Saturday, December 1, 2018

Life goes swimmingly

The eagerly awaited summer swimming season in Lake Bonney has begun.
Last week the sky was blue and the water was sparkling and calm - and cold. I did my usual leisurely swim for an hour or so watching the pelicans, enjoying the long view and  feeling meditative and refreshed.


Today with weather coming in I decided to head for the lake in the morning. It was already tempestuous with white caps and foam on the shore. The waves crashed and the water was cold. (Yes, I know it's a like but there's wind!)
I waded in and tried to swim. No hope of that. The waves were relentless and battering. I need the exercise so I did my usual hour - waving my arms around in their usual stroke while hopping and jumping over the waves as they rolled in. Not quiet, not meditative. I went home battered and tired.

Sometimes life's like that...

Tuesday, March 27, 2018

Food for thought

Osso Bucco. That's what it said on the label of the meat I pulled from the freezer. I had a vague idea it should be cooked slowly as it was from the shin with a lump of marrow bone in the middle. (Osso bucco = bone marrow.)

The obvious thing is to look up a recipe on the internet but then my eyes will glaze over with a zillion recipe options. So my next choice is to turn to  my old faithful Margaret Fulton Recipe book (1968 edition) - which taught me so much when I was first married, although not enough to know that sardines on a pizza were not the same thing as anchovies. Oop! Hadn't ever heard of anchovies in 1971.
So I looked up the index in the beef section. No osso bucco. I'm sure I remembered seeing it here years ago.
A moment of inspiration and I head to the International  section which includes Chicken Chow Mien, sweet and sour pork, pizza (yes, with anchovies), Swiss cheese fondue and amongst 'Dishes from the Great Pacific' - pavlova. How exotic can you get!
And there I found it Osso Bucco (hollowbone) Milanese. No worries. Although on the same page was a recipe for Lobster Newburg which suggested I need two small lobsters. Sure!
What really indicated how things have changed was when the recipe suggested serving the Osso Bucco with Saffron rice. No problems there until I came to the helpful suggestion as to how to reheat rice -  simmer over water in a colander or in the oven with some milk and butter. No just bunging it in the microwave in those days.
Then I looked more closely at the Osso Bucco recipe. It lists two anchovy fillets, chopped. Yep, I can do that. Got some in the pantry ready to go.
How times change...

Friday, March 23, 2018

What a wonderful world??

Often, after singing practice, a song gets stuck in my head. Today it was 'What a Wonderful World' which I heard playing in either the dulcet tones of my Sing Australia Riverland friends or the gravelly voice of Satchmo.
And I thought to myself 'What a wonderful world? Really?? The world is a horrific place with sadness and violence and anger and suffering.'

Then I took myself off to deal with some roses. One of my favourite bakeries sits in grounds with many rosebushes which look beautiful. But yesterday when I visited (playing hooky with grandson Jack, but that's another story) I noticed that amongst the lovely blooms were lots of dead heads, and my Dad's voice reminded me they need trimming to ensure another burst of flowers for autumn.
So off I went with my snippers and bucket and water bottle and sunhat. (It's OK, folks. I did it last year with permission. I'm not just going to see your roses and come start snipping.)

As I worked I was intrigued by the number of vehicles that pulled in for a quick morning tea snack and were on their way. As it's on the highway there were a few large trucks and their drivers. And each of them greeted me on the way in and wished me well on the way out.

Later a little school girl and her Mum sat outside for a snack before going to an appointment and I spoke to them about how I'd done similar with my boy yesterday. Then I went back to the increasingly hot and backbreaking work, loving how the bushes looked with their fresh blooms highlighted with the dead ones removed.

Suddenly I was aware that the little girl was stranding in front of me. 'Excuse me', she said shyly, ' I just want to tell you that you are doing a good job.'

What a wonderful world!

Sunday, March 18, 2018

Lala Land

On our recent trip I clearly heard the cabin crew member  tell us that the lavatories were located at the rear of the aircraft cabin. Lavatories. Really? I hadn't heard or used that word since I was about five. My family were familiar with the word lavatory but were more likely to shorten it to lavvy or lav and Mum called it the la-la.

Much later it was called the toilet - perhaps it was thought more polite. I was born too late for the outside dunny (the outhouse?) although the house we live in now has a lane down the back where the dunny man came to empty the dunny can.

Then of course there were rest rooms and even last week in Brisbane I came across the use of the term washrooms.
I learnt the word 'loo' in my twenties from a colleague and it seemed to have taken off. Don't even get me started on euphemism. eg needing to go and 'powder my nose' from my strapping son in law, or needing to go and see a man about a dog.

But what really gets me is when people ask to use the bathroom. Sure. I can point them in the direction of the bathroom but they won't find the necessary flushing receptacle there....
They really are in la-la land - or perhpas not.

Sunday, March 11, 2018

Civic duty or grumpy old lady??

We went for a ride on the river ferry on a variable day of wind, rain and sunshine. Pleasant to sit and watch the river and its craft and the buildings on the banks - and the people.
Two people got on with bikes - looked like grandson and grandfather. I was impressed that there is a bike rack for them - right next to my seat. The riders moved away and soon after the pedal and crank started going around. I looked down and a little hand from behind me was giving the pedal a workout. An adult voice told him to stop. He didn't, so I turned round with a bit of a disapproving look in an effort to discourage him. I figured I wouldn't want someone messing with my bike, plus I think it's good if a kid is encouraged to do what he is told.
The kid persisted so I said, 'Don't do that, Matie.' So he swapped to doing it with his foot. Another discouraging word and the adult got stroppy and told me it wasn't a problem. I said I thought it was and left it at that.
The kid, however, did stop.
So what's your verdict? Grumpy old woman stopping a kid having fun or a mature adult doing her civic duty of protecting someone else's property?

PS I watched later as a little girl refused to do what her parents told her eg not to hit her sister, not to put her feet on  the seat and how they didn't continue to insist. I watched her as she obviously tried to see how much she could get away with. Recipe for disaster I reckon. But I can be pretty grumpy about such things,,,

to

Saturday, March 10, 2018

Bedding matters

Nearly fifty years ago I bought bedding for my marriage bed. The bed itself was leftover from the sale of my Grandmother's furniture. Just two bed end really as we replaced the old spring base and, with great excitement, covered up the beautiful wood with Estapol antique white.
But back to the bedding.
I bought double bed sheets in tasteful orange patterns (well, it was the 70s!) They are long since gone as is the bed, although only recently from my daughter's spare room.
A lovely golden (later dyed brown ) candlewick bedspread went on the top.
And for warmth, lovley thick pure wool Onkaparinga, made in Lobethal South Australia, blankets.
Later I inherited Mum's satin bound woollen blankets. Hers were in tasteful green whereas mine were - yes, you guessed it - orange.

So when did the whole quilt (doona, duvet? ) thing happen? My children had them and I have some quilts and  covers. But I really don't like the whole thing that much.
There has been debate (yep, hear it on the radio while shopping) about whether you need a top sheet with a quilt. You sure do and I instruct my visiting grandies as to which part of the bed they insert thier body into. Under the top sheet, so I only need to wash that sheet and not the whole quilt arrangement, because I particularly dislike wrangling quilts into and out of thier covers. Yes, I know there are YouTube clips about how to do it as there are on how to fold fitted sheets, but I still dislike both.

In a recent hotel stay there was a very thick quilt on top of a bottom sheet and no way to adjust it. So it was either be too cosy or throw it all off and lie there with no covering.

In some places we've stayed including the one where I am right now, there is a bottom sheet, a top sheet a quilt and then another sheet tucked in over the top so it looks like a quilt in a cover but isn't really. I quite like that idea and have adopted it at home, with the quilt, then the unfilled quilt cover right over the top of the top sheet and trusty orange Onkaparinga, made in SA blankets. All eminently adjustable for temperature.
My dear blankets, I salute you.

Thursday, March 8, 2018

How's it going and other silly questions

Slim Dusty's song suggests 'G'Day and How're you going?' as the universal Aussie greeting.
Let's start right there.
How're you going? What's the answer to that? By train or car, perhaps?

Then there's the alternative version 'How's it going?' What is the it exactly? Life, the universe and everything?

I had a manager who used to ring and ask, 'How's things?' I quite liked it but what things? Work things or the weather things or my private life things?

The other day I was happily reading on the plane and a work acquaintance  walked past, tapped me on the shoulder and asked 'Having a good read?' Answer that one. 'No, I actually hate reading. ' or 'Of course' or a long review of the book which is an excellent one.

I was reading Cadence by Emma (now Eddie) Ayres about her bike ride from London to Hong Kong with lots of musical commentary along the way.  I was gripped by her account of arriving in Pakistan and carrying her bike up the steps of a hotel. A woman asked her, 'Oh are you cycling in Pakistan?'
Emma wondered if she should have replied that she wasn't but it was an experiment she was trying in various countries to see what inane question people ask.  Because she likes lugging a  fully loaded touring bike up steps in 50 degree heat after cycling one hundred kilometres.
I'm glad I'm not the only one who finds some questions pesky.

Of course if asked how things are going you can always answer, 'I'm OK. I'll get there.' The only problem is I'm never quite sure where there is...

Wednesday, March 7, 2018

Stories without end...

It's been a while, but the prospect of a week away  seems to have stirred up the writing bug. Are you still following me, Ernest?

Just lately I've been feeling a bit 'peopled out' and relished the idea of being away in a strange city for a week, free to be anonymous. So why is it that at the first opportunity I hasten to engage people in conversation, interested to know a little of who they are and what they are doing.

Mind you I wasn't quite so thrilled to talk to the taxi guy  (Executive Passenger Service, no less) decked out in a spiffy suit. He was due to arrive at 8.40 am. At 8.45 a phone call assured us he was in our street. We could see no sign of him. At 8.50 we were told the same. It's not that long a street although it does have a bend in it. Eventually he turned up having mistaken the time as for 9 am and been parked down the street waiting! He was pleasant and we made it to the airport.

All good after that. In the crush of the airport lift I assured the tall, dark skinned man next to me that we'd need to be friends to which he replied that it would only be for a minute unless I was heading to Brisbane. I told him I was and asked what was taking him there. It turned out he was heading for Nauru and the detention centre. I did see him briefly later but didn't get the rest of the story.

As we were queued waiting to drop our bags off, I heard a large sigh behind me and turned to find a woman stressed because she had been held up in traffic and thought she was late. I waved a hand gently towards her arm (comfortingly, I hoped and assured her we were on the same flight. Also that we had missed two flights in our lives and lived to tell the tale. 'All would be well,' We went on to teak of her family having breakfast together at Macca's as they always do before she goes off working away from home, and she told me she runs quilting workshops. And the queue  moved us on. I saw her board the plane after us and smiled but that was it.

There were six of us in the Flinders Uni party ( David is working but it's a party for me!) and we were collected from the airport by a pleasant young man in a minibus. I ended up in the front next to him and on the way into town found out he runs a small tourist business as well as driving, and is about to shift into a new house with his Korean wife and 3 year old son and 5 week old daughter. They plan to provide Homestay accommodation for overseas students. I heard a lot of Adam's story but would love to have heard more.

So David began setting up for the workshop and I went exploring. I spoke to Tor (short for Victoria) at the Woolies checkout and resorted to asking a pleasant middle aged woman how to get back to the hotel. Who would have thought that going round the block would be so tricky! Her directions got me to the back door but that was fine.

The next time I made a foray into the Brisbane CBD I had a little hand drawn map and found most of what I wanted but one place eluded me, so Beth (about my age) at the Info Centre was super generous in her help.

I even think fondly of the fairly ample gentleman who sat next to me on the plane - sat by the aisle rather than pushing past us to get to his window seat and our only communication was a couple of words and a few smiles. I don't know his story at all but was happy with him as a travel companion.
So many lovley people out there.  I wonder who they all are...