tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7682565664624140322024-03-18T22:48:50.250+13:00The Paddock<br>Welcome!Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.comBlogger1434125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-39038704104939133562024-03-09T14:08:00.003+13:002024-03-09T14:08:28.884+13:00The engagement<p>The room chosen for the happy occasion was really lovely in the early evening light but proved difficult for me to get any decent photos. Mind you, that's my fault. I'm falling out of love with my camera. Between my not so sharp eyesight and dodgy memory I have trouble with settings, etc. I think I'll stick to the phone. </p><p>Amyway, this is the room.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1QRA_C0B8Th-_iD8IVhtIJg8v-v2rSmvA-L2KcdrHqBEmjCRSoPKZfPEjlMfNfjnw_EHJ_TC8_5qr-v3tYGnJAgJT_X0vKarb7wJfxuBquroShj1T6iFxQ_zK5bF5BV1kmVW4I1W8CGgSGN7VEL827PvU5lrxZvcR15iXGnPprhVEPayvrPCZbBK07wH8/s800/symonds%20court.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1QRA_C0B8Th-_iD8IVhtIJg8v-v2rSmvA-L2KcdrHqBEmjCRSoPKZfPEjlMfNfjnw_EHJ_TC8_5qr-v3tYGnJAgJT_X0vKarb7wJfxuBquroShj1T6iFxQ_zK5bF5BV1kmVW4I1W8CGgSGN7VEL827PvU5lrxZvcR15iXGnPprhVEPayvrPCZbBK07wH8/w400-h300/symonds%20court.jpg" width="400" /></a></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">Photo courtesy of Symonds Court <br /></p><p>The happy occasion was the engagement of my oldest grandson, My Michael and his lovely, Rose. They are such a lovely couple. Love them to bits.<br /></p><p>Here they are pouring drinks for their guests.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE9Z-tmF7JKvvoMqXND7UUHin0kT29lB6EJVQvKQeozZyQm95V-zMm_HgbwAH-SLmZLxzAclHJt4j55dGjTsNviyE5uDp7t-7ppnLKcOXg-CMHBTOfBbV0A0785e9PK4S32qYCG9UE4Q0EugZ-lp_a5-hlsvsfup2VZvY26_x117xywehakX3yW6rBA_SH/s5472/pouring.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE9Z-tmF7JKvvoMqXND7UUHin0kT29lB6EJVQvKQeozZyQm95V-zMm_HgbwAH-SLmZLxzAclHJt4j55dGjTsNviyE5uDp7t-7ppnLKcOXg-CMHBTOfBbV0A0785e9PK4S32qYCG9UE4Q0EugZ-lp_a5-hlsvsfup2VZvY26_x117xywehakX3yW6rBA_SH/w400-h266/pouring.JPG" width="400" /></a></p><p>I'd like to add , "In other news" but there is none.<br /></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-28159172658391961112024-03-01T13:33:00.004+13:002024-03-01T13:46:27.046+13:00Tennis <p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Home again, home again jiggety jig.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Only for one night, then away for the weekend to celebrate my grandson's engagement. Only an occasion as important as that would get me on the road again so soon.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Aiden is keen on tennis, a sport I played a lot when his age. I took him to a coaching session and since then have been reflecting on how different things were back in the day. No-one taught us how to play any sport but I was lucky to live next door to tennis courts where all the youngsters in the street played. Best playground ever! We watched the older kids who were good players and tried to do what they did. Peter Wilson was my tennis idol; my friend, Marie wanted to emulate her brother, John. Oh, I can still remember the two of us sitting on the sideline, breathless with anticipation, when Peter played John.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Marie and I, and two boys from our class were the school tennis team and played in a schools competition around Brisbane. Every Saturday we'd either be at the school courts or finding our way around Brisbane by train or bus to play. I don't think the parents of any of us ever saw us play except for us just playing for fun on the courts next door. Mum might have glanced out the kitchen window occasionally but usually when she did it was to see if I was playing and tell me to come and do some chore or other when that game finished.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The older kids were patient with the younger ones and we knew we were improving when an older child invited you to play with them. Names long forgotten have been popping into my head since I started thinking back on it all. There was never any formal draws of who we played with or against but somehow we sorted it out. We didn't appreciate it then but I think Forrest Street may have been a very special place to be a child.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">As always when in Taranaki, I tried several times to get a great photo of the mountain. This one was a quick click before I went inside to get my camera.</span><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2CyLsY27-gAgj5HgWiBnb8oSZttw3NpWezfOObAXumuUI8IAzizxJ6RYXnR8d-5aoFh4Axypmsx1_85lFXzT0nCbaAO6x3qACMflmbCayCTlrMRhIVkzPVScmlv7AyNt8rL3vZf2o2Txbpuw0QCBrpqokPe8LvzB1b3pp7z9Mzo23faTGm4HMbKwA73Gq/s1092/feb%202024.jpg" style="font-family: verdana; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="1092" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2CyLsY27-gAgj5HgWiBnb8oSZttw3NpWezfOObAXumuUI8IAzizxJ6RYXnR8d-5aoFh4Axypmsx1_85lFXzT0nCbaAO6x3qACMflmbCayCTlrMRhIVkzPVScmlv7AyNt8rL3vZf2o2Txbpuw0QCBrpqokPe8LvzB1b3pp7z9Mzo23faTGm4HMbKwA73Gq/w640-h408/feb%202024.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm falling out of love with my camera. I struggle with finding the correct setting, sometimes my memory is the problem, at other times it's my eyesight. I think I'll just stick with the phone. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This shot is taken with my camera. I like the phone shot better.</span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj88quh2p2BITjnU0lwo1IylzZLNe_PoddKRxiVAZckrn6ZCSPWwhcz9ZwBLXpRmrmn1WT7zJMVtSJz-NpgOZJBZRLl2-846DxaJUUXZodItc1ELjAdY4NmBPk0ibFg-kfuezA1fXAk-5NIiNo4MrRvQrLW2onCGHoK6CRMu_icJHn42MNgu4qTtyC6wPiq/s5472/sunset%20feb%202024.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj88quh2p2BITjnU0lwo1IylzZLNe_PoddKRxiVAZckrn6ZCSPWwhcz9ZwBLXpRmrmn1WT7zJMVtSJz-NpgOZJBZRLl2-846DxaJUUXZodItc1ELjAdY4NmBPk0ibFg-kfuezA1fXAk-5NIiNo4MrRvQrLW2onCGHoK6CRMu_icJHn42MNgu4qTtyC6wPiq/w640-h426/sunset%20feb%202024.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-24906313377540389062024-02-18T14:15:00.000+13:002024-02-18T14:15:04.409+13:00A short summer<p>Gosh, it's been an age since I last posted. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Autumn will be here in a couple of weeks, this has surely been the shortest summer that I can remember.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I've never before fallen victim to a summer illness and I hope to never do so again. Since the end of December I've had nearly 2 weeks of being well, the rest of it is a bit of a blur. My doctor's diagnosis? A really nasty virus that we don't have a name for right now. When I haven't been coughing and aching, I've been sleeping. Apparently, I am "blessed" that I've been able to sleep so much. All I can say is anyone who doesn't have the natural sleeping abilities I've been given must be awfully tired.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">But to look on the bright side I live in a caring community and have had a steady stream of visitors just popping their head around the door to see if I need anything. And I'm now responding nicely to the third round of antibiotics which although can have some not so nice side effects, have been quite magical as far as I'm concerned. I even have my voice back and although it is not totally reliable, most of the time it works.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">In the midst of my misery (yeah, I know, just slightly over-dramatic!) a dear friend was killed in a tragic car accident, a couple of days before my birthday. I will miss him.<br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">I'm thankful that I've improved in time to have a trip to Taranaki to spend some time with my grandson while his parents are away. His father will be in Canada to spend time with his father who is celebrating his 80th birthday and his mother will be on a quick trip to Melbourne.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Roll on autumn, my favourite time of year, when the weather if the most settled, long sunny days and cooler nights. I'm ready.</p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-50305068099195630552024-01-23T13:02:00.000+13:002024-01-23T13:02:51.200+13:00A week without her<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was too emotional a week ago to write about my sadness when she left. But now I can look back at the time little Emilia was here with gratitude and joy. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I've always been a bit dotty about my grand-children and it seems I get more so as I age. Along with the rest of the family, I'd long ago given up hope of my younger son settling down and having children. Then, just before he turned 50 he stumbled into fatherhood and he's the first to admit it's the best thing that ever happened to him. He's been the primary caregiver and is an amazing father. Emilia is now three and a half and is a bright, happy, confident and outgoing child who is fluent in both her native Portuguese and English and is growing confident in Italian as her mother has Italian heritage. It amazes me how she can switch so easily from one language to another. I've had no previous experience with bi-lingual children and their ability to absorb learning. It's impressive.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Like her father, she is a water baby. She just loves the beach.<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP8o6r1pPscJStM50a5HkY-UEwqHzIgc4sx-HNhdWO5tIZ8gDHvCf6_x3PEU7HRf0Jdt3vatYPu9QI3rWtuFEvrT_o1T-_cxeDqix-Axl9Ohm-5MtYKbVbHw1eiDfxV3rzku9d5R4pExmTPjzyl6Sx5L39v5dhe_2r7M4nEY9-ne5eM1VfuYNEUKwJ0BO-/s2048/ready%20for%20swim.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP8o6r1pPscJStM50a5HkY-UEwqHzIgc4sx-HNhdWO5tIZ8gDHvCf6_x3PEU7HRf0Jdt3vatYPu9QI3rWtuFEvrT_o1T-_cxeDqix-Axl9Ohm-5MtYKbVbHw1eiDfxV3rzku9d5R4pExmTPjzyl6Sx5L39v5dhe_2r7M4nEY9-ne5eM1VfuYNEUKwJ0BO-/w480-h640/ready%20for%20swim.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBaxqQxCK4HJj6M_SGWQzBImexwzNFM_HFcrjclC7EYZopOuIbPEpEwu8Z4pblu_-Zu_W4zTHS5kqorMFBvrNwLh8xUK0Xj_aW2oMw8YWCzyaCbNxG1jVvshb_197Jx1bYgJqVBfRDgR7KazkjQ4dz3YvIK5ueZvccdWx_0wi2B4zeLCXsNLNF_BRT1HyK/s1202/buried%20in%20sand4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="674" data-original-width="1202" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBaxqQxCK4HJj6M_SGWQzBImexwzNFM_HFcrjclC7EYZopOuIbPEpEwu8Z4pblu_-Zu_W4zTHS5kqorMFBvrNwLh8xUK0Xj_aW2oMw8YWCzyaCbNxG1jVvshb_197Jx1bYgJqVBfRDgR7KazkjQ4dz3YvIK5ueZvccdWx_0wi2B4zeLCXsNLNF_BRT1HyK/w640-h358/buried%20in%20sand4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5CeBHIlpOrFaptd2oluh3N_dL0vv6FR0U3aP-YxoW1_kHniRb_2UVU-JuBwUBIBOBzrEUfUnuyxtgSLl52vGnxLUxIBaK23t4Zyxyj86mDuGn4e_JWI682ynUUogVcgZGOT2Fd3iH6Ocd8gxsgwBUByovynb7XP60FqecOsl0UuUlllfwVzK0gM1EY46O/s1600/wiht%20l%20and%20j.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5CeBHIlpOrFaptd2oluh3N_dL0vv6FR0U3aP-YxoW1_kHniRb_2UVU-JuBwUBIBOBzrEUfUnuyxtgSLl52vGnxLUxIBaK23t4Zyxyj86mDuGn4e_JWI682ynUUogVcgZGOT2Fd3iH6Ocd8gxsgwBUByovynb7XP60FqecOsl0UuUlllfwVzK0gM1EY46O/w480-h640/wiht%20l%20and%20j.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">with her two aunts</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrD-VT6g5tw5kcOnPuUgWL9r1x8PDLBhvW-aI6EY8bwySfCLLLmNtfGwqBLRHkOlxyK7mmLNve7u1ftwVbYV5TyzLk16FoxD9SFJbB4YSJI60qe6IyDASG-yqRlYHc9jS8UjSCSFLhPdvySkHSEiKZANIn3UtLIEeoO4MIGV2pi6Qdy7RVf3-uO1qSBmHN/s1280/meet%20franklin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="934" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrD-VT6g5tw5kcOnPuUgWL9r1x8PDLBhvW-aI6EY8bwySfCLLLmNtfGwqBLRHkOlxyK7mmLNve7u1ftwVbYV5TyzLk16FoxD9SFJbB4YSJI60qe6IyDASG-yqRlYHc9jS8UjSCSFLhPdvySkHSEiKZANIn3UtLIEeoO4MIGV2pi6Qdy7RVf3-uO1qSBmHN/w468-h640/meet%20franklin.jpg" width="468" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Emilia with my younger daughter meeting Franklin. Franklin originally belonged to Georgia and when she went to boarding school, she gave him to my grandson, Aiden. He's 15 or 16 years old. The turtle that is, Aiden will be 13 in a few days.</span></div></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbumE6SEyg8TpUV8w0GKQw1cfKSM5gcbwUkyj6bjeWfQBrOHBh0vwgFo78O2mYyxoImdgyB6eZxH7EzTwidwPP4e9434HUxGZwLGpA5A1NU_8HqoGPpXEu2dp8D3Cf93oxGU77W-sE1NwM3QIERCJmtPPsPFEXNOKFANxRZJaE9L7_4Ufd-7SUKbv9niEm/s1600/Bern%20and%20Em%20resting%20Jan%2024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbumE6SEyg8TpUV8w0GKQw1cfKSM5gcbwUkyj6bjeWfQBrOHBh0vwgFo78O2mYyxoImdgyB6eZxH7EzTwidwPP4e9434HUxGZwLGpA5A1NU_8HqoGPpXEu2dp8D3Cf93oxGU77W-sE1NwM3QIERCJmtPPsPFEXNOKFANxRZJaE9L7_4Ufd-7SUKbv9niEm/w400-h300/Bern%20and%20Em%20resting%20Jan%2024.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Dad and daughter taking it easy after a hard day climbing mountains. <br /></div></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-32338877237779662822024-01-19T13:17:00.014+13:002024-01-19T13:27:08.604+13:00The duck<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A 14th anniversary may not sound very important but this one is to me, mainly because I actually remembered it. But the thing is I remember it today but by the time it actually arrives on 23rd I will no doubt have forgotten it again.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's my blogging anniversary I'm talking about. It's hard to believe it's been that long and that in that time I've posted 1429 posts. That's a pretty good average considering how infrequently I think of something to post these days.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Regardless of how seldom I post I will continue to do so as my blog is such a good diary of those years, it holds so many happy memories for me, especially of those early years when I spent hours playing with my grand-daughter, Georgia, who will be 21 this year. We spent so many happy hours together in my kitchen, it's no surprise she still works with food and made me a very yummy chocolate log for Christmas. Others might think what a funny gift but for both of us it held so much significance. And then we both had the pleasure of sharing it with the rest of the family.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Below is my first post, a story about little Georgia.</span></p><div class="post-header" style="text-align: justify;">
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">
Georgia
stood on one leg, hips akimbo, peering at the structure before her.
She tapped the toes of one foot , as her head descended almost to her
chest and she leaned forward, a frown growing on her face. Her dark
eyes grew even darker and her lips, pressed tightly together now, were
hardly visible.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finally she muttered, “Something is wrong here!
Where has that duck gone? It was there yesterday. I put it to bed. It
needs lots of sleep before our trip.”</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Suddenly Georgia collapsed into a heap, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He’s gone to Brazil without me!” she wailed.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Georgia’s
granny left her job digging for worms in the garden. “What’s up,
Georgie Pie? I have the worms for your duck now. Look, they are lovely
fat juicy ones! Come, come now. Tell me what’s wrong.”</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">“Doofus has gone to Brazil without me!” Georgia repeated.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">“No, no, I’m sure he hasn’t. He’s a lovely duck, he wouldn’t do that. Who would feed him worms?”</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">“I don’t know! But he’s gone!” sniffled Georgia.</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">“I’m
sure he hasn’t”, replied Granny. “Let’s look carefully. Is he under
the bed? No! Maybe he is in the cupboard. No! Is he sitting in a
chair? No! Come on, Georgia, help me look for him. That’s a good
girl!”</span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Finally, when nearly every object inside the big box had
been moved aside, looked under and returned to it’s correct spot,
Georgia yelped with delight as she spotted her golden duck nestled
cosily under Love Heart Bear. With her 5 year old fingers she carefully
picked up the little duck and placed him in the palm of her other hand.
She stroked it gently, gave it a fairy kiss, curled her fingers around
it tightly, lifted her arm and flung the duck into the air. The duck
landed heavily on the other side of the garden. “Nope”, announced
Georgia, “He can’t fly yet. When he can we will go to Brazil!”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A few of my followers go back a long way and may remember Georgia. Here she is now with her boyfriend. She still has that lovely shy (and just a little bit cheeky) smile.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM4n5iVDu7YImFtfXOBa4BPvEmWuNVg0motqeAgHbVzkT2E0vobHT3G4B2OEg3IJ92wSoF0IU9hH0ImneDfVryHiQxaJKs_SkSjoOrfMCH-8LBYa7ThVD85wvUDgz9Rcx9alqArKn0TKmc6rMPow8-5Z98JbtnjOedcMhgcEJ0WJlP69PEkEUb5wzirbvo/s1718/geo%20and%20dylan.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1718" data-original-width="1366" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM4n5iVDu7YImFtfXOBa4BPvEmWuNVg0motqeAgHbVzkT2E0vobHT3G4B2OEg3IJ92wSoF0IU9hH0ImneDfVryHiQxaJKs_SkSjoOrfMCH-8LBYa7ThVD85wvUDgz9Rcx9alqArKn0TKmc6rMPow8-5Z98JbtnjOedcMhgcEJ0WJlP69PEkEUb5wzirbvo/w318-h400/geo%20and%20dylan.jpg" width="318" /></a></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-16561480302163490752024-01-02T18:07:00.000+13:002024-01-02T18:07:16.083+13:00Christmas <p style="text-align: justify;">One of my brothers, after every family gathering, would ask the question, "Who had the most fun?" Nine times out of 10 the answer would be one of the youngest children.</p><p style="text-align: left;">When I asked myself this question after our family Christmas get together, Emilia was definitely the answer. She had arrived in the country on Christmas Day and we'd allowed a few days for her and her parents to get over their jet lag before setting the date for "our" Christmas. As my family grows with grandchildren now having partners, that allowed them to spend time with their "others halves" families, too. I didn't care how long it took to find a time when we could all be together, the wait was worth it.</p><p style="text-align: left;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYwfwXAaIfMX5ocVBYXs4syrAaAYqv-53YP-eAy4dvjWLjrPTt1xV6lzx0-547SPJstZYQg1Q-13hkCI_8Jb-1whsg39AYCU-UjujgowSO6ksMa1rX2nOavW6QmBDwWnmR9d2Bf5OrkLLPVvRyouXogcIhzBOdudbpCqqzuv6qimS3nmgYLej3VUIBTtq5/s2048/group.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYwfwXAaIfMX5ocVBYXs4syrAaAYqv-53YP-eAy4dvjWLjrPTt1xV6lzx0-547SPJstZYQg1Q-13hkCI_8Jb-1whsg39AYCU-UjujgowSO6ksMa1rX2nOavW6QmBDwWnmR9d2Bf5OrkLLPVvRyouXogcIhzBOdudbpCqqzuv6qimS3nmgYLej3VUIBTtq5/w640-h480/group.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"> My 4 generations. So proud.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">It was just wonderful having all my family together. They all get along so well together, they make my heart sing. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hbn8YLYinzxZBsY7U2DqAeA9QI2w4S4Gxzm_jvA_ZRMAmiUOeXMVlYf15I2Cd6PVXATlBmXmgCgOOtrnePXvOOiNPDe5me7jY5qqkDEOyLK_VINrC4tZLVB9JAY8RU_IDaX6xvMS0ozfJhsDVIp8yWws9EdSFUseYX-h7jBi1A5UV4EJzeeIEZysmfUM/s1974/4%20kids%20sitting.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1285" data-original-width="1974" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hbn8YLYinzxZBsY7U2DqAeA9QI2w4S4Gxzm_jvA_ZRMAmiUOeXMVlYf15I2Cd6PVXATlBmXmgCgOOtrnePXvOOiNPDe5me7jY5qqkDEOyLK_VINrC4tZLVB9JAY8RU_IDaX6xvMS0ozfJhsDVIp8yWws9EdSFUseYX-h7jBi1A5UV4EJzeeIEZysmfUM/w640-h416/4%20kids%20sitting.jpg" width="640" /></a> </p><p style="text-align: center;">My 4 children relaxing in a quiet corner after lunch</p><p style="text-align: justify;">But first it was all hands on deck to prepare the meal to which everyone had contributed. As the saying goes, many hands make light work and somehow with not a lot of planning, it all comes together. Someone said, "Freeze" and the kitchen staff at the time, me with my daughter-in-law and daughter complied. Even my son who was handing something in through the servery window, looks to be complying although he hadn't heard the order.<br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vhKhmvtZ18yQHeyvlRMgfjA6Jam2Whn08HKff3PTiPt1n5kPZmEIkrZwQbtSYM0WMznL0NZDf1cgOdWnpvMSsSXWfJgke1o9gH7nk6f8fH-NzsaJF1ivHsGd8s0ksgpwAp8cyMwbCSYYVDZz02UE4rH1urmWsLN0BZnRO0epJSYhIHdXXzYl2G7FHGST/s2048/kitchen%20hands.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2vhKhmvtZ18yQHeyvlRMgfjA6Jam2Whn08HKff3PTiPt1n5kPZmEIkrZwQbtSYM0WMznL0NZDf1cgOdWnpvMSsSXWfJgke1o9gH7nk6f8fH-NzsaJF1ivHsGd8s0ksgpwAp8cyMwbCSYYVDZz02UE4rH1urmWsLN0BZnRO0epJSYhIHdXXzYl2G7FHGST/w640-h426/kitchen%20hands.jpg" width="640" /></a></p><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaW6-OJNRdUukbREGGtxyFfF3UK4xPO9pLdyQ0P6Q2b5mUDauJWvp6IZxyeob1d-MJdspiaDBrGQJH0Ch38G6W-07zOPyxrY5VG8qhx6uD9-ORMmlqk2gAq0ZQKe-zM0VOrPUwymuP8YRfMzC5UOvaY4LgiLyrfKQ0s1px12CTFr25uZlEqpVbyt6OtdNe/s2048/lexis%20and%20emilia.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1366" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaW6-OJNRdUukbREGGtxyFfF3UK4xPO9pLdyQ0P6Q2b5mUDauJWvp6IZxyeob1d-MJdspiaDBrGQJH0Ch38G6W-07zOPyxrY5VG8qhx6uD9-ORMmlqk2gAq0ZQKe-zM0VOrPUwymuP8YRfMzC5UOvaY4LgiLyrfKQ0s1px12CTFr25uZlEqpVbyt6OtdNe/w426-h640/lexis%20and%20emilia.jpg" width="426" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Lexis, my 8 year old great-grand-daughter with 3 year grand-daughter, Emilia. Lexis had presented Emilia with a pretty party dress that no longer fits her.</p><p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTDnuIpxKuB047WAeVHKjN6oshLGj60dapWTGXqNCDJahrjDWcnItknBzNLwUS1oQnHEYF3xHH4Ap_OqwjLTsVX6SYrn_IY3e6LhrnJED4Fcqms7BZnJ6JGpNqK55MfzD_5V0ll5C-tST1ajhHeaiRafaNcJWQKGBWZUSccQDffkUXd_fXW2sPDrqPyPii/s1548/Emilia%20iceblock.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1548" data-original-width="696" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTDnuIpxKuB047WAeVHKjN6oshLGj60dapWTGXqNCDJahrjDWcnItknBzNLwUS1oQnHEYF3xHH4Ap_OqwjLTsVX6SYrn_IY3e6LhrnJED4Fcqms7BZnJ6JGpNqK55MfzD_5V0ll5C-tST1ajhHeaiRafaNcJWQKGBWZUSccQDffkUXd_fXW2sPDrqPyPii/w180-h400/Emilia%20iceblock.jpg" width="180" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBoYVQUXqWBIz2S40xgGATaR_1dLyTvyJVnQhDAMBx0xd85hg1QFhiGnl3gwjNKM4m0MZmRucpVhjQmIkjilUysjfkCcIcNuDQHQbMDjLzcI3NffHHJCR_8SWAluYEYW4DqK3qcZt089KdkPC1TqPqonosEPz72yfp6Hovm0wPpWj2nESvQ8DIBcUvHh97/s2002/emilia%20ooenin%20g.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2002" data-original-width="1275" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBoYVQUXqWBIz2S40xgGATaR_1dLyTvyJVnQhDAMBx0xd85hg1QFhiGnl3gwjNKM4m0MZmRucpVhjQmIkjilUysjfkCcIcNuDQHQbMDjLzcI3NffHHJCR_8SWAluYEYW4DqK3qcZt089KdkPC1TqPqonosEPz72yfp6Hovm0wPpWj2nESvQ8DIBcUvHh97/w255-h400/emilia%20ooenin%20g.jpg" width="255" /></a></p><p>Then, after gifts had been given and received, the sitting room tidied, and everyone had moved outside to the patio to enjoy a very pleasant summer's day, my daughter walked back inside to this sight. She must have been exhausted after all the excitement.<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiniaozR6xlf1xBX6z-XDZXXN3MUJ5NPZ49_k4gDW_UIX5nK3HileKrC9ZWIr_zqpqggXXnh-OrfPgXFt7tpdnI2jDpVQawtbDxSe6sCf06CzArHLCfOMGN53QJR5VKGHrdroKpVjQzVBNMYIIIqY4le6_onqarc7tyj8xHIDtU_cgP9MxGO_wIwnM5qqQ/s1706/emilia%20after.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1221" data-original-width="1706" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiniaozR6xlf1xBX6z-XDZXXN3MUJ5NPZ49_k4gDW_UIX5nK3HileKrC9ZWIr_zqpqggXXnh-OrfPgXFt7tpdnI2jDpVQawtbDxSe6sCf06CzArHLCfOMGN53QJR5VKGHrdroKpVjQzVBNMYIIIqY4le6_onqarc7tyj8xHIDtU_cgP9MxGO_wIwnM5qqQ/w640-h458/emilia%20after.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I know how she felt. Two days later I came down with a heavy cold which I am still fighting. No New Year celebrations for me. I am missing out on Emilia time so am taking very good care of myself in order to get back into grand-mothering fitness. <br /></div><p></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-54418711838210731972023-12-23T13:52:00.001+13:002023-12-23T14:48:03.709+13:00Christmas<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">There were photos taken and I've seen a couple of videos but there are none in my possession. Honest. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">But if you have an active imagination, picture a group of 'senior' women who live in a retirement village decked out in black pants, red Christmassy tops, funny hats and white shoes providing the entertainment at a Christmas function. Line dancing no less. As Miranda's mum would say, "Such fun!"</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And, despite our nerves, it really was fun. Our audience were most appreciative. And we were the seven happiest women at the event when it was all over. No-one messed up too badly, the majority of the time we were in step.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Christmas is fast approaching - can't wait. Unless something untoward happens we will have a full family muster, including our three family members from Brasil. My arms are practically aching to wrap around little Emilia.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It seems like I've been sewing every day for months. Back in October our Social Club decided we should raise some money to go towards our Christmas dinner so a Craft Group was formed. I contributed by crocheting some granny squares for a blanket that we raffled, and a crocheted baby blanket and by sewing. No sooner was that all done than it was time to start on making gifts for the family for Christmas. These days as our family is expanding the adults do a Secret Santa but I pull rank and like to make a little gift for everyone. I love it. It's a really happy time for me. I pick up cheap material during the year from op shops. This year I was in the right place at the right time when one of the residents in the village had three duvet covers with matching pillow cases for sale - for $10 a set. The set I nabbed is king size so there has been a lot of material to play with. There's still plenty left. I think I might brighten my sitting room in the new year with new cushion covers.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPW6ynlJL0b6QdcOI4XurM8aLLuaz4og7K9tLr60I018eF8eOOy_E3EEyvC6ogx1msyP3ey6xqJoFDK5iavUSgMmGKejVkEPHETf91ctWbnD1p7LGmglxNV5Ll6r27VM9SRK4BLgZVhwkNNImx36_p54L56jBtgnAHC65VmFMZPFgua2dZWDvtewuoN7-7/s5472/Table%20runner%20and%20cushion%20cover.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPW6ynlJL0b6QdcOI4XurM8aLLuaz4og7K9tLr60I018eF8eOOy_E3EEyvC6ogx1msyP3ey6xqJoFDK5iavUSgMmGKejVkEPHETf91ctWbnD1p7LGmglxNV5Ll6r27VM9SRK4BLgZVhwkNNImx36_p54L56jBtgnAHC65VmFMZPFgua2dZWDvtewuoN7-7/w640-h426/Table%20runner%20and%20cushion%20cover.JPG" width="640" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">One of the pre-Christmas events I've enjoyed the most was a trip to town for the residents in our small bus to look at the night time Christmas decorations. There was a lively, festive atmosphere aboard the bus with lots of oohing and aahing. </span> <br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3wSlxAbjbp_O7NxWa2zzeiNm04Ud6D7cby30rkPONYmPMgwUrYBV-81nuELMCemoEFDUKnO9jJhLMvysvWJK2xUNKO0Rrs3cg0079B0qbgylLqN5v3LxEd3iUJP0JAxY1P1RSt8ltajjCK7R9C_AIa5263Nphcr2OpWC8D0qN0Do3FQXwCkK5ndBWzMTi/s5472/DSC06633.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3wSlxAbjbp_O7NxWa2zzeiNm04Ud6D7cby30rkPONYmPMgwUrYBV-81nuELMCemoEFDUKnO9jJhLMvysvWJK2xUNKO0Rrs3cg0079B0qbgylLqN5v3LxEd3iUJP0JAxY1P1RSt8ltajjCK7R9C_AIa5263Nphcr2OpWC8D0qN0Do3FQXwCkK5ndBWzMTi/w640-h426/DSC06633.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I am so grateful that I feel so settled and happy in my new home. I have found my people.</span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Woy3PGaY-RWfvzoIzTjMQjh5Ay24eEmYOCqCFf4YdCftaQHAorR3gzpSKgptJvnZUyH85jAQkUDXn93nuairJhns9yUxVAMfnJIgXBhDF3eywz6iKMu68QKagn3WAxfxtqiCfySh4soGishq2DHksYi_GkKnc13nlJCz5jLNvA77XKrJOPJYyijC89SG/s612/old%20people%20having%20fun.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="344" data-original-width="612" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Woy3PGaY-RWfvzoIzTjMQjh5Ay24eEmYOCqCFf4YdCftaQHAorR3gzpSKgptJvnZUyH85jAQkUDXn93nuairJhns9yUxVAMfnJIgXBhDF3eywz6iKMu68QKagn3WAxfxtqiCfySh4soGishq2DHksYi_GkKnc13nlJCz5jLNvA77XKrJOPJYyijC89SG/w400-h225/old%20people%20having%20fun.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>I hope you all have a wonderful festive season.</p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-50512175564964711912023-11-14T13:57:00.000+13:002023-11-14T13:57:26.631+13:00Make hay<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The sun was shining but a darkish cloud was threatening to put an end to the fine weather activities. One of the residents had said if there was no rain or wind on Thursday he'd light the garden waste fire. (Imagine the uproar if the wind sprang up and drifted smoke over the village!) The tractor driver had similar thoughts about turning the hay. They both got the job done. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpXKE89CXxGo_Wo-qV_OkTRxgMZHNIqcIibTQ4BURBELbQHAfROh-zoWVJm3rm6CMGaRvwAqKh9iVSnknW7bCMaTMohPyNUYka_73QnDSgc6juq8fPozvTH2M4lZ6cHxqG19QCDKHRDaLbHvg10sp5PIRempG4spQwIaGn3lmTV0VJAUnvsSOmbbAWNAI/s4869/DSC06620.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2456" data-original-width="4869" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpXKE89CXxGo_Wo-qV_OkTRxgMZHNIqcIibTQ4BURBELbQHAfROh-zoWVJm3rm6CMGaRvwAqKh9iVSnknW7bCMaTMohPyNUYka_73QnDSgc6juq8fPozvTH2M4lZ6cHxqG19QCDKHRDaLbHvg10sp5PIRempG4spQwIaGn3lmTV0VJAUnvsSOmbbAWNAI/w640-h322/DSC06620.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I like how the community works in my new home. Those who can, do. The more able-bodied do the more physical stuff like maintaining the common areas, the public gardens, etc. The rest of us do what we can. I'm not up to much bending and gardening but I can sew, knit and crochet so I do those things and contribute towards our stall at the local market. This is this week's effort. All made from left over bits of material. Although my eyesight is not sharp I get by but put off the hand sewing until there is good light and I can sit outside and do it. I used to be quietly proud of my neat hand sewing but now I'm happy if it doesn't look too bad to me as I know my standard in that department is pretty high.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwGP7zYmq8g62Dr8VmkRnxKkok5zVOuT4gTaJmMTmbaqc497xACuTq9HGwQEetyfkYya51p2Cx6YmPkwNQ3nJAzbW4fcBgS9CITSmtJGtQNnssdv0cCXnhs0wZU5J5urF4EbYOJrmDXNaPUxIbOQYoJYAQXH-skVstnDhhx8Dy8qZ64X0nmq9VeRkLlFyQ/s1548/bags%20Nov%2023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="1548" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwGP7zYmq8g62Dr8VmkRnxKkok5zVOuT4gTaJmMTmbaqc497xACuTq9HGwQEetyfkYya51p2Cx6YmPkwNQ3nJAzbW4fcBgS9CITSmtJGtQNnssdv0cCXnhs0wZU5J5urF4EbYOJrmDXNaPUxIbOQYoJYAQXH-skVstnDhhx8Dy8qZ64X0nmq9VeRkLlFyQ/w400-h180/bags%20Nov%2023.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">My unit is very small so most of the work happens in the kitchen where I cut out on the bench-top and where I pin things together because the light is better there than in the living room where the sewing machine sits on my desk. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">So I'm now in the habit of using the
kitchen to prepare an early lunch or even making a lunch to eat later
if I want to start earlier. I have to stop in time to clear everything
away to prepare my dinner and vacuum the living room carpet to pick up
all the threads I seem to drop everywhere. I tell myself sewing is making me a tidier
person. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> I'm reluctant to admit it but I've forgotten how to do some things. I got myself into a real tizz when I couldn't remember how to do mitered corners. I spent a couple of days feeling quite upset about it then I remembered YouTube tutorials. I've become such a YouTube fan.</span><br /></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-9520862589726273442023-10-22T16:01:00.002+13:002023-10-22T16:01:45.003+13:00one %<p><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u" dir="auto" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;">"99% of people born before 1946 are already gone."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u" dir="auto" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;">That seems to be about right. I seem to meet fewer and fewer people who are older than me. Sooner or later even that percentage will shrink. Maybe that is why having friends who are the same age or older is so special. Or is to me, anyway. Thankfully, most of my older mates are quite inspirational. I'm going to visit one such older friend next week, a lady whose life in older age is not at all easy but she smiles through it all, and her mind is as sharp as ever. Until now I've never given much thought to growing old gracefully. Now might be the time to do so.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u" dir="auto" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;">I'm enjoying this spring season, I think I'm becoming more observant. Having the time to do that is a gift.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u" dir="auto" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;">I'm trying to start each day being thankful. Not just for waking up to another day, that doesn't actually cross my mind. This might sound a bit silly but right now here is what brings me joy. At this time of year around the time that I wake each morning, a light shadow crosses my bedroom wall almost exactly in the same place where the light falls in this photo which I took at the magnificent abbey at Mont Saint Michel in France in 2015. It has yet to align perfectly, either the outside sun isn't bright enough or the time isn't quite right but any day now it might be.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u" dir="auto" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;">I call this photo the stairway to heaven. I took it after climbing the 350 steps up the abbey to where a grilled gate blocked any further access to tourists. So I stuck my camera through the grill and was lucky enough to catch the sun's rays lighting the way to what I thought must surely be heaven.<br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNa8mNmb-hEqfGLnjtyU1pb7WxrX-F0vWXwpGkMX4RP-EYA1y4zVNJBSzk3Nko960LLkff_cuOI3MqyJJB4QDT2fW4b1FffMAvYhevd8B0eTZ9Uf-ZfupZEuOMCOjMZfrpYp6JmKTcwVBPiwrd47lHHgNpbhUfFPhHAVALlSahPNjvi1AB2Bh6VI98AFkF/s948/wall%20picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="624" data-original-width="948" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNa8mNmb-hEqfGLnjtyU1pb7WxrX-F0vWXwpGkMX4RP-EYA1y4zVNJBSzk3Nko960LLkff_cuOI3MqyJJB4QDT2fW4b1FffMAvYhevd8B0eTZ9Uf-ZfupZEuOMCOjMZfrpYp6JmKTcwVBPiwrd47lHHgNpbhUfFPhHAVALlSahPNjvi1AB2Bh6VI98AFkF/w400-h264/wall%20picture.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQu83qpD20t0SVd4J93fhwW79vncjiIyNNJBZOsDgg-59mZqXi6_zkadaaspnASBsW7RBb5r3DZf_NyXCWsVg0lhJMxSICokBcm9FPw7WmYFL-PnyOiOGDiVa4Ip9Nl0ohGWkci6xZvaTyZhMnY8bWb-6SotFQ8QjPpd5DiHhFOQI7NW-tq-wIxwrtCAYC/s919/wallpicture1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="919" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQu83qpD20t0SVd4J93fhwW79vncjiIyNNJBZOsDgg-59mZqXi6_zkadaaspnASBsW7RBb5r3DZf_NyXCWsVg0lhJMxSICokBcm9FPw7WmYFL-PnyOiOGDiVa4Ip9Nl0ohGWkci6xZvaTyZhMnY8bWb-6SotFQ8QjPpd5DiHhFOQI7NW-tq-wIxwrtCAYC/w400-h253/wallpicture1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">The photo is fading a bit now and I've though about having it re-printed but my eyesight is fading, too, so it doesn't seem important. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJTc3toRtHgI0w0jWWk2676qz2I4hMMBHfNeV01FUxom93j-0WxnVmTweLJ4mMtihhu_02tghhtN5WnDVIPLDNs7_vmksaVnRgePjuPHPYjTO-e-cTxMwZXa29gGpH-ego7-vd_IVGuDZ0HHvUPZh9R76EU9xmbbMj2wGPVkROqjOaBi67QZjksutyf0T/s1548/sewing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="1548" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWJTc3toRtHgI0w0jWWk2676qz2I4hMMBHfNeV01FUxom93j-0WxnVmTweLJ4mMtihhu_02tghhtN5WnDVIPLDNs7_vmksaVnRgePjuPHPYjTO-e-cTxMwZXa29gGpH-ego7-vd_IVGuDZ0HHvUPZh9R76EU9xmbbMj2wGPVkROqjOaBi67QZjksutyf0T/w400-h180/sewing.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">My cat could tell you I'm definitely getting soft in my older age. I haven't got over feeling guilty about the trauma I caused her by moving here and do my best to make her life happy. I think she knows and is now manipulating me. I don't know why she thinks she owns the little desk which is shared by my sewing machine and laptop. She sits behind the machine and scowls at me when I use it, obviously doesn't appreciate the vibrations.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I put the laptop somewhere else when I'm sewing, then the machine gets pushed to one side to make room for it when I want to visit blogland. Which inconveniences her considerably. It seems a bit churlish to mention the difficulty I have using the mouse.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5oI3yCKX_g60LoJksXPYGkCpBy_G4M-JjrdB93mLBhygmcl3iMA9AGpeA5ecXvvF1bWvJlv2X89Pv4Bu5AdDcqDRPEYehyphenhyphendGJ4V5b8nxU6kFTOmz9KygbyaAo8qL2wDLYuckhOKI-v0mKT3VSBh_msZTuKob0SBAfxhQx5jmJDrOBxGLXAwBCs6GBsS4/s1160/sewing%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="1160" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5oI3yCKX_g60LoJksXPYGkCpBy_G4M-JjrdB93mLBhygmcl3iMA9AGpeA5ecXvvF1bWvJlv2X89Pv4Bu5AdDcqDRPEYehyphenhyphendGJ4V5b8nxU6kFTOmz9KygbyaAo8qL2wDLYuckhOKI-v0mKT3VSBh_msZTuKob0SBAfxhQx5jmJDrOBxGLXAwBCs6GBsS4/w400-h240/sewing%202.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="x193iq5w xeuugli x13faqbe x1vvkbs x1xmvt09 x1lliihq x1s928wv xhkezso x1gmr53x x1cpjm7i x1fgarty x1943h6x xudqn12 x3x7a5m x6prxxf xvq8zen xo1l8bm xzsf02u" dir="auto" lang="en"><br /></span><p></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-56527250802250753582023-10-10T13:23:00.001+13:002023-10-10T19:46:32.802+13:00The side eye<p style="text-align: center;"><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="--tw-border-spacing-x: 0; --tw-border-spacing-y: 0; --tw-ring-color: rgba(59,130,246,.5); --tw-ring-offset-color: #fff; --tw-ring-offset-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-ring-offset-width: 0px; --tw-ring-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-rotate: 0; --tw-scale-x: 1; --tw-scale-y: 1; --tw-scroll-snap-strictness: proximity; --tw-shadow-colored: 0 0 #0000; --tw-shadow: 0 0 #0000; --tw-skew-x: 0; --tw-skew-y: 0; --tw-translate-x: 0; --tw-translate-y: 0; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; border: 0px solid rgb(229, 231, 235); box-sizing: border-box; color: #212121; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQG_r_Aong2bW6AnRE2zwEQwzUlUC7D4FR9E6czDHVTLHB91jWTodbyma78KBYkZhqQghl3lf0_1CFvXkZyYsS1vXs9ZmuC15iN2aGZr7igQGb5IqO5gwT_NnoECKsyzzXm3LJPJJ-fAIzUdOVKSW9Sy2e7SJXZzWIUYZs1iPNr08Lu2bvEzAMCIdnjOAv/s2048/side%20eye.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQG_r_Aong2bW6AnRE2zwEQwzUlUC7D4FR9E6czDHVTLHB91jWTodbyma78KBYkZhqQghl3lf0_1CFvXkZyYsS1vXs9ZmuC15iN2aGZr7igQGb5IqO5gwT_NnoECKsyzzXm3LJPJJ-fAIzUdOVKSW9Sy2e7SJXZzWIUYZs1iPNr08Lu2bvEzAMCIdnjOAv/w300-h400/side%20eye.jpg" width="300" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I didn't know I had perfected the side eye until my younger grandson, Aiden, grew as tall as I am. I pretended I was really cross about being overtaken by all the males in my family and, look at that face, isn't he proud of himself?</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I didn't remind him he has a way to go to catch up with his older cousin, my firstborn grandson, Michael who will turn 30 in a couple of weeks. Gee, no wonder I occasionally feel a bit tired.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">My two daughters and their offspring and partners and I had a lovely night out in Auckland. I was too tired to go out with friends, as had been planned, the following night!</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsRmGNAHjU6m3LQFvlryn7U_SDpnOyKCu9jT8NudogsPPyTaD1OqJgIVNiQRv_X7VoVkJro1fdxxrGSJm_5C2JObw3lCLMXDKgvBhYx3BcA4KknDVGqM0XNjZeZVlTYZyJP_yIafgBCHYmGkZGBtO_5INFgoU2a-spw81cO7eLzQWVsQYBpukJrdrS8KuT/s2048/Odt%202023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsRmGNAHjU6m3LQFvlryn7U_SDpnOyKCu9jT8NudogsPPyTaD1OqJgIVNiQRv_X7VoVkJro1fdxxrGSJm_5C2JObw3lCLMXDKgvBhYx3BcA4KknDVGqM0XNjZeZVlTYZyJP_yIafgBCHYmGkZGBtO_5INFgoU2a-spw81cO7eLzQWVsQYBpukJrdrS8KuT/w400-h300/Odt%202023.jpg" width="400" /></a> </p><p style="text-align: center;">Surrounded by love</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">My daughter and I arrived in Auckland a little early for our meet up with my other daughter so we parked in the Wynyard Quarter and went for a short walk along the waterfront. I expected to see more boats but what were there were very impressive.</span><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #212121; display: inline; float: none; font-family: verdana; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: start; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; text-decoration-thickness: initial; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ow-mk9C_SJQYTyRvn3oGGw4B1Gj59FYNm0mV-ijVnk4vH7Icj4sj5LSWE9SrTbvgY70z2d_TYd9xsvEoYU95iYZ3Xrcehs1svq8_MxR88Ct4SByocLDT6mVkKhJ0BOOcBoU9AEPVNsCXjk5gtzlxvu_JMjqdsuz_qjlJvaJ0uod7tBXmLgmAh4YetX5H/s1548/wynyard%20quarter.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="1548" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ow-mk9C_SJQYTyRvn3oGGw4B1Gj59FYNm0mV-ijVnk4vH7Icj4sj5LSWE9SrTbvgY70z2d_TYd9xsvEoYU95iYZ3Xrcehs1svq8_MxR88Ct4SByocLDT6mVkKhJ0BOOcBoU9AEPVNsCXjk5gtzlxvu_JMjqdsuz_qjlJvaJ0uod7tBXmLgmAh4YetX5H/w400-h180/wynyard%20quarter.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The previous week my little great-granddaughter came for a sleepover. She had a lovely time riding her bike around the village with another resident's grandson. </span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">She fell in love with my friend's toy doll, couldn't quite believe it wasn't real. Isn't that a beautiful doll?<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDKyeHDHvQqeuBxIx0jL8Rqtos3lNgyo1H-9NbWw9pw0NXui2i1e6hGuoLM-n9jxcnLj-xH2Nr8JdB1WzID9hQ_i8lXpvifOBkjwI-raxJCrHvrfpgz08sapaJ_-mZpLF_zN511iYYyGQeWoYGbApqswmZvj47ANnM5n3zlL47HUeXxyyJ2mwVCi28oNwj/s1657/nursing%20doll%20Oct%2020231.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1657" data-original-width="1389" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDKyeHDHvQqeuBxIx0jL8Rqtos3lNgyo1H-9NbWw9pw0NXui2i1e6hGuoLM-n9jxcnLj-xH2Nr8JdB1WzID9hQ_i8lXpvifOBkjwI-raxJCrHvrfpgz08sapaJ_-mZpLF_zN511iYYyGQeWoYGbApqswmZvj47ANnM5n3zlL47HUeXxyyJ2mwVCi28oNwj/w335-h400/nursing%20doll%20Oct%2020231.jpg" width="335" /></a> </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I haven't been spending much time on line. No, that's not true. I've spent a lot of time on You Tube following hand craft tutorials, making things for a stall we at the village are having at our local market day to raise money for our Christmas party. I've done a lot of sewing and crocheting. I forgot about taking photos before submitting my efforts to the craft team, except for these little book marks and worry worms, and a couple of the many granny squares which have been made up into a lovely blanket by one of the skilled crochet ladies in our midst.</span></p><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbfZUVutVJqKxOKV6jjIy6l3tUB9eNrimP5YPvA53XLflfYjCSyJjuC1qqQfV66I62kNDUMtLzQ5Z-_pk3zpkp8_IdhUBTVTq_45FEShKEn6WOTp3WJAR0eOQSHfGUnNtI5qaktmiCzscyvy4z7fIq5Sud7dBF9aoKhtAf66rbIq5pk98XoWUDH8RSoM0q/s1548/book%20marks%20and%20worry%20worms.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="1548" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbfZUVutVJqKxOKV6jjIy6l3tUB9eNrimP5YPvA53XLflfYjCSyJjuC1qqQfV66I62kNDUMtLzQ5Z-_pk3zpkp8_IdhUBTVTq_45FEShKEn6WOTp3WJAR0eOQSHfGUnNtI5qaktmiCzscyvy4z7fIq5Sud7dBF9aoKhtAf66rbIq5pk98XoWUDH8RSoM0q/w400-h180/book%20marks%20and%20worry%20worms.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And this @#** tea cosy, where I met my Waterloo. It doesn't fit my little teapot, I've tried to line it up in front of a small watering can so you can see where the handle and spout would go. If it doesn't sell (and to be honest I doubt anyone would want it) I can always unpick it and reuse the wool.<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXJsVNpzRno55X7qH_3EcbGf8EExFmPwGtQiR8C7nRbWuUxZRRmTlW7oRPZA0kJt2F_qdnyFj7avbvwyS51TPmuuGA_8NL3a9ftG6PZMNaxzxeIa2mv9ptXY0kyD1sR4rGitVhVIxjzWfkCgpMlboef4xV6EkZ5nEc04RL4JFDpDRX7WNNxF4qicB0pQ3T/s5472/tea%20cosy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXJsVNpzRno55X7qH_3EcbGf8EExFmPwGtQiR8C7nRbWuUxZRRmTlW7oRPZA0kJt2F_qdnyFj7avbvwyS51TPmuuGA_8NL3a9ftG6PZMNaxzxeIa2mv9ptXY0kyD1sR4rGitVhVIxjzWfkCgpMlboef4xV6EkZ5nEc04RL4JFDpDRX7WNNxF4qicB0pQ3T/s320/tea%20cosy.JPG" width="320" /></a><br /></div></span></div></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-11690533717284133462023-09-09T14:56:00.001+12:002023-09-09T14:56:55.235+12:00A job well done<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our little village has two loops. On Friday morning the roadwork crew were working on the other loop for most of the day. I could hear them in the distance. Then mid afternoon I looked out to see them headed my way. The little convoy looked like they were lining up my back door. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">They just had the final application of seal to apply. I know you can see a man having a little sit but, believe me, a few minutes later it was all hands on deck. To be honest, I think those men work hard and deserve a little rest now and then.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijpwrfVlLUKu1zaJizLsA6_qWm4R_TLzhDBNyjeSrmBexMrE8o1E_E0P6eQB445dl8FGJf30_4Gbc1Q0sH2_LMYn-MApLC2ZrZqEg9yYKECfG4hMO9FdG8pUnIEUyFOPLrbJ4bRQ6K9FvFTyxudlLOUQX1AgFY3gku_JW-1ePNth_D9xCrE0xe4_8zbdUG/s5472/$R0QXIO9.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijpwrfVlLUKu1zaJizLsA6_qWm4R_TLzhDBNyjeSrmBexMrE8o1E_E0P6eQB445dl8FGJf30_4Gbc1Q0sH2_LMYn-MApLC2ZrZqEg9yYKECfG4hMO9FdG8pUnIEUyFOPLrbJ4bRQ6K9FvFTyxudlLOUQX1AgFY3gku_JW-1ePNth_D9xCrE0xe4_8zbdUG/w400-h266/$R0QXIO9.JPG" width="400" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3zDQkKcKgsRfOeI-3KiCOj16r0-6wLke6GJP8nTdHITQeyp6bxGyC_AGedEqP5KO7KphKUGUxq8PD6SuLV2DPdV6H6j-TKVTIVCRmwmqNdiR3KmptHIwNsgzv6WuRSBlOtlElzQTpqVDll47RLv_BQwWB-Qeqz-KQeGEnh6yvghFp80JKM4MrhLmscyw/s5472/$RRX8NMM.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3zDQkKcKgsRfOeI-3KiCOj16r0-6wLke6GJP8nTdHITQeyp6bxGyC_AGedEqP5KO7KphKUGUxq8PD6SuLV2DPdV6H6j-TKVTIVCRmwmqNdiR3KmptHIwNsgzv6WuRSBlOtlElzQTpqVDll47RLv_BQwWB-Qeqz-KQeGEnh6yvghFp80JKM4MrhLmscyw/w400-h266/$RRX8NMM.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ggpBXFqAr6wJv_OmXrh0l-i7gSk-1-OwBCjs3AK8c66kcT85IQOctDKBGS6wrpnxcW33RjEUqJiXeDQ-4G1yQiP_nJHC1tdbLEtLUbyNMefj-plUh_VTdWWPLxRVBIiX32S_iLGkZjaI-ff_9ah6AYVHwoWexe-oy-ppjBYN9DoPy1G3zBfQ-Q061ZhD/s5472/$RBLK0YM.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5ggpBXFqAr6wJv_OmXrh0l-i7gSk-1-OwBCjs3AK8c66kcT85IQOctDKBGS6wrpnxcW33RjEUqJiXeDQ-4G1yQiP_nJHC1tdbLEtLUbyNMefj-plUh_VTdWWPLxRVBIiX32S_iLGkZjaI-ff_9ah6AYVHwoWexe-oy-ppjBYN9DoPy1G3zBfQ-Q061ZhD/w400-h266/$RBLK0YM.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The attention to detail was surprising</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfiGRXRCzMaFkWOTZmtWsZMBAjq_jVm1IVBBBKcAcjGLHin1wyTJnuuCXLNhyV29qm-1QKyA7I_ppNrMVlOe-ybPiqP2XpfWL9K_IH4cL7Ph7sZchotiPVZs2bXcj_T2qv9KrgOzMI7FyehimhGOwkV0KUmViGbZkpZxiieADQuHzO2GCiBfDEzk_QQqc/s5472/$R6C0FK5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfiGRXRCzMaFkWOTZmtWsZMBAjq_jVm1IVBBBKcAcjGLHin1wyTJnuuCXLNhyV29qm-1QKyA7I_ppNrMVlOe-ybPiqP2XpfWL9K_IH4cL7Ph7sZchotiPVZs2bXcj_T2qv9KrgOzMI7FyehimhGOwkV0KUmViGbZkpZxiieADQuHzO2GCiBfDEzk_QQqc/w400-h266/$R6C0FK5.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Every man has a job</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgshO34c7Y9mVMlE0Hds7ELdiKDyjRilDcxxZBb20QlaMf7X8XPij96_R63wEAdoTlvlAXsdlZKj19QlcqZvSPAkHIstcxWWTLv4q56luB2-0ncrG1GrCTLjciKoTLAYRnd6XdCHOVaa1ZkxQMjEn8u0tWtTwblEUQkX9XV41BGLa5scqTBHzl7MuTVHJUo/s5472/$R4TMPKI.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgshO34c7Y9mVMlE0Hds7ELdiKDyjRilDcxxZBb20QlaMf7X8XPij96_R63wEAdoTlvlAXsdlZKj19QlcqZvSPAkHIstcxWWTLv4q56luB2-0ncrG1GrCTLjciKoTLAYRnd6XdCHOVaa1ZkxQMjEn8u0tWtTwblEUQkX9XV41BGLa5scqTBHzl7MuTVHJUo/w400-h266/$R4TMPKI.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Nearly finished</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's raining today, so no "after" photo just yet.</span> <br /></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-86096124483947638902023-09-07T16:14:00.001+12:002023-09-07T16:16:30.845+12:00Big Boys' Toys<div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">Today was a big day in the village - our roads were re-sealed. The usual tranquil atmosphere replaced with the noise of Big Boys' Toys. Actually, the noise wasn't anywhere near as loud as I expected it to be. Modern machines are vastly different from those of the past. Even that annoying high pitched beep I associate with a reversing vehicle has been replaced with a lower pitched squawk. That doesn't mean I didn't nearly let out a scream when I first heard it. It sounds for all the world like a frog being eaten by a snake, a sound I haven't heard in 30 years. Some things you never forget.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: small;">Here's a before photo of the road, when all was peaceful in the village:</span> <br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaohTVYtH7miHQ3cluc_OGnM_uHJQuqmPWwo7KwjnHBDReyPN4k_NsGh1arG08acbz99p4OKWm28JmNLwkfXFJRE-hTz4IUcTRPhlkpJqaeBJPZqtmRjAnEBR5n0wGVWKYd0debGgJtn91Wr54Mxi1xpsPtiO0oVgAqfZINIikiM-yMuR3p7YQAxzvk6c0/s5472/DSC06478.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaohTVYtH7miHQ3cluc_OGnM_uHJQuqmPWwo7KwjnHBDReyPN4k_NsGh1arG08acbz99p4OKWm28JmNLwkfXFJRE-hTz4IUcTRPhlkpJqaeBJPZqtmRjAnEBR5n0wGVWKYd0debGgJtn91Wr54Mxi1xpsPtiO0oVgAqfZINIikiM-yMuR3p7YQAxzvk6c0/w400-h266/DSC06478.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: small;">The after photo will have to come later as there's another day of work to be done.</span></span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgie29pP4lG7gcZj7qUAQtlsf59ZwkAr334WKvj69AB6xXMOK2f58M5RFDu9qRHxj1h9axDNxkZRJupr9B2jJjlJcVQxRUYa-lXYJEnMJO-V49fnn5KidS4uPoJ3Q_58kvJq1XFTmSNQJBzqeAMuCcjaBXXSLxIbWt4EnRAm5GQvB7g57as-OSaDp69UUIt/s5472/DSC06480.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgie29pP4lG7gcZj7qUAQtlsf59ZwkAr334WKvj69AB6xXMOK2f58M5RFDu9qRHxj1h9axDNxkZRJupr9B2jJjlJcVQxRUYa-lXYJEnMJO-V49fnn5KidS4uPoJ3Q_58kvJq1XFTmSNQJBzqeAMuCcjaBXXSLxIbWt4EnRAm5GQvB7g57as-OSaDp69UUIt/w400-h266/DSC06480.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The invasion of the orange jackets</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> <br /></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHlZW5KqUhjpIU3MkO-PJoCZDZ06VtLjxYgECCI-htrMNFNhOBecp380taAORTb24HRYXGaSp9TnOKDCDUkt0hcRPDLUz8_-RsjeNjmZJlxY91kGhdOH2L_4W09jGg2LHsi9giFPjZMHvEuGffX4d9-D1kbeg4W1eUGRpGyfS6ry3Klp_WuzONI8mmlmbB/s5472/DSC06484.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHlZW5KqUhjpIU3MkO-PJoCZDZ06VtLjxYgECCI-htrMNFNhOBecp380taAORTb24HRYXGaSp9TnOKDCDUkt0hcRPDLUz8_-RsjeNjmZJlxY91kGhdOH2L_4W09jGg2LHsi9giFPjZMHvEuGffX4d9-D1kbeg4W1eUGRpGyfS6ry3Klp_WuzONI8mmlmbB/w400-h266/DSC06484.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">My neighbour watching the first machines arrive.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggHq1Rf367-5joaVC0ZJSGXiw-cIHCTDu8iK6evdhnLUP4Hb61COz-YcS5C63evKbbZDWx8rnwY4KqTSItULCII3CWqrzHCP1sYI47NVUrU6CvCDbe0G8elElvWuWFjZYFABGe2btY4Pjmu0tr8lA5D7sAKpXmPct-_EoAVZwQ4TFIYDHdG6V0FbO_1fYJ/s5472/DSC06487%20-%20Copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggHq1Rf367-5joaVC0ZJSGXiw-cIHCTDu8iK6evdhnLUP4Hb61COz-YcS5C63evKbbZDWx8rnwY4KqTSItULCII3CWqrzHCP1sYI47NVUrU6CvCDbe0G8elElvWuWFjZYFABGe2btY4Pjmu0tr8lA5D7sAKpXmPct-_EoAVZwQ4TFIYDHdG6V0FbO_1fYJ/w400-h266/DSC06487%20-%20Copy.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A moment of alarm. I thought that machine was going dangerously close to Jack's garden.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4GTAGTJc9DVPVii2jKswy1qvyf3KGVyqReU2sWwVI0YBg-6l3vriEPQz3-iI3OBfOF6R4PBuwlpSxShEQWZNri65GujAtQsLmjWDod9f0FuLNSIR5214arLy5HO5I75grZ907fJDjmsXKUAsLX5hrB1Aye9fjk5j63lKqLyV5ZVi9Y9LL6Z0hKSjmGxrp/s5472/DSC06489.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4GTAGTJc9DVPVii2jKswy1qvyf3KGVyqReU2sWwVI0YBg-6l3vriEPQz3-iI3OBfOF6R4PBuwlpSxShEQWZNri65GujAtQsLmjWDod9f0FuLNSIR5214arLy5HO5I75grZ907fJDjmsXKUAsLX5hrB1Aye9fjk5j63lKqLyV5ZVi9Y9LL6Z0hKSjmGxrp/w400-h266/DSC06489.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This is the little bobcat that sounds like a frog swallowing snake when reversing.</span><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPFaYt_KPivwo4nGkxJoI8TueOIAX90fa3afJGW72hodaWtlAl8uOFLo-uIpQxs_v64OdDdioYV1hl_d-Lr5PNLiO_M48j3_yq3tHH1x3aFMRQM9RmTx86f3mytqo8KQ6bSatBoetDmNTMDXB6w5UMzvBusJ6u516_KTXp2OZm_jhOQ_0Arplyw8gMqor/s5472/DSC06509.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPFaYt_KPivwo4nGkxJoI8TueOIAX90fa3afJGW72hodaWtlAl8uOFLo-uIpQxs_v64OdDdioYV1hl_d-Lr5PNLiO_M48j3_yq3tHH1x3aFMRQM9RmTx86f3mytqo8KQ6bSatBoetDmNTMDXB6w5UMzvBusJ6u516_KTXp2OZm_jhOQ_0Arplyw8gMqor/w400-h266/DSC06509.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The crew arriving in force to resurface the drive to my garage. That's the corner of my little unit to the right.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQcJ0iGVlO0vmUfx5ufgvjNUaGq3RAbb7fIN7HACmLwisA14ztpI4au_59I2Vo3WiKBDVYkECHajDGmIWemgXKTjm_S3TYgNgtqurXAnEUmg3d6ykOWjBhRX8gR9R-I7Cd86F4BsCPmpEKYw3ceskYGpvkPUQaHSS7j66ec_NBHQuE0PcKAs85NWcYqzR/s5472/DSC06510.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkQcJ0iGVlO0vmUfx5ufgvjNUaGq3RAbb7fIN7HACmLwisA14ztpI4au_59I2Vo3WiKBDVYkECHajDGmIWemgXKTjm_S3TYgNgtqurXAnEUmg3d6ykOWjBhRX8gR9R-I7Cd86F4BsCPmpEKYw3ceskYGpvkPUQaHSS7j66ec_NBHQuE0PcKAs85NWcYqzR/w400-h266/DSC06510.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm full of admiration for the crew that were here today, the skill of the machinery operators, the willingness of the manual workers, and the communication skills of their supervisor. They are a cohesive,</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> well oiled team. I suspect they all rather enjoyed being watched at such close quarters by us old folk. I caught a young man smile when he saw me point the camera in his direction, although he quickly hid it.</span><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkvpz2SzUmOBBREQkSgmFuV-9IpejcyM7hu2zXMr5NJWQW8JiaH349Qv3s-L7HBl8RzsDkv5QNgb5auNJ5MYwE_k9N0bWEegtb17OK7qU3AIfQ7LfuB-XA-H2EzgPJtenxDT0bdLty3uDdeORW6SR67LAWgGEOV047ZzjZ-EZBo_rt7mPMBFrt3WmwLBZj/s5472/DSC06490.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="5472" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkvpz2SzUmOBBREQkSgmFuV-9IpejcyM7hu2zXMr5NJWQW8JiaH349Qv3s-L7HBl8RzsDkv5QNgb5auNJ5MYwE_k9N0bWEegtb17OK7qU3AIfQ7LfuB-XA-H2EzgPJtenxDT0bdLty3uDdeORW6SR67LAWgGEOV047ZzjZ-EZBo_rt7mPMBFrt3WmwLBZj/w400-h266/DSC06490.JPG" width="400" /></a></div></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-43564276705933289002023-08-05T14:47:00.000+12:002023-08-05T14:47:50.012+12:00Awareness<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I suppose most of us have friends or family who don't enjoy good health. That number does increase as we age. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The number of people with serious health problems that I meet from time to time has exploded since I started my voluntary job at the hospital, driving a courtesy car, mainly from the car parks to the main entrance. I certainly appreciate how lucky I am. I'm not overly happy about having osteoarthritis increasing it's grip on my aging body but I'm so grateful my knees, at least so far, have been spared. I see a good cross section of the community on a weekly basis and I find it quite distressing that so many people, especially men, have dodgy knees. If it's distressing for me to see people struggling to walk, I imagine how much worse it must be for them. So many are waiting, in pain, for an operation but this post isn't a rant about the terrible state of our public health system although, goodness knows, it is appalling enough. And, not one person I've met who is on a waiting list, ever complains about the doctors and nurses, just the system that our government insists is working well. Bah! They are constantly economical with the truth.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Where I'm going is to tell you about my newfound carefulness as a driver. I don't think I've been a reckless driver but I don't think I've been a very mindful driver either. Of course, when driving a hospital vehicle I'm naturally very careful. But having met so many people who have driven themselves to the hospital for medical appointments who should obviously not have done so, has made me aware of how many people I could be sharing the road with at any one time who just aren't fit to be driving. A young lady with a sick baby on her lap, those blokes with the dodgy knees they can barely move, the lady who told me she suffers from double vision but is having a good day. Twice now I've been asked to park cars for people. Should they be driving if they can't park their car? </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I haven't driven my car anywhere since my most recent day at the hospital. On my way home I got caught up in a police car chase and came so close to being hit. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I have to back up a bit here. I haven't mentioned my new hearing aids, have I? I'm still adjusting to sounds I haven't been hearing for quite some time. The tick tick of my car indicators, I swear my car is about to fall into pieces there are so many squeaks and rattles, birds on the roof sure do make a racket, that sort of thing. I now know one of the new sounds I least enjoy is police car sirens. The roar of the speeding car (which was a getaway car in a jewelry story robbery) as it came out of nowhere (or so it seemed), passed on the inside of me and mounted the footpath was truly frightening. Thank God three young boys who had been on the footpath leapt away quickly enough to avoid being hit. I wonder if they know how lucky they were. It was so close!</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And then the police sirens, I don't know how many. Six or seven I think. They seemed to be inside my head. I pulled over as soon as I could safely do so, took the aids out, put my head in my hands and cried. And it takes a lot to frighten me that much.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I've been wearing the hearing aids again but needed a bit of down time before driving again.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The good news is the police caught the thieves quickly. I'm amazed they could get so many cars on the road and give chase so fast, I'm wondering if there wasn't a tipoff. That's me probably being over imaginative. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I left out a lovely exchange I had with a passenger last week. It was a horrible day, a bitterly cold wind and shattered scowers. Oops. Couldn't resist.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Anyway, an elderly man got in the car half soaked from one of the showers and when I commented about the nasty showers he replied with a big smile, “No rain, no flowers."</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZXKclAsL5WQMFu3B0R5Jqy4BlzBmECC1Q752ixzuOfmU5jt13mazHcxt3Cqusj2RaZ09JM029FvesGgeKOIZ2joBEo9XLS4cF_tfP1a3XiUNJCdU1FwBYs76JraxSI6OgVkjxgaPLZLoL_Vi7fs41s50fATBM-CTiUhxbQnzBuXeUg9Ui4sQwVTimYHN/s2471/spring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2393" data-original-width="2471" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmZXKclAsL5WQMFu3B0R5Jqy4BlzBmECC1Q752ixzuOfmU5jt13mazHcxt3Cqusj2RaZ09JM029FvesGgeKOIZ2joBEo9XLS4cF_tfP1a3XiUNJCdU1FwBYs76JraxSI6OgVkjxgaPLZLoL_Vi7fs41s50fATBM-CTiUhxbQnzBuXeUg9Ui4sQwVTimYHN/s320/spring.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> Soon it will be spring!</span><br /></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-8591848096543665312023-07-28T11:42:00.000+12:002023-07-28T11:42:33.884+12:00No rain today<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Today I feel the need to celebrate. Zues has been banished to I care not where. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's cold but the sun is shining. I see sheets flapping on a neighbour's clothesline and 7 pairs of jeans/long trousers finally drying on mine. I'm going to a rugby game tonight and was starting to wonder how I'd keep my legs warm.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Its nearly mid-day and the sky is still cloudless. Could we possibly go a whole day without rain?</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I looked back through my files and am reminded July is a good month for stormy skies. Yes, we usually get a lot of rain in winter but this year it has been constant. I think it's starting to get people down. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxypQH_t5tzSiQxsVFwHI4yPktXd-z1Tz55qw3gTdyrS4FyJgufdSmpiWyitmPnDp0ioGZ7WSb0L2U1IxH63rYBoKj_Kn7aaE9dDC1xxlVl3CbNE5_mhiFplp24a56zBRtcYjhIxKzbgCL158Q3frr7iGPenoETDJb8Esca6IPcsOF4oL2mIYcMtXtX0-/s1308/3%20Jan%2021%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="659" data-original-width="1308" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDxypQH_t5tzSiQxsVFwHI4yPktXd-z1Tz55qw3gTdyrS4FyJgufdSmpiWyitmPnDp0ioGZ7WSb0L2U1IxH63rYBoKj_Kn7aaE9dDC1xxlVl3CbNE5_mhiFplp24a56zBRtcYjhIxKzbgCL158Q3frr7iGPenoETDJb8Esca6IPcsOF4oL2mIYcMtXtX0-/w400-h201/3%20Jan%2021%20(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: verdana;">If there have been lovely sunsets lately I've totally missed them. By that time I've locked the doors, drawn the curtains and have been thinking only of being dry and warm. But I was late getting home last Wednesday from my voluntary job at the hospital and had to pull off to the side of the road to capture this sunset. My phone doesn't do it justice.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDXDLgP2e1kORGk0ZEqIQmpDM0RKoqgtI59ZkwPVBqAf5vq7QfnxTOm73qNAzQGd5xWBei4IfxfQWbeh45duJONXFn9a-1XEHgkVmP8A1lGsvB9iYK-vBszLcbrajANdN5H1IQ9-xDFV6uJkrPupK_PnG2tBrhFAHMsp16wCT7TFBvmu-UaDsHn721VNL/s1548/july%2023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="1548" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioDXDLgP2e1kORGk0ZEqIQmpDM0RKoqgtI59ZkwPVBqAf5vq7QfnxTOm73qNAzQGd5xWBei4IfxfQWbeh45duJONXFn9a-1XEHgkVmP8A1lGsvB9iYK-vBszLcbrajANdN5H1IQ9-xDFV6uJkrPupK_PnG2tBrhFAHMsp16wCT7TFBvmu-UaDsHn721VNL/w400-h180/july%2023.jpg" width="400" /></a></p><div class="loJjTe" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Go away, Kermit.</span></div><div class="loJjTe" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><br /></div><div class="loJjTe" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJl-raVuTdAPVMwdN1Zqp5tjtZw4zWt1l54ydzVE0B1jwzChgXRodBzUf-X4ul5rLRDtnolr5-CXTz_USCLwkRM3xyBtcXk9V7ulCeNiB5icoyyG_jxoGPfafV5_sb9vo_fifu1DWycoGYDSFJbwr39ryL4M91vCHN_nWchPRpz8J-uYtCxQXXuZGsutfo/s800/kermit-rain-meme.jpg.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJl-raVuTdAPVMwdN1Zqp5tjtZw4zWt1l54ydzVE0B1jwzChgXRodBzUf-X4ul5rLRDtnolr5-CXTz_USCLwkRM3xyBtcXk9V7ulCeNiB5icoyyG_jxoGPfafV5_sb9vo_fifu1DWycoGYDSFJbwr39ryL4M91vCHN_nWchPRpz8J-uYtCxQXXuZGsutfo/w200-h200/kermit-rain-meme.jpg.webp" width="200" /></a></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-31289944593248520472023-07-15T19:37:00.000+12:002023-07-15T19:37:55.289+12:00Village life<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I think I've adjusted to my new way of life in a retirement village. I admit I had my doubts for a little while, I think I was a bit overcome by all the activity around me. In new situations it's always been my way to sit back and observe for a while, to figure out how things work, assess the personalities. I found that a bit difficult in this instance as, at the same time, I was also the focus of others' assessments, the new lady in the village.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's a small village, around 40 residences, managed by a local community trust and the residents organise the social activities and take care of the community hall. I'm still figuring out how some things work. But I now feel confident that I'll find my place. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm clinging to the results of a recent survey which found <span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> the majority of people are happier as residents of senior living communities than they are living alone. My little unit is on the outskirts so I have no neighbours at the back, a semi rural outlook which feels comfortable and familiar to me.<br /></span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">Happily, Alleycat is also a lot more settled. She has some new habits, spends a lot of time under my bed or at my feet if I'm sitting. She has not made new friends, still hisses if she sees another cat on the other side of the ranch slider. She's been surprising me by somehow knowing when I wake in the night or in the morning. Honestly, the minute I wake up she meows quietly by my bedside. She must lay there listening to my breathing (snoring?). She keeps talking to me until I speak to her, then re-settles. There's a gentleness in our interactions that is new. She's not as noisy as she used to be. Belief me, she was a very noisy, very talkative cat before.</span></span></span> <br /></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-20837030896047451212023-07-13T16:20:00.003+12:002023-07-13T16:20:55.305+12:00The girl has vision<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Does anyone else find themselves saying, "Where did she come from?" about one of their children? For many years I've often found myself muttering just that about my youngest.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">All four of my children are quite entrepreneurial, they can identify an opportunity and take the initiative, work hard to achieve success, sometimes against the odds. They have all the characteristics of a successful entrepreneur - "<span class="ILfuVd NA6bn UiGGAb" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">creativity, dedication, determination, flexibility, leadership, passion, self-confidence, and "smarts" (according to an online dictionary). And Justine has all that in spades. And then some. <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn UiGGAb" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">Her little family have just enjoyed a European holiday on her earnings as an Instagram influencer. I don't understand how all that works but she's a good one apparently. I follow her, of course, and am constantly amazed at her flair, creativity and confidence. <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn UiGGAb" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">Her day job is in data management and she's worked her way into a very senior position with an international company. She works online to a crazy timetable to fit in with the office hours of wherever her current project is located. It's not unusual to hear her say she must be up at 3 am for a zoom meeting.<br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn UiGGAb" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">Her latest personal project is just coming to fruition. When the family moved to their new home a few years ago, Justine identified a spot on their few acres that would make a perfect spot for others to enjoy time out. At first she had a bell tent which she hired out for small social gatherings, the idea of building a small cabin on that spot was then born. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn UiGGAb" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> </span></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrG2rJianjhy-jDfdpiJjuLVjQU52arxHT9Fg66rYV5JIVMmV7PwDc3iqDgfUzQSpqVYxuMpGOtuVwaElRiSFvoH0nVmbLycQ7KJUNl7pjNz2A0ZSCzKnd7esovuaghqTBX5N9Odu7zQyKJudQuRl6HHnqPQswDm8WR-Y-WApxVqF9bgamWrGIrogv-u1/s2048/bell%20tent.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrG2rJianjhy-jDfdpiJjuLVjQU52arxHT9Fg66rYV5JIVMmV7PwDc3iqDgfUzQSpqVYxuMpGOtuVwaElRiSFvoH0nVmbLycQ7KJUNl7pjNz2A0ZSCzKnd7esovuaghqTBX5N9Odu7zQyKJudQuRl6HHnqPQswDm8WR-Y-WApxVqF9bgamWrGIrogv-u1/w400-h266/bell%20tent.jpg" width="400" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn UiGGAb" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">To open up the view of the mountain they had to have three old pine trees felled, which Justine with the help of a neighbour, had to cut and stack (while Bill was bed bound with long Covid). Unfortunatey, Bill's long Covid coincided with the stage of the project that involved a lot of physical work and I'd always thought of Justine as more of an ideas person than a physical labourer. She's proven once again how I underestimated her. <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOBVv3Bkq5IMDLzZnrYP-1I6gXTOU9sKp8RaqQ7BLxcPMMQqXvoxQR13J9B1cJ-iSjdj7mDdqmNL-FskOUerf6kx7U1yaJp56IRZPb9jOL1-ZnzWqg8KDef-7ySK0q2xI4uLg97zK72lb1k0zjBjV7_2w4LaVbdxywvdfZ3pPQzufxvZpfOiedlefUxs7r/s883/The%20Unwind.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="883" data-original-width="756" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOBVv3Bkq5IMDLzZnrYP-1I6gXTOU9sKp8RaqQ7BLxcPMMQqXvoxQR13J9B1cJ-iSjdj7mDdqmNL-FskOUerf6kx7U1yaJp56IRZPb9jOL1-ZnzWqg8KDef-7ySK0q2xI4uLg97zK72lb1k0zjBjV7_2w4LaVbdxywvdfZ3pPQzufxvZpfOiedlefUxs7r/w343-h400/The%20Unwind.png" width="343" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn UiGGAb" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">A really lovely rocky mountain stream gurgles below the site. The last time I ventured down to the stream there was no path, the ground was extremely rough and uneven and it took all the men in the family to haul me back up. Now there are steps with a handrail also going in so the likes of her mother can negotiate them safely. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn UiGGAb" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn UiGGAb" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiShbOKUh9pKDHwXqDnsMK-Zr0ZnS-tJLm53xYy4pXFGlZUnw6--SAgwPtw7xH5A1tedoihD0BmkSebn7t8II6_B4zdlUZ3G3_yl9niuE6Qs9glf5fZqqpMZG8ziDeeLhP9WSXPa5sb3x2Cj_hrg2NRq5H-dDrrUz83JLeg_lbf83P8NUxQVyn0EA3qIFJK/s2048/steps%20to%20creek.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiShbOKUh9pKDHwXqDnsMK-Zr0ZnS-tJLm53xYy4pXFGlZUnw6--SAgwPtw7xH5A1tedoihD0BmkSebn7t8II6_B4zdlUZ3G3_yl9niuE6Qs9glf5fZqqpMZG8ziDeeLhP9WSXPa5sb3x2Cj_hrg2NRq5H-dDrrUz83JLeg_lbf83P8NUxQVyn0EA3qIFJK/w300-h400/steps%20to%20creek.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></span></span></div><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn UiGGAb" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> </span></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn UiGGAb" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> I can't remember the name of the booking agency she is listing the cabin with, I think it's Canopy Camping Escapes. I'm sure it will be a great success.</span></span></span><br /> </p><p></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-92029121226851383842023-06-23T17:04:00.002+12:002023-06-23T17:04:22.827+12:00Getting settled<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I don't know if I'm settled yet but I'm getting there. My new nest is small, there are only so many places where "things" can be put but some items are still missing. It seems what is logical to me one day is not always logical another day.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLcIc4h41Hh_0P8AWv0gxfyDBQpDstvpIVNFrrOqmRt9nZXezs9z5M6fbfmZioFicZfbYfnTj1Jrzs-qWJX-la1KniAitQ1x1k1QNb7DEt9u8wfwdRu1B1HigXRqIqEqi0qOdxyLiwfkoYE5ZesFiFCgp-FPdZv1CSg4VmkxroD749KvRmjLyUQfqwo2--/s1161/cat%20in%20box.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="654" data-original-width="1161" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLcIc4h41Hh_0P8AWv0gxfyDBQpDstvpIVNFrrOqmRt9nZXezs9z5M6fbfmZioFicZfbYfnTj1Jrzs-qWJX-la1KniAitQ1x1k1QNb7DEt9u8wfwdRu1B1HigXRqIqEqi0qOdxyLiwfkoYE5ZesFiFCgp-FPdZv1CSg4VmkxroD749KvRmjLyUQfqwo2--/s320/cat%20in%20box.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm getting used to having more people around me, hearing voices. At least the voices I hear are real. I'm not so sure about what my cat hears. Obviously her hearing is a lot more acute than mine, she hears potential danger every time she goes near the door.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">For days I kept her confined to the bathroom fearing she would know she's only a few hundred metres from our old home and make a break for pastures old. Little did I know she was going to be so traumatised by the move that she would be too terrified to even step outside.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's been two weeks and finally she will make a very brief foray to the outside world in the early evening. I guess that's a quieter time of day. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">She lives most of the time under my bed but will venture out to greet those she knows. <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotlT-vTTm3kany03sFRdFyTI3iPFVDMnMm53lJJC08MXUxy5TMpcYP-rZRIHX2cOFUDFkh_-YxKQnoE2jqxEJEms4_g64FX6C8q16CoDXqige22UOmsYqzaL1SfKWm7Hm0JbCA8U0W-KhUdYInYJhmidoqoNBFjKoeIYj-s7vtcT8SgxEJ17Wzz_Aw76i/s1727/alleycat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1727" data-original-width="1160" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotlT-vTTm3kany03sFRdFyTI3iPFVDMnMm53lJJC08MXUxy5TMpcYP-rZRIHX2cOFUDFkh_-YxKQnoE2jqxEJEms4_g64FX6C8q16CoDXqige22UOmsYqzaL1SfKWm7Hm0JbCA8U0W-KhUdYInYJhmidoqoNBFjKoeIYj-s7vtcT8SgxEJ17Wzz_Aw76i/s320/alleycat.jpg" width="215" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">A dog lives over on the other side of that truck in the distance. She's forgotten that once she was used to hearing dogs on a regular basis.<br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgftrfDC4jjTGihVb3wVhhsyV0gntfl8UKRpTO7ucQrIf7C0xFVp-hRQ5jOxtvDSAZ2Cruw0CGit1RG5ZSTErhZgD8i6O6femS55gprV6ZeYUXQmF3YRyH81GY7bN63PyRSvYvFgRngLlVgwJIMGnVByUnrXizSpK5mk8fiMCYsLKAhUyZqaUrEuErEsQw6/s1548/back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="1548" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgftrfDC4jjTGihVb3wVhhsyV0gntfl8UKRpTO7ucQrIf7C0xFVp-hRQ5jOxtvDSAZ2Cruw0CGit1RG5ZSTErhZgD8i6O6femS55gprV6ZeYUXQmF3YRyH81GY7bN63PyRSvYvFgRngLlVgwJIMGnVByUnrXizSpK5mk8fiMCYsLKAhUyZqaUrEuErEsQw6/s320/back.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I suspect she is missing her former companion, Korbi, who was actually my grand-daughter's cat that I inherited when she went away to university. I am only permitted one cat here in the retirement village so Korbi has gone to live with my daughter. He has settled in a bit quicker than Alleycat has but then again he was always a laid back, friendly cat and my miss is neither of those.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">We'll settle in soon. </span><br /></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-21793010713693003082023-06-03T12:05:00.000+12:002023-06-03T12:05:25.544+12:00The news<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's very rarely that I announce I have News!</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">So here it is. Today I have news. I have finally secured a place in our local, lovely little retirement village. It's a small one bedroom unit so I have a lot of "stuff shedding" to do. Where to start? For a week or so I just did a lot of wandering around the house, opening and closing doors, looking and thinking. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">This past week I've made a start but my mind skips from one thing to another. The minute I set myself a task and make a start I think of something else that must be done soon. I've even woken in the night and thought of something I must not forgot and been silly enough to get out of bed and do it immediately. In case I forget!<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">My mind just doesn't seem to be able to cope with so much going on in there at the moment.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Not to mention my body. I put in a good four hours of solid packing yesterday, stopped for lunch then sat down in my comfy chair and slept for two hours.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">One more week till moving day. I think I'll be ready. <br /></span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;">Be back in a few weeks! <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> <br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><br /></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-73945064247433797572023-05-23T16:24:00.000+12:002023-05-23T16:24:42.775+12:00Full head of steam<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">It's been years since I've been incensed enough to step forward and give someone a good telling off.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">And it happened when I was in a particularly good frame of mind, too, having just come from the cardiologist and been told my heart is in fine fettle. So now after months of this test and that test, my brain has been verified as in good shape and there's nothing wrong with my heart, it's looking like it is definitely those little crystals that hang out in our ears that are causing my vertigo, <span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">benign paroxysmal positional vertigo (BPPV). The young specialist was just lovely, I even paused as I was leaving to congratulate him on his interpersonal skills, told him he was top notch. I wondered if I was a bit presumptuous</span></span></span><span> </span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> but he seemed delighted to hear it. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">As I was leaving the hospital I was thinking about the many fine young people it has been my pleasure to meet lately.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">Barely an hour later I was in a queue at the supermarket with an elderly man leaning on his trolley in front of me. I noticed a young girl join the queue behind me and that she had only one item in her hand, so offered for her to go through ahead of me. A thank you would have been nice. Instead she asked the elderly man if she could go through in front of him, too and when he nodded OK, she signaled her two friends to join her. They each had one item in their hand and put through each item separately, so there were three transactions. That's when my hackles started to rise. The girl at the checkout processed the transactions and pointed out to them there is an Express Checkout for a small number of items. I hadn't heard what she said (she told me later) but I did hear the first girl say, "Shut up. We have a movie to get to." </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">That was my red flag. I practically pushed the older man aside to get past him and let those bs cop a good blast. How dare they? The gentleman and I had been kind to them and they behave like that? Immediate apologies were demanded and when one of the girls started to do so I told her to wait, let's hear it from the one who's been doing all the talking first. Gee, she didn't want to either but the supervisor had appeared by then and I think she felt outnumbered. She most ungraciously apologised. Oh, how I wanted to make her stand there and do it again but I didn't want to push my luck. </span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">The only person embarrassed by the incident was the young check out girl, she assured me it didn't matter, she was used to it. Which really did upset me.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">The elderly man invited me to go home with him and sort out his grandkids!</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">When I'd finished checking out, the supervisor stopped me to say thank you, said I was her shopper of the month.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">But wait, there's more. I got out to the car and realized I'd put my car keys down somewhere in the store. I sheepishly returned, saw the supervisor and as I was talking to her a staff member walked up to her with some lost car keys. I might not be very good at looking after myself but I'm happy that I can still jump to the defense of others. <br /></span></span></span></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-72922671417514449502023-05-18T17:32:00.001+12:002023-05-18T17:59:19.520+12:00No, I didn't call<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Friday of last week. Around 4.30 pm. There I was sitting quietly crocheting, no radio or TV on as I was concentrating on a new pattern. I'd already repeated a few rows more than once as I'd get to the end of a row and not have the right number of stitches. Isn't it so annoying when you know you've made a mistake somewhere, somehow but have no idea how or where it happened?</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">My door that faces the road was open but I hadn't heard a vehicle stop outside. Lost in my own crocheting world I must have been.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">There was a very loud knock on the door at the same time as a man's voice called out - very loudly - "Are you here, Pauline." I called that yes I'm here. Coming. By the time I got to the kitchen there was a very large man, in a uniform, half way through the kitchen coming towards my voice. Thinking back on it, the look on my face must have been comical. Through the kitchen windown I saw an ambulance sitting outside the window. This man I didn't know was calling me by name asking had I called? I was thinking called what. Oh, an ambulance. No, I finally managed to reply, I had not. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The ambulance officer then said my neighbour's name and I directed him to the right house. As he was running back to the vehicle I noticed there was a driver in the vehicle also but the sun was shining on the windscreen and I couldn't see a face although I got the impression it was a young female.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">My neighbour is now home again after a couple of nights in hospital getting him sorted. He's fine.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">But the mystery remains how did that ambulance officer know my name? The only explanation is that the driver must have known me or at least have known my name and that I lived in this house. Trouble is, I don't think I know anyone who is an ambulance officer. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A friend reminded me that I'd met a lot of people in my work at the lodge, and in previous jobs and that I'd lived in this particular area for a long time and in the north for a very long time. True, but not many of those people would know where I live. It's a mystery. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Wonder if I'll ever find out.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">For my own distraction, here's a little scene that took my eye when I was at the football on Saturday. I was quite a distance away but was taken by the way the older boys were interacting with the little girl. I'm out of the habit of taking my camera with me. I like to only take what can fit in my pockets as I (always seem to) need an umbrella and also have both hands free for applauding good play. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJXiTedtEfgIx4cHmkMEqdritjM8jhYOTW7K-woOj20FcD5ow5jQSR2E1hBaHY2o7zIfmB4vAZWC3thPgEzaYgJyNTo7d8kvV-ggg1cirIKGq24-IAIzZj_5VxLEbLhDWu606Rk95-cyBV01j4DCZVx7K5pEPOXETsmm-rjyXEONz_cb-f7Na3QJ64A/s946/footy%20may%2023%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="946" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizJXiTedtEfgIx4cHmkMEqdritjM8jhYOTW7K-woOj20FcD5ow5jQSR2E1hBaHY2o7zIfmB4vAZWC3thPgEzaYgJyNTo7d8kvV-ggg1cirIKGq24-IAIzZj_5VxLEbLhDWu606Rk95-cyBV01j4DCZVx7K5pEPOXETsmm-rjyXEONz_cb-f7Na3QJ64A/w400-h244/footy%20may%2023%20(2).jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-36050910378714107752023-05-15T14:40:00.000+12:002023-05-15T14:40:36.185+12:00Lazy dog whistling<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I must have been under a rock for quite a while I think. More and more often I have no idea what they are talking about when I listen to the radio, even The News.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">A month or so ago I had to ask Mr Google what a white cismale was. It took a while because I thought the cis and male were separate words. Once I found out what it meant I thought it was just some modern gobblygook the woke brigade had made up but no, </span><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="hgKElc">the Latin prefix cis means “on the same
side of.” So cismale is a male who was born male and is still "on the same side" ie still identifies as male. Really, we need a word for that??</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="hgKElc">From the lips of same woman </span></span><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="hgKElc">who taught me that lesson about gender identity,</span></span><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="hgKElc"> comes lazy, dog whistling. If you know all about it, don't read further. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="hgKElc">I heard it as lazy dog whistling as in lazy dog but no it was the dog whistling that was said to be lazy. Do you know about this?</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="hgKElc">I think the best explanation was in the Urban Dictionary. </span></span><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="hgKElc"> “A
surreptitious inclusion of code words or phrases that will be heard by
some of those listening, while not disturbing the other listeners, who
may not appreciate the hidden message(s)." Like as a </span></span><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="hgKElc">dog</span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> whistle is
only heard by dogs.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I still don't understand why that woman applied that term to the situation she was talking about. But then I'm not a politician and would not appreciate whatever the hidden message was meant to be.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Anyway, while I was down that rabbit hole reading about whistling (to dogs and otherwise) I came across something I'd never heard of before. Maybe the politician who is fond of accusing others of dog whistling should remember this:<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="hgKElc">"Whistling at a funeral or formal event
would be rude. Doing it while stacking hay bales or fixing a car
probably isn't. However, no matter the context, whistling is always
extremely annoying to anyone within hearing distance of the one who is
doing it."</span></span><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="hgKElc"> I'd say the same applies to dog whistling.</span></span><br /></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-60004968380147787742023-05-09T16:26:00.000+12:002023-05-09T16:26:37.628+12:00<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I'm so glad this "weather event" we're experiencing today didn't come our way on Saturday. There had been a heavy rain warning issued for later in the day but, unlike today's "event", that didn't eventuate.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Saturday was</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> the opening morning of shooting season and that's the day the 'factory girls'
gather. They've been doing that since the mid-eighties so are hardly
girls any longer. Even the youngest of us is probably past 50. </span></p>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;">It started off when the girls who worked in the laboratory at a dairy
factory </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">in the mid 1980s </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">decided they should have some fun while their boyfriends and
husbands went off duck shooting and began to have champagne breakfasts
on that morning. The invitation to attend was extended to all the females who worked at the factory. I was one of them. The tradition has continued although breakfast now
happens at lunch time and duck shooters have left their <a href="http://hunting.fishandgame.org.nz/maimais-cover">maimais</a> by the time we arrive.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6tqqftxytPHFXUD5M1KQywryHJGTJxM4AM8XIS8_YAPm79Fr7YGYPBQLUqElastZhipq1wNkru2Hir-UU-XOY7uQ_wjfALng85Z0HIr3cNe08ej339SsXNvJfPuyJyl7buy8zfrjHxytJ/s1600/glass+3_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg" style="font-family: verdana; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6tqqftxytPHFXUD5M1KQywryHJGTJxM4AM8XIS8_YAPm79Fr7YGYPBQLUqElastZhipq1wNkru2Hir-UU-XOY7uQ_wjfALng85Z0HIr3cNe08ej339SsXNvJfPuyJyl7buy8zfrjHxytJ/s1600/glass+3_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> I don't attend these gatherings every year, I always say I will but I let life get in the way. I'm resolved to make them a priority in the future. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Now some of our number are starting to experience serious health issues, a reminder that our numbers may dwindle sooner than we would like, to appreciate this connection we have developed over the years, to treasure this annual opportunity to rekindle our friendships.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Just a little aside. I kept staring at one of the ladies, unable to put a name to her. Every time I saw her, I kept telling myself I know those lovely blue eyes. I tried to imagine how she might look with different hair. I listened to hear anyone use her name. Finally she came up to me and said hello in what I immediately knew to be her unique, gentle voice and I knew instantly who she was. We worked out we hadn't seen each other since 1994.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYqIMTbuaUnLlNt2Q3KYoZshj_0rGZTZZVUAoBK1jUz0y9xrUE3svBVwEWt3gi1WTUCfiXIy5hjnW7kG7rinnVyZsS3zG_0pX4dfx-XqHTO7ajjcfnwUEwbzAh0wK9BHht7KhroMqtfp0_dE2JVxwmZkS1V48A6WrtI2D42b3AeMbKqZmDCCC8dx1yig/s583/champers%2020231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="583" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYqIMTbuaUnLlNt2Q3KYoZshj_0rGZTZZVUAoBK1jUz0y9xrUE3svBVwEWt3gi1WTUCfiXIy5hjnW7kG7rinnVyZsS3zG_0pX4dfx-XqHTO7ajjcfnwUEwbzAh0wK9BHht7KhroMqtfp0_dE2JVxwmZkS1V48A6WrtI2D42b3AeMbKqZmDCCC8dx1yig/w400-h258/champers%2020231.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> Thankfully someone remembered to call us together for a group photo. There are a few missing, they must have still been talking.<br /><p></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-49245322386494625552023-05-04T12:56:00.000+12:002023-05-04T12:56:08.085+12:00Kingfisher<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">I can't get a photo of it, it is too fast, the slightest movement from me and it is gone. It's a beautiful kingfisher, one of my favourite birds. It's the first one I've seen since leaving the farm where they were regular visitors.</span></p><p><span class="ILfuVd NA6bn" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Kingfishers are symbolic of freedom, courage, adventure, and balance. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">I've read in other places that they represent abundance and love, in another place they say they are a symbol of peace.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">I'd be happy for all (or any) of that to come my way. I've been keeping a sharp eye on the fence post it visited but so far I haven't seen it return. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc">For now, I'm happy to have the memory of its beauty. <br /></span></span></span></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-4689716928233847372023-05-01T11:47:00.000+12:002023-05-01T11:47:19.938+12:00Another ferry<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Around 25 years ago some of my siblings and offspring and I had a day out on the Noosa River on two craft I think could be best described as motorised pontoons. There were too many of us to go on one vessel. This year when most of us were all once again staying in <a href="https://www.visitnoosa.com.au/" target="_blank">Noosa</a>, we talked about doing the same thing but ended up deciding to explore via the ferries. That may have been decided upon because I related to all who would listen how much I'd enjoyed the Brisbane River ferry rides. I'm not sure how it was decided, there were quite often a few conversations happening at the same time. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">My brother, Peter and his English wife, Judy (PJ, Pommie Jude) had just sold their apartment at the Sebel in Noosa, and had rented a 3 bedroom apartment at Noosaville, right on the river. A younger brother, Danny and his wife, Judy (AJ, Aussie Jude) were at their apartment in Little Cove. Peter drew up a plan for who was to stay with whom on which nights with all of us sharing the evening meal. The Brisbane and Bundaberg siblings came for a night or two, some for longer. It was a good plan but the surprising thing is it worked to perfection. No one messed with the plan.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Our apartment was opposite a ferry terminal (on the left of the pic below) so it was super easy to cross the road and board a ferry for a trip up the river to Tewantin. This was my first encounter with payment by "card only", no cash accepted. When I asked at a supermarket a couple of days later if I could pay by cash, the checkout guy looked puzzled and replied, "Of course" as if that was a strange question. The electronic world has not quite taken over yet.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ5KtOhY2W0G8VAYurYePSZy4BkSndvXryUfz8uMa2Ehpw-9YCO2q_V-Gh_KiQu84uSfvvP-uU2ZxBHJ-JSB_inR7Cc2m1KSm9Tm_xyJzp9jKZshU3ns0bbbxlvRz9w54CQKbQGkqH6IuUuHYqiJvgdJ89FR6GjNjDCAgBoym9ZuLjK7s4K2iud5zY9w/s1548/noosaville%20appt.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="1548" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ5KtOhY2W0G8VAYurYePSZy4BkSndvXryUfz8uMa2Ehpw-9YCO2q_V-Gh_KiQu84uSfvvP-uU2ZxBHJ-JSB_inR7Cc2m1KSm9Tm_xyJzp9jKZshU3ns0bbbxlvRz9w54CQKbQGkqH6IuUuHYqiJvgdJ89FR6GjNjDCAgBoym9ZuLjK7s4K2iud5zY9w/w400-h180/noosaville%20appt.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;"> <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We caught the ferry going up river first, to <a href="https://www.visitnoosa.com.au/destinations/tewantin" target="_blank">Tewantin</a>, one of the earliest settled towns in the region.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0sMvcZEfFrBJXRtaQFwuu_JDZ4QGCCd9fjRuH9B_k7JjiIxel8efypcsBMIzc7CFk-stNzu6i1Gbnw5UVMMrn_E4zXq0VQaNG-ZsyxTgi821eNlRmArao3co7BvciHhGws8ou-Or3UM3QW253KnqYkJzHZkrC6_wDWdlFh0jLOuCuqO-S6S4GZ-8Bfw/s1548/river%20trips%2020234jpg.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="1548" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0sMvcZEfFrBJXRtaQFwuu_JDZ4QGCCd9fjRuH9B_k7JjiIxel8efypcsBMIzc7CFk-stNzu6i1Gbnw5UVMMrn_E4zXq0VQaNG-ZsyxTgi821eNlRmArao3co7BvciHhGws8ou-Or3UM3QW253KnqYkJzHZkrC6_wDWdlFh0jLOuCuqO-S6S4GZ-8Bfw/w400-h180/river%20trips%2020234jpg.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;"> <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span><span style="font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">An interesting looking boat moored beside the ferry terminal at Tewantin</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">The ferry boat captain was a one man band, guiding the ferry in and out of the river traffic, raising and lowering the ramp for passengers, giving an interesting commentary as well. Most of the river traffic were craft of various sizes hired by tourists, fishing boats, putt putts, those pontoon things we had once hired, and yachts both large and small - and it was obvious most of them had no idea what they were doing. I really felt for the captain.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGiIOyhB1JW1VO_pHDhpRVUwCoONteJA9r8VsQmQ8YeBxqvT9eAPrpMEUQWpSlG5VdHef3jyaSBBkUP2BzM-CuAHT9nCq5kqRX6lYRw00qIQZ2Er9ON94gBz57a-kTW3kpP-J72aq66FZ90rN0oTuJTNNNQJrAQ-kS3_9sYwiQK-XXDVqc1qGXi_pYXw/s1548/river%20trips%2020231.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="1548" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGiIOyhB1JW1VO_pHDhpRVUwCoONteJA9r8VsQmQ8YeBxqvT9eAPrpMEUQWpSlG5VdHef3jyaSBBkUP2BzM-CuAHT9nCq5kqRX6lYRw00qIQZ2Er9ON94gBz57a-kTW3kpP-J72aq66FZ90rN0oTuJTNNNQJrAQ-kS3_9sYwiQK-XXDVqc1qGXi_pYXw/w400-h180/river%20trips%2020231.jpg" width="400" /></a><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">We alighted in Noosa and my sister, Tricia and I went in search of a cool drink. Pete and PJ wanted an icecream, Clare and John went in another direction. Somehow someone found out the ferry wasn't going back our way for another hour and none of us felt like walking around the shops for that long (I have said we are all getting old, haven't I?) so we found the terminal for the free bus which we had been hearing stopping right outside our apartment. Peter found a seat on the bus beside an Italian young man holding a guitar and talked him into singing a song or two. Soon others on the bus were putting in requests and it was a most enjoyable bus ride home, with many on the bus singing along. The passengers were smiling and the entertainer enjoyed the applause.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Tricia and I did take a quick look at the beach but this is not the Noosa I want to remember. Slip (into a long-sleeved shirt), slop (on sunscreen), slap (on a hat) has now been amended to Slip, Slop, Slap, Seek, Slide</span><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"> <span style="font-family: verdana;">to reflect the importance of seeking shade and sliding on wraparound sunglasses to prevent sun damage.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivYk0lqHVYTxzTwi34gEIXxs0bYSSPkuvcLsVhmWm43L7GHjjyP-TIGPclNMSIlMDZYdAQ3VkOIPyDwyG81HIRj6pRqSwa1raeOWX5ZtEqpwWCL6vvZa3kpOFzSgLTKgyBLTUgPEjYu3u-9kHsy-4z-ni8Cz7YzJk9lXDfhV_CsCueOIcDunIsZDR_Rw/s1548/shade%20huts.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="1548" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivYk0lqHVYTxzTwi34gEIXxs0bYSSPkuvcLsVhmWm43L7GHjjyP-TIGPclNMSIlMDZYdAQ3VkOIPyDwyG81HIRj6pRqSwa1raeOWX5ZtEqpwWCL6vvZa3kpOFzSgLTKgyBLTUgPEjYu3u-9kHsy-4z-ni8Cz7YzJk9lXDfhV_CsCueOIcDunIsZDR_Rw/w400-h180/shade%20huts.jpg" width="400" /></a><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> <br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span class="ILfuVd" lang="en"><span class="hgKElc"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> It just didn't seem right to me that I could barely see the surf. <br /></span></span></span></p><p></p>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-768256566462414032.post-10098580802727363662023-04-28T13:16:00.000+12:002023-04-28T13:16:41.654+12:00River ferry<p><span style="font-family: verdana;">My sister, Clare came up with the idea of us having a day out on the Brisbane River taking the ferry up the river as far as they go from Hamilton, the northern most terminal. There can't be a better way to see Brisbane!</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim33EyuMamqS88oReHrNOUdIoreGXXz66jlwPd4Ozg72F4FIMNbUFENti9LNi4Q94MjDS1WKsi7L_pNQlGbuEw6_AwVFkvpvNX8i9lEpUVeJSLrSc2F2PUUUKRjF0WV7nwL2e_b0DyLpBAxZW8CQaUjDo1jNP_yJfkninWPe28zBI6-dOPkngfwl4JEA/s1560/hamilton%20ferry%20stop.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="1560" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim33EyuMamqS88oReHrNOUdIoreGXXz66jlwPd4Ozg72F4FIMNbUFENti9LNi4Q94MjDS1WKsi7L_pNQlGbuEw6_AwVFkvpvNX8i9lEpUVeJSLrSc2F2PUUUKRjF0WV7nwL2e_b0DyLpBAxZW8CQaUjDo1jNP_yJfkninWPe28zBI6-dOPkngfwl4JEA/w400-h300/hamilton%20ferry%20stop.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"> </span>A quiet reach of at river beside the Hamilton ferry terminal</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">Not much of what I saw looked familiar to me, I am pretty much a stranger in the city where I grew up, so the sight of the old wool stores at New Farm were a familiar, welcome sight. The </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">historical wool
stores</span><span style="font-family: verdana;"> and industrial structures which were </span><span style="font-family: verdana;">erected in the beginning of the
20th century have gradually been transformed into a medium-high density residential community since the early 1990s.<br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1czh827sUNB7Xv9ReZ4JjCYPaLxlyNssX3YlmJZU9wXcFiS4SpYFxB4CrxSqeMVSdrxCjBtKOWjfmc7TiBeMQkJhXO-2YxFk-4VOJAEt_KMDY7_DSC7lVWVlbDO5T_aDV-wtLcKhjlTpvZ4b9mFLvsn2F-2v5EmwBT8K6ZHUzf0e5fNp1bnz05Mybxg/s1965/new%20farm%202023.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="952" data-original-width="1965" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1czh827sUNB7Xv9ReZ4JjCYPaLxlyNssX3YlmJZU9wXcFiS4SpYFxB4CrxSqeMVSdrxCjBtKOWjfmc7TiBeMQkJhXO-2YxFk-4VOJAEt_KMDY7_DSC7lVWVlbDO5T_aDV-wtLcKhjlTpvZ4b9mFLvsn2F-2v5EmwBT8K6ZHUzf0e5fNp1bnz05Mybxg/s320/new%20farm%202023.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">I was surprised at the number of bridges spanning the river, I'd say more than double the number that were there in my youth. I shouldn't have been surprised, progress doesn't stand still, if you’re not moving forward, you’re moving backward and Brisbane is certainly not doing that judging by the number of cranes to be seen on the skyline.<br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWKtU_FGe-2Adc3zsTa6jpq7CVvLxjJ0DX0zVAUQkzATM61OeAICrJARW8Xmz8wpCI05stL1Q6b_CQ5VVvQ-ua3YzMih-bPDJaBf-2SfZRvcUF8pM0fKsOoiHiJJ1MCtgOk2coleI2yGVH_FkA8nDtqCU9s8wwaeUWzqjNvP-GC9OnyZ1LD5O03D6Ew/s1560/river%20trip%2020231.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="1560" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpWKtU_FGe-2Adc3zsTa6jpq7CVvLxjJ0DX0zVAUQkzATM61OeAICrJARW8Xmz8wpCI05stL1Q6b_CQ5VVvQ-ua3YzMih-bPDJaBf-2SfZRvcUF8pM0fKsOoiHiJJ1MCtgOk2coleI2yGVH_FkA8nDtqCU9s8wwaeUWzqjNvP-GC9OnyZ1LD5O03D6Ew/s320/river%20trip%2020231.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><p></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh9E53ynwGhdh2nBduompfNzZYuMeEFpYslIzMLafeDKLSHaZJA8tEsc5QZIhY_m6QC9ygRDB1sY8736WMmXWGYoYshAxbF4sMPyxM2WS-v_zfXVm_Q3ARxVea5cm8hfFNuvu-hglgQwHa_9WB5_OzT-llf8OG9yWSABWpY1Qfx0RPWDr8mLvDTK-_lA/s1560/river%20trip%2020232.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1170" data-original-width="1560" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh9E53ynwGhdh2nBduompfNzZYuMeEFpYslIzMLafeDKLSHaZJA8tEsc5QZIhY_m6QC9ygRDB1sY8736WMmXWGYoYshAxbF4sMPyxM2WS-v_zfXVm_Q3ARxVea5cm8hfFNuvu-hglgQwHa_9WB5_OzT-llf8OG9yWSABWpY1Qfx0RPWDr8mLvDTK-_lA/s320/river%20trip%2020232.jpg" width="320" /> </a></p><p style="text-align: center;">I think this is Kurilpa Bridge for<span> pedestrian and bicycles</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: verdana;">We went up the river to the end of the line (I guess that's not the right word, might it be route?) to the University of Queensland terminal at St Lucia where we hopped off for a few minutes before taking another ferry back towards the city a few minutes later. </span></span><span style="font-family: verdana;">Brisbane City Council currently operates a fleet of 23 CityCats which go up and down the river and five
KittyCats which go across the river. There's a network of 23 terminals.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: verdana;">On our return journey we got off the ferry again to have lunch at Southbank, opposite the city CBD. It was a warm day and the man-made swimming beach, overlooking the river, was being enjoyed by quite a few people of all ages.<br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijtvuCRuc7jswyGk4zYAHAR4VCDuX57kjKT-gOx_-YN4XW87tAXlFQrwJvm9IY0JIZVe0yfXifszWaej9OQ2o3wHgjnx6v2OwcR1JNmOLIlZ2Qt-5tLJlvVdV4RayD9NNiucKaUziCFtQtyXelYiza4tJzAlhBaGe6UP4nbCLgsLrPBKnNXPRCHT25oQ/s1889/southbank.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1889" data-original-width="1160" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijtvuCRuc7jswyGk4zYAHAR4VCDuX57kjKT-gOx_-YN4XW87tAXlFQrwJvm9IY0JIZVe0yfXifszWaej9OQ2o3wHgjnx6v2OwcR1JNmOLIlZ2Qt-5tLJlvVdV4RayD9NNiucKaUziCFtQtyXelYiza4tJzAlhBaGe6UP4nbCLgsLrPBKnNXPRCHT25oQ/w246-h400/southbank.jpg" width="246" /></a><span> </span> <br /></div>Paulinehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15276284964859313257noreply@blogger.com12