MORE ON SUNDAY SCHOOL

MORE ON SUNDAY SCHOOL

Once a year all the Sunday school kids had a special day.  It was our Anniversary.  This day was special because it was the day we got to show our parents just how much we had learned.  We got into our class groups. We were all up the front of the hall, and everyone could see us.  It was really scarey but at the same time it was cool and exciting.

The service itself was only one stage of the day.  The other thing was it was a total dressup day.  This meant mum  took us into town for a visit to the shoe shop.  The man was really friendly and did everything we asked of him.  There were shoe boxes all over the floor of the shop.  He didn't seem to mind but that was probably because there were 5 girls wanting to be fitted for new Sunday best shoes.  So one way or another he knew he was going to make a sale.  My older sisters were first to have their choices fitted.  We  usually wore black patent leather shiny shoes,  but one of my sisters as i think I said already liked bright colours,  If she couldn't find a pair, she would buy a pair and take them home and use shoe colour and paint them.  The rest of us were quite happy with what they had in the shop.  It was so exciting going home with our new shoes.  We were allowed to put them on for a few minutes when we got home to show dad.  I remember tapping the clicky heels on the floor and feeling real grown up.  They always had a bow on the front, and once I remember one of my sisters had a pair where the bow was on the seam at the back.  They were real way out. 

Then there was the dress.  Even though mum made us some really beautiful dresses, she thought we had to have bought ones for this occasion.  We trooped over the road to the dress shop.  I can't remember what it looked like in this shop, but the man who owned it went to the same church as us, so I guess he looked after us pretty good.  

Ok, so we get to church and sit in our classes.  Each class gets to sing a couple of songs and then the presentations begin.  All year our teachers have kept a record of when we attended Sunday School, and marked it down somewhere.  Also how many times we learned what the message on our weekly ticket said. Once the singing was over and a few prayers said, the prizes started coming.  Us little kids usually got a book with a special  awards sticker in the front.  Our name would be called out and we had to get up and walk to the front and receive it. It was real scarey but we felt very proud.  I remember sometimes for some reason I don't know, some of the older girls and boys got a book but also got a picture.  They were gorgeous.  They looked like they were stuffed and laminated.  They had a doda on the back like a photo frame. I think my sister and I got one one year. We must have been real good that year.  

After the show, there was a big feast out in the back hall.  The people who went to this church, were mostly farmers and their families, so there was always a jolly good feast.  There was everything all at once on this huge table.  Though the food there was great, I must say there wasn't much I didn't see at home.  My mum made jam and relishes from our fruits and vegies, and she was a darn good cook.  We always had wonderful mains and just about every night we had dessert.  We had birthday parties for every one of us and always had a big fruit cake that mum iced, and always put s little doll or something appropriate on the top. We always had a great time.  I miss my mum.  She was the most wonderful lady and the most loving gentle mum I have ever met.

I was talking about her at work the other day, about when she had to go to hospital to have a baby, and I wondered how she got there.  It was miles and miles away, and we had no car. (they were quite rare in our neighbourhood)  So if anyone who reads this, knows the answer, leave a comment please.  Thankyou for your time. Hope you enjoy reading it. Bye for now.  

The Last Few Days.

THE WAY I SEE IT

The last few days have been a little bit up and a little bit down, and just like Robin Hood said, sometimes the ups out number the downs, but not in Nottingham.  (or Kingston)

 Well last week I applied for a job working in the kitchen of a pretty well know  restaraunt.  I had seen this advertised three times before.  Once I rang and told the guy about my experience and stuff, and he said he'd be getting back to me.  Well he FORGOT TO.  So the next time I saw it (which may I say was the following week) I thought i'd try again.  This time he rang me back.  We set an evening when I would go in and have a trial.  It was three days (nights) later.

I turn up and am feeling a little nervous, as you do, trying out for a new job.

I was told the first thing I would be doing if I am the lucky winner, was cleaning the toilets and vaccuming the dining room and bar areas, and washing said floors.  Ok.  I'm shown the vaccume cleaner.  Never seen one like it before.  I'm to carry it on my back.  The guy who works behind the bar has to help me put it on.  I thought it was a funny situation, but he obviously didn't.  I go into the loos and do them.  That done, I move to the dining rom.
Now I don't know if any ones ever seen a bull in a china shop, but that's how I felt.  All the tables are set for the evening meal.  Lovely glasses all set out.  Therein lies my dilemma.  With this contraption on my back, I was finding it difficult to get into the areas which need vacuuming.  Everytime I turned around I had to place my hand on the back of the machine to know where it was headed.  Would be just great if I managed to clear any of the tables of their beautiful glass wear before they had even been used. Fun times.  (And i'd have to clean that mess up as well.)
That finally done, without I'm pleased to report, any breakages, I headed into the kitchen to begin the next stage of my initiation.
The first thing I see is the humungous pile of dirty dishes.  They were obviously not cleaned from lunch, or as I thought whilst cleaning them, a week ago.  Stuff was soooo stuck on I had to scrub them with the steel thingo and even then some things had to be soaked.  No kidding,  the bench was so loaded up, I wondered if I would ever finish this lot before that evenings dishes would begin.  The tap which had only hot water, was a bit wobbly, but I pressed on regardless.  Not knowing where things went, I had to keep asking the chefs.  I began to remember, when I was putting a large plate where I was told to, and the other chef told me it went somewhere else.  Ok, I'm here trying to get a job, so who am I to say, No It Doesn't Go There.  As I was about to put it where is wasn't supposed to go, the nice guy said "that goes under the bench"  I looked at the other guy and gave him a look as if to say, "you are a JERK"  He obviously felt an affinity with me. NOT!  As I was taking stuff out of the dishwasher I would put them on the bench to air dry, as I was told to do, when JERK comes over with an armfull of dirty bowels, and pans, and has the gall to say "Keep this bench clean" And proceeds to stick all this dirty crap on the bench.  At that moment I decided I wouldn't work in the same kitchen with him no matter how much the pay was.
I continued working flat out, and finally finished.  
My next task was to peel potatoes.  Now that sounds ok right?  I was given a 44 gallon drum to fill with spuds, which I had to peel. (Actually  no, but it was a huge bucket full.) Now I suffer from Carpal Tunnel, so I knew this would be fun. Stupid job to apply for you say?  Well probably, but it was evenings and suited me.  Anyway I peeled the spuds and had to fill the bucket with hot water, and as I did the tap got wobblier.  I noticed a small puddle of water gathering on the floor.  I mentioned this the Jerk and Mr nice, and Mr Nice said, it was the connection to the dish washer, so I thought ok, even though I knew otherwise.  I did the spuds, and was told that was it for the night, meanwhile the small puddle was now a huge one.  Mr Jerk asked me to carry the bucket over to the fridge and put it inside.  As I began walking, I realised it weighed a ton.  Mr Nice suddenly appeared and took it off me and put it away. I put a cloth on the floor to mop  up the puddle, and was ready to go.  I said seeya and was thanked by Mr Nice and the bar man, but Mr Jerk said not a thing, so I turned and said "You are an arrogant pig" and left.  He has an ego of huge proportions, and all he does is cook for goodness sake.  As I left I hoped Mr Nice wouldn't be too cheesed off about the tap, but at least I did try to tell him.  I hoped the position would go to someone else.  For once in my life my hope was granted.  So we will see how long it is before the ad is back in the paper.  The thing is though, you never never know, if you never never go.       More from the wonderful world of ME next time.  See Ya.

SUNDAY SCHOOL MEMORIES

One day a man came to our house and told mum he was from a church and he was wondering if some  of us kids would like to go to his Sunday School. This man became a huge part of our lives, right up until his death. When I was little he seemed to be old, but looking back he was probably only 40 or so. 
Mum and dad must have thought it was a good idea, cos my brothers  started going. I didn't go there until later.
For some reason we went to a different church.  We went to the Gospel Hall Church. That was quite fun.  In those days we had to dress up.  You know the whole kit and kaboodle.  From head to toe.  I was always dressed beautifully.  Mum used to sew all my dresses, and they were gorgeous.  I remember one though that she bought.  It was lovely but I must say, my favourite ones were the ones she made.  One I loved was pale pink nylony material, with sort of embossed white roses.  It had a lace collar, puffy sleeves, a full skirt and a beautiful belt that mum tied behind my back.  When tied properly the bow sat perfectly and the rest hung down and looked very girly.  The dress mum  bought was a bluey mauvey color and it was velvet.  Very pretty. It also has a lacey collar and tie belt.  It was pretty.  We wore gloves and they were all lacey and very dressy.  Funny, now you only see little girls wearing gloves when they are being flower girls.  Then of course there was the hat.  Our hats were white or cream with a turned up  brim.  Around the brim was a silk ribbon.  It was sewn around to the back and tied in a bow, but the long trailing bits would hang down our backs. We called these ribbons "hanging downs" quite aptly.  We'd flit our heads round fast back and forth to make the ribbons dance. There was a thin band of elastic which went under our chin to keep our hat on our head.  We had special shoes too.  They were our Sunday best.  Patent leather. All shiney and made a clippy sound when we walked. I remember one of my sisters used to paint her shoes garish colours, like lime and orange.  Apart from that though, we always dressed up and looked like princesses.                                                                Anyway, Sunday School.  We would get all dressed up and a lady would come in her huge car and pick us up and drive us to Sunday School.  Everyone called her Auntie, so we did too.  She was a nice lady from what I remember.  Two of my older sisters made friends with two girls but my sister Janet and myself stayed together at first, until we got brave.  You must understand, where we lived neighbours were few and far between, so we were shy as they come.  Maree made friends with a girl who also had a sister my age and eventually we became friends. (she was the girl who gave me my ginger cat, and who my biggest sister tried to chase home when she came to my house after school one day) and Janet made friends with another girl, so the four of us stuck close together.  When we got to Sunday School we sang songs and then we were put into different groups with a teacher.  We each had a pamphlet we coloured in and had a lesson about the bible.  When class was finished we were given a little memo book and a little ticket.  The ticket had a verse from the bible on it with a pretty picture.  We took the book home and learnt the verse on the ticket and recited it to our teacher the next week.  After Sunday School the grown ups went to church and us kids stayed in this huge room playing.  When church was over there was afternoon tea and then "auntie" would take us home.  I loved going to Sunday School, cos there was never any bullies or anything, it was just fun, and I loved dressing up.      
I havn't finished this yet but it's getting long so i'll finish it later.  Bye for now.  Signing off. Roger that.

MUMS REMEDIES

I remember some of the medicines we were given when we were sick, or to ward off sickness.  
We would have to line up, the oldest first, down the line to little ol' me.  Of course the boys would carry on as if they were taking some vile tasting poison.  They always got the reaction from us girls that they were trying for... The faces they would pull and the groans they made.  They would hang onto their throats and carry on.  We girls  would be terrified of what the stuff would taste like and more terrifying was what the heck would it do to us?  Brothers are amazing.  Honestly, I wonder what their lives would have been like if they were without us mere girls.  We afforded them no end of fun. 

In the days of my childhood, it was automatic for kids to be dosed up on stuff so we wouldn't get your common ailments, including worms.  We had this medicine we had to take so we wouldn't end up scratching our bums in public. I find I see many little kids when I go to town, digging at their backsides, and I have to wonder if the modern mums realise what it is.  Do they understand we are just like kittens.  These little kids need to be wormed, just like kittens...We never had much of a chance of getting to the stage of bum digging, cos mum was very........anal. ( Gotta love that one.)  But put a kid who has been wormed beside a kid who hasn"t, wait for a few minutes and you will definately notice which one needs a dose.

Then there was the Goita? tablets. (If you can correct the spelling, you are welcome)  These were tiny little white pills.  we had to take one every day.  The school gave them out, and the teachers would hand them to us and make sure we took them.  I remember they tasted ok.  Sort of dry and not nasty tasting at all. 
One of our school holidays was coming up and mum got heaps of these pills.  I put mine in a match box so I would not miss out, or mum wouldn't get confused as to who had had theirs.  We obviously had a marvelous holiday, I mean what else could we have on the farm?  One day I noticed I had only a few pills left so guessed it was nearly time to go back to school.  I didn't think to say anything to mum, cos she was the mum and she would know that.  Well apparently I was wrong.  Probably because she had so many unruly kids all home at once suddenly, she lost track of the weeks. I can't remember if the school contacted us or what happened, but I do remember, we had an extra week off school, than every one else, cos mum didn't send us when she was supposed to.  Hey it could happen to anyone.  It happened to me in a sort of way.  When I lived in Victoria, when the Melbourne Cup day came, it was a public holiday.  I moved back to Tassi and when the kids began school, I let them stay home on the Melbourne cup day.  I sent them to school the next day, and was questioned closely as to why they hadn't attended school the day before,  I just said, "Well, it was a public .holiday."  This particular teacher was a bit of  pain and she said to me in no uncertain terms, that actually it was NOT a public holiday in Tassi.  She made it sound like I had kept them home so they could plan a full scale riot for a public holiday for the Melbourne Cup.  Stupid cow.

Anyway. One night when my sisters and  myself (not all of them) were in our bedroom, lights out, looking up at the night sky while we were waiting for tea.  We usually had tea late, cos dad would still be milking.  Well this night I noticed the clouds.  They were black and scarey, and when I voiced  my fears,  my sisters also began to worry.  I think we began to think the world was gunna end that night.  Hopefully after we had tea.  During the days we would play and muck about all over the place.  Down the creek, in the crops, in the ferns, just as long as we were outside, we were happy.  Well here we are thinking the world was about to expire, when I felt something tickling the back of my ear.  I rubbed it a bit and stuff. Then it began to feel wierd.  I asked my bigger sister to look at it.  When we put the light on, there was good news and bad news.  The good news first.  The sky looked just as it always looked at night, once the light was on.  The bad news is, I had a tick on the back of my ear.  AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH Even now, I think ticks are the most horrendous (scorpions come a close second, real close second) things out.  YUK.  I ran out to mum, who was no doubt up to her neck in cooking ingredients, and was no doubt crying.(I would be crying, not mum) Well wouldn't you? She finally understood what the matter was and said I would have to wait for dad to come in, from the cowshed.  Boy o boy. I know i was beginning to feel bad.  I know this tick was sucking my blood and wouldn't stop until he had sucked it all out.  I was fading fast.  Just in the nick of time dad came in and had a look. Yup, he says, its a tick alright.  Be back in a minute and we'll get rid of him.  Next thing I know he lights a match and sizzles my hair and the back side of my damn ear.  I hear this pop sound and a tug, and dad says, that's it, all over, and walks off.  I tell you, I had a nervous breakdown after that, and even to day I can't stand those horrible things.  My daughters little dog had one on her and I got, what mum would call the "screaming meamies"  My  horse had one on him once and my daughter and I would have looked like some mime show.  We were trying to get rid of it, and eventually I dabbed metho on it, and about ten minutes later it dropped off, but yuko.  Horrible still.
My mum was a stickler for getting us our inocultions.  Spelt wrong? I typed it as its sounds.  Anyway this year we went to the town hall with the whole town of children.  The line was soooooo long and I wasn't very old, probably about 5 or 6.  We were all together, and my sisters were pushing and shoving and trying to miss the jab.  I must have heard them saying stuff about the doctor which I clearly didn't understand.  I can see the doctor in my mind as if it was yesterday.  Not a handsome man mark my words.  Not kindly, nor smiley, nor cheery.  He was a boney faced, greazy haired, tall gangly man with  huge needle in his hand.  When it came to my turn, in front of my sisters, (obviously they pushed me in front) he grabbed my upper arm and said something to me.  Can't remember what, but it couldn't have been nice. I can sort of remember what my reply was.  It was something I had heard from my sisters.  I don't know which one.  It wasn't sweet, or angelic.  It wasn't friendly or said in fear.  It was simply something I had heard and knowing my sisters, they were very smart and I know they knew more than me, so I guess I thought I would sound grown up if I said what they had. Only they would never have said it to the doctors face like little ol me!  I was yanked back from the line by mum and got a spanking.  In front of everyone.  Now thats not fair. No one else got a smack. That's the trouble with being the little-est.  You just copy them but don't understand what to say out loud and what not to.  I did get my needle that day, and I believe that because of the trauma I went through, to this day I am terrified of needles.  And I'm going to the dentist in 3 weeks to get the root of  a wisdom tooth out.  The dentist who took the tooth out, forgot the root. Dumb A..    
I'm sure we got cod liver oil too, for something, cos I remember mum always had a spoon full of home made jam at the ready, once we swallowed that horrible stuff.  When we grew up a bit and she gave us aspro or any other medicine in pill form, she would crush it up and mix it into jam or brown sugar.  You know the saying, or the song Julie Andrews sings?  A spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down.  I can tell you now, she speaks the truth.   
                                           See ya later. 

JUST STUFF TODAY

JUST STUFF TODAY. 

CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS.  I CAN'T TAKE THE CAPITALS OFF THE DAMN COMPUTER. DUNNO WHATS GOING ON.  OH WELL, IF I HAVE TO USE KEYS THAT NEED NOT CAPS LOCK ON THEN IT MAY LOOK  ODD.  IM GUNNA GO AND TRY TO SEE WHATS GOING ON.  I'LL BE BACK, HOPEFYULLY.  Yay !!!!!!!!!  I think I fixed the problem.   I can't remember what I was going to write now, so I will just ramble on until it comes back to me.

The other day I caught the bus home from work and this woman gets on.  She is around my age.  I know I'm not perfect, and I know I don't wear some of the revolting clothes that are the mode of the moment, but I do try to make sure I look reasonably well dressed when I go out in public.  Well I know Snoop Dog (or whatever he goes by these days) wears these and M C Hammer, but they are famous (WHY)  This woman often catches the bus and usually looks well dressed.  This day she is wearing these hideous pants.  Some people  call them harem pants other people call them poo catches.  OK. So you have a vision right?? These are electric purple.  OMG!  Not a good look luv.  Just sayin'............Throw them out!  NOW!

When we are little kids, we like to play with our toys, be it dolls or trucks, lego or dinosaurs.  I  played with my teddy and dolls.  My sister received a guy riding a motor cycle.  It was really cool. It was metalic blue and you wound it up and he would take off and then go in tight circles. We all wanted turns of it, but I can't remember ever having a go. Dad also made her this thing we called a peg board.  It was a bit like a huge notice board, but was covered in small holes.  She also got a bag of wooden pegs.  You put the pegs into the holes and you could make pictures.  That was amazing.  We all got to use that and was just wonderful.  I remember a game I had.  It consisted of  large 6 sided cards. Heptogons or something  There were about 50 or so cards, and you put them to fit together and make all sorts of pictures.  You know when you close your eyes and sometimes you can picture a scent and it reminds you of a good memory?  I can do that and I can smell  the new smell of the cards and the paint on them.  It sounds wierd but gives me a happy memory.  I also got a train.  It was plastic.  The engine carriage was bright lime green, and had a big happy smile moulded onto his face, and his eyes were big and full of wonder, like he was excited about his next trip.  Yes, ok, I sound a bit of a nut, but I don't care.  That train gave me hours of  fun and happiness.  My teddy and my train and I went on many adventures and had many missions to see to.  Sadly when our house burned down, my little train experienced  his last adventure, and sadly the mission of escaping with his life, failed.  I never saw him again.   During this period of my young life, for some reason I decided to make a scrap book.  

As you already know I'm the youngest of seven kids so I am the only one in the family who has never had the joy (or in some cases the jealous horrors) of welcoming a new member to our family.  Maybe that's why, whenever I was asked if I'd like a cat,  I ALWAYS said YES.  I used to love reading through dads Daily Mirrors, after him.  They were your typical newspaper.  Black and white.  No colour.  Well I saw a picture of a baby and asked if I could cut it out, and he said yes.  That was the beginning of my scrap book.  I don't know if I asked for a book or not, but mum gave me a scrap book.  I know it was thick.  I stuck my baby picture in with home made paste.  After that I would look in every magazine that came into our home.  I filled up this book with pictures solely with baby pictures.  Mum got me another book and I started on my second book.  My sisters (two of them) used to ask me to show them my books and we would sit outside and I'd proudly leaf through my pictures with my sisters picking out the cutest or fattest or whatever.  That was really nice of them.  They knew how precious my scrap books were to me and it was lovely of them to spend time like that, with me.  Sadly my scrap books went on the same adventure as my train, and they also didn't survive the mission.  Why did our house burn down?  It would still have been horrible no matter what, but why couldn't we have gotten all our stuff out first???????

This entry isn't what I was originally going to write.  That still eludes me.  Never mind.  These memories make me happy, and that's the main thing.
Hope it makes you smile.  See Ya. 

CHRISTMAS AT OUR HOUSE

CHRISTMAS AT OUR HOUSE

Well on our farm there was a paddock, which we called the Pine Tree paddock.  This being because there was a huge pinetree right in the top corner. It was the biggest one I've ever seen.  Anyway, every Christmas dad would go up there and find a good thick branch and cut it down and  bring it home for our Christmas tree. I remember whenever he brought it inside, it would be too tall for the ceiling , and the top would be scrunched up and bent over to fit.  The house was built with high ceilings so you can imagine how tall the Christmas tree was.  Once it was put into the container,(cant remember what that was) we would get to decorate it.  Mum had some wicked decorations.. I reckon she must have brought them out from England with her cos I have never seen anything like them.  As there were seven kids,  and we all wanted to do the tree trimming, mum had a system put in place,  We would each pick a decoration, and go and line up.  The oldest first and the youngest last.  Of course that was me and if you add being the shortest into the pot, I didn't get to put my stuff where it would be admired.  Typical.  Well I didn't think that at the time, I just loved the pomp and ceremony of the whole thing.  We used to make the paper chains too and the tree would look soooo busy when we finished.  I do remember, though there were a few yelling matches during 

 the event.  It would all go smoothly then eventually, someone would push in when it wasn't their turn and a fight would ensue.  Mum would scream at the top of her lungs at us to be quiet.......... (O no she didn't!  She never screamed at us for anything!  That is what I guess I would have done.)  But by the time it was finished it looked  real good.  Then Dad would climb the ladder and put the angel on the top.  Absolutely brilliant fun and I used to do the same with my girls as they grew up, though I never got a huge tree like the ones we had.  We used to have a few cats that would come inside and sometimes they would get into the tree and ruin the artistic look and mum would have to throw the streamers back any ol how, and find the best places to tie the balls and figurines back on. 

On Christmas morning, us girls, who all slept in one huge bedroom, would be awake when the birds started 

chirping.  We would talk quietly for a while then one of the older girls would yell out to mum.  "Can we come out yet"  Usually we wouldn't hear an answer, until about the tenth time they had yelled.  Mum would come to our door and say "yes it's ok, come out."  We would barge out and look under the tree for our goodies.  When we were young, there wasn't any of the gifts people expect now.  A set of keys for that new car, money for the sons mortgage, A boat.  No, it was soooo much better.  It was something we wanted but also something we could play with for years.  We really were happy with what we got.  Or what Santa brought us.  We would always have a huge Christmas dinner.  In the evenings we would usually have a cold tea, then mum would call us around the tree.  We would sing carols, then she would tell us to sing Jingle Bells really loud.  Sometimes we had to sing it a couple of times then we would hear a bell.  It was just the best thing in the world.  The door would open and Santa himself would be there with a huge sack.  It was bedlam in the room.  We would all be yelling and cheering.  It's a wonder he didn't get scared and run away.  But maybe my mum and him had an arrangement.  (Wink wink)  Christmas tree presents were so much fun.  They were small things.  A special pen, or pretty pad.  Little stuffed teddies.  One year we all got a little plastic farm animal.  They were so gorgeous.  Mine was a little cow and she was gorgeous.  I remember once I got a pad, and the cover was three d, and the plastic cover was sort of done in diamond shapes under another layer of plastic and it was amazing.  Of course every Christmas we got a stocking.  They were the first thing we would see.  Inside would be a little bag of tiny lollies,  These were hard as all get out, and nearly broke our teeth but they tasted good.  There was also a flip pad.  It was stuck together in the middle so the sides were open and you would flip them.  They usually had an acrobat on one side, and a clown doing something silly on the other side, but they were fun.  Also we always got an annual.  These were a special book, usually   the same as our weekly comic, and they had to come out from England, so Santa had to order them early to make sure we got them in time.  Once I got TeddyBear Annual and another time a Lucy Attwels Annual, which may I say I looked after well, and still have today. I used to get them for my girls too (the Christmas stockings) but they disappeared and were replaced with crappy ones filled with lollies you could buy any day of the week.  Wheres the excitement in that?  I remember when I was a bit older and we had moved to town, and mum asked me what I wanted for Christmas.  We went looking in a shop that was a major toy shop, and I saw a stuffed puppy.  He was a soft orange color and I loved him.  I showed her and she said she would see if Santa could bring it.  Well.. the big day arrived and I hoped for my puppy.  I opened my present and was disappointed.  It was the wrong puppy.  This one was pink and white, and smaller.  I guess I must have cried, cos that was part of who I was,I can't remember, but through the day, I began to have a real fun time with my new puppy.  I fell in love with him/her, and still have the little guy/gal on a shelf in my bedroom, with my other stuffed fellas. We didn't have a lot of money when I was growing up, but we sure had a lot of other things that made life fun, happy and exciting, and I wouldn't change it for anything.  Thats it for now.     See ya on the flip side. Bye

FIRE SAFETY

WHY I'M AFRAID OF FIRE:

Living on the farm was a wonderful place to grow up and learn how to survive.  Some of the things that happened to us were quite horrible, but we came through it all, I think because mum and dad never seemed to panic.  When things went wrong, they put their shoulders back and just got on with it.

I know of an instance when we were walking home from school and we came head on with a fire on the side of the road.  It was roaring away happily.  In amongst the smoke and flames, were mum and dad.  All they had were wet hessian sacks to beat out the flames.  They would rush down to the creek and soak the bag and start again, beating the flames.  When my brothers came home they ran to help.  My sisters and myself went home and tried to keep busy. (usually eating this gorgeous bread we had delivered, spread with home made butter.YUM)  Eventually they would all troop home and clean up.  Mum was exhausted and would try to talk happily to us kids, but she must have just wished we would shut up and leave her alone. But mum being mum, she would sigh and sit down and listen to our gripes or whatever we needed to tell her.  Where we lived was miles from the nearest, .........well anything really.  So there was no way we could get the fire brigade or even our nearest neighbours to help.  It was awful.  I think some one must have thrown a butt out of the car window. (cigarette that is.  Any other butt would have been preferable, and highly likely a lot less destructive)  This happened a few times, and sometimes in the night, and all we kids could see from the house would be shimmering of the flames in the darkness.  Very scarey.

Later when we moved into town, we had a fire, well we had two.  My three older sisters were somewhere, I can't remember where, but my sister Janet and myself were coming home from school,  Again.... (at least we went, which is more that I can say for some).  To get to our house we walked down the road then crossed the railway lines, then we were on our private road.  Well it wasn't our private road as such, it belonged to the people who my dad worked for, but anyway, there was the fire brigade.  Men everywhere. There was a fire in an area where no body ever went so I don't k now how it started.  Janet and I ran home scared and told mum.  She already knew, and seemed unconcerned,  Well I guess she had been through this so many times before, without help.  With help, it should be a breeze.  My sister and I didn't agree.  I picked up my teddy (Edward Bear) and my school bag.  I filled my bag with neccessities such as an apple from the orchard, a favourite book, clean nickers, and a biscuit.  Janet did the same.  I put my belongings into my dolls pram.  She didn't have a pram so I let her share mine.  Off we went.  I remember the firemen asking where we were going.  I said we are going somewhere safe.  They yelled back that the fire was safe and out.  I didn't believe them and obviously neither did my sister, cos we kept walking.,  We went as far as the sale yards.  We stayed there until it began to get dark and we made out way, very slowly, home.  When we got near the place of the fire, we saw it was out and we happily ran the rest of the way home.  The next day we had some wind (not my sister and I) and it started the fire up again so this time a couple of men stayed through the night.  The next day when they said it was out, it really was. 

 One night, dad was relaxing in the bath, after a long hard day,  mum was listening to the radio, my older siblings were doing what older siblings do. I was looking out the window for some unknown reason. Out there was the garage, the garden and the dogs.  Also out there was a pampas bush,   shrub, tree, whatever name it goes under.  It was a stones throw away from the house, and on the fence line to the pigs paddocks. As I looked I thought I saw some smoke.  It was raining and quite a crappy night.  I looked some more, then I realised I was right.  It was on fire.  The bloody pampas was on fire.  I tell you now.  I was jolly frightened.  I yelled out to mum and she went to the window.  She in turn, yelled to dad, who was asleep in the bath.  He must have been thrilled. Just what he wanted, to be woken up in the hot bath to be told he had to get outside and fight another bloody fire.  This time my sister and I were told to fun down to the neighbours and ring the firemen.  We ran for all we were worth, (which may I say was a princely sum) knocked on the door and tried to explain, while at the same time trying to suck air into our lungs, that we had a fire at our place and needed help.  Mr Nielson.(I think)...........???????rang the firemen for us and his wife made us hot chocolate drinks. They talked to us to try to take our minds off the fire, but when we heard the firemen and saw the trucks rush past we couldn't stand being there.  We had to get home....ish.  We waited up at the first gate until it looked safe to go further.  When the excitement died down a bit, the firemen told dad a broken power line hanging over the bush, shrub, tree, must have started the fire.  We were very lucky to still have a dad, cos he went rushing down to it with water, and if he hadn't put his good rubber gum boots on, he would have gotten zapped, fried, and cooked.  The really funny thing was though, the cars that began arriving.  Our road was a no through road, but suddenly there were people turning up with food, bags of clothes, books, you name it they had it.  I guess the grape vine was a little in overdrive that night,  or dare I say it, they were curious and had to come look.  By bearing gifts, all be it unneeded (not such a word, I know)

they could get  a first hand look at the devastation.  Aaaah well, small towns.  Good though eh?                      And then...............

Health And Well Being

Just reading through what I'v written, and it's a bit all over the place eh what?  Well today I'm going to be all over the place again. May as well.  If it ain't broke don't fix it, if the food tastes great why change the recipe?Stick to what you know.  A stitch in time saves nine.  Well, that last one doesn't apply, just thought I'd put it in.
As I'v said, earlier on, I am the youngest of umteen children.  I was talking to one of my sisters yesterday, and she told me something I hadn't heard before.  Apparently the day mum took me home, she popped me on the bed, and while everyone else was ooohing and aaaahing over this adorable new doll, this said sister went and hid her potty!  She was not interested in sharing it with this new addition.  My sister obviously saw in me, even at such an early age, the hidden genius.  I would have made history if I could have climbed off the bed, taken off my nappy, sat on the potty and done my "thing", got off the potty, put a new nappy on, climbed back onto the bed, and reposed once again into an infants guise.  O well, maybe one day soon, the genius in me will arise and she will be the only one to say "I told you so"  Here's hoping.  Anyway
Our house had a passage running up the middle, with bedrooms on one side and the kitchen, and lounge on the other and the bathroom, laundry and hall at the far end.  We used to love running in the front door, down the passage, out the back door, run around the side of the house and through the front door, down the passage, out the back door etc..... Apparently, I also loved running through the house, into the many rooms at a speed that my legs couldn't cope with.  I must have looked quite funny.  Sometimes even now, if  I"m running to catch the walk light, or a bus, my legs seem to have a mind of their own and I can't keep up with them, and I nearly go head over tit.  (I lie, I have actually gone head over tit) One day I was going like a bat out of hell and couldn't stop myself.  I was heading for the open fire place.  Luckily there was no fire burning.  The fire guard was up from the previous night, so instead of falling into the fire, I smashed into the guard.  It was made of very hard and strong stuff, ( probably cast iron in those days) Needless to say my baby teeth fell (or were pushed) out long before their allotted time.  Poor little me.  I hope everyone made a fuss of me. It would have been messy.
My dad wasn't a drinker, he had one or two on paydays, but that was it really.  I remember a couple of times when he would be walking around the house singing at the top of his lungs, and I once asked mum what was happening, and she said he was happy.  I think we use another word for that these days, but after a little while he would go sit in his chair and start snoring.  That was that.  No yelling, or arguments.  Just a happy dad.  One evening we were sitting around the fire doing what we did ?????? and dad was doing his thing in the garden (singing) when one of my siblings started screaming for mum.  Mum was in the kitchen, and she came rushing in.  Immediately she knew what was going on.  I had no idea but I know I was very frightened. She told us all to get outside.  Then she yelled to dad to get some water.  He didn't understand, and finally she ran back inside.  Meanwhile my dad had stopped singing and I thought he was choking.  I thought he was going to die, and no one seemed to care except me.  I later learned that many people who get "happy" end up sounding just like my father was sounding.  He was externalising the alcohol rather loudly.  (Chundering)  After a while mum said we could come back inside.  It smelt smokie and awful, and there was soot all around the fireplace.  The chimney had caught on fire.  I was to learn, that was a common occurance in our house. Ah what fun.  I tell you, there was never a dull moment.

Yes I do Have A Mirror!

Hello there.  I'm back.   I can't remember what I last talked about, but I think I will just start with what I've been thinking about.
My dad used to work in town at the council.  He did a mixture of jobs, mostly ones which involved in using his strength.  When payday came, he would take a list to work, of things mum wanted from town.  Included in this list was an  order from us kids, for a sweet.  We got our weekly lolly.  This was a great treat, not only because we loved chocolate, but also because dad was bringing it to us.  I don't know  why this was so, but it just seemed specialer.  Of course that wasn't the only lolly we got.  Thinking back we did quite well considering, we lived miles from any shops.
Sometime during the period of living on the farm, two people came to visit us and asked mum and dad if we could go to  Sunday School.  These were two people from two different churches.  My two brothers went to one and we girls went to another.  I'm not sure why this was, but it didn't matter, cos I loved going to the one we went to.  We all met people who were different, but we also met up with our school friends.  My friend from school; went there and my sister Janets friend did too.  That was good because we always had someone to sit with.  We used to get picked up from our house by a lady and off we went.  We had been given a little notebook on our first visit, and were given a little ticket to paste inside.  On this ticket was a verse from the Bible.  We would take the book home and memorise  the verse and the following Sunday we would recite it to our Sunday School teacher.  If we got it right, we would get points put beside our name  in the attendance book.  Then we would get another ticket and the same thing would begin again.  Toward the end of the year there was a day of great excitement.  It was Sunday School Anniversary day.  This was so much fun because of a few different reasons.  Each class would do a special song or play.  Everyones parents were expected to turn up for this once a year day.  It was a day for really dressing up from top to toe.  We would get new shoes, and usually,  the only shoes we got new, were school shoes, but now we got pretty shoes, sometimes with bows and buckles, and they were always so posh.  I know we also got a new frock, but I don't remember any of the dresses my sisters ever wore,  but I remember one dress especially, that I wore, and my sister Janet wore one almost identical.  We called these dresses, our Lolly Pop dress.  It looked like it was covered in lolly pops, but later (when I was in my twenties) I was aware the lolly pops were in fact pictures of roses.  I also remember another dress.  I  called it my cookie dress.  It was red and cream tiny squares.  It was straight till it reached above my knees, then there was a pleated frill all the way round the bottom.  I loved this dress.  My mum made so many of my dresses,  I believe the reason for this is because, as my sisters used to say, she loved me the most.  HAHAHA Not really, I don't think she loved any one of us more or less than the other. (except me, hahahaha)  We also got to wear hats.  I loved this part of the outfit.  Hats just aren't the same these days.  I can't believe girls these days would wear the ones we did, but what they wear these days, does not have the same princess look we had.(Jeez thats a confusing sentence!)  Anyway our hats had ribbons, flowers, net, you name it we had it on our hats.  The ribbons hung down to our shoulders and we called them our "Hanging Downs"  We loved them.  I was looking at some old black and white photos the other day and my eldest - 1 sister was wearing her hat.  Cool.
Talking of clothes.....Today was my day off.  I have to go into town and pay bills, buy food and all the mundane things I can't do during the week.  I like to dress up a bit, cos I wear boring black pants to work every day.  So ok, I have a shower, do my hair nice, put on war paint, get dressed up in a lovely outfit, and head off.  I had to wear a light jacket over my top, cos it was FREEZING!  Well my first stop was the bank. I took out my gun before entering and went to the teller and asked for 20,000 bucks.  And she wasn't going to give it to me, but then she saw my gun........ well not really.  I had to go to the telstra shop.  Did you know you have to basically take a number, just like at the deli in the supermarket?  I didn't know this.  AND nobody bothered to tell me. After waiting for 20 bloody minutes, while the assistants walked around me calling peoples names, I got jack of it and said some thing unfriendly, and left.  I had to go back though, and when I walked in this person was serving another customer, but she saw me and said to her customer, "excuse me, while I get this ladys' name.  I said "So we have to go on a list then?"  YUP!  Blimey.  Well finally I got served.  I then proceeded to do all my other tasks.  I get back to my car, right, and reach into my bag to get the keys, and what do I notice?????????  My bloody jacket is INSIDE OUT!!!!!! O me o my.

I'm About to LOSE IT!

OMG!!!! Why do computers think they can confuse me so much, I am ready to tear out my hair?  I have been trying to get on my blog to write some trivial mind bending info, and the bloody thing keeps telling me I DON'T EXIST!  I have tried everything.  All my email addresses, all my passwords.  To no avail.  AAAAAAH.  I began to believe I actually reside in a parallel universe, where I am the only occupant. I can tell you this, it's very lonely here.  Then, voila, (which means vwullu) everything began to understand me, and here I am.  Now I am here I have lost the motivation, so I'm going outside to get my garden ready for planting winter vegies.  SO THERE!

Bullying, in many Guises

I have been bullied in my life.  I have been bullied by family, friends, lovers, work colleagues and total strangers.
My sisters bullied me, though some of them more than others, after all I had 5 to have a go at me.  The thing with my sisters is I guess most of the time it was more because I was younger and probably annoyed them somewhat.  There are a few instances I  can recall, and they were not just because I was annoying.  My sister closest to me in age and myself were more often than not picked on at the same time.  I remember one day, the sister (oh stuff it, i'm gunna use names) named Maree, was upset with Janet and myself.  I can't remember what we had done.  It was obviously something pretty major.  Maree chased us outside and began chasing us around the washing line.  The line wasn't a Hills Hoist.  It was a very long run of wire, attached to poles either end.  We were screaming and calling out to mum, who may I say, sensibly stayed away.  Maree had found a length of pipe. The pipe was heavy steel.  She was waving it around her head and telling us what she was going to do to us if she caught us.  We were terrified, and we finally managed to escape indoors and we bolted the door.  We told mum what happened and I guess she had words with Maree because later on she came up to Janet and myself and said she was really sorry, and she was actually crying.  Being two young loving sisters, we forgave her.
In the school ground, there are so many different things going on, that when bullying happens it's  everything hard to see it.  Some kids were very clever and made it look like nothing was amiss.  I remember my sister Janet was bullied when we moved into town.  My sister had freckles.  Well we all did, so I have no idea why they picked on her.  They called her Measles.  I guess because of those freckles,  One girl inparticular.  Her name was Lynette.  She had her cronies, and they were all nasty.  My sister wore some new socks to school and this bitch Lynette picked on her all day, saying they were boys socks.  Well my sister cried and it was horrible.  She loved to go on the monkey bars and she was good at going along the whole thing real quick.  We had begun doing the new trick on the small bar.  The small bar is one bar.  You don't climb up or anything.  You just jumped with your arms raised and hoped you reached.  Any way you hook one leg over the top and you reach under and wrap your hands around your ankle.  So you have the bar going through your leg. Then you swing back and forth until you get momentum, and then you go round and round and round.  Janet was very good at this and was having her go when Lynette and her pack of dogs turned up and started being really mean,  My sister got upset and lost her concentration and fell off.  She lay there on the ground, then she started shaking.  It was horrible and I was so scared I thought she was dying.  Someone got a teacher, and they carried Janet into sick bay.  That bitch and her dogs had disappeared.  I bet she was scared too.  Well Janet was taken home and I remember my dad was really angry.  I can't remember my dad getting angry much, but this was one out of the two or three times I can recall.  I think he wanted to go see Lynettes father, but mum calmed him down and he didn't go.  Pity really. She left my sister alone for a while and when she began again she was sort of timid, as if she didn't want to do it but had to, to save face for her pack.  I remember kids called me monkey face,  I could never understand that cos I just didn't see it.  I'd look in the mirror and pull faces and make noises but still could't see a monkey looking back at me. I wonder what those people are doing as a career these days.  Maybe they are in advertising.  Come on, THINK ABOUT IT!!!!!!
I did my bit of bullying too, I admit.  At our Primary School, there was a building where, what we used to call, special kids went.  They are what we call challenged these days.  There were two girls who used to always be together.  One was a loud show off, and her friend was quiet and sweet.  One day my friend and I sat down beside them in the playground. I can't remember how we began but the quiet one began to count for us.  She counted to nineteen.  When she said twenty, she pronounced it tenty.  We laughed and laughed.
we thought it was so funny.  Teny one, tenty two tenty three etc.  We called others over and got her to count again, and again, laughing at her all the time.  Looking back, I think it was disgusting and I wish I'd never done it.  She didn't seem to realise we were being horrible to her.  She was obviously proud that she could count and was happy to show us all.  I do regret that stupid act of mine. Although I didn't make her cry, didn't hurt her pysically, I still acted like a bully and a jerk.  Bullying isn't always obvious.
Catching the school bus, and being the last people to get on, we were unable to get a seat.  Standing up in the aisle was fraught with it's own dangers.  We would have to hang on to something and the easiest thing was the back of the seat.  The rail that ran along the top of the seat.  Sitting in the seat where I had my hand, was a boy called Egg head.  I guess that was his real name cos I never heard him called by any other name.  Well he thought it would be fun to pinch the back of my hand.  The first time he did it I said ouch or something.  On the way home he did it again, only harder.  It really hurt, and I moved my hand.  The next day, I'd forgotten and got on the bus as usual.  Well obviously he hadn't forgotten.  As soon as I held onto the seat rail, he pounced. Pinching away.  I didn't react this time.  I thought stuff him.  I could put up with the pain.  It was only a pinch.  All the way to school he held on.  I think he must of gotten sick if doing it too.
When we got to school, I told the bus driver what was happening.  He said he'd talk to him.  I was not aware at my age that to speak to someone about it, could maybe make things worse.  That afternoon, we all climbed aboard the bus and the bus driver stood up and said " I have been told there have been things going on that I want stopped.  You know who you are and what I mean."  I thought that would be the end of it.  Egg head didn't touch me and I thought great.  The next day, I wasn't worried so I climb on the bus.  A few seconds after we were driving along, he pinched me!  What a shit.  Not only did he pinch me, But he then began to twist the pinch.  God it was like I was being burnt.  The skin on the back of our hands is not very thick and we have no fat, so my nerves were screaming with the pain.  I didn't flinch.  I remember I turned around and looked at him, and smiled. I didn't look away, and smiled this smile that I hoped said, "hahaha, you are an idiot.  That doesn't hurt. pinch me all you like, I can't feel it"  Which was true.  By this time, he'd been pinching and twisting the skin for so long, it had gone numb.  He let it go and I left my hand on the rail, until my bus stop came up.  The next day, Nervously I climbed on the bus, got to my usual spot, put my hand on the rail, expecting to be pinched.  Nothing.  All the way to school, I expected it to begin, but it didn't.  When we got to school, I gathered my courage and looked to see if he was actually there on the bus.  Yep he was there but I think I had actually beaten him at his own game. I do remember the rather red swollen area on my hand that lingered for most of the day.  This bullying style is what I call the silent style.  During this episode, egg head didn't utter a word. He would just stare at me and silently pinch away.

Why Can't We Just Tell Em?

Ok, just going to divert my thoughts from the THEN, to the Not So Long Ago to Now.  Last November or there abouts, I was listening to the radio and they were talking about the Point To Pinnacle race.  I got to thinking how much fun (was I having a moment?) it would be.  I stupidly suggested to my work mates that we should give it a go.  Sensibly only one agreed.  We put off preparing for it until February. ( spelling looks wrong)  We began walking around hilly streets and finding steps where we would exert ourselves.  We were going ok, but other things began getting in the way. We decided to prepare ourselves on our own.  Now I used to have a horse.  I didn't drive then, so every day I would do an hours walk to feed him, and another hours walk to go back home.  My journey going was hard as I would be carrying prepared food to do him until the next day.  It weighed a ton.  So what I'm getting at is I am no stranger to the long walk experience.  I began walking to the bus stop instead of driving.  This walk takes usually 25.mins.  Also I have been walking to the beach, around the promenade, and back.  This is a some what longer walk.  Every morning, I pop into the Newsagents.  I chat with the girls in there and go to catch my bus to work.  The other day I did everything as usual. I got up, had breakfast, had a shower, got dressed.  I wore, my new bright pink socks, black pants and a pale green top.  Off I went.  I drove to the car park.  I get out of the car.  I go into the Newsagents, buy a mag, chat with the girls, see a friend and have a quick catch up, and go.  I stop off at my car and put my mag inside and head off to the beach.  As I walk past the library, with people queing(?) up to go in, I think my left leg feels a bit restricted.  I'ts funny cos it felt ok before.  I look down.  What do I see?  My trouser leg is well and truely tucked into my bright pink sock!  Not a real sexy look. My question is, WHY didn't any body TELL ME?  Come on,  Do you really think thats the look I was going for?  Let me tell you, it was far from it.  Anyway... I continued on my way as soon as I rectified my fashion statement.  I thought I would push myself a bit harder so instead of huffing and puffing, I made my legs do the work, making my muscles scream out to me.  It felt bad but it felt great at the same time, know what I mean?  I finished my walk and spent the rest of the day as I usually do.  That night I went to bed.  Snuggled down with m beautiful cat Big Emee, and my two hot water bottles.  Half way through the night I woke up in agony.  No, my cat hadn't attacked me.  My KNEE was in revolt!  Obviously someones idea of pushing ones self was one huge MISTAKE!!!  My knee was more than twice it's normal size and was soooooo tight I thought it was gunna snap in half!  I have decided to postphone my hard core walking for the moment and concentrate on making sure my pants are never tucked into the top of my socks again. (Oh yeah,hahaha) One day in my lunch half hour, I saw a woman with her skirt tucked into the top of her old ladies stocking.  I squirmed with the thought of, if that was me right, I'd hate anyone else noticing, but on the other hand one person noticing, could never ever be as bad as a whole supermarket full of people noticing.  Needless to say thats probably what happened cos I didn't have the courage (and didn't want to have the privelidge of devastating her) to say anything. Sorry Luv. Fashion Bloopers can be amusing for the on looker, not too sure about the Fashion Bloopette.  See Ya.

Still Reminiscing

I'ts funny, don't you think, how we go through life, doing this and that, and it's all put into folders in our minds.  We only think of things relevant to what we are doing in the here and now.  Since beginning my blog, i'm finding out there are so many good memories inside these folders.  It's quite fun.  Picturing the old farm house I grew up in is amazing.  When we are small, everything seems bigger or brighter, and somehow magical. When we become adults and think back things seem to be less magical and more realistic.  Sad in a way.  Even so, I know my childhood held a special magic for me, and thinking about it, the magic has returned.
I've had many pets in my life and each one was special.  I've had cats, dogs, bunnies and a horse.  I've helped care for wild birds guinnea pigs and the odd possum or two.
But thinking about my pets has sent me on a sentimental journey.
I loved living on the farm.  I could walk for ages and still be home.  So much to do and see. Out the back and to the side of our house was the biggest paddock.  Dad had planted a crop of barley.  It had grown very tall and it was great fun to run through it.  I would find a spot and sit there for ages.  No-one could find me so I would take my teddy and play.  I loved my teddy.  His name is Edward Bear.  My dad came home from work one day with him under his arm and told me he was mine.  I was four years old.  Every one of my sisters had a teddy and now I did too.  I still have him.  His growl doesn't work any more, he's only got one button eye and his hands are all bandaged up, but he is still my precious Edward Bear.  Anyway,  One day I was sitting in the barley crop, and I felt one of my teeth was loose.  I twisted it and turned it this way and that until it finally came out.  I ran up to tell mum.  She told me to put it under my pillow that night and the tooth fairy would come while I was asleep, take it away and leave me some money as a thank you.  I did, and she did visit and leave me money.  I think it was sixpence. That was a lot of money in those days.  When I got tired of sitting in the barley, I would walk up behind the house where we had a huge orange ball tree.  It was huge.  The canopy was amazing.  If we were all outside and it began raining, we would run under this tree, and we could shelter without getting in each others way or getting wet.  The orange balls were the flowers and the tree was a sight when in flower.  We would pick bucket loads, and have orange ball fights.  That was fun.  They didn't hurt, unlike some snowball fights i've been involved in.  I went up Mt. Wellington with a group of friends and we decided to have a snowball fight.  It got a bit out of hand. Girls against the guys. The girls just grabbed a handful of snow and rolled it quickly and threw it, but the guys packed the snow hard in their hands and thought they were playing for the ashes.  When the snowball hit us we sure felt it. It was just like being hit with a cricket ball. Why do some men make things into some mad contest?.  That should have been fun, but there were some peed off girls after that.  Anyway,
Just beyond the orange ball tree, dad had left an old tractor just sitting there.  ( he had a few actually) But this one way way fun.  He had taken out the engine so we could climb all over it and pretend we were driving it,  We often had arguements as to who's turn it was.  Apparently my dad had an odd penchant for driving tractors into the creek.  That would have been ok I guess if the creek was a trickle, but sometimes it was a torrent.  I'm not sure if he was trying to see if it would float (which of course it didn't) or if he was trying to find a short cut home.  But it gave us one more thing to play about on. I must have picked up some skills because later on, I had a job of driving a tractor.  I had to load it up with hay and drive it around a paddock, stop, unload some, drive around some more, stop unload some etc, then call in the cows and let them have a feed.  I think I should have made my mark on the world as a farmer, but sometimes things just don't turn out the way we would like.

Wonderful Memories

My family consisted of mum and dad, and seven kids.  The eldest two were boys and the other 5 girls.  I was, and still am the youngest. My parents came out from England with the three eldest. Of course I don't know a real lot of what went on in those early days before I was born, or for that matter for a few years after I was born.  Its only hear say and who's to know if its all true?  One can only rely on ones own memories.  They are probably somewhat embellished as well. Though mine will not be..........I loved my brothers and sisters most of the time.  I didn't have a lot to do with my eldest brother or my eldest sister, but for some reason, the younger of the two brothers seemed to get my attention.  He was busy with school, the farm work and his hobbies I guess but I followed him around and just wanted to do the things he did. One night, (I guess I was  about 5yrs old), he had to get the cows in.  He didn't want to so I thought I would do it for him.  It was pitch black outside, but for some strange reason i was not afraid.  I heard my dad roar at him to hop to it and get the blimmen cows in.  He came out the back door and saw me and asked what I was doing.  I told him I would help him, but he told me to go inside.  I pretended to , then when he was out of sight, I decided to follow him.  I had to climb through a barbwire fence to get out into the great unknown.  I don't know what I did wrong.  I'd been climbing through this fence for at least 2 years.  Anyway somehow i got myself caught on the barbs and instead of backing up I tried to keep going.  This resulted in some painful tearing.  It was not my clothes, but my thigh.  Now I don't care what you say, if you were five and just ripped your leg open on a barbwire fence, in the pitch blackness of night, you would do what I did next too. I began to ......cry.  This time though, it wasn't a soft or sad cry, it was a loud terrified cry.  I was calling for my brother cos I thought he would be closeby.  I called for my mother.  No way would she hear me.  She was safe and sensible inside, probably wondering where I was.  I know I was beginning to be very afraid, and I was moving trying to unhook myself, so that was making my situation worse.  My leg was soooooo painful.   I was just about to kick the bucket when my brother arrived.  "What are you doing?  I told you to go inside!"  He called out to dad, and somehow he heard and arrived on the scene.  Between the two of them they managed to unhook me and dad carried me inside.  Now you have to understand we may as well as lived in Outer Mongolia.  Our nearest neighbours were a fair way away, and the only transport we had at that time was a tractor.  When mum saw what had happened, she said I had to go and get it stitched up.  How were we ever going to get to a doctor?  Dad had the answer.  You could always count on dad for the answer.  It didn't always make sense.  Sometimes it was most certainly wasn't the right answer, but on this occasion apparently, he hit the nail on the head. (or to be precise, the cotton in the needle)  I don't know if i was bleeding badly or not, but it was obvious that I needed  attention, (and boy wasn't I getting it) so dad had a brainwave.  He would sew me up himself. HaHaHa.  I get slightly hysterical just thinking about it.  I remember laying across his knee, while the rest of the family (those who weren't squeemish) stood around trying to make me laugh.  He put something cold on my leg and it began.  I honestly don't remember the actual sewing taking place, but I do remember when he had finished.  He said something like "not a bad job, if I do say so myself"  and that was that.  I still have a long scar on my leg and I"m quite proud to think my dad did that to me cos he loved me. (And there was no other way to have it seen to) Aaaaah life in the country.  Gotta love it!

Hello beautiful people.  I'm returning to my blog once again.This will be the third time i'm attempting this chapter.  Twice I had written quite a bit, when WHOOSH..... It all disappeared.  I can't find it.  Because of my wonderful accomplishments with this object of wonder (the @#**&^ computer) I have no idea of where on this contraption to hunt for it.  I'm guessing it's lurking somewhere in the deep dark recesses of it's workings.
Must I call on my daughter yet again to help me unearth my writing?  Sadly I do believe the answer is a resounding YES!!!!!!!!!HELP!!!!!!!! Because she is so busy studying and writing assignments for her teachers degree I must wait.  How RUDE!!!! ( Don/t you just love exclaimation marks?  They say so much more than mere words can ever say)  Anyway, before I begin my next attempt just a little something that happened to me the other day,
Just got off the bus from work and was walking to my car, when a car pulled up beside me to give way to other cars. The passenger window was open, and this guy says to me, "Gooday darlin".  He is a real jerk, so I rolled my eyes at him, which made him a little less loving toward me.  He then had nerve to say "you old bag"!  Ok, so thats his opinion of me.  He's well known around here as being drunk, high or both. Was I supposed to be broken hearted, that someone, such a stand up pillar of the community loved me one second then swiftly changed his mind?  Sorry mate, don't care!  What a wanka.....Aaaaaah they're Everywhere.
Just saying.......

Friends At School

I was only at this country school for grades 1 and 2, but that was long enough for me to know I didn't want and wasn't ready to go elsewhere.  Little did I know the upheaval that was coming.

Even though school, for me was no picnic, I had made 3 friends. My first friend was named Pam.  She was shorter than me and had no one else to play with in the playground, and I guess we just floated until we connected.  Actually I believe the reason she was alone was somewhat different.  My mother usually made me lunch for school, the usual sanga, bickie, and  sometimes a boiled egg.  I loved those eggs.  She would wrap it up in foil and I would gleefully unwrap it and take off the shell and then munch on it.  One day Pam was watching me and then she asked me if she could have my egg.  Cheek of some peoples kids.  I said no. Then she said something about her father.  (I found out later when I told my family what happened, and they said he was some big shot somewhere.) I still said no.  Then she changed my mind.  Out of her lunch box she took a small square package, I mean small.  It was a packet of chewing gum. In those days you could get a pack of 4 pieces I think and they were different colours, and tasted yummy.  When I saw that my mind was in turmoil.  Pam was undoing it and making a big deal and at the same time looking at my egg.  The she  said "If you like we could swap.  I have your egg and you have my chewy"  I thought it sounded ok, We had a heap of chickens at home and were rarely out of eggs, the chewy on the other , I didn't ever get.  I agreed.  We swapped.  I put a piece of chewy into my mouth and chewed.  Yummy.  She took a bite of my egg, and said yummy.  We continued in friendly munching.  She finished the egg and I finished the chewy.  I thought all was well.  I left the lunch room to go pee.  When I came back, the teacher was there and Pam was in tears, falling apart.  I ran up to console my friend and make whatever happened less traumatic.  The teacher turned to ,me and said "Pamela tells me you stole her lunch."  What the heck?  "I didn't"  I began to cry and I tried to make the teacher understand what happened, but she didn't care about what I was trying to say.  I got into trouble and my FRIEND got off looking like a poor little princess.  Some times friends can be so mean and nasty, or just plain a holes.  Needless to say our friendship was OVA!

Then there was Beth.  She was lonely and so was I.  I know most of my sisters had friends, so they didn't want me hanging around.  So when Beth and I found each other it was grand.  She was a happy girl and we had loads of fun at school.  She used to catch a different bus to me and we would hug each other before climbing on board our respective buses, and couldn't wait to find each other the next day.  Sometimes she didn't come to school and I would be sad and lonely.  I didn't understand why she missed school, cos we had to go, unless we were really sick.
One afternoon, we were waiting for our buses, we were getting ready to hug and she had a brilliant idea!  It was Friday, and that meant we wouldn't see each other for two whole days!  Oh Alas and alack! Devo!  Suddenly  she smiled and said "I have an idea.  Why don't you come and stay with me till Monday?"  Well I thought that was a wonderful idea.  "Yes" I said.  Boy this was going to be so much fun.  When her bus turned up I walked with her, my sisters being other wise busy, and hopped on board.  Off on an adventure I went.
Sadly it was a bit scarey.  We arrived at her house and snuck inside.  She told me to stay in her room.  That was ok with me.  It was a bit messy but I was having fun.  When she came back she told me her mum was sick and I had to stay in her room.  We played and danced and  laughed. After a while she went out, but in a few seconds came back and said I could come out to the kitchen. Out we went and she began getting vegetables and stuff ready to cook for tea.  I didn't understand this cos we only did cakes in my home. I don't mean we only ate cakes, but us kids got to cook cakes, not tea.  I heard a loud voice yelling to her and I felt a bit scared.  It was her mum and she told Beth to shut up cos she had a headache.  We were very quiet after that.  After tea was cooked I had to go hide in the bedroom again cos her dad was due home.
When he came home, her mother came out of the bedroom and lots of shouting happened.  This was all new to me.  Beth was crying and it was horrible.  Later I learned her mother had a drinking problem and her father was just a problem. Sadly I began to wish I had gone home to my happy loud lovely family.  When Monday came, I got to school and my sisters had some things to say to me.  I still don't know if it's true, but they said mum and dad were beside themselves with worry and they had police out looking for me and  everything, which I suppose is probably true. I don't remember going home that day and what happened to me, which is probably just as well.  Beth and I were still the best of friends though. Thinking about that happening in these days, is terrifying.  My God what were we thinking. I was a runaway at the age of seven!

 Then there was Dianne.  My big sister was friends with her big sister, so I hoped this was going to be good.  She was quiet, and stuff, but we got along well and played and had fun.  One day she told me they had a cat at their place that had kittens.  She asked me if I wanted one and of course I said yes.  We arranged that she would bring it to school in a few days time.  She did.  It was a gorgeous ginger baby, in a cardboard box.  I didn't think about asking my mum if it was ok to bring this puddy cat home.  I wanted him and he was gorgeous, so what else do you expect. He was tiny, wouldn't take up any space etc.  I got on the bus with him, to my sisters oooohs and aaaahs.  We got to our bus stop and my biggest sister, ran ahead.  Talk about breaking the news gently.  She didn't know the meaning of the word!  As we  were rounding the corner on the downward hill,. she came panting and puffing.  "Mum said you can't keep him" she triumphantly screamed at me!  She tried to snatch the box (don't know what her plans were for my kitten)but I held on tight. I began running home, (yep you guessed it, I was crying, but come on, this was cryworthy!)  When I reached home, mum came out  and gathered me in her arms, and said " take no notice of what your sister said, you want the kitty, then you shall have the kitty"   Oh hang on, no it wasn't quite like that. I was told he had to go back where he came from.  Well that was NOT going to happen.  He was lovely and wanted to climb out so badly, that I let him.  Thats when mum saw him and I believe she fell in love with him then and there.  I KEPT HIM! (na na na na na.  Tounge protrudes from mouth)                    

SCHOOL/HELL....  TO ME THEY WERE ONE AND THE SAME.

Mostly.  I will admit I do have some good memories.  I did finally make some friends, and I fell in love for the first time.  The story of my life.
All of my sisters could read, and none of them would spend the time to teach me. Once a week the Green Grocer would come to the house and we would all go out and see the goodies in his van.  Mum would chat to him for while and we would pick out what we wanted.  I usually chose bananas.  They were beautiful in those days.  They were not stored somewhere for months they are these days.  The Green Grocer also brought us our comic books, and mums Womans Weekly, and dads Daily Mirror.  This was a huge stack of English papers stapled together.  I loved going through it and reading so many exciting stories. That was after I learnt to read.  My comic was Teddy Bear.  It  had stories about one main teddy, his name was.......wait for it............Teddy Bear. I loved this comic.  Funny thing is it taught me to read.  I would sit on my bed and study the pictures and think of the story and somehow I'd put words to the pics and eventually, the story and words were the same.  I started reading aloud, to mum and I think she was surprised.
At school, I was learning to cope (NO I WASN'T) without my sister being in my class.  The best bit was when we sat on the mat, and the teacher would pick someone to read to the rest of the class.  I was a showoff! I knew I was a great reader, and I always read more than I was supposed to.  There was one boy, and I know this is really wrong, but he always has pig styes in his eyes.  Big red lumps .  They were disgusting, and I couldn't stop gawking.
OMG! Just remembered.  We had show and tell just like they do these days.  All the kids were saying stuff, but I didn't have any thing.  I suddenly had a brain wave.(or more to the point, a brain drain) I put up my hand and teacher calls my name.  "What do you have to share with us today?"  Here goes I think to myself.  "My mummy is having twin babies!"  To this day I have no idea , I mean none! why I came up with that crock of total crap.  Boy was she surprised,  Not as surprised as my mum though. I guess somehow the teacher found out it was a fantasy pregnancy, cos the next day at lunch, when everyone went outside, she told me to stay where I was.  She left the room for a few moments, and when she came back, she had a man with her and he was carrying some sort of folded wood.  He unfolded it and placed it on the floor, and made it into a sort of a wall.  My teacher told me to step inside.  I did this, I wondering what was happening.I was told to sit on my bottom.  Once I did this the man closed the structure.  It was like I was shut up inside a tiny itty bitty room.  I started to cry (AGAIN), and my teacher said "This is punishment for lying about your mother"
Wouldn't happen now.  Total abuse.  I was a little kid!  I didn't hurt anyone. Jeeze!  What a bitch!  The other kids were outside the windows, pressing their ugly little faces against the window. Hateful little shits.
 
I don't know why, but things never went well for me at that school.  Like the day I received a bible.  I can't remember why I got it.  I knew one of the teachers was into bibles and mum said I could take it to school and show him.  I had it in my arms and the heavens opened. Quite apt really.  The rain ruined my bibles cover, and the page edges turned into spotty blotched soggy lumps.  Jeeze! What the?????? Oh well. Just one more thing to add to the list of........things.
It was mothers day on Sunday, and our school had a stall.  We had taken money a few days before and the teachers had gone out and spent the money on our behalf.  They set up tables outside and class by class we went to pic  out something for mum.  I chose a pretty little glass bowl.  I can still see it now.  It was gorgeous, and when the sunlight hit the glass it sent all these colours out.  Anyway, I was going back to class with my present, and some little turd, yeah, thats right, TURD, stuck his foot out and it went flying.  Of course I eventually hit the ground, but what was worse, my present did too. In so many
 places. It was shattered, and so was I.  So guess what I did?   Yup.  I cried.  Again.  But honestly, you would have too. The teacher on duty had seen what happened and the little turd got what for.  I wonder if he had to sit inside a tiny itty bitty room at lunch time.  Actually what happened was the teacher magically produced a pretty cup and saucer and plate set.  It was pretty, but I hadn't chosen it.  Mum kept that set for many years and i'm hoping it was cos she treasured it.

Then of course there was the petticoat episode.  My sister had just gotten (gotten?) this new petticoat.  I loved it.  It was gorgeous. It was white a half slip.  White material up top, then it changed material but there were sort of frills sewn on.  On the edge of each frill was a pretty coloured lace.  Like the first frill had yellow lace, then pink lace, all the way to the bottom.  It was a princess petticoat.  My sister loved it, but I'm positive no where near as much as I did.  I tried it on, without her knowing, and decided I had to show other people. Hence, another brain drain.  I got the scissors, and cut two arm holes just under the elastic.  Once I put it on, it came to below my knees.  I was beawdiful. I put it on under my uniform, and tied it in place with the belt.  When I got to school, I grabbed my friend and ran to the shelter sheds and stripped off my uniform.  Hussy! I looked gorgeous.  I don't know what possessed me to do it.  I cut up my sisters petticoat! It now had armholes.  In a half slip.  You just don't see that.  Needless to say, my sister had a spack attack! I can't remember if she slapped me around or not.  Well she probably did, and it was so traumatic for me that I've blocked it out.

Ok. I believe the choices we make, determine what our life will become.  Fulfilling, empty, satisfying, exciting, and many other adjectives.  If we are lucky we will experience all of those feelings and more.  I know I have.  Of course at the time we may not think of it as being fun or exciting, but maybe, crazy, or terrifying.  I have decided to write about the things in my life which have made me who I am today.  I may not be a famous singer, or an olympic swimmer, or to most people, anything at all. But to my family, children, and friends, Id like to believe their lives would be lacking something extra special, if I were not part of it. No serious!  Like today I twisted my daughters arm (hard) and made her help me set up my blog.  Because she did most of the  work, now not only do I have a blog, but my daughter also knows something new. All because of me, her wonderful mama.  I will say, during this bonding session, there were a few fraught moments, but I think our relationship is all the more stronger for it.  (That doesn't sound like good English, but you know what I mean).
 
I was born in a small town in Tassie, (Tasmania, Australia) fiftyish years ago.  I am the youngest of seven children, So life was a bit of a struggle for me.  I was usually the last one in the car, or I ended up with the crust from the hot new loaf of bread, (which I actually loved) you know the type of thing.  The bad thing is when you are the youngest of such a brood, there is a need inside that makes you want to be as old as the others. Until you reach your fifties, then you are glad to be the youngest, cos they are always going to be older than you! The things you do are not always good and sometimes, I came off second best.  The things I am going to write are the good the bad and the ugly things that happened to me, and I guess at my age, (fiftyish) I'm doing it to face the fact that sometimes I brought the consequences on my self, thou I must stress that was not always the case.


We lived on a farm. We had dairy cows, and dad grew crops of some sort.  Dad would milk the cows early in the morning, with the help of my two brothers.  Then dad would go off to work in town, and my brothers and sisters would get ready for school.  They had to walk a way to catch the school  bus.  I was still too young to go to school, so mum and me would be together.  At last I had her to myself!  I remember being in our big kitchen and watching her cook.  We had a huge oven, that you had to feed wood into, constantly!  But everything mum coked was yummy. I don't know if it was the oven, or if she was just a damn good cook..She was my mum, so probably the latter.
When I started school, I remember my first day.  It was filled with terror, fear, lonliness, snotty girls, ugly boys, and the day lasted forever!.. On the way to the bus stop, I heard a motor, My brother grabbed me and slung me over his shoulder, and everyone dived into the bushes growing along the road side.  I still don't  know why we did that. Did my brother think the people coming in their truck were kidnappers?  In the panic, I lost one of my new school shoes.  I was crying and hiccupping and tried to explain to my brother, but suddenly we had to hurry.  We had wasted time hiding in the bush and if we didn't hurry, we would miss the bus. I ask you,  Whose fault was that?  May be my brother was suffering from some freaky mental disorder. (no disrespect meant) Well I rocked up to school for the first day of the rest of my life, wearing one bloody shoe! Great first impressions!  Thanks bro!

Next hurdle was the classroom.  I didn't expect to be separated from my sisters.  I was sure I was told, before leaving home that day, that I would be in the same room as my sister.  Well, someone lied, and in a monumental way. How cruel.  Mum did it just to get me out of the house.  My brother probably jumped in the bushes with me and hoped to lose me among the branches, and then the others would take off to school without me.  Probably the plan was they would come home in the afternoon, untangle me from the bushes and we'd all get home together.  That is what I think now.  Then I just thought mum didn't want me. Anyway, I cried and cried, until the teacher gave me paints and paper.  I was ok for a little while then began crying again, wanting my sister,  Finally I was taken into her classroom and the kids were moved around so I could sit next to her.  I was happier, but i'm not sure about my sister, or the teachers.