tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26894407416292996062024-03-14T14:31:21.693+10:00Nettie's NotesA Baby-boomer's Blatherings.Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-67394229342923110242012-05-13T15:40:00.001+10:002012-05-13T20:18:43.539+10:00My MumToday is Mother's Day or should that be Mothers' Day? Probably Mothers' Day since it's the day set aside to honour all Mothers.<br />
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My Mother, Roslyn was born on 31st July, 1918, which means she will be 94 years old this year. She lives in an aged-care facility in Perth<br />
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As I sit here at my laptop I realise just how little I know about my Mum's early life.<br />
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I know that she grew up in Adelaide, South Australia, but what hospital was she born in? Was she even born in a hospital, or was hers a home birth?<br />
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I know that her family lived in the Adelaide suburb of Highfield on Highfield Avenue, and I think she has very fond memories of this time in her life. I think this because on a couple of occasions, at her request, I've taken her for a drive past her childhood home. I don't think she would have asked to revisit a place that didn't hold a special place in her heart.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y04L_nVQoBA/T68og9ZCKgI/AAAAAAAAAR0/qGnqEen0GQI/s1600/Mumasagirl001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y04L_nVQoBA/T68og9ZCKgI/AAAAAAAAAR0/qGnqEen0GQI/s200/Mumasagirl001.jpg" width="135" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Mum when she was about 5 years old.</td></tr>
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I remember her telling me that at least some of her school years were spent at Linden Park Primary school, which was just a hop step and a jump from her childhood home. She has talked about walking through cow paddocks to get to school. These days the suburb of Highfield is now the (quite affluent) suburb of St Georges and nary a cow paddock to be seen.<br />
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My Mum had an older sister, Marjorie (Madge), an older brother, Jack and a younger sister, Audrey. She idolised Madge and loved and had a great deal of respect for Jack. For some reason there was no love lost between herself and Audrey, a state of affairs which has carried on to this day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ELOZLB8TOkw/T68qCcyaVpI/AAAAAAAAAR8/eyrwpOZKdLM/s1600/AuntMadge001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ELOZLB8TOkw/T68qCcyaVpI/AAAAAAAAAR8/eyrwpOZKdLM/s200/AuntMadge001.jpg" width="135" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Mother's adored sister Madge.</td></tr>
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During my Mum's childhood her parents had a fish shop. I've heard her talk about the fish shop on Norwood Parade, but I've also heard her talk about a shop on Glen Osmond Road. Did they have two shops at the same time or did they have one and then move to the other location at some other time? In any case I'm fairly certain they were shops of the fishmonger type, rather than fish and chip shops of the take-away meal variety.<br />
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I have no idea when my mother's father died. I have never seen a picture of him. I don't even know what his
name was or what kind of person he was. Was he a kind dad or one of
those dour, autocratic Edwardian types? How old was my Mum when her dad
died? As far as I can recall she has not talked about him, so perhaps
she was very young when he passed away. <br />
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I know a little bit about my Mum's mother, because she was in my life until I was 14 years old.<br />
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At some stage during her childhood, my Mum had long hair and I think she may have worn it braided into two long plaits. I know that throughout her adult life she has disliked long hair and detested plaits. I know this because later she ensured that hair on the heads of her six daughters was kept quite short while they were children. I have never seen my mother with anything but short hair.<br />
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I know that my Mum had piano lessons and that she hated them. She has told me that she had to sit in a very cold room to practise and that her fingers would be icy and stiff. I do have a feeling that she regrets not persevering with these lessons though.<br />
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I don't know how or when my Mum and Dad met, or how long their courtship was. I know that they got married in November, but I don't know in what year. Alcohol figured prominently in their married life, but not because my Mum
drank it. Mum has probably had a total of 20 very weak shandies in her
entire life. <br />
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I know that when my Mum was a young adult she was a milliner (a person who makes women's hats). I have no idea how she came to this trade. Did she start out as a milliner's apprentice? Was she always interested in hat-making or did she take it up as an alternative to something she was more interested in. I remember that she took up millinery again briefly when she attended night classes for a time when I was a small child.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ABQVbZ1qLT4/T68sxwlI3KI/AAAAAAAAASQ/f2uzACASHUs/s1600/Mumcirca1955001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ABQVbZ1qLT4/T68sxwlI3KI/AAAAAAAAASQ/f2uzACASHUs/s320/Mumcirca1955001.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Mum and 2 older sisters circa 1955. Mum would have made her dress and those of my sisters. She probably made her hat as well.</td></tr>
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My Mum has always been a talented dressmaker and seamstress. I remember her telling me that her mother advised her very early on that if she wanted to wear the latest fashions, she had better learn to make them herself because there was no money to buy them. So make them she did.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CVLusReqIuA/T68tyb2WT5I/AAAAAAAAASY/gn0tzh91cDg/s1600/Mum21yrs001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CVLusReqIuA/T68tyb2WT5I/AAAAAAAAASY/gn0tzh91cDg/s320/Mum21yrs001.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Mum on her 21st birthday, 1939. She would have made her birthday frock.</td></tr>
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She also made all the clothes for her daughters and a good many of the clothes for her grandchildren as well. She made everything from knickers to winter overcoats (fully lined I might add) for her daughters and I can still see, in my mind's eye, the work shirts she sewed for my dad too. She also made the costumes for our end-of-year concerts. These involved a great deal of sewing on of sequins.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vSY0Cq6DJUM/T68kMePPaoI/AAAAAAAAARo/qawcQF23SUE/s1600/Meinpansycostume001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vSY0Cq6DJUM/T68kMePPaoI/AAAAAAAAARo/qawcQF23SUE/s320/Meinpansycostume001.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me in a pansy costume made by my Mum.</td></tr>
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And our Sunday school anniversary concerts meant a new dress for each of us, made of course by our Mum. She was often still putting the finishing touches to them as we were leaving for the church.<br />
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Her needlework is exquisite. She has told the story about handing in a piece of her hand sewing to her school teacher and getting a severe telling off for trying to pass off "machine-sewn" work as hand-sewn. I don't think she has ever quite got over the injustice of that incident.<br />
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Smocking was something she did regularly, trimming her daughters' little dresses and later the dresses and shirts of her grandchildren. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7--uXXW24_8/T68xCDavd8I/AAAAAAAAASk/d-YgaOlDjVA/s1600/Jeb1yr001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7--uXXW24_8/T68xCDavd8I/AAAAAAAAASk/d-YgaOlDjVA/s320/Jeb1yr001.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My son in the shirt my Mum smocked for his first birthday in 1984.</td></tr>
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In later life Mum continued her love of needlework, creating beautiful tapestries and cross-stitch pictures.<br />
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At almost 94 years of age my Mum's eyesight is very poor, and her fingers are arthritic so that she is no longer able to sew. She is extremely hard of hearing as well, and is only capable of very limited conversations.<br />
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My Mum has never smoked, although I do remember her lighting a cigarette for my Dad once when he was driving the car. I can recall her saying that she had, during stressful times, been tempted to take up smoking, but decided each time that there were better things she could be spending her money on - such as a new pair of shoes for one of the children.<br />
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I am probably never going to know much more about Mum's early life than I know now. But what I do know is that she was a very, very good mother. She has taught me to love books and writing, to appreciate creativity. She has taught me goodness, honesty, integrity, determination, respect and respectability. She has instilled in me the value of striving to be the best person you can, no matter what curve balls life throws at you.<br />
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I love you my Mum. xx<br />
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<br />Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-23768785713851118032012-02-29T15:20:00.000+10:002012-02-29T16:12:55.793+10:00Passion and Paradise<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Books are my passion and libraries are my paradise.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I can remember the very first time I ever joined a library. I was very young. My sisters and I always caught the bus home but, for some reason my Mum met me after school on this particular day. It was possibly a half-holiday. Half-holidays, when granted, were always on a Friday and were to celebrate civic happenings such as Arbour Day or Commonwealth Day.</span> <span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My 2 older sisters </span></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">who are 6 and 4 years older than me</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">, weren't with us</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">. They had probably been allowed to </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">walk home, or perhaps they had taken their bikes that day.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Anyway, Mum had decided that the time had come for me to become a library patron. The library was just across the road from school and when I visited Adelaide a couple of years ago I found to my delight that the building is still there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">However when I crossed the road to take a photo of the foundation stone, this is what I found:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Well I distinctly remember joining that library in the mid-1950s, but the foundation stone says it was officially opened in 1980. Surely it didn't take the city fathers over 30 years to finally give it an official opening! Hmm ... this will require some looking into I think.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I can remember the first book I chose in that library. It was this,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">but when I showed it to Mum, she gently told me that I would probably be too difficult for me to read and I had to put it back</span>. <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I can't remember what I did borrow, but for some reason this book has remained firmly lodged in my memory. Many, many years later I found a copy of it in one of those sales of culled library books and I bought it for 50 cents</span>. <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So I finally did get to read it.</span> <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It was a good story. These days you can still buy a copy of this book from <a href="http://www.alibris.com/" target="_blank">Alibris </a>and it will cost $26.74</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The
other thing that sticks in my memory about this library is that it
wasn't free. You actually had to pay to borrow a book. For children it
was 1 penny per book. This is what a penny looked like </span>:</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vKQHfmJfYjo/T017F-rRGQI/AAAAAAAAARA/mMC0SOIUKnY/s1600/penny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vKQHfmJfYjo/T017F-rRGQI/AAAAAAAAARA/mMC0SOIUKnY/s200/penny.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I don't remember any other trips to this library. Maybe there weren't any. Perhaps a penny couldn't be spared very often. I do vaguely recall Mum saying something about borrowing from the Children's Library in the city being free</span> <span style="font-size: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">and my next memories of library borrowing </span></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">are of the Children's Library. Yep, that was my Mum - pay threepence </span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-97q7f0cF2WE/T02DdDkwslI/AAAAAAAAARQ/qewWOiFMXBc/s1600/three_pence_1956_reverse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-97q7f0cF2WE/T02DdDkwslI/AAAAAAAAARQ/qewWOiFMXBc/s1600/three_pence_1956_reverse.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">to catch the bus to the city so that you can borrow books for free, rather than go to a closer library and have to pay one penny to borrow a book. </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">To be fair, I imagine her thinking was that you could borrow multiple books for free at the Children's Library whereas at the penny library</span> <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">each individual book cost a penny to borrow. I must say I'm very glad she thought that way.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Oh how I loved that Children's Library! It was situated off North Terrace.</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span> <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Walking down the mysterious lane-way, </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">to get to the library seemed to me to be </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">an adventure in itself. Here were the back entrances to the adult library, the museum and the art gallery. Did it go down as far as the university? I'm not sure. Eventually I would arrive at the library's entrance and it was not just an ordinary entrance. Heavens no.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Firstly there was the portal to be passed through. Yes a magnificent stone portal! What better metaphor for being transported into other worlds could there possibly be than a stone portal, I ask you. <a href="http://images.slsa.sa.gov.au/mpcimg/53500/B53404.htm" target="_blank">The State Library of South Australia</a> has kindly granted me permission to post the following photo taken circa 1960.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So, through the portal, across the courtyard, under the balcony and into the delights of shelves of books I'd go. Here I became friends with, among others, <a href="http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/search?searchTerm=Pippi+Longstocking+Astrid+Lindgren&availability=1&hasJacket=1&searchLang=1&redirected=true&gclid=CIn5rJCfwq4CFQMgpAodjV00WA" target="_blank">Pippy Longstocking,</a> <a href="http://www.enidblyton.net/secret-seven/" target="_blank">The Secret Seven</a>, and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Four-Story-Mistake-Melendy-Quartet/dp/0312375999" target="_blank">The Melendy family </a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Some years later a new children's library was built, </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">but to me, it didn't seem to have the same magical allure as the old Children's library, or even </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">the penny library.</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> I loved it almost as much though. Well, it was new, it was easier to get to and it too, had wonderful books, </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Those experiences were the beginning of my life-long love affair with libraries and with children's literature. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So dear children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren now you know why (after a couple of false starts career-wise) I eventually became a teacher-librarian.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">One of my favourite quotes comes from <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13450.Gabriel_Garc_a_M_rquez" target="_blank">Gabriel Garcia Marquez</a> who said:</span></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"I've always imagined heaven to be a kind of library."</span></i></b><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> I hope it is.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-77451105684173417842012-02-20T13:43:00.000+10:002012-02-20T13:43:26.873+10:00My (Reading) Childhood<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Here I am back again after a very long time away from this space. Another birthday has gone by and yet another is lurking on the (not distant enough) horizon.</span> <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Daughter and Son, Grandchildren, and now, Great-Grandchildren, I can absolutely assure you that the time between birthdays <b><i>does</i></b> get shorter the older you get. I can also tell you that when you get to my age it is entirely possible that you may not view this as a "good thing"</span>.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But that's by the by. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This year is the <a href="http://www.love2read.org.au/" target="_blank">National Year of Reading</a> here in Australia all sorts of fantastic activities have been planned to encourage us all to read. I myself need no encouragement </span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">and I have my Mum to thank for my love of stories, books and reading.</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> I've been an avid reader since ... well since ... I learnt to read</span>. <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Before I learnt to read I listened to stories. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I don't remember my Mum reading to me, but I do remember that she ensured that our radio was tuned in to the <a href="http://dl.nfsa.gov.au/module/182/" target="_blank">ABC for Kindergarten of the Air</a> each day when I was a toddler, and I think these are my first memories of hearing stories. I can still recall the delicious feeling of anticipation as I heard the words "Once upon a time ...". I get that same feeling these days, whenever I open a new novel to the first page.</span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Omsvpa5ZzMg/T0GlfY5YECI/AAAAAAAAAQI/Z3qy_kpZJ9k/s1600/Kindergarten_Air_004s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Omsvpa5ZzMg/T0GlfY5YECI/AAAAAAAAAQI/Z3qy_kpZJ9k/s320/Kindergarten_Air_004s.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This is a picture from the <a href="http://pool.abc.net.au/media/child-listening-kindergarten-air" target="_blank">ABC's Pool</a> website. The child isn't me of course, but I imagine I would have looked as transfixed as this little one did, when listening to Kindergarten of the Air. Our radio (which was called "the wireless" back then) was very similar, but it was made of dark brown <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bakelite" target="_blank">Bakelite</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My Mum also made sure that my sisters and I were surrounded by books at home. Every Christmas each of us would get a new one. That's how I discovered Noddy and Big Ears (Enid Blyton), Milly-Molly-Mandy (Joyce Lankester Brisley), and the Susan series (Jane Shaw) among lots of others.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There were always magazines and newspapers strewn about our house too. Mum would buy the Women's Weekly and the New Idea, which incidentally <i><b>did</b></i> usually feature some <i><b>new ideas</b></i> - unlike the celebrity gossip stuff it's filled with these days. These had children's sections which generally had a short story or two in them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Did we have comics? I vaguely remember reading Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse comics, but they may have belonged to my boy cousins. They had big piles of them stashed under their bunk beds. I used to wish I had both of those things - piles of comics and a bunk bed to stash them under.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There's one thing I am certain of, and that is that our childhood home was filled with literature of one kind or another thanks to our wonderful Mum.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Then there was the Library ... but that's a story for next week's post.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-12596660457429116002010-06-10T16:58:00.001+10:002012-02-10T08:06:59.444+10:00Birthdays and Beatles<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's my birthday today! It's a big one too. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Yesterday was my </span><a href="http://deeznews-dee.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">sister's</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> birthday. Hers wasn't as big as mine thoug</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">h</span>. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Here we are back in the sixties:</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/TBCMGBmjOMI/AAAAAAAAAKY/sSx7ptNPL9A/s1600/tweetcirc1967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/TBCMGBmjOMI/AAAAAAAAAKY/sSx7ptNPL9A/s320/tweetcirc1967.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My sister</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/TBCN0nj11wI/AAAAAAAAAKo/bHBF2nUvolc/s1600/mecirca1967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="281" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/TBCN0nj11wI/AAAAAAAAAKo/bHBF2nUvolc/s320/mecirca1967.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A long time ago I had my 14th birthday in the week that the Beatles came to (Adelaide) town. I'd venture to say that that particular week was<i> the</i> most exciting and memorable birthday week I've ever had.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The lead up to this momentous event had been a roller-coaster of emotions for Adelaide fans.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">First of all ... shock! horror! ... it was announced that Adelaide had not been included in the Beatles' Australian itinerary! How could this be? It was absolutely devastating! These days if an act as big as the Beatles (are there any?) decided not to visit a particular city, the fans would just hop on a plane and take themselves to the nearest place they <i>were</i> playing. But things were not so easy back in the day. For starters, the cost of a plane ticket was way out of the reach of all, except politicians and business tycoons.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Thank heavens for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bob_Francis_%28radio%29">Bob Francis</a> a local DJ, who organised a petition with the aim of convincing the promoters to add Adelaide to the Australian tour. Eighty-thousand signatures were obtained, which had the desired effect of persuading the organisers that maybe Adelaide was worth including in the itinerary after all.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Well ... the tickets to the 2 concerts sold out in, what seemed like, the blink of an eye ... so many disappointed fans. Then ... hooray! The Department store, John Martin's of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adelaide_Christmas_Pageant">Christmas Pageant</a> fame, stepped into the breach and sponsored a further two concerts.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The picture below is from the book "The Beatles in Australia" by Mark Hayward and shows <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/TBCDPolF2qI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/Q06r8rF3HoM/s1600/Waiting+for+tickets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">people camped in a long queue outside the department store for days before the tickets went on sale ... but ... our Mum (who will be 92 next month) got up very early on the day, caught a bus into the city, parked herself in the queue ... and ... managed to get tickets! She got them for me, 2 of my sisters and 2 of our friends. We were ecstatic, needless to say!</span></a></span></span><br />
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</span></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/TBCDPolF2qI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/Q06r8rF3HoM/s1600/Waiting+for+tickets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/TBCDPolF2qI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/Q06r8rF3HoM/s320/Waiting+for+tickets.jpg" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> My Mum is in this queue somewhere. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Then there were rumours that Ringo was ill and the tour would be cancelled! There was endless speculation about this ... he was sick, he was dying, he wasn't sick, it was just a rumour, he's sick, he's collapsed, he's not sick, he hasn't collapsed, they're not coming, they are are coming ... it was terribly stressful being 14 at that point in time ...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">As it happened Ringo had been taken ill, but the tour was going ahead anyway. A drummer by the name of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jimmie_Nicol">Jimmy Nico</a>l was coming with the other three and would perform in Ringo's place at the 4 Adelaide concerts. History shows that Ringo's absence didn't diminish the enthusiasm of the welcome the Beatles received in Adelaide.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This grainy video captures some of that excitement.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I'd sprained my ankle playing netball the previous Saturday, so I was home from school the day they arrived. I was able to listen to the live radio broadcast of events as they unfolded. I'm not sure why I didn't watch it on TV. Maybe the technology of the time wasn't yet up to beaming live footage into our lounge-rooms? The downside to that, of course, was that I had to hobble to the concert (my very first rock concert!) on a bandaged (and very painful) foot. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We were seated in Row DD at Centennial Hall. We couldn't see much and could hear very little except screaming, but it was the most fantastic experience. And what a birthday present! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I still marvel at the thought of my little Mum lining up to buy us tickets to a rock concert. It says a lot about the appeal the Beatles had across all ages, but I think it says a tremendous amount more about my Mum and her love for all of her (6) girls. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So ... thank you my gorgeous Mum. You are absolutely <i>the</i> best.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">If you were listening carefully to the above video, you would have heard John Lennon being asked if he'd noticed that there were a lot of adults, especially grandmas in the crowds lining the route from the airport into the city. His reply was: "Well I've never seen so many grandmas at once."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Well guess what Beatles, your adoring school-girl fans from way back when <b><i>are</i></b> the grandmas now and ... today ... I've entered a new kind of sixties decade.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Where did all those years go?</span><br />
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</span>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-23649904697628038642010-04-25T12:04:00.011+10:002010-04-25T13:17:56.891+10:00ANZAC Day - A Tribute.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today is ANZAC Day. It's the day we commemorate the disastrous landing of Australian and New Zealand troops on the shores of </span><a href="http://www.anzacsite.gov.au/1landing/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gallipoli</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in 1915.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My father was a born in 1914 at the beginning of The Great War and my mother would enter the world 4 years later, as the 'war to end all wars' was drawing to a close. My father's younger brother, whom the family called Fred, would be born 5 years after my father, on 21 May, 1919.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As we all know of course, The Great War did not turn out to be 'the war to end all wars' and, sadly, the folk of my parents' generation were to find this out all too soon. The Great War became known as World War I and my parents' war, as World War II</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">None of my father's children (6 daughters) got to meet Uncle Fred.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The 2/10th Battalion was the first South Australian battalion formed for the Second AIF. It formally came into being on 13 October 1939. Uncle Fred enlisted on 6 November, 1939 aged 20.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/S9OTeuO7k4I/AAAAAAAAAJk/GGlYa1lVonk/s1600/P00828.004.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/S9OTeuO7k4I/AAAAAAAAAJk/GGlYa1lVonk/s320/P00828.004.jpeg" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This picture is from the </span><a href="http://www.awm.gov.au/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Australian War Memorial</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> website and shows the 2/10th training at Ingleburn in NSW in 1940 before departure for England.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The </span><a href="http://www.awm.gov.au/units/unit_11261.asp"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Australian War Memorial</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> website gives an account of the 2/10th's history stating that the battles it fought in Papua "were its most bitter and costly."</span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The website states that "the 2/10th arrived at Milne Bay on 12 August 1942 and on the night of 27 August was overwhelmed by Japanese marines in a confused battle. The battalion fared even worse in its next engagement – Buna. Between 23 December and 2 January 1943 the 2/10th lost 113 men killed and 205 were wounded in often ill-conceived attacks against Japanese bunkers around the old airstrip. The 2/10th’s final engagement in Papua was at Sanananda between 9 and 24 January 1943." </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Uncle Fred was killed on 21 January 1943. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My mother has often told the story of Uncle Fred and his mate Jimmy enlisting and serving together. Apparently Jimmy died just before Fred, perhaps in the Buna battle. Family lore has it that after Jimmy died Fred was distraught. He felt that he didn't want to go on and began to engage in the risky behaviour, which resulted in his own death a few weeks later.</span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/S9OU8_Q1EoI/AAAAAAAAAJs/B5FGRppMr78/s1600/026679.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/S9OU8_Q1EoI/AAAAAAAAAJs/B5FGRppMr78/s320/026679.jpeg" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These pictures are also from the </span><a href="http://cas.awm.gov.au/item/026679"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Australian War Memorial</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> website. The one above was taken at Milne Bay, Gili Gili, Papua New Guinea in October, 1942. The one below shows Australian troops as they plough through mud and slush in the heart of New Guinea on their way out of a forward area for a well-earned spell.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/S9OatN6_XXI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ReljcSCkOWw/s1600/013290.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/S9OatN6_XXI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/ReljcSCkOWw/s320/013290.jpeg" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;">I wish Uncle Fred could have hung on for a little longer. But ... imagine ... having fought the war for almost 4 years, you lose your best mate while fighting a ruthless enemy, in conditions unimaginable to most of us, and not knowing where or when it would all end ... well I think I'd want to give up too.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The 2/10th returned home on 12 March 1943, just 7 weeks after Uncle Fred died.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So Uncle Fred, we didn't get to know you, but judging by your brothers and sisters, I'm sure you were a lovely young man. You were certainly a very brave young man. There can be no denying that.</span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So little is known of your early life. What were your interests? What did you love to do as a boy, as a teenager, before the War took you away forever? We'll probably never know now. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hope you and Jimmy have been resting in peace all these years, knowing that you fought ... and saved the greatest country on earth. </span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #1b4e6f;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One thing is for sure ... age shall not weary you, nor the years condemn. </span></span></span><br />
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</span></span>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-37160892635636673512010-04-11T12:42:00.003+10:002010-04-11T14:42:08.843+10:00Couscous and Messages<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday (Saturday) I went grocery shopping. This would have to be one of my most unfavourite things to do. I really resent spending good money on trivialities ... like food.</span><br />
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, as I was struggling up the aisle with the stupid shopping trolley (let me just say here that I firmly believe that shopping trolleys were invented by men for the sole purpose of crippling the whole of womankind), I overheard a young teenager talking on his mobile phone:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I've found the couscous," he roared. "Yeah I've found it! ... Yeah, yeah ... d'ya want anything to go with the couscous?" .... Well ... it might be a bit bland on it's own..."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This one-sided conversation replayed itself in my mind over and over during the course of the day and gave me much pause for thought.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I mean ... who had any inkling that young teenage boys (whose voices are still rising and falling at the whim of their hormones) were au fait with words like "bland" ... and ... "couscous", for heavens sake. Hell's bells, I only discovered couscous myself, five minutes ago.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This got me thinking again about how things were when I was a child.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Children in 1950s suburban Australia did something called "the messages". This activity took place after school. It entailed hopping on your bike ... if you were lucky enough to have one ... otherwise you took something called <a href="http://www.wordwebonline.com/en/SHANKSPONY">"Shank's pony"</a> ... and heading off to the corner shop, clutching a coin purse, a string-bag and a list written on the back of an envelope in your hot, sweaty paw.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/S8ElxFpa1EI/AAAAAAAAAIk/MhWDkS4B6b0/s1600/89026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/S8ElxFpa1EI/AAAAAAAAAIk/MhWDkS4B6b0/s200/89026.jpg" width="134" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is a bit like what a string bag looked like back then.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The corner shop ... usually called "the grocer" ... stocked all manner of food items and they were all stored on shelves behind the counter ... no impulse buying in those days. You handed your list to the Grocer or maybe the Grocer's wife, and stood and waited while your string-bag was packed with the things on the list. And ... you can bet your sweet bippy that couscous wouldn't have been in there. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Your after school shopping list usually contained things like a packet of Nurses Cornflour or a half a pound of brown sugar, or maybe even a half a dozen eggs, because the chooks had gone off the lay. The sugar would be scooped out of a huge container and skillfully poured into a brown paper bag, the top of which would be neatly folded over a couple of times and snappily sealed with sticky-tape. The eggs would be individually wrapped in several layers of newspaper, so that they wouldn't break as they were carried home in the string-bag, swinging from the handlebars of your bike.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, there were some things you were rarely sent to the corner shop for such as bread and milk, because these were delivered right to your doorstep every week-day. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our grocery shop was called ... if I'm remembering correctly ... Tyson's ... and was about a kilometre and a half from our house. If you lost your list or forgot what you had to get, you had to go back home and be reminded ... no mobile phones, of course. Heavens, we didn't even have a landline back then.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was in Adelaide late last year and went to visit some of the spots I remembered from my childhood.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/S8EgcKJM8mI/AAAAAAAAAIc/0Ppidv-Vypk/s1600/DSCF2133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/S8EgcKJM8mI/AAAAAAAAAIc/0Ppidv-Vypk/s320/DSCF2133.JPG" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is how Tyson's looks today. Alas, no longer a corner shop ... it of course, got swallowed up in the maw of the gigantic supermarket conglomerates which began making their presence felt in Australia in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Coles_Supermarkets">the early 1960s</a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Such a quaint building. To think that it was once a thriving little business, run by people who knew their customers by name, and who probably prided themselves in personalised, efficient service. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And ... all without a single bone-jarring, muscle-twisting shopping trolley in sight!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sigh ... It does make me yearn for the good old days.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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</span></div>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-48836432297579371082010-04-06T12:16:00.003+10:002010-04-06T15:29:39.648+10:00I'm Back!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes that's right ... I am back.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few things have driven me back this way at this particular time.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first one is a biggy ... GUILT! Does one need to feel guilty about not posting to one's blog for ... can it really be ... almost 10 months? I don't know, but I DO feel guilty. Not surprising perhaps, given that I can feel guilty about THE most trivial things ... eg ... indulging myself by doing things I actually like doing instead of putting them off until I've done all the necessary things, which of course, happen to be things which I don't like doing.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The second thing is that, recently I was reading a post on a list that I subscribe to, about someone who is conducting research into how many abandoned blogs there might be out there in cyberspace. Quick ... get back there ... I thought to myself ... who wants to be featured in someone's research as a "blog abandoner"? Not me that's for sure.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next thing to happen was a disaster with a bottle of soy sauce ... on April Fool's Day ... when else? That caused me to wonder why the hell they don't bottle soy sauce in plastic like they do every other damn thing!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/S7qGX6BcSwI/AAAAAAAAAIM/glD1bP8S1mw/s1600/soysauce02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/S7qGX6BcSwI/AAAAAAAAAIM/glD1bP8S1mw/s320/soysauce02.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That got me thinking about the kind of things I have in my pantry as compared to the kind of things my Mum had in her cupboard when I was a child.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/S7qNr6V17tI/AAAAAAAAAIU/ugfx8vr5sas/s1600/rosellats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/S7qNr6V17tI/AAAAAAAAAIU/ugfx8vr5sas/s200/rosellats.jpg" width="80" /></a><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This and a bottle of Worcestershire sauce would almost certainly have been the only sauces she had. Whereas, I seem to have multitudes, which is probably why the soy fell out and smashed to smithereens when I opened the pantry door on April Fool's Day. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anyway, then I got to thinking about my blog and my rationale for creating it in the first place; which was to look back on how life was for me when I was a child, as compared to how life is for me, my children and grandchildren in this day and age. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Coming fast on the heels of all the above lines of thought, was the realisation that I seem to have retired from full time paid employment ... quite unintentionally. This means I don't have any money ... BUT ... I do have ... wait for it ... SPARE TIME! This means I can indulge in things I like doing more often, because I've managed to get the things I don't like doing, done ... well sort of anyway.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the things I really like doing is Scrapbooking and I recently came across an ebook called <a href="http://www.scrapbookingprofits/">"How to Make Money Scrapbooking"</a> which I found very inspiring. So, I've decided to see if I can do this ... i.e. start a home-based business and make a success of it.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To help keep me motivated I've created another blog, <a href="http://nettie-nettiesnook.blogspot.com/">"Nettie's Nook"</a> which will be, I hope, a chronicle of my successful career as a business owner.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wander over and have a look at <a href="http://nettie-nettiesnook.blogspot.com/">Nettie's Nook</a> and let me know what you think.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><img alt="nettiesig.png" src="webkit-fake-url://A10B1BAA-4736-410D-91DC-87DF5009746C/nettiesig.png" /></div></span>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-53065577274428877442009-06-24T13:09:00.012+10:002009-06-24T14:42:18.132+10:00Fair Suck or Shake!<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Can this be true? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I'm still in bed in the middle of the day! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Alas it is true. I'm sick. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Yesterday I felt worse than I do today, but I didn't stay in bed. I went to the doctor and she gave me the name of what it is that's wrong with me. It's called "labyrinthitis". </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">It's okay, I'm not going to bore you with details of my symptoms, treatment and scars, the way some hypochondriacle people do. Suffice to say I have a virus which is affecting my labyrinth (I didn't even know I possessed such a thing) which is apparently a small bony chamber situated deep in the inner ear. If you have 2 ears, you have 2 labyrinths and they sense, control and maintain the balance of the body. So, this is why I've been feeling (and looking) as though I'm on a nightmarish, never-ending boat trip across Bass Strait.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Well it could be worse I suppose .... I could have the dreaded Swine Flu.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Anyway as I've been lying here trying hard not to move my head, I've been thinking about our Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd. I've been thinking about how he misquoted that gorgeous Aussie ockerism 'Fair suck of the sauce bottle, mate'; and I want to explain why he got it wrong (he said shake instead of suck - in case you're from another planet or country). Crikey has a more indepth explanation <a href="http://www.crikey.com.au/2009/06/12/fair-shake-of-that-sauteed-tomato-preserve-in-a-bottle/">here</a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I reckon he got it wrong because he's a Queenslander! Queenslanders get a lot of things wrong. When I moved to Townsville from Adelaide 23 years ago, I had to learn a whole new language! Well that's what it seemed like, anyway.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">For example: see the picture below? I grew up thinking these were called icy poles or simply iceblocks.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SkGaaQISSTI/AAAAAAAAAFc/LwE9gV0kxFE/s1600-h/pc3c.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 182px; height: 209px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SkGaaQISSTI/AAAAAAAAAFc/LwE9gV0kxFE/s320/pc3c.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350727608089856306" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">When I first arrived in Towsville I discovered that the Queensland name for them was a "By-jingo". Though I must admit I haven't heard that name for some time.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">In Queensland school bags are called "ports"<br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SkGaaFluIvI/AAAAAAAAAFU/D0QtPahUwiQ/s1600-h/School-Bag.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 273px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SkGaaFluIvI/AAAAAAAAAFU/D0QtPahUwiQ/s320/School-Bag.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350727605260526322" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SkGaZ48xTkI/AAAAAAAAAFM/xAiF-CfD2Ss/s1600-h/suitcase.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 309px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SkGaZ48xTkI/AAAAAAAAAFM/xAiF-CfD2Ss/s320/suitcase.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350727601867542082" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Suitcases are also called "ports". Short for portmanteau, I guess.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">And you thought this was called a dressing table, didn't you?<br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SkGZ4V5u_nI/AAAAAAAAAFE/AWhz-xWk6M4/s1600-h/images.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 94px; height: 138px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SkGZ4V5u_nI/AAAAAAAAAFE/AWhz-xWk6M4/s320/images.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350727025523883634" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">No. Up here in sunny, funny Queensland it's called a "Duchess"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;">A street directory is called a "referdex", a freeway is called a "motorway". And cocktail frankfurts? Well, they're called "cheerios" - of course, what else?</span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">But the most devastating discovery I made when I first moved to Queensland is that there is no such thing as 'fritz' here! Oh, there is something which vaguely resembles fritz .... until you remove the packaging. Then you discover that it's not even close to fritz ..... I mean, it has a consistency almost the same as pate and tastes like dog-food even after you've given a "fair shake of the sauce bottle" all over it!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I think I'll start a Facebook group demanding that South Aussie fritz be imported to Queensland!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I mean, fair suck of the sauce bottle fellas!</span></div></div>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-85858618740264485452009-06-21T11:36:00.000+10:002009-06-21T11:37:36.833+10:00<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oom2EPuNPv8&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oom2EPuNPv8&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><br />This is my life now. Don't you love it.?!Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-84160044881489079732009-06-21T10:34:00.001+10:002009-06-21T10:34:57.887+10:00<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SB4HvVEMFig&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SB4HvVEMFig&hl=en&fs=1&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-49471263296317201032009-04-07T15:47:00.011+10:002009-04-25T14:38:10.906+10:00A Nostalgic Trip Without Leaving Home<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">From the time I was about 4 years old until I was almost 11 we lived in a western suburb in <a href="http://www.adelaidecitycouncil.com/scripts/nc.dll?ADCC:HOMEPAGE::pc=HOME">Adelaide.</a></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Our house didn't have a number because there were no other houses in the street and for a long time the road wasn't sealed. We had market gardens opposite us and on one side. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Behind us was a building supply depot, where my father worked and beyond that was the River Torrens. It wasn't the beautiful <a href="http://www.stellaresorts.com.au/south-australia/adelaide-and-surrounds/adelaide/attractions/attraction/tabid/3827/popeye-motor-launches/9001983/default.aspx">Torrens Lake</a> that you see on postcards of Adelaide. This is the part of the river after it has meandered through the city and the lake, and is on it's way down to the sea. No beautiful sculptured gardens here. Just steep, scrubby, banks leading down to the water, which at that point is a narrow muddy creek. Young boys used to catch yabbies there.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Recently, feeling a bit nostalgic, (as I seem to do more and more often these days) I went for a tour around this old neighbourhood. And, thanks to Google maps, I didn't even have to leave Brisbane.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Naturally, after so many years, things have changed and our street is no longer recognisable as the place in which I spent my formative years. Our house is gone! The market gardens have been replaced by commercial and industrial buildings, and the building supply depot has expanded, and appears to have taken over the entire block on our side (northern) of the street.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Luckily, about 10 years ago, I went to visit one of my sisters who still lived in Adelaide at that time, and we did a real tour of this neighbourhood. Things had already changed dramatically, of course, but our house was still there and I was able to get some photographs of it. </span></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SdrqWgQsPZI/AAAAAAAAAEM/243R92_2m4Q/s1600-h/Torrensvillehouse.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></span><img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 210px; " src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SdrqWgQsPZI/AAAAAAAAAEM/243R92_2m4Q/s320/Torrensvillehouse.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321823582029626770" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">This is one of the pictures I took. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;">Sadly, we could see that its days were numbered even then. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">But the thing that was really astonishing, was how small it looked. I had always thought of this house as huge. By the time we left there, my parents' family was complete - six daughters aged from 17 years to 3 years. How on earth did we all fit?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/Sdrp79qO9iI/AAAAAAAAAEE/7Jy_CdcWleo/s1600-h/metwt1954.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 230px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/Sdrp79qO9iI/AAAAAAAAAEE/7Jy_CdcWleo/s320/metwt1954.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321823126064920098" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Here is a picture of me and my younger sister taken at the side of this house, probably not long after we moved there.</span><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/Sdrpfv8fHYI/AAAAAAAAAD8/43iZNP-AMAs/s1600-h/Me1956.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 179px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/Sdrpfv8fHYI/AAAAAAAAAD8/43iZNP-AMAs/s320/Me1956.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321822641347042690" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Here is a picture of me taken in the driveway of that house. I was probably about 5 years old at the time. Check out the car in the garage. Also the clothes prop. This was pre Hills Hoist time.</span><br /><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I have so many memories of living in that house and in that neighbourhood ...... but they'll have to be for another post.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Love,</span></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SdrpEvYjpLI/AAAAAAAAAD0/qtuWrJ6-dlI/s1600-h/nettiesig.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 99px; height: 80px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SdrpEvYjpLI/AAAAAAAAAD0/qtuWrJ6-dlI/s320/nettiesig.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321822177339876530" /></a><br /></div>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-49770863586181944662009-04-04T17:36:00.006+10:002009-04-04T22:10:55.706+10:00A Birthday Card for a Special Friend<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:arial;">Years ago, eons ago in fact, I had a boyfriend with whose Mum I developed a special bond.</span><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I went out with the boyfriend for about 3 years and was even a bridesmaid in his sister's wedding. Eventually the boyfriend took off for adventures in far flung places, never to return. Sometime later I moved to Queensland and after a while I lost touch with his family altogether.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Recently, thanks to the wonders of the internet and social networking sites, I've re-established contact with the said boyfriend. No..... no don't get excited dear reader, he's been married to the same woman for decades.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">Anyway, he told me that he and his wife were coming to Oz for his Mum's 80th birthday. I remembered that her birthday is on 2nd April, so I decided to make her a card.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SdcOLCEWyAI/AAAAAAAAADE/2nLIzxI6Y5A/s1600-h/80bdaycard+copy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SdcOLCEWyAI/AAAAAAAAADE/2nLIzxI6Y5A/s320/80bdaycard+copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320737067458021378" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">This is the front. (Click on pic to see an enlarged view).</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I made it using Creative Memories papers and tools. The ribbon is from a pack of 6 rolls from the Warehouse. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SdcOKGRN5FI/AAAAAAAAAC8/b2Pdy1y18A8/s1600-h/80bdaycardinside+copy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 308px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SdcOKGRN5FI/AAAAAAAAAC8/b2Pdy1y18A8/s320/80bdaycardinside+copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320737051405837394" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">This is the inside of the card. I should acknowledge that the quotation is by Adele Basheer.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I posted it off to his Mum last Saturday and enclosed pictures of Emma and the Grandies. I received an email from the friend who said that the card had arrived at his Mum's the day before her birthday "and she's still crying". I hope she's not crying because she thinks the card is horrible. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I like making cards, because you get almost instant gratification. You know what I mean ..... it's just a short time span between starting the card and having a finished product.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><br /></span></div>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-36276138617954115702009-03-28T21:35:00.015+10:002009-03-28T22:31:48.606+10:00Where the Wild Things Are<embed src="http://www.trailerspy.com/movie-trailers/videoplayer.swf" flashvars="config=http://www.trailerspy.com/movie-trailers/flvplayer.php?viewkey=99888de32da1ec83ff50" quality="high" bgcolor="#000000" width="641" height="360" loop="false" align="middle" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" scale="exactfit"></embed><br /><div><br /></div><div>This is a trailer from <a href="http://www.trailerspy.com/trailer/3117/Where-the-Wild-Things-Are-Trailer-HD">TrailerSpy</a></div><div><br />I'm amazed that this book hasn't been made into a movie before now. Written by Maurice Sendak in 1963 the book is about the imaginary adventures of a young boy named Max, who is punished for being naughty by being sent to his room without supper. Apparently there was an animated version released in 1973, with an updated version of this released on 1988. See <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Where_The_Wild_Things_Are">Wikipedia</a><div><br /></div><div>Although the book was written for children, there is some doubt about whether or not the movie version will be suitable for little ones.<div><br /></div><div>The release date for Australia is December 10, 2009.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thank you to Ruth at <a href="http://skerricks.blogspot.com/">Skerricks</a> , whose blog highlighting ideas and inspirations for school libraries, I follow avidly. Ruth had this trailer on her blog and I wanted to see if I could work out how to put it onto mine as well...... </div><div><br /></div><div>........ And I have. I'm feeling very chuffed.</div></div></div>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-10202647122035148432009-03-11T12:37:00.005+10:002009-03-11T13:40:35.254+10:00RIP kitchen garden :-(<div><br /></div>Oh dear ..... sigh. The kitchen garden has gone to wherever it is kitchen garden plants go when life expires. Not sure what happened, but suspect it could be that the potting soil was all wrong. Why do I suspect that? Well...... Jeb decided to use the soil that was left over, to give a boost to some bare patches around the edges of the back lawn. <div><br /></div><div>For days the tantalising (?) aroma of chook poo permeated the house and, possibly, the entire suburb. We thought that was probably ok. Chook poo's a good fertilizer right? After a while the smell disappeared (or were we in fact suffering from olfactory fatigue by that stage?), but we noticed that large patches around the edge of the lawn had taken on a distinctly dry, seared look - as in, dead. These were the very same patches that had been treated with the soil we'd used for the kitchen garden! </div><div><br /></div><div>We had noticed that the lettuce plants were looking a little sickly a couple of days after planting them out, but told ourselves that they had gone into "shock" and would rally once they got used to their new bed. Sadly this was not to be. They curled up their leaves, turned a beigy colour and kind of disintegrated. I just hope their deaths were not too agonising, poor things.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sorry, I haven't taken any pictures of the carnage we've wreaked. Too sad. Back to buying, and wasting, lettuce for a while at least. And I won't be writing about gardens again ...... too embarrassing.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-91872204203708106832009-03-02T14:10:00.007+10:002009-03-02T15:11:56.539+10:00A Mini Kitchen Garden is Born<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SatlNBVK7vI/AAAAAAAAABI/_zLTCm5HI_0/s1600-h/DSCF1677.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SatlNBVK7vI/AAAAAAAAABI/_zLTCm5HI_0/s320/DSCF1677.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308447860156198642" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div>Lettuce...... I wonder how many tonnes I've thrown away in my lifetime.<div><br /></div><div>I don't really like lettuce all that much. I tend to buy lettuce only when we're in the grip of a major heat-wave. Once the weather cools a little my desire for salads cools right along with it, and the lettuce gets shoved to the back of the fridge. Here it might turn into a dreadful mushy mess or, alternatively, a green icy ball. It depends on what mood my fridge happens to be in at any given time.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's the same with herbs. I'm just an ordinary cook but occasionally I'll be inspired by some luscious looking dish in a magazine or recipe book. This will invariably be a dish which requires a teaspoon (no more, no less) of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">fresh </span>(on no account should the dried variety be used) coriander or something. So I dutifully buy some sprigs (you can't just buy one sprig), chop up the teaspoonful and put the rest away for another day. The trouble is that by the time another day comes along (usually 3 or 4 weeks later) the coriander, or whatever, has turned itself into the dried variety, which on no account must you use for the said luscious dish.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, finding ourselves teetering on the brink of financial ruin (possibly a slight exaggeration), thanks to the GFC, my son and I decided that there was only one course of action to be taken. No more wasting food and/or money for us. A kitchen garden is what we need.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-63398461853569650192009-02-28T21:17:00.000+10:002009-02-28T21:26:01.836+10:00My Sister and Me<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SakeJbB-9_I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BQFZWXdpRgo/s1600-h/tweetme+lunapk+copy1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 270px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_jghjMlS42D8/SakeJbB-9_I/AAAAAAAAAA4/BQFZWXdpRgo/s320/tweetme+lunapk+copy1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307806783056574450" /></a><br />Wanted to try adding pictures to my posts, so here is my first one I hope. It's a picture of me and my blogging sister. It was taken in a photo booth at Luna Park in Melbourne in 1972. Aren't we just gorgeous? That's me on the left.Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2689440741629299606.post-24811688461454361722009-02-28T15:24:00.000+10:002009-02-28T16:25:42.155+10:00First PostI've been following my sister's blog since she created it some time ago, and I've watched in awe as her first tentative postings morphed into really witty, creative and newsy pieces of writing. <div><br /><div>She and I live on the opposite sides of the continent and, although we talk on the phone reasonably often, it's been difficult for me to get a real sense of how her life has been going. We had not actually seen each other face to face for about 28 years until I made the trip to her city in 2006. I've made 2 more trips since, but of necessity they've been short stays - not long enough to do all the catching up that needs to be done.</div><div><br /></div><div>For instance, I had no idea that she was so gifted artistically until she created her blog. I knew that she had created beautiful albums of family photographs, because I'd seen them when I'd visited. Now, on her blog she posts, among other things pics, of the journal pages (or are they artists trading cards?) she has been creating, and I think they are absolutely gorgeous. As I said, I had no idea that she was so talented.</div><div><br /></div><div>So, I've decided to follow my sister's lead and join the blogosphere too. I don't imagine for one minute that I'll be able to match her wit and creativity - I'm not even going to try. But I get so much enjoyment from reading her blog that I've decided that family members and friends might enjoy seeing and hearing what I've been doing too.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have 5 sisters and we're spread all over the continent, so this is for them and anyone else who might find the blathering of a rapidly aging Baby-boomer a little bit entertaining.</div></div>Nettiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00263822493403934722noreply@blogger.com2