Thursday Doors…St John’s Cathedral, Parramatta, Australia.

This week, a new door opened up, when I stumbled across a new-to-me blog share…Thursday Doors, hosted by Norm 2.0. As he explains:

Thursday Doors is a weekly feature allowing door lovers to come together to admire and share their favorite door photos from around the world. Feel free to join in on the fun by creating your own Thursday Doors post each week and then sharing it, between Thursday morning and Saturday noon (North American eastern time), by using the blue link-up button below. 

What a great idea!

Yet, there began my dilemma.

Of all the doors in all the world, which one would I choose to be my first?

Of course, it couldn’t just be any old door.

It had to be special. Personal. Tell a story.

At the same time, being the eternal procrastinating perfectionist, I also twigged that I could spend days, even years, sifting through millions of photos on my hard drive pedantically searching for the perfect door and this new opportunity would never open up for me.

Trust me. There’s no perfect door.

No perfect door photo either.

Well, I’d probably find one if I searched a bit harder, and I really should’ve straightened this photo by the smallest fraction of a degree, because it isn’t quite straight. You see, despite being a half-decent photographer I struggle to get the horizon level. There’s often a slight lean to one side. So, this photo as it stands has my personal signature.

So, let me introduce you to Sydney’s St John’s Anglican Cathedral, Parramatta, home to Australia’s longest continuing church site, and one of its earliest churches. The cathedral itself was built in three main stages, St John’s Anglican Cathedral combines Victorian Romanesque style with an (earlier) pair of Old Colonial Gothic towers.  The oldest part of the current building, the two western towers, were built between 1817 and 1819 on apparently new foundations to replace the collapsed vestry. The towers are modelled on the towers of the ruined 12th century Saxon Church of St Mary’s at Reculver, Kent, England. See source.

My husband and I had a weekend away in Parramatta a few months ago and really enjoyed having a chance to explore its historic architecture. You can read more about that in: A Weekend Away In Parramatta.

Well, I look forward to knocking on a few new doors taking part in Thursday Doors and I also hope a few of you will head over there and give it a go. Here’s the link again.

Best wishes,

Rowena

No Regrets…Friday Fictioneers.

Sex, drugs and rock n’ roll were a different story as a kid.  Bouncing in between Mum and Dad with a revolving circus of “aunts” and “uncles”, I was safer riding my bike unsupervised on the road, than being at home. Yet, I was only knee high to a grasshopper, and still had my training wheels on.

No food, but always money for smokes and booze.

Then, the car pulled up. The minute I looked into her eyes, I knew she was going to be my new Mum, and climbed in.

Clearly, I’d be better off with this stranger, than the devils I knew.

….

104 words.

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields. Every week she posts a photo and we write 100 words to the prompt. This week’s PHOTO PROMPT © Yvette Prior. I’d encourage you to have a go. I find writing to someone else’s prompt really extends the scope of my writing and gets me thinking outside my usual four walls.

Best wishes,

Rowena

PS I considered adding some kind of explanation to the story last night, and could well turn this into a longer short story. I have seen a young boy riding his bike outside my house a few times without anyone in sight, which is extremely unusual for a young kid these days. I spoke to him once because he was riding near my driveway and I was about to reverse and let’s just say that going backwards isn’t my thing. I haven’t said anymore to him or know anything about him. He probably lives a few doors away. However, I’ve been taught and my kids have been taught not to talk to strangers  so I haven’t crossed the line, even though as a Mum with kids and reasonably well known in the area, I’d probably fall into a blurry area.

That’s when I started thinking about reversing all that ingrained education about stranger danger. What if the stranger was actually the salvation?

The way I pictured this was possibly in a court room where the once child is now an adult and is testifying to support his purported kidnapper. He went freely and he was better off. He was safe. I had a few gems which I sadly had to delete along the way. I had him trying to find somewhere to rest his pillow in between the holes in the wall. I also had Mum pregnant with another baby, and the kid’s determined not to let another kid follow in his footsteps, but I wasn’t sure about a likely course of action there. I also reversed the common comment you hear about there’s no manual to raise a kid and had him saying there was no manual for a kid trying to raise their parents. Such great ideas, and too few words. I rarely write short stories but this one is luring me in.

Thursday Doors – August 9, 2018

I had to share this inspirational story of this incredible artist, Maud Lewis. It would be so much fun not just to paint your house, but really paint it.
Best wishes, Rowena

Norm 2.0

Thursday Doors is a weekly feature allowing door lovers to come together to admire and share their favorite door photos from around the world. Feel free to join in on the fun by creating your own Thursday Doors post each week and then sharing it, between Thursday morning and Saturday noon (North American eastern time), by using the blue link-up button below. 

Maudie’s Door  

Born Maud Dowley in March 1903 is South Ohio, Nova Scotia, Maud Lewis was one of Canada’s best-known folk artists.

Lewis who was severely hampered by advanced arthritis from birth, spent most of her adult life living in poverty with her husband Everett. For over three decades the couple lived together in his one-room shack in rural Nova Scotia without electricity or running water.

To make money Maud sold her paintings from their roadside home to tourists and passersby for about $5.00 each, and never more than…

View original post 498 more words

Weekend Coffee Share… 13th August, 2018.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

As much as I’d love to have you over for coffee tonight, you might want to reconsider. It’s so cold that my fingers are numb. Of course, it would help if I accepted that it was still Winter, and that turning on the heater or putting on a jumper would be a good move. It’s evening and currently 11°C or 52°F.

Rosie tennis balls laptop

Rosie with her tennis ball collection on my laptop.

Before I proceed, let me just introduce you to Rosie, our black and white Border Collie x Kelpie, who is staring straight at me with dogged persistence. She has a serious fixation with chasing balls, sticks or anything which could possibly launch through the air with her in hot pursuit. Rosie’s been parked in front of my chair for hours patiently depositing fragments of stick on my keyboard depositing fragments of sticks and tennis ball on my keyboard, and wondering why I haven’t seen them. Indeed, the pile is growing and she’s just upped her campaign and brought me a forbidden wooden peg. You should see the focus on those eyes and the highly strung tension in every cell of her body. She can maintain this pose for hours…and hours. I’m ignoring her more than usual tonight. Wonder if she thinks I’m broken? Or, perhaps she’s concluded I require more training… She certainly hasn’t given up trying to motivate this comatose human. She is the personification (or should that be dogification?) of persistence.

Rowena Haircut

Sporting my new haircut at the local waterfront. 

My big news this week, is that I’ve finally had my haircut. While I acknowledge that for much of the population having a haircut is a non-event, for me it’s more of significant and I’m out there ringing the brass bell.  Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It’s been around two years since my last haircut, and that rushed ponytail or makeshift bun have been heaven-sent. I know it sounds terrible now I’ve actually reflected on my crime and the horrors -of “letting myself go”. It’s just that it takes a lot of effort, not to mention money to maintain the facade, and my prime focus is more on what goes on underneath something money can’t buy.

Rowena Flying Hair

Trying to get a photo of my new haircut…the wind showed no respect and kept blowing it around. 

After my haircut,, I headed back down to Terrigal Beach for a Fisherman’s Basket and thought my hair hair was about to fly away…so much for respecting my new haircut. However, I was grateful to find a parking spot. It took quite a tour to find one. What? Did they know I was coming? Obviously not.

Last week, I mentioned that I was reading Raphaelle Giordano’s  French novel: Your Second Life Begins When You Realize You Only Have One. This inspirational book is a hard creature to categorize. While it claims to be a novel, for me it reads more like a memoir, which is perhaps the ultimate tick of approval for any novel. After all, they’re supposed to feel real, and lure the eager reader into their web.

However, most novels don’t include action steps and writing post-it notes to change your life. Fill the void surrounded by all the trappings of success, supposed happiness, dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s.

I decided to take on these challenges myself. Why not?

The first task was to throw out ten items. Me being me, I started musing to myself about what these ten things should be. Of course, I could follow the letter of the law and throw out ten bobby pins and cross it off. However, obviously to experience the full benefit, I needed to embrace the full spirit of the law. Ideally, I would’ve moved on the piano, car bed or table I’ve been meaning to sell or give away, but that wasn’t going to happen quickly. So, I found a sort of middle ground and the deed was done. Too much analysis was only going to lead to paralysis, something I knew too well.

In the book, simply throwing out these ten items launches Camille into a cleaning and renovation frenzy where she even ends up painting their apartment. Such monumental change seemed too good to be true. However, I’m also finding a renewed desire to straighten things up around here. As usual, all roads are leading to my desk and the kitchen table, which always end up as a layer cake of family detritus. Indeed, I have no doubt that there are even fragments of stick buried on my very desk. Clearly, when it comes to sorting all of this out, I’m up against it.However, I’m not aiming for clinical perfection. It is our home. We’re a family. Love, connection and relationships are what it’s all about. Yet, these diametrically opposed worlds collide in every home and we each just try to make the best of it.

Have you read any good books lately? Has anyone read the Jane Hawk series by Dean Koontz? I heard a great review this week, and am tempted to have a go. I don’t usually like reading series and am more of a non-fiction reader, but might give it a go.

How has your week been? What have you been up to? I hope it been great.

This has been another contribution for the Weekend Coffee Share hosted by Eclectic Ali. You’re welcome to come and join us for a cuppa.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Electrical Sex Fixing…What the @#$%!

Research was never meant to be a straight road. Quite often, there’s an astounding story right alongside the one I was looking for, which turns out to be “the find”.

Night, while reading through my grandmother’s music column from the 1950s, I stumbled across this gem:

Electrical Sex Fixing 1952

Unfortunately, a quick Google search fails to elucidate the matter any further. Does anybody know any more about this?

Best wishes,

Rowena

When It Is What It Isn’t…Friday Fictioneers.

“Perspective…It’s all about perspective,” Professor Smart explained. “See that planter box of grass… Now, lie down on the floor and look up at it. See how the grass appears so much larger. Assumes the height of an almighty jungle, although it’s barely knee-height. Your mind plays tricks on you. You always need to double check. Make sure you’re seeing what you’re actually seeing.”

This was too easy. With Professor Smart lying down on the floor absorbed by his theories, my partner crept unseen behind his desk and stole the Picasso from right behind his back. He had perfect tunnel vision.

…….

101 words.

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields. Each week we write 100 words to a photo prompt. This week’s PHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio.

I am a passionate photographer, and what I love most about photography is how it illuminates my vision. Helps me to see things with such clarity and intensity, that I see details and objects through the lens which I usually miss. This is a form of tunnel vision in itself, and yet it’s also showed me how different the same object can appear from different angles and how things appear much larger when you photograph them from the ground looking up. I love playing around with perspective in photography, although I’m glad I can do it digitally these days. I’m saving a fortune.

Best wishes,

Rowena

 

Weekend Coffee Share… 5th August, 2018.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

This week, I’m a year older and wiser, after celebrating my Birthday on Monday. I’m not going to get into the specifics. However, I can still claim to be in my 40’s, although I’m now hanging on by my fingertips!!!

My birthday was fairly low key. The kids went away skiing at Perisher with the Scouts, and my husband and I stayed home. From memory, we crashed out most of the time and slept. It’s still Winter here and I’m still inclined to hibernate. That said, we’re now starting to head into t-shirt weather by day, although it’s still pretty cold at night. Just to put you in the picture,  it was 9-19°C today.

Masterchef Australia 2018 Title Goes To Indian Origin Prison Guard Sashi Cheliah

Last Tuesday night, was the Finale of Masterchef Australia 2019. Have you ever watched Masterchef? You guys come from all over but the show seems to have something of a global audience. I’ve been a diehard, loyal fan since it first appeared 10 years ago when Julie Goodwin became Australia’s 1st Masterchef. Given how much I’ve always loved cooking, especially baking, it’s no wonder I love the show. However, I don’t just watch it as a cooking show. Rather, I’m lured right in, watching the highs and lows, the conquests and defeats of the human spirit. While I’m sure all these contestants are perfectionists by nature and extremely driven, making mistakes on the show is par for the course. The key, however, is not to have two bad cooks in a row, because that’s what sends you home. I made no secret at home, that 19 year old Jess Liemantara was my favourite, although as she faced pressure test after pressure test, it didn’t seem likely that she was going to last the distance. However, she eventually survived long enough to place fourth…a great achievement. The finale saw Ben and Sashi fight it out. While Sashi had been a strong contender throughout and an obvious winner, his form dropped back a bit in those last final cooks and I thought Ben had the title in the bag. However, it wasn’t meant to be, and Sashi romped home with the largest score in Masterchef history.

I’m not much of a TV watcher, but I’ve been left feeling a distinct void since Masterchef ended, even though it’s clearly time I caught up on my violin practice which has been an unfortunate casualty. I’m also waiting on the transcripts of the bigamy case I’ve mentioned a few times. My 3 x Great Grandfather, John Johnston was convicted of bigamy in New Zealand in 1864 and I’m waiting on them to arrive before I do more research on that front.

Asher Hart 1931 record Breaker

Instead, I’ve dug up my research on my grandfather’s second cousin, Asher Hart, who was a swimming champion during the 1930s. However, in 1932, he contracted polio and spent four months in Sydney Hospital in plaster. I didn’t expect Asher to rise from the horrors of polio and certainly not return to competitive swimming and being a lifesaver at Sydney’s Bondi Beach. However, slowly but surely he got back on his feet and into training and his father, Reg, massaged his legs every night for 18 months. He didn’t throw him back into competition either. Rather, he valued rest as much as training and instituted what seems to be a pretty level-headed training regime. I’m still nutting out all his various achievements. However, in 1938 a mini tsunami hit Bondi Beach and hundreds of people needed to be rescued. Moreover, most of them couldn’t swim. Five people drowned that day, but Asher Hart saved four lives. I am so proud of him. Not just because he’s family, but because I’ve also survived the horrors of debilitating illness and for him to be able to do all of that, blows me away. I’m in awe. Indeed, when I first put the pieces of his story together five years ago, my muscle disease had flared up and I had my own questions of whether I was going to get my own muscle strength back, along with very real concerns that my lungs were steadily turning into concrete. I needed a hero. Not any kind of hero, but someone who was where I was at and climbed out. I’ve recently found out that he didn’t recover full strength in his legs, but his arms and shoulders compensated. He was certainly an extraordinary man, and from what I’ve also read, his character was equally inspiring. I am yearning to find out more.

Black Sunday SMH Feb 7 1938

Black Sunday Bondi, 1938. 

Speaking of which, I read a fantastic book this week: My Australian Story: Black Sunday by Evan McHugh. It recounts the story of “Nipper” a 12 year old Bondi lad who is desperate to become a lifesaver. However, it is 1938 and back then you needed to turn 16 and get your Bronze Medallion before you could join up. However, keen as mustard, Nipper starts training, swimming in the surf. The story goes off on many twists and turns and doesn’t just focus on Black Sunday itself, but provides more of an overview of what it was like to grow up and live in Bondi Beach at the time. It also places it within its historic context of the Great Depression, and the rise and rise of Adolf Hitler as the world steadily marches towards another world war. One of Nipper’s friends was a Jewish regugee from Germany.  I found it a gripping, easy read and couldn’t put it down. Read it in a day. Highly recommend it.

Book

 

I’ve also started reading Raphaelle Giordano’s: Your Second Life Begins When You Realize You Only Have One, which I spotted while on holidays at Blackheath but requested as a birthday gift from my mum when I returned home. I’m really enjoying it so far. I love a philosophical, reflective read and so far, this one shows promise. However, it didn’t get a very encouraging review from Sydney Morning Herald Reviewer, Cameron Woodhead, who could well be true to name:  “This awkwardly titled, though bestselling, French novel claims to have made 2 million readers happier. It didn’t make me happier. But then, I didn’t grow spiritually from reading Eat, Pray, Love. Raphaelle Giordano has created the kind of shallow feel-good novel that resembles a self-help book, with the same tiresome platitudes, the same hyper-focus on personal fulfilment.”

However, life hasn’t been all about reading during the last week and indulging in Masterchef. Today, we helped one of my support workers move house. Her situation was untenable and she needed to move in a hurry. I rang a friend from Church with a van and trailer and recruited my husband and son and off we went. It’s not easy to move in a hurry and while I kept myself pretty light when I was in share accommodation, she had the full kaboodle and was moving to a first floor flat with a narrow staircase. So, the guys hoisted the bed up over the balcony and my dear son proved himself a man and quite a rock helping without complaining and doing what needed to be done. Our team of men, and our friend’s son, showed how male strength can be used for good and make a difference. I was not only very proud of them. It touched my heart. I was really thrilled we pulled off the move because it’s not easy for me to help other people in practical ways with my health issues and just this once, we pulled it off. I was able to be the sort of person I admire and want to be…a helper and not a drowning soul myself. I have grown so much stronger.

In terms of what I’ve posted this week, I did my usual contribution for Friday Fictioneers. This week’s contribution was : Secret Shed Business. I also posted a newspaper clipping I came across of my grandmother, concert pianist, Eunice Gardiner. I’ve never seen this photo before, but it showed my grandmother carrying her first son in a backpack and talking about how she attaches the baby on the front to go to the shops. Meanwhile,all in the same breath, she talked about giving a Beethoven recital at the NSW Conservatorium of Music. The baby was three months old at this point. My grandmother was something of a superhuman, although she didn’t go it alone. She had considerable support, despite my grandfather being away with the Army. In was 1943. The Japanese had already knocked on Sydney Harbour. These were very difficult times and yet she played on.

Lady & pups sleeping

Lady with the pups when they first arrived a year ago. 

Lastly, I just thought I’d finish up with a  bit of a tribute to the dog. It seemed everywhere I turned last week, people were caught up in serious trouble and needed an ear. Indeed, I was starting to wonder if there was anybody who was feeling on top of the world. That life was good. By this point, my own gear had moved into neutral, the observer…it’s an easy place for a writer to sit and turn into something of a home.

puppy

A simplistic interpretation…or is it?

Then, I looked up at my dogs…Lady, the Border collie x Cavalier and Rose and Zac our year old Border collie x Kelpies who are brother and sister from the same litter…our “twins”. Just the sound of the car pulling into the driveway, is ecstasy. Rosie is always there with her ball, stick, or fragments thereof, full of drive and enthusiasm. Zac is inclined to whimper when a door closes on him but he doesn’t forget how to wag his tail. It is no coinsidence that we have three dogs in our family and if we lived on acreage, there’d be a fourth…one each. They are simply the best!

Hope you’ve had a great week!

Love & best wishes,

Rowena