I watched an episode of the ABC TV show compass last week. The focus of the episode was the poet Barbara Blackman. In my ignorance, I had not heard of her before, but she was an immensely interesting subject who has led a fascinating, passionate life.
One of the things she said that really struck me was that the whole universe was an infinity of uniqueness. No two leaves were the same, no two people were the same. What an incredible thought. When I deeply reflected on it and considered how many people there are, how many fish in the sea, how many trees on the land, how many leaves on all of the trees… it is almost too difficult to imagine.
But it is a truly beautiful thought…
In the middle of the night I heard an odd sound in my bathroom, right beside our bedroom. I sat up to have a look. Too dark.
“Is that you, Pip?” I asked
“What are you doing?”
“Gargling, my throat is really sore.”
I really didn’t get back to sleep after that.
Pip has a chest infection. His new chest is just four months old and exhausted from coughing. It’s nothing serious, but we went off to the doctors today to get some anti-biotics before it becomes too much for him. Poor baby…
People who don’t do their jobs properly.
People who moan and groan about how difficult it is for them.
People who do half a job.
I can’t stand those people. So I go in and organise stuff and fix stuff and put stuff into place.
THEN… those people I can’t stand, those lazy moaners, do even less and expect me to do even more and have the audacity to blame me when it’s not working out.
I’m an idiot!
This week, as the first hint of winter arrived, it has been fresh enough in the mornings for me to get my heater out of the cupboard. I only use it when I get out of the shower for those few minutes until I can be warm in my clothes.
My Pete looked at my heater and noticed some fluff and dust caught up in the back of it.
“You can’t use it like that”, he said in concern. “It is a fire hazard.”
My Pete took my heater to clean it.
My Pete used a screw driver and a knife to pull the heater into pieces, in order to clean those hard to reach areas.
My Pete had to buy me a new heater…
Philip has always been a child with an amazing capacity to love openly. He shows affection easily. He especially adores our dogs.
We bought the first dog when Pip was two. He called him Thomas after his beloved tank engines. He intended the name as a tribute to another great love of his life. Eighteen months later, when we bought another puppy to keep Thomas company, it was only logical that he should have the name Percy. Pip has spent many, many hours with his dogs. He used to have a photo of them sticky taped to the door of his bedroom with a caption “legends” written in a childish hand and an arrow pointing to each dog.
They are beautiful, intelligent and well-mannered dogs.
This week, as a requirement for art class, Philip had to choose an interesting photo to use as a basis for a painting. He went looking for a suitable photo of his favourites.
His painting is going to be amazing.
Today two of Ashleigh’s very good friends came over to cook dinner for us.
They must be worried that we are not eating correctly wihtout our resident chef. My daughter cooked at least three nights a week for the past couple of years.
The media in Australia is often so negative about young adults. I really hate that as adults we forget what it was like to be a teen and sit in judgement. I abhor any sentence that begins or ends with the words ‘kids these days…’ Kids are a reflection of the adults in their lives and the direction, love and support given to them.
Don’t you love teenagers? They really are great people.
Today my Pete and I went to wander around a street of display homes. We quite like to do this. We have no intention of moving or building or even renovating. We just like to see what is out there. What colours are trendy, which materials are being used and how, which new products are emerging. My Pete likes to knock on the walls and tiles to see their construction. He notices the details of the skirting boards and corners. He checks out how the windows are shaded and the lighting is mounted.
Builders put their best on show in these villages. The doorway to every house is cleverly positioned so that you have to walk past the salesperson in order to have a look around. I use the eye contact, quick nod and head down method to get past. My Pete, however, always stops to engage them in conversation. He asks questions about the design and how it could be altered. Why rooms are positioned as they are. How many square metres the house covers. Which are the fetures that make the designer most proud. He never once lets on that he is an architect. He lets them prattle away, like he is just an ordinary guy off the street. He is always interested in what they have to say. He brings home armsfuls of plans and layouts. Every now and again he sees something that amazes him, something that he files away in his mind.
Today we mostly saw beige. Beige and brown and blah. It will be nice when people like colour again. Look how magnificent the sky was today, then look at the houses. It’s a little bland.
It was still a very nice way to spend an afternoon.
My mum, your mum live down the street,
18-19 Marble Street.
Every night they have a fight
and this what they say all night.
“Girls are sexy made out of pepsi,
boys are rotten made out of cotton.
Girls go to Mars to get more bras,
boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider.”
Pip, mumbling to himself in the background:
Yeah well, at least we don’t go to Venus…
Makes a mother so proud.
On Friday as I was leaving work a small child asked me if I had children. When I said yes she wished me a happy mothers’ day.
That should be a nice thing, but it made me cry. I cried a little more when I got home and realised that the promised parcel from afar containing my gifts for mothers’ day had not been delivered. Especially when the sender had been prompted to post it and had protested mightily that she knew what she was doing.
Petty, small and pathetic…I know. I really don’t even care about days created by hallmark in order to create revenue. I did however feel a little neglected and unappreciated. Petty, small and pathetic…I know.
This made me feel better.
As did this.
Happiness arrived today in a large orange box from France.
I am in a very bad mood. Very, VERY bad mood. It is completely unreasonable to be so cranky, but I don’t care.
Last night I watched my favourite movie in an attempt to break myself of it. Chocolat. I love its bohemian spirit.
I love the Comte who denies his every desire in order to gain a high moral ground and use that position to judge everyone.
I love his spectacular fall from grace, but the ultimate dignity he is afforded by those he judged harshly.
I love the north wind that calls to Vianne, begging her to keep moving.
I love the beautiful village on the river Tannes in France which brings the river rats to the town.
I love how the connection with a small child softens the isolated Armande.
I especially love the words of the final sermon given by Pere Henri.
It didn’t help me though. I still wanted to karate chop eveyone who was shopping at the same time as me this morning.