In January my husband and I had to rush my Dad to emergency. We had to take a strange route to avoid traffic. We also had to keep him calm. He was ironically excited in his delirium from level 10 pain. We thought he would need to stay a few days but in reality the […]When death comes. — Into The Clearing
It’s been awhile since I made an actual contribution to Thursday Doors. That’s not because I haven’t continued opening and closing doors, not to mention leaving the odd door open. Indeed, I’ve even been photographing doors. Of course, I’ve been photographing doors, because once you start, you never really give up. You’re either a door person, or you’re not! Yet, at the same time, I also go through different seasons, and as we all know, nothing’s been the same since covid hit the scene.
Well, this week’s door isn’t particularly fancy. However, it fronts a courageous tale of war-torn survivors, displaced refugees from war-torn Europe who found themselves residing at the Greta Migrant Camp 40 kms North-West of Newcastle. Initially from Estonia, Latvia/ Poland, the Ukraine, Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia, Lithuania and Russia, they were to be followed by Italians, Greeks and Hungarians. Experiencing enormous cultural shock, these “New Australians” described the camp as “a wilderness;” “a place like hell” and “the end of the world.” However, out of this “Babel” and multi-cultural crucible, a culturally rich, dynamic community evolved, and dispersed.
The door itself was part of the original theatre from the Greta Migrant Camp, which along with some of the Nissan huts from the original camp, were relocated to YWAM’s Camp Tahlee where my kids attended a Church youth camp on Monday and Tuesday this week. I like the idea of this building being moved and repurposed, not for greatness and glory, but in this case it’s being used to share the Gospel and care for young people, and there’s a lot to be said for that. And so, these doors tell an incredible story of the survival not only of the people who came and went through these theatre doors, but also of the building itself. That has to count as a win-win.
Our daughter wasn’t quite ready to be picked up when we arrived, and so we walked around a bit and me being me had to check the place out through the lens. As has been pretty typical lately, it was overcast and not the greatest weather for photography.
However, you can get a sense of the place, and it really seems very relaxing. Not that it was so relaxing for the youth. A lot of pranking went on, and I must admit I was rather concerned when our son left with a couple of containers of live grasshoppers he’d bought from the local pet shop. He also took a roll of chicken wire. I haven’t heard a lot about what went on up there, but he crashed when he came home and was aching from head to toe, couldn’t move and was sporting quite a few cuts and bruises. No pain, no glory. Not sure what his sister got up to. She’s quieter and probably left her mark without detection.
Anyway, I hope you and yours are keeping safe and well.
This has been another contribution to Thursday Doors, which is kindly hosted by Dan Antion from No Facilities https://nofacilities.com/.
PS This little Church was just down the road from Camp Tahlee and it looks like it’s no become a private residence.
Welcome to the Christmas Edition of the Weekend Coffee Share!
Well, to be precise, it’s actually post-Christmas and we’re currently drifting along in the lull between Christmas and New Year where we recover from Christmas indulgence, over-consumption and back-breaking stress and veg out. Well, that’s as long as we haven’t done something stupid like inviting people over on New Year’s Eve. I wouldn’t know anybody who is crazy enough to do that, especially after hosting family on Christmas Day. However, there is this strange logic that once you’ve tidied the house up, get all of your entertaining done immediately before the place does a Cinderella on you and turns back into a pumpkin.
Anyway, before I ask you how your Christmas or Holiday celebrations went, I’d better offer you a cup of tea, coffee or perhaps you fancy a cold drink. We’ve had quite a few hot days, so you might prefer something cold. I’ve been doing a bit of baking and we have Christmas cake, shortbread, Honey Biscuits, Mars Bar Slice and Caramel Macadamia Nut Tart. Yum!
So how have you been spending Christmas or the Holidays?
We went to the 11.00pm service on Christmas Eve. The earlier services were cancelled and went via zoom instead, as there’s been an outbreak of Covid in Sydney along with a couple of local cases. There weren’t too many booked in for the late service and so it could still go ahead now we’re back to the 4 square metre rule.
The, on Christmas Day, my parents drove up from Sydney for lunch. I did all the cooking, which went surprisingly well. We had a roast chicken, veggies and gravy with the Caramel Macadamia Tart for dessert. We were too full to even consider eating the pudding, but we had a wonderful day which seemed to race past like a bullet train.
The prelude to Christmas was crazy busy. After guttering the loungeroom to replace the carpet with a floating floor and finding the room also needed a paint job, we then had a mad scramble to get everything back in situ for the big day. We managed to get there but quite a few things got shoved anywhere they could fit and goodness knows if we’ll ever see them again. However, it was all worth it, and the house was nice and comfy and we could actually spread out.
Another big development in the lead up to Christmas, was that Miss decided to get her haircut. Indeed, to be precise, she decided to get her hair lopped off and she also wanted to donate the ponytail to make a wig for someone who is experiencing long term hair loss. This seemed like a great idea and something her friends have done before, although I was concerned she was going to regret cutting it off and I also loved her hair being so long and it had become a fundamental part of her. However, it was also very heavy, especially when she went swimming and it also covered her face in the water and might even have been a bit dangerous. By the way, in addition to getting the chop, she also got some foils. She talked me into this, but it was a fun adventure and I emphasised it was a once off. However, it was a lot of fun and seeing her incredible smile at the end, was truly worth it. You see quite a few storm clouds brewing in the teenagers eyes, so it makes it all the better when you see those radiant, sunny smiles and all is good.
Since Christmas, we’ve tried to relax and do as little as possible. That said, we had the big clean up after Christmas lunch and today we headed off to Specsavers to replace our glasses before the annual health fund allocation ran out. I can tell you it was quite an experience getting our eyes tested and trying on glasses with face masks on and glasses fogging up. I hope they turn out okay. However, I thought you’d enjoy this photo of three out of the four of us trying glasses on.
Well, I’d better head off now. Time’s always getting away from me.
Not long now until we reach the end of 2020, but it’s pretty clear to me that there aren’t going to be any instant miracles once we turn the page into 2021. That said, vaccination has started and maybe that will start having an impact soon.
Meanwhile, we hope you and yours are safe and that you have a geat year ahead in 2021. Any resolutions yet? I’m still working on mine. My word for the last couple of years has been ACTION, and I might go with that again. Although when it comes to my WWI research project, the word is now WRITE, and when it comes to going away in January, it’s WAIT. Need to see what covid is up to by then.
We would like to wish you and yours a very Merry and blessed Christmas! Even if happiness feels like a pipe dream during Covid; even in the darkest of times, there is still good to be found. Moreover, 2020 hasn’t been universally bad. Indeed, our family has experienced much worse, and we’ve actually had some significant breakthroughs. This has included having Geoff working from home, giving him at least an extra three hours at home, saving us money and enabling him to get some work done on the house.
It’s now the day after Boxing Day. So, Christmas Day is done and dusted. We had a wonderful day. My parents drove up from Sydney. I did all the cooking and we had roast chicken with stuffing and gravy, roast potatoes and pumpkin baked in duck fat, leg ham, thyme damper rolls and Avocado, Mango and Cashew Salad. For dessert, there was Macadamia Nut Caramel Tart, Honey Biscuits straight out of the oven, and my Christmas Cake. I was so proud of myself for timing everything well, and relieved that lady luck was on my side, and everything worked out. You can never assume a dish is going to work out perfectly, even if you’ve made it 20 times without a hitch before. There are no guarantees, although the more you cook, the better you get at masking your mistakes.
By the way, the weather here deserves a mention this year. Firstly, you need to remember that we’ve Australian it’s Summer here, and that usually spells HOT. Indeed, it’s often so hot, you could fry an egg on the footpath, and you almost get sunburnt just looking outside. Usually, when we’re having the big family Christmas at my auntie’s place, half the family ends up in the pool and you can almost see the steam rising as they’re hot and bothered bodies cool off. However, this year it was wet and cool, and my Dad was actually wearing his jumper. That was pretty exceptional, and definitely blogworthy.
How has Christmas or the holidays been for you? I hope you and yours have had a Merry Christmas, and now it’s time to start thinking about resolutions for the new year. Now, there’s something that’s going to be complicated.
Rowena and Family.
Welcome To Another Weekend Coffee Share!
How are you and what’s going on in your neck of the woods? While you’re thinking about that, let me offer you something to drink and perhaps a Lime & Coconut Biscuit, because there’s nothing left of the Key Lime Pie I made last week.
After a cool and wet start to our Summer, the sun and heat returned with a vengeance today. It was so hot, and perhaps the best indication of the sudden heat wave was how our dog Rosie suddenly shed her undercoat today. She’s not even a long-haired dog. However, a message went to her brain today, which said something along the lines of “Dump fur now” and it’s been coming out all day by the handful. The house is littered with black clouds.
The big excitement this weekend was heading to the beach after Church for some water baptisms. I’ve never been to a baptism at the beach before and I wondered how it would go on a crowded Sunday with all and sundry around. However, we went down the beach a bit and one of the guys got the guitar out and we sort of blended in. Well, that is if you ignore a few of us who were wading out into the water in our good clothes. We forgot to take hats, sunscreen a change of clothes and got sunburnt. Welcome to Summer.
Well, I’m going to keep this short and I’ll try to get back tomorrow and write a bit more. I need to get to bed. Goodnight!
This has been another contribution to the Weekend Coffee Share: https://eclecticali.wordpress.com/
Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!
I’m not sure whether you’ll be keen to join me here. It’s Spring here, and we had a high of 32ᵒC today, and we’re back to having the air-conditioner on. That said, it’s going to be cooling down again later in the week. So, I’m not quite sure whether I should be packing up my woollens quite yet.
It’s hard to know quite where to start today. We’re in the middle of school holidays, and our son has a group of mates over and they’ve taken over the kitchen and are playing cards. I can’t remember the last time he had a group of mates over, and it’s really lovely to have them here. They’re really polite and a real pleasure. I’ve always wanted our place to be a bit of an open house where they feel free to bring their friends. However, life got in the way, and the house has had different ideas. Indeed, it’s been hard to contain the tide of stuff building up all over the place. However, we’ve been making some headway lately. So, hopefully this is just the beginning. Stuff out. People in.
Meanwhile, I thought I’d take you on a bit of a road trip. Last week, our son was offered some additional training on the sound desk at Church and to help out with sound at a funeral. I was stoked for him to not only get the additional training, but also to be doing something so worthwhile. The only downside was all of this was an hour’s drive away, and I’d also have to fill in a few hours and then drive him home. I get quite fatigued so aside from chewing up my day, I was also concerned that I’d run out of ergs before we arrived home. However, my son and I had great chats driving each way, which reminded me of the walks we used to go on when he was just a little tacker, and I wrote about it here: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2020/10/02/norah-head-lighthouse-nsw-australia/
The other complication, of course, was covid and trying to work out where I was going to go while he was busy. Although numbers are very low here, I’m still being careful.
However, filling in time actually evolved into quite an adventure for myself, as I ended up spending the afternoon at Norah Head enjoying the stunning views and checking out the exterior of the lighthouse. Not unsurprisingly tours inside the lighthouse are currently cancelled due to coronavirus. If you’d like to read more about my day out at Norah Head, you can check my post here: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2020/10/02/norah-head-lighthouse-nsw-australia/
Lastly, our weekend was also busy as our daughter was performing with dance team at her dance school for their annual production concert. The standard of these students is incredible not just in terms of technique, but also in terms of expression, feeling and churning your emotions around and giving you goose bumps. The ballet was Les Sylphides with music by Chopin and the original choreography by Mikhail Fokine. Les Sylphides has no plot but instead consists of several white-clad sylphs dancing in the moonlight with the “poet” or “young man” dressed in white tights and a black tunic. It was incredibly beautiful, and it was almost unbelievable to see our very own daughter looking so beautiful in the flouncy romantic tutu and en pointe and to my untrained eye looking like a professional ballerina. Yet, at the same time, you could also interpret this scene as something of a horrific nightmare where she was paralysed inside this cold, detached, untouchable character something like a porcelain doll. Like many teens, there have been times when she’s been quite withdrawn and it was this aspect of her that I saw in this character. Well, at least the first time I saw it. I experienced that less the second time I saw it and appreciated more of its beauty, as well as the technical complexity of the piece. Indeed, I’d really like to see it again just to really savour and remember it for all time. There was also a musical theatre number followed by a moody contemporary piece called Cosmos, choreographed by one of their teacher’s, Miss Karina Russell, who recently played Veruca Salt in Charlie the Musical. I felt really spoilt being able experience such incredible creativity and talent locally, especially with my daughter in the cast and being able to soak all this up on her journey towards becoming a professional dancer. I was also over the moon to see my friends from the dance school again for the first time since about March.
We’ve also been attending an online conference with our Church, Hope UC. Obviously, due to Covid, it went online. For some, this was probably disappointing because it cut the program back considerably and you’re listening to sessions online, even though we were encouraged to watch it in groups, which we did and we also shared a meal and more than our quota of cake and dessert. So, juggling conference and our daughter’s performances and rehearsals, it’s been a busy time.
Finally, I’m pleased to report some progress on the garden front. While I was at Norah Head, I bough half a dozen red Salvia’s which I’ve planted in a row out the front. I also bought a very striking non-flowering plant, which as an unusual choice for me as I love prefer brightly coloured flowering options. However, this one made was an exception. I also need to confess that I still haven’t planted the gardenias I bought a few weeks ago. However, they’ve been well watered and are still alive, which is still a good outcome. I’ve been having trouble working out quite where to plant them. I know I’m probably over-thinking it, but you can’t keep moving plants around like paintings on the wall, especially once they’re dead.
Lastly, I contributed to Friday Fictioneers again today. However, this week I contributed the photo prompt for the first time. It depicts a local red clothing bin which has a few dents and has seen better days. It was back lit by intense sunlight and I thought it would generate some good responses. i wasn’t disappointed, although initially the photo was posted sideways, but that only seemed to provide added inspiration to some of the responders. You can read my contribution here: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2020/10/01/the-tardis-of-woy-woy-friday-fictioneers/ and here’s a link to the other responders: https://fresh.inlinkz.com/party/1370139a276646f1af1cb32da6e913e6
How has your week been? I hope it’s been a good one and I look forward to hearing from you!
This has been another contribution to the Weekend Coffee Share hosted by Eclectic Alli here: https://eclecticali.wordpress.com/
After taking our son on a long, epic drive last week, I was reminded of the walks we used to go on when he was just knee-high to a grasshopper. I know it’s such a cliché, but I’m still amazed how much time’s flown under the bridge. That with the click of my fingers, he’s now turned 16 and at the end of next year, he’ll be out of school and on the cusp of adulthood. Where did all that time go? I don’t know. However, paradoxically as we headed forward on our journey North, I was taken back to those very special early walks together. Walks with me and my boy.
Ironically, what I remember most about our walks together, is how I’d be tugging on his small hand trying to get him moving, while he was enthralled by some random “treasure” he’d discovered on our path. Of course, I tried to slow my pace down to appreciate that lump of gravel, or rusty bottle top through his eyes instead of my own. However, there were understandably times when my patience grew thin. I just want to go, and he’d become equally immovable. However, back then I had one thing in my favour. When all else failed, I could pick him up and cart him off, even if he wasn’t happy.
I can’t do that anymore either.
Anyway, our son has decided to go into sound engineering when he leaves school, and he’s already getting good experience helping out at Church. That’s why he needed the lift. He’d been offered further training and the opportunity to help out at a funeral at our main Church campus an hour’s drive away.
To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t mad keen on driving him up there. Indeed, I’m sure you can read my mind: “What the???? Can’t you catch the train? A bus? Fly on your broomstick?” Moreover, when all of those avenues failed, there was the added annoyance of having to fill in a few hours before driving him home. Indeed, it was looking like much of my day was going up in smoke with the barest slither remaining. Not that I was counting. Or, that I minded. I am his mother. If I can love him to the moon and back, surely I could drive him there as well?!!
Humph! I’m not so sure that was part of the contract.
Rather, it was looking like the perfect time to play the dying swan. Get his father to drive him. However, Geoff is working from home, not doing long distance parent taxi duties. So, for better or worse, I had to rise to the challenge.
Meanwhile, alongside this protesting siren of complaint, was gratitude, relief and a sincere desire to do whatever it takes to help our son to find his feet and get his career established. I mean that too. Whatever it takes, especially when he’s so keen and he has an equally keen mentor volunteering to train him up. With our local theatres closed down due to covid, Church is one of the few venues where he can get some experience. Indeed, as we all know, it’s a hard world out there. No one’s knocking on your door to give you a start. You have to go hunting. Go all out. Eat humble pie by the kilo, just to have a chance of getting a toe through the door.
However, instead of being an onerous ordeal, our trip turned into an adventure, and reminded me:
“Life is not meant to be easy, my child; but take courage: it can be delightful.”
― George Bernard Shaw
That’s exactly how our drive together panned out. We had an hour each way to chat, but then there were some complications. For those of you who know me well, you won’t be surprised to hear that we experienced some navigational difficulties. However, this time I blame my son. I was pretty sure we were meant to take the next exit, but he was insistent. Moreover, although I know he is “often wrong but never in doubt”, he has a much better sense of direction. So, I bowed to his expertise. Indeed, I carefully followed his directions to turn right at the roundabout, and drove along until it was clear we were in the wrong place, even if we weren’t officially “lost”. I must admit that my heart rate started to increase a little at this point. I mentioned heading back to the freeway to take the next exit. However, he was quite confident. Knew there was a Bunnings Hardware Store on the left coming up and a shopping centre. Sure enough, he was right, and good enough with his sense of direction to redirect us. Meanwhile, in the end it turned out that we were both right. Both exits worked.
When we pulled up, I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do for the next few hours. However, one of the guys showed me a local map and I spotted that Norah Head was nearby. Now, I was set. With my camera in the car, I set off to revisit Norah Head and the lighthouse where I’d been as a young child with my family and on a couple of slumber parties as a teenager with friends. By now, I was actually quite excited and grateful for my big day out. You could even say I was happy!
Just to top off my day, I bought myself a beautiful new skirt and a tray full of red Salvias which I’ve planted out the front. I ate a pie in a park surrounded by lush green trees and ocean views feeling pretty chuffed our day was going so well.
After walking around the lighthouse (which you can read about here), I was back to pick him up. I was even given a tour of the sound desk by his mentor, who had no idea just how untechnical I am and how I even struggle to operate out TV. However, I did gain at least a cursory view of the thing which makes our son tick, and is going to be a big part of his future. That was pretty special. After all, being understood has always been very important to me, but the flipside of that is to understand. Put yourself into someone else’s shoes even when they don’t fit particularly well, and go for a walk.
Or, perhaps even go for a long drive.
That certainly worked for us!
Has our day out brought back any memories for you? Do you have something you’d like to share? I’d love to hear from you in the comments.
Yesterday, marked the end of Year 12 in our high schools, and was what’s colloquially known as “Muck-up Day”.
“Your path is your character defining itself more and more every day, like a photograph coming into focus.”
As the name suggests, muck-up day spawns a lot of pranks, including the almost obligatory egg throwing at cars and shops. Indeed, at its worst, it summons up visions of Robespierre’s reign of terror, albeit in school uniform. However, for the students themselves, it means saying goodbye to school, friends, teachers and in many ways, plays one of the last notes of childhood. Yet, it’s also the first step towards liberation and a lot of fun…as long as nothing goes wrong.
By the way, knowing most of you are visiting from overseas, I should point out that Year 12 is the final year of school, and after students have completed their Higher School Certificate exams (HSC), they’re released from captivity into the world like a swarm of bees. That’s when they often head over the Queensland border to celebrate Schoolies Week at Surfers’ Paradise, or on this side of the border at Byron Bay.
In my day, Muck-up Day was more sedate. We might’ve signed each other’s school collars, filled in note and year books, and there had always been rumours of boot polish on the toilet seat. However, at least from memory, that was bad as it got. After all, if we got sprung, there’d be no all-important school reference.
However, from what I’ve gathered in recent years, Muck-up Day has spawned the treasure hunt…a rather quirky or challenging check list. All of this should just be a bit of fun. Indeed, a few years ago, I was eating fish and chips and taking photos at Terrigal Beach on Muck-up Day, and was approached by a few year 12’s. Their list included being photographed with a stranger. I think he might’ve put his arm around me. It was all good fun. They were all dressed in lairy neon outfits and were just running around, mostly sober having a good time and not hurting anyone.
However, this year a treasure hunt with a difference has unfortunately come to light. Sadly, this document reveals privileged bastardry is alive (and possibly even thriving) at at least one of Sydney’s prestigious boys’ school. Looking very much like an annual report, the instructions for the treasure hunt were cleverly entitled: The Triwizard Shorenament. This particular list included 10,000 points for flying down to Melbourne which is currently in Covid Lockdown, “shit on a train”, “break into Taronga Zoo”, drink “6 [vodka] Cruisers in 6 minutes” and “skull 700ml bottle of vodka”. In addition to the inherent elitism expressed, many of the acts are vulgar, anti-social, criminal and also show a concerning acceptance of alcohol abuse. Indeed, you’ve got to ask is this what their privileged parents consider “a good education”?
It’s certainly reinforced our decision to send out kids to the local state school. Well, it might not have been a choice, but there are good and bad eggs everywhere and you just have to hope either sort doesn’t go flying through your car window on muck-up day and hit you in the face.
Meanwhile, I’ve wondered how much media and community attention The Triwizard Shorenament is going to attract. While it’s certainly received some media coverage, there’s also that desire to repress. Stop the bad publicity.
However, I feel the actions outlined in this document, need to be assessed and used as a mirror, a score-card. Not just for the boys and the school involved, but also for the wider community. How did something like that see the light of day in 2020? Don’t we all know better? Moreover, there are six Anglican Ministers on Shore’s school council. Don’t they stand for something better than that? Or, is money all that matters? Are values such as character, integrity, compassion and equality to be spat on and reviled while the kings of the castle squash their minions under foot?
I hope not. However, for me these questions aren’t just ideological. Aren’t mere theory. This is where I’m from.
Of course, I didn’t attend Shore School. It’s a single-sex school for boys. However, I did attend the female equivalent. I was, and to some extent, am still part of this elite. While my life didn’t quite follow the plan and I’ve manged to find more snakes than ladders in my personal journey, I can still fit into those shoes and belong. It’s still where I came from, and part of who I am.
Perhaps, that’s what concerns me most about this despicable treasure hunt. I’d thought we’d moved forward in the last 30 years. That equality had gained a foothold. Moreover, that during the current coronacrisis, we as a society were becoming more caring, compassionate and understanding. Indeed, it is for this reason that the action of spitting on a homeless person disgusts me so much. Haven’t we all learnt just how close anyone is from landing on the streets? Indeed, it’s said many of us are only one maybe two pays away.
Of course, it could said, and it has and has been argued, only a small group of boys was involved. However, it doesn’t even take a close look at the report to see it’s a polished, detailed, and well-planned document. It’s not something put together on the fly and rashly emailed out in a moment of poor judgement. It looks like it was printed, and while I don’t have a lot of facts at hand, I think it was distributed to students and in a way that shows sufficient social acceptance for the plan. That the organizers weren’t stepping out of the mould and felt comfortable putting it together. There doesn’t seem to be an expectation of ridicule, shame, rejection by their peers. It was all carried out all but in the light of day.
However, it’s not easy to speak out against the cool or socially acceptable kids at school. There are also going to be students who were completely out of the loop and knew nothing about it at all, who’ll also have to live with the fallout, and amidst all of this, there will be some very distressed students and families. Although I deplore what was planned and the ideology behind it, I also believe in redemption. That the powers that be in the Class of 2020 can turn this around for good. Apologise and do some community service.
On this front, I’d like to refer back to a very gutsy speech given by Mitch Donaldson, the outgoing school Captain of Sydney’s Knox Grammar School at Speech Day 2007. In front of 1350 fellow students, 150 teachers and 600 parents in the school assembly hall, he spoke out against pressure from over achieving and overbearing parents, which had created a culture of cheating and bullying in year 12. He then pointed the finger at instances of parents who bullied school authorities into giving prestigious positions to their undeserving sons. He said: “There have been people in our year group who have stolen, who have belittled, and who have cheated their way through the past six years.” And most of them, he said, got away with it. But to those who played the game, he said, no matter who your father goes to the gym with, listen carefully. No matter what your efforts, you cannot and will not be able to ever buy respect.” Although that speech went on for 20 minutes, apparently you could hear a pin drop. After all, the last thing you expect at a school assembly like that is for someone to tell it like it is. And at the end of the speech… after a moment of stunned silence… the whole hall rose to their feet and gave him a standing ovation. Mitchell Donaldson was angry with the injustice that he saw going on in his school 1.. That was an extremely gutsy move.
Sure, the instance at Knox Grammar was different to what went down at Shore, but you can see the parallels, and that they’re two cabs from the same rank.
I’ve inserted a couple of links here in case you’re interested in further reading:
I’d be interested to hear what you have to say about this, and how it might reflect on what you experience in your community. Meanwhile, I’ll site the values of the French Revolution… Equality, Liberty, Freedom.
These values are still worth fighting for today.
Dan couldn’t believe his luck when he spotted an almost new, wooden high chair sitting beside of the road. It had been sent straight from heaven, landing right at his feet. Although a new job would’ve been better, it was still an answer to prayer. He said nothing to Jess, and wrapped it up in a huge, pink bow. Dan didn’t have a TV, and didn’t worry about the news. Never found out what had happened, and how that high chair came to be sitting beside the road. The chair didn’t share its tragic secret either. It was starting over.
100 words. This week’s photo prompt has kindly been provided © Roger Bultot
This has been a contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields. https://rochellewisoff.com/ Please forgive my clumsy links here. I’ve been forced over to the new block editor and am lost in the undergrowth. I am improving but still have a lot to learn.
Grace was longing for a crystal ball. Desperate for clarity, she’d finally decided to see a psychic, even if it was the Devil’s work. After all, it had to be better than pouring the last remnants of hope down the pokies, especially now her winning streak was gone.
She handed over her last $50.00 note to Madame Sahara Rose. Fingers crossed.
“You’re going to fly the trapeze and find romance.”
Grace snatched her money back. That was enough bullshit to bury her alive.
Instead, she accepted the job on board the Ruby Princess. How could a cruise go wrong?
99 words Photo thanks to J Hardy Carroll.
For the last year, I’ve been researching WWI and especially the bios of individual soldiers in detail. I’m repeatedly struck by the mix of random chance, good and bad luck and also how our own choices influence our fate in both good and bad ways. I’m also interested in how we can often shoot ourselves in both feet and make matters worse, instead of improving our lot. Over the last period of time, I’ve also notice people say: “It is what it is”, as though there was nothing they or anyone or even God or science could do to improve things. Our fate isn’t etched in stone. We can make better or worse choices and unfortunately this character whose life was already down the toilet, ended up on the cruise ship which spread Covid 19 around Australia. Hopefully, this will be her turning point.
This has bee a contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields. https://rochellewisoff.com/ Please forgive my clumsy links here. I’ve been forced over to the new block editor and am lost in the undergrowth.