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.