Other people’s clothes – should we wear them.

I was thinking about that as I cleared my wardrobe of some of my winter gear. I hate the way everything gets squashed up on the rail and I have to look through several times to find what I want. Winter clothes are so bulky.

I put away a beautiful pale beige rain coat. This is not my coat. Well, I guess it is now but it came from one of my dearest friends who died a couple of years ago.

She loved the coat. I have a letter she wrote after she bought it and she described her feelings as she strode down the Champs Ellysees in Paris on a winter morning dressed in the coat and some smart brown leather boots. Unfortunately the boots didn’t fit me. She visited France every year and as the years passed she learned to speak French fluently and to feel she passed as a Parisian. Her coat helped. It’s cut in the traditional trench coat style with an edge of darker coloured suede. She bought it France where style is upper most.

I wear it as often as the weather allows. It is longish, so on a wet days my skirts or pants stay dry but most importantly I wear it because it belonged to her. Sliding my arms into it and shrugging it on as I walk out the door reminds me of her and for a moment the essence of her is there, in my entrance way. It fades a little as I back the car out and head into the morning traffic but a small slither remains with me for a couple of hours.

Wearing a piece of clothing that belonged to a loved friend or a family member always charms me. I have a jumper my husband once owned that I still wear occasionally. I wore it sometimes when he was alive because I liked the colour but it fits me better now because I am a larger size.

The jumper has followed me around for years. I have forgotten about it and then found it tucked away in the back of a cupboard and moved it forward to wear again.

I know everyone doesn’t feel like this but I believe wearing something of a loved one who has died gives us a little bit of them back. We grab a small piece of them when we slip into it and the person seeps into the fore front of our mind. It keeps these loved and missed people in my life in a joyous way. There is nothing melancholy in this for me.

Recently a friend showed me a picture of herself at her sister’s memorial service looking stunning in a red dress.

“That was Eve’s favourite red dress,” she said. “I just had to wear it. It was as if she was there with me” I’m sure if Eve was looking down at the service she would’ve smiled. My friend still wears the dress sometimes and I’m sure she will never throw it away.

I put the fawn rain coat to front of my winter clothes. I may need it on a wet summer day. And as I write this I think of my friend and absorb again all the good things she gave to our friendship.




Lavender for love and this wonderful hanging basket shows how you can create beauty in our hot dry climate.

Adjusting to an aging parent

It is time I blogged again. It is a pleasure to write my thoughts and opinions. Thoughts and opinions that I can share and discuss in this world wide forum. Please add your thoughts if you feel like it.

I am back from giving support to my lovely frail mother. She managed to gather her energies, survive and ultimately return to her own home.

The return to the home she loves and wants to cling to has been enabled by the amazing and supportive service in the New Zealand Social Welfare Service. It is my belief that the care she gets in her home is better than she would get in an Old Peoples Home. This is known in New Zealand as going into ‘care’. Care in these places can be very limited.

She is frail and failing but can still struggle with the aid of a walker ( zimmer frame) or with both hands on a piece of furniture, to move about the four rooms of her house. Someone told me that that was called furniture surfing. Surfing suggests speed and dexterity and neither is part of my mother’s progress.

There are good things about her life. She can read the daily newspaper, make coffee or tea and a simple meal and mix a weak gin and tonic. The later giving a special and pleasing charm to the day’s end - a sundowner in the language of her generation.

Do we all wish to get so old and so frail? If we saw that as our future would we still scarf down green tea, fish oil, soy-milk, rush to the gym and push ourselves to eat meals we don’t love but feel righteous about consuming?

During my school years my mother rode her bike to and from work and in the school holidays, when she took time off work, we'd take a picnic and ride our bikes for miles and miles to explore local rivers and beaches. When I look at her now it is hard to see this crippled old lady as that vibrant, energetic young woman who brought lightness and humour to our home.

I am now in my home and perhaps I am taking on my mother’s younger self. I am back at work, going to the gym and walking whenever I can. I enjoy my physical ability more because I have been experiencing the way hers has diminished.

This picture is Apple Blossom on a corner of High Street in Armadale. It's an interesting shopping strip to window shop but somehow these blossoms, stunning as they are, seemed rather out of place in pricey and sophisticated Armadale. An exotic Magnolia would be more in keeping.

Nevertheless there is a magic about apple blossom - perhaps because it is so perfect and simple.

Another country

Thank you for stopping by my blog.

I'll be in New Zealand for the next few weeks as my mother is very unwell and I want to be with her.

I will try to post but I won't have this wonderful technology available to me that I have here.

Catch you later - Em

Would it be spring without daffodils?

Last year my garden opened up to spring. The bulbs flowered – daffodils and blue hyacinths. The ground glowed with them. This year it was different. The local possum feasted on young buds and the hot dry summer meant the bulbs didn’t get much water to begin their journey to spring.

To make up for the lack of spring in my garden the shops have been full of daffodils. J drew my attention to the buckets of them at one of the local shops. Since them with his help I have replenished the vase regularly.

As you can see they create beautiful shadows on my painted floor. The whole effect is magical. I am going to miss them when the season moves on.

The photo on the side bar of the daffs is from last year's display in front of my back-yard fountain. I am wondering if I lifted the bulbs, stored them, and then planted them again they would do better next year. I'll wait until the leaves dry off and give it a go.

Winter morning in St Kilda

The early morning sun has been a rare thing this winter. We Melburnians are waking to grey skies. Then, suddenly there is a morning to take your breath away. On this startlingly sunny morning the pigeons created a little magic as the first rays of sun caught them perching in a bare tree in a neighbours backyard.

Favourite cafes - thoughts from BookTalk in Richmond

I was in one of my favourite cafes the other day and I got to wondering what makes a café “my café”. One we chose over a number of others in the same area. "My cafe" may be too strong a statement – I am really talking about cafes that we feel comfortable. Cafes where we can wander in , order a coffee, drop down – sort of slump - and read the paper.

There are also cafes where we like to sit up straight and look our best. There are cafes where we know the food is good so we meet for lunch and cafes where we go because it is “my café” for one of our friends. These don't become our cafe of choice.

There is a café on Carlisle Street that I want to make “my café” but every time I go there, there is a problem with the table or I’m asked to move because I’m at a table for two or three and I’m only one. It is a cafe where I have received the wrong bill and had to argue about it. They supply papers and magazines and the decor is conducive to whiling away an hour or so, but something always jars. The food is good and this means it’s busy and the staff appear very concerned with getting the crowded in and out. It’s the sort of café where they are trying to take your coffee cup while you still have a couple of mouthfuls left. And it is hard to keep sitting at a table that has been swept clean.

When I was working in Elsternwick for a few weeks there was a café near the office where I bought my morning coffee. They were friendly and I read the paper while I waited. People had breakfast there and I like to see them sitting around. I got to recognize some of them and we greeted each other with a smile.

I was in the area recently and I headed there for a coffee. It’s closed and there’s a ‘For Let’ sign on the window. I’m glad I didn’t get too attached and I wondered about the people who used to go there for breakfast.

The BookTalk café in Swan Street Richmond is a café I feel at home in. It is one of my favourites. The café is in the middle of the bookshop and patrons are surrounded by new and second hand books. The second hand books can be read as you sip and there are magazines and papers for a shorter read. The chairs have the name of well known authors on brass plaques attached to the back. I must look out for Charles Dickens next time I’m there.

I’m back to my first thought and what makes a café “our café” I don’t have the answer but it is as well that we don’t all want the same thing. We don’t want to find there is no room in our chosen café and of course with the number of cafes in Melbourne we need to share our patronage between them.

Un Secret and eating at the Shakahari Cafe

While I was changing the ambience in my house I had hours to kill before I could go home again and walk on the floors. As it is mid-winter here I took myself off to the pictures. I saw Un Secret at the Nova Movie house in Carlton. It began at 10.30 -such a good time for those redecorating.

I have read and heard good reports of Un Secret but I found it hard to follow the shifts in time from past, present and future. At the beginning the story was engaging with the suggestion of a family mystery. At the end when the mystery was disclosed it fell flat with me. I also found it hard to understand the mother who took an action that was to ensure not only her death but her son’s as well.

I came out from the movie into a cold drizzle. A phone message said. “The floor isn’t dry yet”. So I trotted off to Faraday Street and the Shakahari Vegetarian Restaurant.

It is the best Vegetarian Restaurant I have been to and it is an institution in Melbourne.

The gas-log-fire was going and the room was cozy and I was lucky to grab a seat by the fire as it was vacated by an early eater.

The menu is interesting and I ordered ‘Croquettes Fululu’ – I have had them before which makes me very boring. Next time I’m there I am going to go for the ‘Stay Legend’
They also have the most stunning dessert ‘Black Rice and Sago Pudding’ It is a dark grey colour which could be a bit off-putting but the taste is to die for. I washed my meal down with an Organic Sauvignon Blac from Richmond in New Zealand. For an organic wine it was fine at the price of something like $7.50 per glass.

If you are our dining out give the Shakarahri a go. http://www.shakahari.com.au/

You don’t have to be a vegetarian to enjoy the food. The menu is labeled for vegans and if the dish is gluten free.

Painting cork tiles

My house is taking on a new atmosphere. I have painted the cork tiles in the entrance and hallway an off-white. I love the change in dynamics. Before I did this the house had a river of drab and dreary, brown cork tiles running from the front door through the hall to kitchen and the back door.

The tiles are easy to paint. So why all the cautionary advice I got from friends and professionals?

When I was in New Zealand, Resene Paints told me it would be a ‘piece of cake’ and they gave me a pamphlet on their Super Sealer. With this product as an undercoat you can paint on stainless steel – in fact anything!!! There is no need to sand or do any other surface preparation. Just paint this on as an undercoat and you are away.

In Australia there is a product more readily available than Resene products called ESP (Easy Surface Preparation)

I was going to do it myself but then I got my friendly painter to experiment with it. He was apprehensive. He’d never painted cork tiles before.

One sealer and two coats of low sheen paint and it was a breeze. The effect is a little different from painted wood. Denser I think would describe the difference. And if I want to change the colour I can give it another coat myself.

The only problem was the length of time it took the ESP to dry. The tin said 90 minutes but it was more like 12 hours before it was dry enough to paint over.

Entering the house now is like entering another house.

The change from a dreary brown to a light grey-cream has changed the whole area.

The change does require different pictures, another hall table and new rugs. Something that looked okay with brown isn’t so successful with off-white. Clear colours and possibly stronger colours are needed. I’m looking forward to doing this and creating a new feel to the house. And I’m also looking forward to hiding the rest of the cork tiles under a coat of paint. I just have to decide o9n the colour.

Bag Moth

Living close to the CBD and as close to my neighbours as I do I don’t expect to find a lot of wild life around the place. It could be argued that this caterpillar is not actually wild life but it is certainly alive and it’s wild.

It was hanging from my front rose bush when I left for NZ. I decided He-she had settled down for the winter.

I was even surer of this when I returned and it was hanging in exactly the same place.

I decided I would take He-she inside so I could see what sort of moth would appear from the cocoon.

It was easy enough to detach it from the rose and I carried it in and put it on the mantelpiece. A couple of hours later I found He-she didn’t like the mantelpiece and was crawling along the floor. It was suggested to me that it was hungry and looking for food. I supplied a few branches of lavender from under the rose and some rose leaves and put He-she in the middle. This wasn’t suitable and the caterpillar continued walk aroud the kitchen.

I felt guilty. A creature living in my house that could starve to death! It wasn’t a nice thought. So I have taken it out to give it the chance to eat. I now find it hanging from a lavender branch not far from where I left it. Outside is obviously better than inside if you’re a bag moth.

Bag moths? I have learned that they can live up to two years inside their bag before turning into a moth. As yet I haven’t seen a picture of the moth they turn into. Does anyone know?

There is other wild life alive and well and round here. The top of the parsley has been eaten off by a possum and we have the first daffodil ready to come out. Last year possums nibbled away at them. I hope last year they found that a yellow flower made them sick. A nibbled daffodil is a rather sad sight.

Wellington, Red Rocks and Mt Victoria

I have just returned from spending a short time visiting my mother at Raumati Beach in New Zealand.

I read in Viv’s Blog http://strollingplayer.blogspot.com/ about retrieving old memories. (I think that is what she was saying) This thought came back to me as the plane tipped onto its side as it made it’s approach to Wellington Airport.

There was a sudden break in the clouds we got a glimpse of the Southern Coast line at the base of the North Island and then the houses on Mount Victoria as the plane turned to make the landing.

As we circled around the barren and wind swept Southern Coast I could see the path we used to walk in the winter to visit the seal colony that wintered-over in the area known as Red Rocks.

It was a wonderful trek on a clear frosty morning. There is a flat area, about the width of a two lane road, between the steep jagged hills and the rocky coast line. The sun is there in the early morning and disappears behind the steep hills about noon - 8.30am isn’t too early to start on a winter’s morning.

The sun glistens on the spray as the sea throws itself against the rocky out-crops, bull kelp lies in heaps on the shore and swirls in great brown swaths at the edge of the sea. The only sounds are the sea, the screech of sea birds, an occasional plane overhead and at the end of the journey the bark of the seals.

That was then. Nowadays I’m told there is no need to walk carrying a pack with lunch and drinks. Tour buses charge along, followed by SUVs and any other vehicle whose owner thinks it can drive off-road.

If this is true the days of relaxing as you walk this rugged route with children who explore and energetic dogs that chase sea gulls, with no thought of a passing vehicle, have gone.

I guess this is the modern tourism dilemma. More people get to explore the area, see the seals in their natural habitat and experience the exhilaration of that starkly beautiful landscape. To allow this something is lost.


The quick glimpse of the Mt Victoria was nostalgic.

Wellington is ranked number 12 in the recent list of the world's "Most Liveable Cities". I didn’t know this ranking when I flew into Wellington and as we swept over Mt Victoria I got a view of the houses in Shannon Street. I have spent some wonderful evenings in a couple of these houses with the city at my feet. Memories flashed across my mind in a sort of an emotional and visual kaleidoscope. Memories of great meals, hours of conversation and wine, the breath taking views of the city at night, of the wind hitting and bashing at the houses and the sway giving a feeling like being in a storm at sea.

It was windy that afternoon and the bumpy landing at Wellington Airport could be an equally good description for a storm experienced in a house in Shannon Street.. It rocked and bumped until finally we touched down on the tarmac.

Wellington has charm and character and those old wooden houses with stunning views are stunning places to live especially if you enjoy experiencing all facets of the weather. They catch the late afternoon sun on a cold winter’s day and are the envy of all those people who have been in shade since early afternoon.

My home now is in the 17th "Most Liveable City". I am happy with that but there is something unique about the 12th city – the most Southern Capital City in the world. It does seep into your soul and leave its mark.

Holidays in Raumati

I’m moving my holiday away from home for a couple of weeks and flying to New Zealand to visit my mother who lives in Raumati just north of Wellington.

Friends there have told me that it’s got very cold and to bring thermal underwear. I hope that is partly in jest. Although it has got cold here in the morning and the evenings I have been able to sit in my courtyard at lunch time.

I am hoping that the Internet Café near my mother is still operating and I can up-date my blogs, down load some photos and generally catch up with people.

I feel the loss of a computer as I would not having a telephone available. The e-mail communications and the communications through various blogs have become part of my day.

I think it may be good to take a step back into the past and not have to be ‘on-line’ every day.

With luck more contact from Raumati.

On Holiday

I have been on holiday for two weeks now and it’s become relaxing time.. The first week a friend stayed with so she and I rushed around Melbourne. We had a great shop in Brunswick Street and on another day when we were in the CBD with all those lovely arcades. I can spend days in those and my favourite is the Block Arcade with coffee at the Doumo Café. I love showing it off to out of town friends.

We spend Sunday morning at the Camberwell Market. I found a lovely old wire plant stand. Very rustic with the bottom two shelves bowed from the weight of plants. I saw one the same the other day in Prahran for 160% more. It was in a slightly better condition and it was rustic- worn-white rather than rustic-worn-grey. I couldn’t believe the price of $160 on the tag and had to have it confirmed. I was happy with my bargain of $10 but on seeing what I could’ve paid I was over the moon.


A couple of weeks ago I bought an old music stand from the market to display my photos.
At my last assignment I was working opposite Office Supplies and I found I could buy A4 photo paper reasonably cheaply so I have used it to print out some of my favourite photos. A lovely old music stand with the lyre on the top is just the thing for a changing display.

The last week has drifted by with chilly weather. I have watched videos, gone for walks, fussed about my fence. Some days it has been warm enough to lunch outside.

The blissful thing about holidays is that as the evening drifts on, I can drift with it without worrying about the morning alarm.

Fences and cork tiles

A fence is a fence is a fence, or so I hear. It is a wall that keeps out wandering people and stray animals and wind blown rubbish and it gives the home owner a sense of security. It should be simple to have one erected and if you have the money it is simply a matter of getting someone to erect it.

Or is it?

The problem lies in our desire for a particular fence. A fence to enhance our property, to make passersby say ‘wow’ and also for the owner to arrive home at the end of the working day and be able to say – “Great fence” and smile smugly knowing that the money was well spent. Fences are not cheap.

I am planning a fence and I had a view in my mind of the fence I wanted.

At the moment I have a silly little concrete fence that comes about halfway up my shins. The metal gate of the same height isn’t worth opening and we all step over it. On either side of this gate there is a pillar that comes to about my mid thigh.

I have removed part of the fence to put in an entrance for my car.

When I first put it in I imagined that I would have a high pillar on either side of both entrances and very close together palings in between.

This is not to be. The fencer gave the fence a shove with his foot and announced that the whole structure had “had it” I would need an ordinary paling fence. I also want a sliding car gate and that makes a pillar pretty impossible.

He has quoted for a paling fence but when I visualize his idea I’m not sure that I am going to have that smug pleased feeling that I desire when I arrive home at the end of the day.

I have talked too much about it to the people who matter in my life and have now taken on a suggestion, said with exasperation from one of them, that I get in landscape gardener to see the area as a whole with the fence as a part of the garden/courtyard..

The area behind the proposed fence is small but in this inner city where every bit of land counts I believe it should be an area where we can have breakfast in the summer and where there is a feeling of beauty and peace. I have a vague picture of a cross between and Italian and Balinese garden

I don’t feel creative when I think of how to do it. In fact I feel bewildered A landscape gardener is coming on Saturday to sort out that bewilderment and give ideas.

And I’m coming round to the idea that there are some things that we don’t know how to do ourselves and professional help is the only way to go. I come from a long line of do-it-yourselfers and it is hard to admit that I don’t have the knowhow.

Now that I have some holidays I am full of ideas of things to do. I want to paint the boring cork tiles. Replacing them is expensive and the fence problem comes up again. I don’t know what I want to replace them with but I have decided that I do want to paint them to cheaply create a different ambience.

I have been to two paint shops without having got very much advice. They both say they have never heard of any one doing that before. This doesn’t seem to be a reason not to do it.

I will keep exploring these two issues – more to come.

100th Blog - A Tribute

This is my 100th post. It seems a momentous occasion. It also seems odd that when I come to this bench-mark in my blogging the readership of my blog has flagged. I believe this is due to the attention I have given to my other blog Dogs of Melbourne and not this blog.

I want to mark this milestone on this blog with a special blog. It is raining today. A steady continuous fall – an unusual event in this sun-burnt country. We do get thunder storms where the rain dropped from the sky and floods everything then stops. Today it is regular and very relaxing.

I have decided that a tribute to S is the right blog to mark this century.

Three weeks ago I was sitting on my bedroom floor by the open door of my wardrobe. The dark shoe filled cavity was where my lovely cat S decided to hole up.

When I came home from work I had to search for her. I had hoped to find her with a new lease of life basking in the last rays of the afternoon sun in the garden. Instead she had found this dark corner. She lay in one position for a while then slowly heaved herself up, looked around, appeared to wonder if she would come out but instead flopped back again but in a slightly different position. She was uncomfortable, not only because of the shoes but because her little body was failing her.

That morning before work I stroked her and when my hand moved down her back she flinched away from me. The whole of her hind quarters appeared to be painful.

I had arranged for it be her last night in this world and I wondered if her thoughts worked that way she would be hoping it would be. That she could get away from the feeling of sickness and the pain.

I sat cross legged, leaned into the wardrobe and gently stoked her head and around her ears. She responded by raising her head and I talked to her about her life.

We didn’t know all her life. She came to us as a grown cat but the lack of nourishment in her early years had left her growth stunted; her body tiny. She was a long hair domestic black and white cat. At that time her small body appeared to a vehicle for keeping her beautiful, huge and fluffy tail up-right. Her tail was magnificent.

We had a dog and when she arrived I thought this could be a problem. J introduced them the first night and all was well.

Our dog Goldie was fascinated by her but what she thought was a mystery, At that time she was traumatized and withdrawn into herself. She never made a sound, neither a meow nor a purr. I thought she had a problem with her voice box but the vet assured me that this was not the case.

She learned how to scramble under the house and to come inside via a funny half door that led under the back stairs. This door opened to the downstairs bathroom and the first sound I heard her make was from behind that door. I was soaking in the tub reading when I noticed a funny squeaking sound. It happened a few times before I realized what it could be. I struggled from my hot bath and open the door. S stepped into the bathroom and asked to be let out into the passage way. The response to making a noise and achieving what she wanted encouraged her to keep making a noise. From that day she was no longer a silent cat.

I reminded her of this time and enlarged on it by reminding her that she had needed her voice when she got stuck on the roof of the back verandah and has lost to courage to get down. And so much later in life when she had lost her spring and wanted to be lifted up placed on a bed of a couch..

The purr came back too. On night like last night when the rain fell noisily onto the roof she and I would lie in bed and she would add to the comfort and security with her purr.

Since those early days she has moved countries and become an Aussie cat.

When we moved into this house she was at home instantly. It made me realize that she was always a little on edge in a busier and nosier part of Melbourne. Her immediate acceptance of this house and its vibes gave it a special meaning to me. Positive and good things must’ve happened here in the past.

She is buried here in the garden that she sun bathed in and where she spend many a warm and sultry night on patrol and where, not longer ago, J found she had a trespassing cat bailed up under the barbecue.

She was released from her pain and distress by a kindly vet who came to the house and accepted that she desired to be in the wardrobe.

Splodge 1990 - 2008

John Cargher - Singers of Renown

I wrote this on Saturday.. but didn’t get the chance to publish until today Sunday.

I will miss John Cargher at 4pm today (Saturday). I have been cleaning and clearing up the house. The morning has flowed into the afternoon during these activities and I am looking for something to define the day, give it a structure. Singers of Renown would have done that. An appointment with my kitchen radio and some relaxed slow cooking.

I wrote of John Cargher and his programme in a blog last year. I have read what I wrote and I don’t think I can add anything. This is what his programme meant to me in my early days in Melbourne. His theme ('Ho sognato una cassetta' from Il Tabarro by Puccini) always brings a feeling of anticipated pleasure when I hear it

June 2007 - “I have made a chicken pie and as I stripped the chicken from the bones I listened to ‘Singers or Renown” with John Cargher on Radio National.

This was nostalgic. It brought back memories of my first winter in Melbourne. I worked 5 ½ days a week out in Blackburn and on my way home on Saturday afternoon I’d call into the huge Safeway at Ashburton and fill my trolley with a week’s ‘fuel’ and a large amount of food for Saturday evening’s dinner for my son and myself. Then, I’d push my bulging trolley into the liquor section and buy the evening’s wine. I made a point of getting home in time for John Cargher’s programme.

I listened while I unpacked the produce and began preparation for dinner.

I loved those evenings. John’s choice of music filled the old terraced house. The door to the courtyard let in soft early evening air and pigeons were outlined on the dead tree three houses down.

My son twisted the doorbell at 5.00pm, as the progamme ended. There was the pleasure of knowing he’d be on time and we’d spend several hours chatting. He was a heavy smoker in those days. The table was by the back door and I sat inside with my coat on and the gas-heating heater hissing behind me and he sat outside rocking back on his chair with a glowing cigarette between his fingers.

Today as I listened to John I cooked for tomorrow’s guest and myself. I still cherish the memory of those Saturday evenings. They were the highlight of my week. We usually drank and ate too much but I still managed to get up on Sunday morning and take the week’s washing to the local laundry-matt by 8.30 to ensure two machines were available.

Life has changed for both of us. I work only every 4th Saturday now, I live somewhere else and I have a washing machine, my son doesn’t smoke and his Saturday’s have a different pattern.”


John Cargher will always be part of the memories of my early days in Melbourne.


Yesterday I didn’t turn on the radio because I didn’t want to hear something else in his place but this morning as I got up about 10 to 7 I found his music was there and Julie Copeland was the voice at the end of the programme. I will be sure to tune in next Saturday with the hope that life doesn’t change and John’s music will flow forth.

The Olympic Flame in Canberra

A quick follow up on the Olympic torch. Canberra was different. As the news media has reported far and wide all went reasonably well here. The rent-a-crowd of supporters bussed in by China were so great in number they swamped the human rights activists. There were reports that some activists felt intimidated by the sheer force of the Chinese waving their red flags.

China missed a great opportunity in not supplying their rent-a-crowd with the Olympic flag and taking the games out of the political agenda. How much more we would have admired them and how much more focus they would have directed to the games and not their human rights record.

I believe now, after viewing this demonstration of force, the games is simply a vehicle for China to show their Might and Power.

In Canberra they missed a great public relations opportunity !

The Olympic Flame - Australia

The progress of the Olympic flame dominates our news. We hear on the radio the problems in London, Paris and San Francisco. We discuss how the security will be handled here. One mother is recorded as saying she is afraid to bring her daughter in to see the flame because the demonstrations could get out of hand. This is a tragedy because the torch represents all that is good in the world.

What is odd to me is China’s belief that they own the torch and have sent in their thugs (to Quote Lord Sebastian Coe) to protect it.

I believe that China’s human rights have nothing to do with the Olympics.

I see the games as a little lull or if you like, the eye of the world’s storm. A time when every nation gets together in unity to indulge in a non-political event.

I have felt moved and awed during previous opening ceremonies by the number of countries who send athletes to compete. Many of these athletes have no chance of a medal against the powerful and sport focused countries yet they are there, proudly carrying their nation’s flag and waving.

The problems that often surround countries national sport, (think of AFL, Rugby, Soccer, Ice Hockey) are not seen at the Olympics. What is seen at this four-yearly-event is a joy of being there, a joy of participating and euphoria of the occasional.

I believe that where the games are held is should be incidental. Perhaps China was a bad choice. The choice was made some years ago and we should respect that and focus on the individual efforts and sportsmanship of the participants. China’s human rights should be left for another forum.

The irony is that with China holding the games all eyes are on that country. We are given a chance to see all its failings and its abysmal human rights record. It is all out in front jostling to be noticed.


It is reported that people in Canberra will turn their back on the torch as it goes past. Is that not turning your back on the Olympic movement and all it stands for?

I’m shocked that Britain should allow Chinese security men to circle the flame and push and jostle people.

And I was delighted when I learned Prime Minster Rudd had said that we would look after our own security. Now he has changed his mind and said two-blue-tracked-suited Chinese paramilitary would accompany the torch so that they could re-light it if it went out. The rest would follow in a bus incase they were needed.

I am wondering if when the games were held in Sydney whether we sent a bus load of security people to accompany the torch on its world journey. Does anyone reading this know that?

The torch arrives in Canberra today with the relay on Thursday. Now all eyes will be on us as and the torch as it makes its way through our streets. The world will see how we handle the demonstrations and we, who live in Australia, will see how the much authority the Chinese ‘thugs’ are given here. Will they stay in their bus?


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Red Delicious Apples and Babybel Cheese

Crisp Red Delicious apples and Babybel cheese is the best combination.

This picture shows the little wheels of Babybel cheese that can be bought in a net bag of about six wheels. Don’t buy these the taste isn’t right! Look a bit further in the supermarket or the Deli and find the bigger wheel – about 4 inches in diameter.

Red Delicious apples have made an appearance in my local supermarket. Looking at them in all their red glowing beauty I remembered the combination.

Some taste combinations are to die for. This may not be quite as good as that but to me it is one of the best simple combinations around. You only need the apple and the cheese.

My advice is to keep the apples in the fridge once you have got them home because once they have gone soft they are not nice. They go soft very quickly.

Give this combination a try after dinner one night this week and see if you agree with me.

As I wrote this I wondered what wine would add something to the taste. I haven't experimented with that, yet.

Heat

Last week Melbourne suffered a heat wave. It felt like having a thick wooly blanket covering everything. A temperature of around 38 degrees settled over the city for about a week.

It triggered a number of heat-related memories for me. Mainly memories of holidays I’ve had in Asia and the Pacific although I think any Pacific Island I’ve been on was cooler.

A wonderful part of those days for me was lying in bed with my limbs heavy and the bed supporting them. Pure relaxation. Surprisingly I have slept well and I remember doing so in the past when it has been hot. I have a fan but I haven’t used it at night.

I have been at work during some of the hottest weather. For a couple of days in an old house converted to offices where the cooling was a fan and outside doors left open, in the hope of a passing cool breeze. One of the doors opened to the street and as there was construction going on next door we became part of the noise and dust of redevelopment. I moved to an air conditioned office and left others to cope with this aspect of an over-heated world.

The evenings were wonderful - warm and mellow and only once did it seem too hot to sit outside.

This heat has given me the opportunity to wear a shirt that was once my mothers. It is cut rather like a sports shirt and is made of a sort of aertex fabric. My mother bought it about 15 years ago, liked it but found that where she lived the weather was hardly ever warmer enough to wear it.

She lent it to me when I went to Asia. I have memories of wearing it in Singapore and again on a baking summer’s day in Seoul. It has stayed hidden for the last couple of summers but I discovered it in January and the weather has suited it. When I first put it on a picture comes to me of my mother wearing it as she comes up her drive towards me.

It is strange that I can still wear it. It is tighter than it once was but not too tight. It is surprising that it was ever a size my mother would have worn. I can only suppose that I have forgotten what size she used to be. Now in old age she is tiny and the shirt would float on her.

Thoughts on International Women's Day

I was in a gym class on International Women’s Day. My mind sometimes wanders at the gym especially when I’m doing repetitive exercises. It wandered that day but not very far. It stayed on gyms and exercise.

I have been going to a body combat class at the gym for the last few months. Initially I was a bit doubtful of my ability to tackle something so full on but I was persuaded to try it by one of my favourite instructors.

Of course I didn’t really start this energetic class from scratch because I have been attending a gym in one way or another for the last 10 years. I am reasonably supple and reasonably fit so the constant movement in the body combat class was something I could struggle through.

There’s not a lot of time in the body combat class for reflection because you have to keep your mind on what you’re doing. But as I kicked and punched the air I reflected on how inappropriate this would have been in my youth.

When I was at school young ladies didn’t show this sort of aggression.

We played games such as netball and tennis and we did forward rolls and balanced on a Swedish bench.

Young ladies didn’t punch. We simpered. We didn’t kick. We kept our knees close together.

It’s good to reflect on how women have moved on and how times have changed to allow us to explore and experience as much physical prowess as we desire.

I love being able to kick and punch and have this element of physical control. I’m glad I have had the opportunity to give it a go. Monday gym nights are one of the highlights of my week

Something like this - It's good to have a vision.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly - movie review

I went this film expecting to love it. Everyone I mentioned it to said I would and so did the reviewers. I didn’t love it. I found it tiresome and irritating.

There have to be times when you don’t like the film everyone is raving about.

If you read a review of The Diving Bell and the Butterfly you pretty much know the story, so it wasn’t the story I found difficult to take. It was the camera work and the way Jean-Do treated the mother of his children but mostly it was the camera work.

I found it intensely disorientating and in the beginning it gave me a form of sea sickness and I found I was closing my eyes to shut all this movement out and to stop my head swirling.

My problem could have been that I knew nothing of Jean-Dominque Bauby (played by Mathieu Amabric) before the movie came to my notice. Jean-Do, as he is called, was the French Editor of Elle before he suffered a stroke at 43. This caused him to suffer from "Locked-in Syndrome". It is a Syndrome you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. The mind is active but the body is dead. In Jean-Do’s case he was able to blink one eye.

At the start of the movie we saw the world from Jean-Do’s one eye – hence the sea sickness.

It is hard to criticize something that is a true story. And there is no doubt he showed enormous courage and determination particularly in view of the book he wrote. This meant that every word had to be spelt out while Jean-Do blinked when the right letter was pointed to or spoken.

The dedication of the people who worked with him was breathtaking. This included, Celine, the mother of his children, played by Emmanuelle Seiger. The way she stuck by him was inspiring. To me she’s the hero.

I came out of the film a little sea-sick, a little depressed and wanting to know more about what happened to his three children and their mother after he died. They learned to accept him in his new form and to make him part of their lives. The settings in France were beautiful and this emphasized Jean-Do deformed appearance.

I may be the only person who wouldn’t recommend the film. But if you need to see it, my advice is to hire the DVD from your local store.

Australia Day 2008

I wrote this at the end of the Australia Day long weekend and it seemed like a good idea to put my thoughts out there even though we are now about a month on in the year. My thoughts about living here haven't changed.

It is ‘Australia Day’ long weekend with a bank holiday today, Monday. This is the time when Australians ask each other what it is to be an Australian. The news media is helping in this with questions and answers and copious opinions.

We read in the paper and hear on the radio moving descriptions of peoples’ ‘voyages’ to the citizenship ceremonies that were held throughout the country on Friday.

I am not an Australian and at times like this I feel it’s an enormous privilege and an enormous piece of luck to be able to make my home here. The news media tells us, that out there, in the big wide world, hundreds if not thousands of people want to do just what I am doing. They put their lives and often their families’ lives on the line to make Australia their home.

This weekend the weather smiled on us all. It’s been, perfect. The sun has shone and the temperatures have been in the early twenties.

I, too, have had a perfect weekend. On Friday a friend and I spent a couple of hours having a spa and a massage and then lounging in the “Dreaming Room” watching yachts in Port Philip Bay glide past as we sipped on herbal tea. We followed this with a late lunch and a bottle of wine at a table on the edge of St Kilda beach.

During the weekend I have been to the gym, lunched with another friend, wandered around the Albert Park Shops and lazily reclined outside and read the papers.

When I was driving back from the gym my car radio told me how lucky Australians were to be born here considering that a baby is born somewhere in the world every minute.

One of the announcers’ examples of our privileged lifestyle was the way we conduct our parliamentary elections and the smooth transition when a new government is voted into office. A glance around the world and the recent elections that have been held elsewhere and I have to agree. It is just another thing that we take for granted.

It is easy to become complaisant and get used to good fortune.

I needed a wake-up call from the Australian media. I have become used to breakfasting in my courtyard, to having the choice of shows and movies, to having variety and buzz in my life and to able to find work.

I have become used to things that astounded me and left me exhilarated when I first made my home here. I no longer think of them. They are just there.

Every now and again we need a reminder. Australia Day is a good time for that.

Merlot and a cork not a screw top

I wrote some time back about finding a bottle of with a cork after months of grabbing and twisting a screw to. See blog here.

This weekend I have had a pure hedonistic experience with wine and a cork. I was given two special bottles of red wine. Katnook Estate Coonawarra Merlot 2005 and a Shiraz Bishop by Ben Glaetzer Barossa Valley. Both these bottles have corks.

This Saturday seemed the time to celebrate by opening one of them. I have a good temp job that will bring money in for the next couple of weeks, the drive onto my property is scheduled to start on Monday morning and a friend from an earlier life contacted me.

I deliberated and chose the merlot.

Since my last cork problem I bought a new cork screw that I have never had to use. Life is full of grab and twist.

The cork screw went in like a dream and cork came out with a satisfying pop and the beautiful ruby coloured wine glowed in my crystal glass. It is the best wine I have drunk in a long time. I sipped and purred and munched on a Harro’s special pizza. Life was very good.

What is it after a little too much red wine (I couldn’t resist that extra glass) that makes us crave something sweet? For me it was a piece of Safeway’s Rocky Road Slice. Simple things can make us very happy and contented.

Yellow Mushrooms or are they Toadstools?

I have now got another crop of these beautiful plants. I have taken all the old ones out and I found at least eight tiny new ones sprouting away underneath them. The new ones have come out and the look just as beautiful as the last lot.

Does anyone one know anything about them?

I find them fascinating and very colourful.

Yellow Toadstools growing in pots

What should I do?

I have had another crop of these beautiful fungi. Does anyone know what I should do so I keep getting them?

I have left the dead ones lie on the surface as I imagine they would in the wild.

I hope this will produce new ones.

Will it?

They are very beautiful for the short time they are with me.

Morning on Sydney Road, Brunswick

These photos were taken at 8.50am near Blyth Street on Sydney Road.



It takes me about an hour travelling to get to my two day a week job in Brunswick. During that time I have moved to a very different part of the city

It’s an area of Melbourne I didn’t know and I find that life lived here is very different from life lived in the Bayside suburbs.

There’s the lack of the beach of course. But that wasn’t the first thing I noticed. On my first morning I left in plenty of time to negotiate the traffic and I arrived rather early at the top of Royal Parade. Great, I thought. I’ll have a coffee and read the paper. I drove along Sydney Road only to find it shut. I’m talking here about 8.20am. There were no people about and no cafes open. I found a news agent that was really a tobacconist. He had a whole wall of cigarettes and huge area of fancy lighters and amongst this two copies of The Age, one rather battered so I bought the other one.

I parked near the office to listen to the radio and read the paper. Opposite me was a medical centre. It wasn’t open either but there were 7 people queued up outside. One elderly man kept looking through the front window while another held forth on some topic and every now and again a couple of the women laughed with him and made a comment. A youngish man learned against the wall and pretended he was the only one waiting there.

It was curious. None of these people looked particularly sick and they couldn’t all have had an appointment at the same time. Yet you would hardly think the centre would operate on a first come first served basis. They were still there when I left and their numbers had swollen with the addition of a stocky middle aged woman.

By lunch time the area has come alive. The pavement is crowded. All the shops are open. The lines in the Post Office and the banks are long and the cafes are open and full.
There is a great place for sushi rolls and there’s a great café in Victoria Street that I plan to visit again.


















This is the place to buy your Wedding Dress. The shops are everywhere and the designs stunning.

I have never seen so many fabric shops so if you are a dressmaker this is the area to be. It is also the area for a bargain. Two Dollar shops and Variety Bargain shops are everywhere. See my previous post for my wonderful find.

I’ll be back there next week so I will explore further.

Growing Herbs and eating them

I've been checking out other peoples' blogs, as you do and I've found this delightful blog.

Great photos, with very practical information and sensible advice about growing herbs indoors.

There's even suggestions of ways to use the herbs.

Have a look.

Sydney Road, Brunswick

I am working two days a week in Sydney Road Brunswick. It’s a drab street with fusty and cluttered strip shops.

I found this stunning dish there. It’s bright clear colours are the very opposite to the street colours.

I have it on my table and smile every time I see it. It lightens my mood. It’s made in China and I would love to tell the people, who will have earned a pittance making it (it was ridiculously cheap – the cost of a pizza) how much pleasure it is giving me.

An up-date on the toadstools - they have all died and left a greyish mess around the plant. I am now wondering if I will get any more.

More beautiful yellow Toadstools

When I came home from work today there was another crop of toadstools.

I didn’t notice them in the morning. I was rushing to get ready for work but I did pass the pot on several occasions and I didn’t notice anything.

During the day there was a lot of activity in the pot because after work the moment I walked into the room I saw these brightly coloured toadstools. They had pushed their way up through the dead ones that were lying on top of the soil.

People say you can't see plants growing but I believe if I had been home I'd have seen these sprouting and pushing their way towards the ceiling.

I’m betting these spectacular fungi will dead when I wake in the morning which is such a pity because they are quite beautiful

Australia Day weekend

It is ‘Australia Day’ long weekend with a bank holiday today, Monday. This is the time when Australians ask each other what it is to be an Australian. The news media is helping in this with questions and answers and copious opinions.

We read in the paper and hear on the radio moving descriptions of peoples’ ‘voyages’ to the citizenship ceremonies that were held throughout the country on Friday.

I am not an Australian and at times like this I feel it’s an enormous privilege and an enormous piece of luck to be able to make my home here. The news media tells us, that out there, in the big wide world, hundreds if not thousands of people want to do just what I am doing. They put their lives and often their families’ lives on the line to make Australia their home.

This weekend the weather smiled on us all. It’s been, perfect. The sun’s shone and the temperatures have been in the early twenties.

I, too, have had a perfect weekend. On Friday a friend and I spent a couple of hours having a spa and a massage and then lounging in the “Dreaming Room” watching yachts in Port Philip Bay glide past as we sipped on herbal tea. We followed this with a late lunch and a bottle of wine at a table on the edge of St Kilda beach.

During the weekend I have been to the gym, lunched with another friend, wandered around the Albert Park Shops and lazily reclined outside and read the papers.

When I was driving back from the gym my car radio told me how lucky Australians were to be born here considering that a baby is born somewhere in the world every minute.

One of the announcers’ examples of our privileged lifestyle was the way we conduct our parliamentary elections and the smooth transition when a new government is voted into office. A glance around the world and the recent elections that have been held elsewhere and we have to agree. It is another thing that we take for granted.

It is easy to become complaisant and get used to good fortune.

I needed a wake-up call from the Australian media.

I have become used to breakfasting in my courtyard, to having the choice of shows and movies, to having variety and buzz in my life and to be able to find work.

I have become used to things that astounded me and left me exhilarated when I first made my home here. I no longer think of them. They are just there.

Every now and again we need a reminder. Australia Day is a good time for that.

Toadstools that grow inside

I have always seen toadstools outside and under trees. These strange yellow and rather beautiful toadstools grew in one of my inside planter pots. They were just small bumps in the morning but I when I came home in the late afternoon they had transformed into this yellow cluster of toadstools.



The next morning they were dead and were just a fawn mess around the base of the plant. I can only suppose that some spores were in the potting mix. All very unusual and odd but rather fun.

Lavender Farm Daylesford

These photos should give you an idea of the relaxing and soothing day we had at the Lavender Harvest Festival.

Lavender Farm Daylesford - Mentor

A beautiful day and a beautiful Lavender farm. The Lavender farm is called Lavendula and is outside Daylesford in Victoria. It has the quaint address of, 350 Hepburn-Newstead Road, Shepherds Flat. The road has a couple of farm houses but there is no way of checking a number. The farm is identified from the road with a large sign.

I seldom leave Melbourne – the city is my stamping ground. The people I was with said it felt as if we had stepped into France or Italy. The smell of Lavender was everywhere and the day was enhanced by stunningly tender steak and chip potatoes cooked on an outdoor wood fired kiln and washed down with an Italian style local wine. We ate this under a canopy of shady trees. Grape vines wound their way around veranda poles and we looked through bunches of fattening grapes to view the geese. They weren’t fenced in. They just seemed to want to stay in ‘their spot’. This is an arts and craft area of Victoria where many artists live and there were stalls displaying their work.

One of our party was rekindling a dream she has about living in the country and how she could make it happen. I mulled over my goals and achievements as I sat in the dappled sunlight. I still haven’t got this sorted but I did realize that there were a number of tasks around the house I have talked about doing but haven’t started and I think getting them done may be a way to begin. That is: Stop Procrastinating!

I felt the presence of a dear friend. She does that sometimes: pop into my consciousness. When she was alive I had the warmth of her presence and now I have the legacy that she left. She is a mentor for so many things. She didn’t procrastinate!

There is so much about her that I admired and benefited from. She came to mind while I thought of tasks not completed or even started. Was it the French feel – she was a great Francophile? Or do people come back to us to jog us along? I’m never sure about this.

I am beginning this week with a list of tasks to get under way and positive vibes from her to motivate me to get started. I have already made progress on two of them!!

The sight and the smell of Lavender have stayed with me.

Goals and Motivation

I said that I would come up with some goals within 24 hours. This was harder than I thought. I am still working on it.

I am not only one wondering about moving forward and hoping to make changes this year –“I thought I would quote from Leslie Cannold’s article in The Age Newspaper today.

It’s titled ‘Look at yourself, before it’s too late to change.’

This is how she sums up, “No matter our age, or the things we’ve said or done in the past, it is never too late to live the examined life. To remember the dreams we had for ourselves – the talents we sought to develop, the contribution we wished to make during our lifetimes and to put them into action.”

There is a question I have been asking myself and I think it goes hand in hand with setting goals, it is 'how to motive myself'.

Success and Goal Setting

My wonderful horoscope for 2008 (see my last blog) has made me think about how I am going to make it come true.

How am I going to take these good aspects and “spin them into gold”?

I’ve decided it’s a good time to review where I am in life and where I am going and where I want to go.

This is something I believe we should all do every now and again – review where we are and where we are going. It is very easy to drift along and then later think, “I wish I had….”

To get started I need to identify exactly what I want to come true, in other words what my goals are.

To make it easier I’ve worked out a few headings and sub headings. You may have different headings.

Work - Salary
Job
Where

Personal friends
Relationships
Changes to myself eg spiritual
Beauty treatments/massages/gym

Material New car
Clothes
Mortgage
Renovations and up grades to my house

I don’t feel I have to put something under each heading. I’m just trying to organize my thoughts.

I’ll spend the next twenty four hours thinking about these areas and making lists – brain storming - just writing anything that comes into my head. I’ll give myself 24 hours so there is time limit and I can start to prepare for the next step.

Then I’ll come back and talk about the goals I’ve sorted out and how I’m going to start working on them.

Horoscopes and New Starts for 2008, Capricorn

Anyone who has been reading my blog will know that I read my horoscope every month and over the last few months the good luck that has been promised has not always eventuated.

I won’t go over all that again but a number of things I was hopeful about haven’t worked out. My new job was one of those as mentioned in my blog on my October Horoscope.

January horoscope is the horoscope to beat all horoscopes – I haven't read a better one and I am going to believe everything it says. If you're a Capricorn read it!!! It starts:-

“The year 2008 is just made for you!” http://www.astrologyzone.com/

Last month was pretty good too but as I was in NZ until the middle of the month with little access to the internet I didn’t read it until I was home again. It suggested I may win some money if I took a lotto ticket – something like that.

My lucky weekend was that of the 22nd and 23rd of December. I bought a ticket for the Saturday lotto. Nothing! Perhaps I should have bought it on the Saturday. Perhaps that’s where I went wrong.

However I am a firm believer that some people win raffles and games of chance and some don't. My mother-in-law was a winner. She won a number of useless things. She lived in England and never ever did the pools so we don’t know is she could’ve won big there. She used to say that she didn’t believe in them – whatever that meant. Perhaps if she had believed and done them every week all us would have benefited.

I’m not like her. I don’t win. I can take a ticket for things I don’t want, like a dressed doll, without the likelihood of having to give it house room. This also makes me worry that if once in my life my number comes up it would be for a dressed doll and not a car or some other big ticket item that I would love to own.

January 2008 is definitely the month for Capricorns and I am going to continue to take lotto tickets – you just never know.

I also have this from my lovely friend who is another astrology guru,

“that the Jupiter transit over your Sun has warmed your soul, and eased the way forward for you to make useful changes over the coming year."

"I hope that the Jupiter transit over your Sun has warmed your soul. What a lovely expression that is."

I am going to follow this advice from Susan Miller –

“it will be up to you to take the opportunities presented and spin them into gold”

Although I’m not quite sure how I’m going to do it! I'm working on that.

Any ideas are welcome!

Looking for something to read - check out my other blog.

http://dogsofmelbourne.blogspot.com/

St Kilda Beach - New Year's Morning

The Rubbish Collectors assembling for a major clean up.

Who cleans up after you at home?
At St Kilda Beach some one else does it for you.

The mess left on St Kilda Beach after the hot New Year’s Eve was unbelievable. I’ve seen mess on the beach before but nothing like this.

Scavengers were there, too. Could there be a full can of beer missed in the dark or a packet of cigarettes not finished? I saw people with plastic bags walking away with their finds. There was a pink blanket that will serve someone well later in the year and a chance to rescue an esky that had been forgotten. People were still asleep on the grass surrounded by their rubbish.

The rubbish was everywhere. However it was quite clear that Port Phillip City Council did not supply enough rubbish containers. The ones that were there were over flowing and rubbish was piled beside them. So many people did try to do the right thing but hundreds of others walked leaving someone else to clean up their mess.

The council was on the job and teams were assembling to get the place right for us to enjoy the beach again and leave more of our rubbish for the next day's clean up.

New Year's Morning was hot and sparking but it was NOT a good day for an early morning walk at St Kilda Beach.