready for bed.

As I tucked him in and kissed him good night I saw a great sense of relief flood over his expression.

"I am so glad I am home" he said as he snuggled down into the doona.

So was I, that is for sure.

Ciao
LC

Friday Blab

I had to set the alarm this morning for 6.00 am for my husband as he had to get out of bed to be somewhere by 7.30am. I half slept until 7.00 am as there is no way I will get out of bed before I have to.

On the occasions that I wake up early I never feel the urge to get up. I love lying in the semi dark silence of the morning with my eyes closed and think. It is the one time where the world is just moving around and does not need me to partake in these movements.

The past few days has been very hot and we expect the abnormal heatwave to continue into the upcoming week. There is a certain sound that is in the morning air when the day is going to be hot, and this morning just reminded me of the particular sound.

It sounds like what I think a holiday down at the beach should sound like. Not the waves of the seawater or the sound of seagulls. It is the sound of the creak of the house, the silent trees, the odd car breaking that hot silence. It has an air of anticipation. People like to restrict their movements on these sort of hot days. It seems as though nature does the same. Car doors slam and the sound is heavy. People's voices sound flat and harsh as though the hot air allows no movement.

I lay in bed and listened to the morning noises. Shower going on, kettle being filled with water and then switched on to boil. The noise of toast being made. My son's voice talking about something he had done at school. At the same time I could hear trains making their way into the city, the track is only one row of houses and a road from us. Each time the train passes my bedroom window rattles like something out of an art house movie scene from the 50's.

I am reminded of the odd holiday my parents took us on. I have such small memories of each one I have to really focus on it to capture the picture properly. One place had an outdoor toilet which was placed over a deep hole. I was terrified of it, the black abyss, the flies and the spiders watching me perched on the edge of the wooden seat. At the age of six I was sure I may fall down that hole and die. In that short week I wet my pants more than once just to avoid sitting on the toilet. My father went fishing and caught some fish which I covered in sand to keep warm. Surprisingly I did not get into trouble and I remember him laughing at my explanation.

Another place we holidayed at was near a beach. It was painted the most beautiful green inside and I think that is why I have painted my walls a similar green in my own house. The bed I slept in was placed along a painted timber wall and I remember running my hand over the smooth green surface. The windows were open and I could see the coarse, green Ti-trees with their grey and messy trunks moving with the wind. The sound of the beach was close and I know I felt sad because we were not going to stay here for long. As though I would not allow myself to be happy because I knew that feeling unhappy would follow soon after.

In the end, this morning, the daylight peered in the window and I could not longer ignore the urge to go to the toilet and got out of bed. When I made my way into the kitchen my son asked me if I just woke up. I said "yeah, kind of".

Which was sort of true.

Ciao
LC

Holiday Head

Remember years ago when you perhaps went on your first big trip?

For me it was 1994. My first overseas trip. I felt nothing but excitement. Saved my spending money. Perused travel books on what to see when I was over there. Counted down the sleeps, starting at 176 of them. On my last day of work I was not even remotely bothered about how they would cope for the six glorious weeks I would be away. It was nothing but "me, me, me".

Over the years, the thrill of an impending holiday is slightly tempered by the not so thrilling responsibilities that still continue to tick over despite my lack of presence. Making sure there is money in the bank for mortgage payments (which never go on holiday), ensuring payment of all bills prior to leaving and then foreseeing what bills may arrive whilst I am away, getting the house clean and ready for the housesitter and then attending to all the work issues that will continue on over the time I am away. My husband has to make sure there are people around to keep his business ticking over whilst he enjoys his trip.

Part of me is really buzzing with anticipation over the trip but another part is going "aaaaaaaaarrrrrggghhhh"!

When I talk about the trip with my son and ask him his thoughts on it, he is funny with his responses. He tells me he is excited (of course) but does not want to talk about it. Also told me that as he has no real idea of how it will be for him there is no point in talking about it otherwise it would be just some story that he made up. Er, okay then.

On the day of leaving I know everything will fall into place, house tidy, washing and ironing done, work sorted, bags packed and I will just say to myself that I have done what I can.

Just have to say, only seven more sleeps to go.......

Ciao
LC

Well Well Well

I think I am a bit clever as I realised that I can upload a post via my email.

I know others do this.

But I finally decided to try it and it worked.

Oh, I can send "important emails" at work.

The possibilities are endless.

Ciao
LC

Morning Chaos

I had one of those mornings that start off okay and then go downhill at the drop of a hat.

Unfortunately it was an clash of wills between S and I. The usual morning school run.

I am unsure if it is unreasonable of me to expect him to be able to put on his shoes in under 10 minutes.

And, am I over reacting if I shriek like a banshee for him to get his shoe on when I come out of the bathroom and he is sitting on the couch staring up at the ceiling contemplating his day? Or that I raised my voice again when I asked him to brush his teeth for the fourth time? And got annoyed when he stomped off.

It was only topped off by the front door latch not working resulting in being unable to lock the door. Then, if that was not bad enough, the security screen door latch decided to croak it at the same time (er, my slamming of it may have contributed to that slightly). Then to have the neighbour across the road come over and tell me that he would fix it as it was obvious I was not having a good day as he did hear me yelling at S. How embarrassing.

Then we were late for school. So I had to write a late pass. Said to S that I do not want to have these clashes when we are overseas. Three of us in a car for hours on end. Triple share bedrooms. Hours on the plane. Lots of waiting. Blah, blah, blah. He says he does not care if I come or not. I shut up by then realising that he is ten and I am 44 and have to just back off. So we kiss and hug goodbye and everything is fine.

Then I got in the car and felt like crying at my lack of control, my shouting at my son, my neighbour hearing me, my lack of sleep and the sad song I had playing on the cd player.

On the teary way to work I suddenly thought that today was school photo day and I had forgotten to put the money envelope into the schoolbag and fix my boy's hair. That brought on a new set of tears and I turned the car around to head back home and get the envelope filled in and drop it off at the school for S. Fortunately I had the sense to double check and I rang the school office who said that "no, Linda, it is tomorrow and the next day for photos" and as I hung up the phone I could hear her laughing.

I then turn the car around to head back to work and get a phone call to pick up a cheque from a client so I then turn the car around again and head down to get the money.

Finally got to work flustered and fragile. It was payroll today so I was really under the pump.

Also left the house without breakfast.

Sigh.....

Ciao
LC

Funeral Twaddle

On Friday we had to go to a funeral.

The husband of K's cousin (R) died after a long battle with Parkinson's. He was afflicted with it at age 53 and died a few months short of his 71st birthday.

The last 12 to 18 months of his illness he was in a high care nursing home. Every couple of weeks R would get a phone call saying that he was about to die. It was pretty stressful. In the end he kind of died unexpectedly whilst she was lying next to him on the bed at the nursing home. He was listening to Mozart.

It was a Jewish funeral as that was his faith. R had converted prior to their marriage to ensure acceptance from his family and the passing of the faith through to both of his children. So there was a lot of time for me to zone out and think in between the sitting and standing and assorted eulogies.

I have only been to a handful of funerals and have noticed how nicely everyone speaks about someone after they die, regardless of whether or not they were particularly pleasant in real life. Which shows me that, in the end, it is always important to look for the good in people and to try to let them know before they peg it.

When you go to a funeral you always question your own mortality. Where you are at in life. All that sort of stuff. Since I question that sort of stuff all the time, I started thinking of the first significant funeral I went to that had a long term impact in the dark recesses of my mind.

In 2003 my high school had a big reunion. Twenty three years had passed since I left school and I had not kept contact with one person from school since that day. Sometimes I may have seen the odd school friend at a shopping centre or something, but said nothing (being the unsociable animal that I am). Just before the reunion I caught up with two friends as part of the organising of it.

At the reunion about fifty people turned up. No one had really changed. Lots of births, marriage's and divorces and a couple of deaths had transpired during the passing of years. Girls who were bitchy had managed to maintain and aura of bitchiness. Friends who had been reserved were now quiet grown ups.

It was an interesting realisation that somewhere along the journey of life, you end up back to what you were at aged 16. Sure, things have happened, jobs, travel, grief, hardship, families and all that, but essentially the core self remains. It seems as though one has to ride a roller coaster to get back to what makes them who they are.

There was one girl who was not there. I was close friends with her at school but had drifted apart once I left and she continued to the next year. I saw Trudy once after school when I was about twenty. She had developed schizophrenia after using marijuana and had been in a psychiatric unit getting on her feet. I did not see her after that.

When I asked two girls who I knew had maintained contact with her where she was, they said that they had made a decision not to tell her about the reunion as she was particularly fragile and something of this nature could really overwhelm her for weeks and weeks. And she might behave in an irrational manner at the event which would be bad for everyone. I was sad not to see her, but figured that they both knew her well enough to make this decision.

At the end of the night we all exchanged email addresses and phone numbers as you do. I spent the next couple of days on a high as it had been such an interesting night catching up on all of the comings and goings of friends from school.

A week later an email arrived in my inbox. It had been addressed to all of the attendees at the reunion. It had been sent by a guy (from the reunion) who worked at the main city mortuary. He said that unfortunately Trudy had died the day before. She had committed suicide. He was on the shift when her body was brought in for the autopsy.

It was so shocking. I went to the funeral with some other school friends. She had left behind two children. It was a very sad day.

After the funeral a group of us went to have coffee and to talk about it all. The two girls who had made the decision to not invite Trudy to the reunion felt terrible. They wondered if she had heard about it and had felt so upset it had led to this. But she had attempted suicide a few times beforehand so perhaps she was just at her wits end. Living with long term mental illness can be very debilitating.

When I got home I was still shocked over the series of events that had happened in such a brief space of time. Reunion, death, funeral. Very emotional.

Later that day K reminded me of an episode that happened just after he met me almost twenty years ago. Trudy had phoned my mother and left her contact details as she wanted to catch up with me. I had said to K that I could not handle her at that point in time as I had my own set of problems that I needed to sort out. I had forgotten all about that.

As I lay in bed that night and thought about the memory the K had brought up, I felt ashamed that I did not make the effort to see her when she obviously needed someone to all those years ago. I mean, really, how hard would it have been.

Hindsight.

That recurring "H"word.

Ciao
LC

Doctor Diagnosis

A few days ago my husband mentioned that he had developed a really unpleasant sort of pressure under both his arms. It seemed as though there was something pushing his arms away from his body.

He decided to go to the doctor's to make sure there was nothing sinister going on. You know, when you get past age 50 you need to follow all changes up even if you know it may be trivial.

So, off he goes.

The doctor checks him over and says that he cannot feel anything out of the ordinary. He explained to my husband that something a person can get lymph nodes swelling which may cause discomfort.

Then he says that sometimes there is the redistribution of body fat which can feel a bit, well, uncomfortable. But he sends him for a blood test anyway.

When K passes this information onto me I try not to laugh.

I could have saved him the money and given him the pinch test.

I don't need to go to a doctor to be told I have put on weight.

Ciao
LC

Crime Does Not Pay

When I was about ten years old I went through a stage of stealing money from around the house. Not much, just coins that were in a jar or something like that. I know that a lot of children go through this stage. I used the money to buy lollies to share with girls I wanted to be my friends.

Around that time there were popular brands of ice creams that you could buy.

Two in particular were the pinnacle of a milk bar ice cream purchase. One was called a Cornetto and the other one was a Trumpet (later to be called a Drumstick ice cream). Generally, only grown ups would buy them. I would stare at the pictures of them posted up on the wall of the milk bar.

I really, really wanted to have a Choc Mint Trumpet ice cream. My mum and dad would never buy something like that for any of the kids. It was strictly budget icey poles for ungrateful children.

So I stole money to buy one. It cost a whopping 25cents in 1973.

I went to school that day with my woggy lunch in my school bag and my stolen money hidden in my socks. I thought about eating that cone all morning.

At lunch time I went across the road to the milk bar and bought the Trumpet ice cream.

I stood in the school yard and carefully peeled away the paper and put it in the rubbish bin. Kids were running around screaming and playing games but I recall that my focus was on the ill gotten feast I was about to eat.

The waffle cone was a lovely brown and crisp sort. The ice cream dome sat high on top of it and was coated in a firm chocolate covering that was embedded with chips of minty chocolate.

It was with absolute delight that I half leant forward and half brought the ice cream up to have a bite. My tongue barely managed to touch the sweet surface when a kid running past bumped into me violently and forced my mouth against the dome of ice cream so hard that it shot off the cone and into the rubbish bin near me.

To this day I can remember with great clarity the intense anger combined with sheer disappointment at standing there with the cone in my hand minus the ice cream. The best bit of it was in the rubbish bin nestled amongst the lunch wrap, half eaten sandwiches and unwanted fruit. Beyond saving.

Years later I managed to get one and eat it. I cannot say it gave me the same sort of illicit thrill as the first one had briefly offered.

But it was pretty good anyway.

And I used my own money to buy it.

Ciao

LC

4 x 4 Meme

Mizmell has given me a quick little meme to do. I need one actually, my head is empty at the moment!!! I changed it slightly.

4 Jobs I have had:

1: When I was at school I worked part time in an old people's nursing home serving up their breakfast. It was hard work. I frequently got into trouble for not wearing pantyhose. Bare legs were not allowed. The cook used to serve up brains for lunch quite often and sometimes I had to peel the surface membrane off them as part of the preparation. Gross.

2: Also worked part time in a factory that did loads of mail outs. One of the jobs I had was to open the newspaper and insert an advertising flyer into it. For hours and hours. This was only topped by another equally boring activity which involved peeling postage paid stickers from a roll of thousands and putting in the right hand corner of a folded piece of advertising that would be later bulk posted.

3: What teenager could miss out on a stint at McDonald's as a part time job. Good fun and I just love those fillet of fish. Although, I did get into trouble for calling the fries "chippies".

4: I did a few weeks as a live model for art classes at an art school. Decided it was not for me. I was quite body shy. I suppose I thought that might help somehow. Sometimes I do wonder if someone still has a picture of me they drew all those years ago.

4 Shows I have been to:

I am not a big fan of live shows. I really only like the ones that I have seen as a movie first. I get very restless sitting in the theatre.

1: Showboat
2: The King and I
3: My Fair Lady
4: Fiddler on the Roof (my all time favorite)

4 Cars I have had:

1: Triumph Stag - Cobalt blue. Despite their reputation as being unrealiable, never did it give me trouble.
2: Renault 10 - white
3: Renault Scenic - ho hum that one was
4: Triumph TR5 - Red, and, well kind of my husband's as well. But, really the sweetest little convertible. And it flew. One car that I do miss.

4 Favorite Foods

As I am limited with what I can eat, I have gone for 4 favorite foods that I can actually eat. No point in putting pizza if you cannot enjoy it's lovely cheesey flavour...mmmmmm. Or a big piece of home made chocolate cake.....

1: Fresh turkish delight. Pink with chips of almond in it and then dusted in thick, sweet icing sugar. The sensation of biting into that semi resistant softness whilst meeting the aromatic flavour is just divine.

2: Ripe figs. They have a lovely, heavy shape with the most beautiful outside texture. I like to carefully open them and study the pink flesh before enjoying the sweetness of it. (I am talking about a fig here)

3: Sushi. Perfect combination of flavour, texture and healthiness. Perfect any time of the day or night. And so cheap here. For less than $10 you can fill up on sushi hand rolls and not feel like you have eaten junk food.

4: Bread. I do not think twice about paying $10 for a loaf of a special Rye bread that comes from a local bakery. Good quality, non commercial bread is not only beautiful to look at, but the smell of fresh bread and the flavour only continue to convince me that it is the staff of life.

I am meant to tag 4 people and here they are.

Catherine at Gratefully Abnormal
and
Mr Parsnip over at Hex My Ex. I don't think he has had one as yet.....
and
Lydia who does the most delicious recipes
and
Sharon who does lovely photos of nature, skies and beautiful children

Ciao
LC

Long Post - Peaceful Weekend

Last week I had a very busy week with work. Not so much my day work (as you would have gathered by a recent post) but for some after hours bookwork I do for a couple of people.


Any business that turns over $50K per annum has to pay GST (aka goods and services tax, value added tax or sales tax) every three months. It becomes a monthly obligation when the turnover reaches $1million. So at work I do it monthly but for private work it is quarterly. As always, I leave them all until the week they are due and then just knuckle down and do the books. I could space it all out over the three months, but my very nature will not allow me to do that. Doing things at the last minute is just one of those aspects to my personality I have not, as yet, seemed to be able to overcome.


Anyway, I was just so tired at the end of it all that I needed a peaceful weekend. My head was overloaded with figure work and dollar amounts. Not only that, each time I do the BAS for someone they carry on about the amount no end. I tell them to shut up and pay it. What can I say. No one likes paying tax but they love travelling on the roads that tax pays for.

On the Saturday I made my way over to Chadstone (the Fashion Capital apparently) to make a purchase of two new suitcases for K and S to take overseas. Last year I bought myself a nice suitcase of medium proportions for our few days holiday up in QLD. At the time I had offered to buy new suitcases for the two boys. K told me he only needed a small bag and not a suitcase and S told me he wanted one of those sausage bags on wheels and not one of those old people suitcases. What the? Old people cases. You mean those ones that hold enough clothes, stay upright and don't empty themselves out when you least expect it? Yes, those ones.

So, at the time I bought S what he wanted only to have numerous arguments over the size of it, the difficulty wheeling it and the weight of it when it was packed to the gills. K, in the meantime, found that he had to put stuff in my case because his "little bag" was not quite big enough for his stuff. Hence the need to just buy two more "old people" suitcases on Saturday. There is no way I am sharing my case with anyone when travelling. I need all the space I can get! I did do the right thing however buy buying a very groovy blue case for S to ensure he did not feel like an old duck wheeling it around. Sigh.....

I mosied around the shops and had a look at all that was on offer. Had coffee. Just generally had a nice and relaxing time. Didn't feel the need to buy much for myself despite having a wardrobe purge the very same morning. However, after three hours I had to make my way out of there. Years ago I would have been able to walk around that place for hours on end, these days it is a three hour trawl and then I need to escape from the confines of the hallowed shopping centre. Too many people, too much noise and too much stuff.

On Sunday K had gone off early to a British Car show rally and would be out for the entire day. S and I went down to the local shops to have breakfast. He really did not want to. I have realised that children get to a certain age where, no matter what you suggest, they will answer it with the opposite of what you want to hear. Here are a few examples: Do you want to go for a walk? No. Do you want to come with me to the shops? No. Let's go and have breakfast down the street. No, I don't want to. Now I just say to him to get dressed he is coming with me. He moans about it, but comes along anyway.

We decided to have breakfast at the local bagel shop. He had brought his Asterix comics with to read. I am no longer interesting enough to have a one hour conversation with these days and it is quite normal for him to bring a book or comic along with him wherever we go. I am not offended. Sometimes I read the comics with him. Other times I read whatever trashy mags are on hand.

Whilst he was reading and eating his bagel, I was half watching people coming in and out of the shops, listening to conversations at the tables nearby. One of them caught my attention long enough to make a mental note of the details. There were two women sitting at the table behind us. Both in their sixties I would say. Reminded me of my own mum. Sitting and having a coffee each and a nice, big vanilla slice. That age where you can indulge without feeling guilty perhaps.

They were chatting about what things had been done around the house and other mundane topics at first and then it went like this:

"Michael has always been my "rock". Always been there for me", one of the women says. I think that this is a nice thing. She must be talking about her husband. Nice to know after all these years that she says something like that. I realised I was wrong about two seconds later.

"They say you should not have favorites with children but, really, Michael has always been the most wonderful son. Simon has always been a shit of a kid. He is not a kid anymore but I really don't like him at all. I love him, I suppose you have to love your children, but I would not care if I never spoke to him again. He is so much like his father. Michael is lovely, more like me", she continues.

"Don't feel bad, it is the same with my girls. Dana is a dream of a daughter. Sarah is bad news. She was a shit as a kid and has grown up into a pain in the arse daughter. Louise is okay but not interesting to talk to at all. Whenever she comes over I cannot wait for her to go and leave me to do my own things. And she has an idiot for a boyfriend. You can't pick what you pop out can you", says her friend.

The conversation continued a little longer along the lines of this before getting onto other things. I thought it had an air of extreme disloyalty about it. I wondered if my mum had the same sort of conversations with her own friends. Hmmmm, no, I know she loves us all and would never talk like that to any of her friends ever.

After breakfast we made our way home and S had a friend come over and play whilst I cooked a cake and did stuff around the house. The weather was so divine. One of those Autumn days that Melbourne does so well. Kind of hot but not with the same bite of a Summer scorcher.

I finally finished a small collage I was working on and hung it on the wall of the studio. Swept the floor and tidied up in there and did a brief sketch of the next collage I am planning.

I finished off the peaceful weekend with a trek to the supermarket and then a 45 minute walk in the warm of the evening.

By the time I got to bed I felt very relaxed and ready for the week ahead. Fell asleep thinking thoughts about my upcoming trip, my studio and what I was going to wear the next day at work.

I love weekends that are a balm to my thoughts. Like lying on a picnic blanket in the middle of a park with warm sun around and just listening to the movement of life all around. Just so peaceful.

Happy.

Ciao
LC