Telling Tales (true or tall)

I present you with my problems with various birds turning up on my doorstep, seemingly each weekend...   The baby magpie whose parents flew in with him one Saturday morning and then out again, sans baby, leaving him behind to demand food while sitting on my arm.   They came back twice to check on him before carting him away hours later while I frantically tried to keep cats away from, and the food up to, it. The bush turkey chicken rescued from the cat before he could be eaten.   Gorgeous little chicks that can’t be kept in captivity and their parents abandon them before they’re born. What a horrid life they must have. The peewee that insisted on sitting on the fence while the cats stalked him only to speed off at the last possible second and spoil their fun.   I didn’t realise birds could smile until then. The corella which fell off the roof (closely followed by the cat), that turned out

Farewell Mum We celebrate now in love, Mum's life from start to end And we're glad we knew her, as Mum and as a Friend. We remember all the love and lessons she taught us And thank her for the care and generosity shown us. Although Mum's now left this earth and taken flight, We know she's that voice in our heads, our guiding light. Remembering her will be easy, we do that anyway; Because there's an ache in our hearts that won't go away. But we're pretty sure that up there in Heaven She'll be painting and teaching pottery once again... S, P & R (26.9.17)

Photo courtesy Nest In The Attic My eyes are wet with tears as I stand over her frail body. Her face is peaceful and free of the pain that has been so noticeable of late.  I feel my throat constricting with the effort of keeping my emotions in check.  Is this tiny, thin creature the same woman I remember from childhood as a tower of strength? Mum had phoned me earlier this morning and asked me to stop in on my way to the city to check on her mother, my "Grammy".  I had grudgingly agreed because she was insistent although it would mean I’d be late for my hair appointment.  It was terribly difficult to get a suitable spot at  Ramon’s. “Honestly Mum, you worry too much,” I had said.  “She’s as tough as old leather and will probably outlast me!” I look through the door to the kitchen where long ago Grandma had taught me to cook the dishes my own family now loved.  So strong are the many happy memories of that room, I feel I can almost touch the woman and child I see

It’s extremely rare to actually enjoy Travelling to your place of employ (Whether by bus, tram, car or train), Since common courtesy began to wane. It’s people who snuffle with whom  I  take issue. Surely to goodness they could carry a tissue? And malodorous people should surely desist From travel with others. I really insist! How I curse the man who invented the MP3; Just an invasive, pervasive musical tin can to me. Putting up with their racket is only for mugs So I praise the woman who invented ear plugs. Driving myself is not the preferred mode Because of the plethora of idiots using the road. It seems lack of road courtesy presents no bar To their having a licence or driving a car. Rudeness it seems is not confined to transport. Lack of respect for others is now a national sport. Those queue jumpers are a right royal pain too While you’re patiently waiting for food or the loo. Wha

Wind breathes softly through deserted halls; Sighs and whispers echo on vacant walls. I wonder who it was abandoned this place, Forgotten long-ago-home of a now dead race? Half open doors hang on hinges, wrecked and rusty, Dank dungeons below smell mouldy and musty. What horrors occurred in these rooms so ghastly? The mournful wind reminds us of those gone lastly. Once did these rooms ring with the voices and laughter Of elves, dwarves and fairies and all who came after. They told of trolls and goblins fought in battles, glorious Of great Kingdoms lost and won in wars, victorious. Skies above these towers built by those mere mortals Teemed with dragons and griffins as sculpted on portals. The moat below was filled with dolphins and mermaids Swimming through mysterious grottos and cascades. Sorcerers and witches brewing cauldrons of trickery, Tempted those noble folk from the path of honesty;

  My husband was very proud of his Christmas gift to me but I'm afraid I was not very happy about having a kitten in the house, pedigreed blue Burmese or not.  I had a new baby and a toddler so this cute ball of grey fluff seemed like too much hard work.  It occurred to me that she was going to be more trouble than the baby.  She had to be fed four times a day at first and came complete with suggested menu for those meals.  We named her Misty but that gradually became Bee because our toddler, Kara, couldn't pronounce "Misty". She was as cute as a button and wonderful but there were times we could have cheerfully strangled her. However, she turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to our family because if not for her, we might all be dead!  The children were three and four when one winter night she woke me, making a hell of a racket at our closed bedroom door.  She was scratching at the door, yowling and leaping up at the door handle.  I got up to c

       Whenever I see a news report of volcanic eruptions anywhere, I relive vivid memories of the terror my (now ex-) husband, Paul, and I suffered in 1979 in Indonesia, although it would seem our experience was mild in comparison to most reported eruptions.  That weekend in August promised to be an adventure; we had no idea just how close to death we would come. Along with three other Australian expatriates living in Jakarta, we signed up for a trip to Krakatoa,   west   of Java (the film title is wrong) in the Sundah Strait, arranged by the Diplomatic Club.  There were groups from all over the world on the tour, including Canada, France, Britain, USA, Germany and elsewhere and we were all eager to get a close look at the famous volcano. Krakatau, as it is known in Indonesia, erupted in August 1883 after 200 years of slumber, killing approximately 36,000 people.  It was a blast that “shook the world”, sending shock waves around the world more than seven times and debri

I am under siege! Every day I come under a constant barrage of complaints from my 13 year old daughter: "It's not fair. All my friends are doing/wearing/having/getting  it ." Last year “it” was getting a signet ring (heart-shaped, preferably with a red stone,  not  silver).  I daresay next year “it” will be something equally as earth-shattering to a girl of her age. At the moment, “it” refers to the wearing of make-up.  I might add that after watching her friends closely, I have found no evidence to support her claim that they’re  all  doing anything, except gang up on me.  One signet ring does not a sorority make. I intend to go down fighting, though.  I vow I will not succumb to the endless sniping.  It may be paltry ammunition but the tried and true “when I was your age...." will hold her off for a while and then I can trot out my favourite, “I’ll think about it”.  Recycling is the key to resistance. It has occurred to me that I can’t hold o

My favourite, summer holiday-spot in Queensland has been Caloundra on the Sunshine Coast, for as long as I can remember.  More particularly, Golden Beach, where my grandparents owned a beach shack.           Every Christmas we would pack up, along with various aunts, uncles and cousins, not forgetting of course grandad and grandma, meet up with more aunts, uncles and cousins and proceed to have a whale of a time.  At least, we kids had a whale of a time.  Apparently, that’s not quite how the adults remember it. Sometimes we’d go at Easter time but Christmas and those hot summers, complete with Christmas beetles and the buzz of cicadas, are the memories I recall most fondly.           It seems it was only we children who thoroughly enjoyed sleeping on the floor or camping downstairs; trooping off for another glorious day at the beach; counting the hours till Santa (or the Easter Bunny) delivered the goods; thinking up some new trick on play on the adults or just generally h