Weekend Coffee Share – 30th April, 2023.

Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share!

Sorry, I’ve been absent for a bit. Don’t know whether you’ve missed me and my particular blend of coffee, which of course has a rather Australian influence. Well, even if you haven’t missed me, my coffee or anything else Beyond the Flow has to offer, I’m back. The reason for my absence has largely been school holidays here which included houseminding at Cremorne Point in Sydney again and some health challenges.

Being back in Sydney and catching the ferries round the harbour again was truly fun. I’m sure the ferries go faster than they used to these days and they can pick up considerable speed and you need to hold onto your clothes because if you’re not careful they could easily blow away, which is more of a horror movie these days.

The Gap, Sydney.

I went back to Watson’s Bay, alone this time, and decided to have a go at climbing up the hill to The Gap via Robertson’s Park. I think the sign said it was about a 4 minutes walk but with my lung capacity I wasn’t sure how long it would take. I’d looked at the map and didn’t think it was that far but these things can be designed for the uber-fit and us mere mortal at the other end of the fitness spectrum can have a near death experience attempting a easy walk. Determination and experience recommended approaching this walk the same way you’d eat an elephant…one piece at a time. So one step at a time, I walked through Robertson Park and stopped at the top for a considerable breather which evolved into something of an immersion experience absorbing everything around me. I couldn’t help noticing that the buses parked at The Gap were sign posted to Watson’s Bay. Of course, you couldn’t have a bus heading straight to Australia’s most notorious suicide spot. It could be like the pied piper rounding up would be jumpers en route…obviously a terrible, terrible thing. At least this way they had to be more resourceful.

We also went to Newtown over in the inner-West. Miss was getting her nails done and goodness know why she had to travel all the way over there, but I used to hang out in Newtown when I was at Sydney University and was interested to go back.

Cafe Newtown

Besides, Newtown is home to one of Sydney’s most amazing and famous bookshops: Gould’s World of Books at 536 King Street opposite Alice Street and is something of a book lovers’ paradise. Established in Sydney, Australia, in 1967, Gould’s has books on books on books and I think they’re second hand and out of print special kind of books and they really support Australian and political literature. In some ways, it reminds me of the Shakespeare and Company Bookshop in Paris in on a much smaller, grungy Newtown kind of way. I think former owner Jay Gould and George Whitman would’ve got on rather well.

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Since coming home, I’ve been trying to clear some stuff out, which is never easy. Yet, at the same time, I’ve become really addicted to shopping at the Salvation Army Store online which really is way too good to be true. While it’s fun trawling through actually thrift shops and truly experiencing the full eclectic spectrum of their incredible treasure trove, this way I get to explore merch from all their stores and I can refine my search. For example it’s really good if there’s something specific you’re looking for and you can just pop back and see what they’ve got. They also have 50% off sales and they’re fantastic. You can even put things in your wishlist and wait until they hopefully drop in price and you can nab something you love as a double bargain. That is, unless you miss out. The other excitement, like any shopping online, is that you start having packages turn up. That’s so much fun. Half the time, I’ve forgotten what I’ve bought by the time the package arrives and I get a lovely surprise. Or, just a surprise. I bought a troll doll last week and it was so much bigger than expected. I called it “Rowie’s Folly”. He can go and join Big Bird on the shelf.

Pretty stoked with my new shirt and jeans.

Meanwhile, I am still experiencing chronic to acute shortness of breath, which could actually be interpreted as a good thing at times because I’m still breathing. Not sure what’s going on. I have an auto-immune disease called dermatomyositis and I developed Interstitial Lung Disease about 8 years ago as a side-effect of that. It was behaving itself fairly well until about 2 months ago, which wasn’t long after I’d had covid but I had been on the anti-virals and recovered well initially. I’ve also had a mind flare of the dermatomyositis so goodness knows what’s going on. However, on Tuesday I’m having tests and appointments with my rheumatologist and lung specialist. I doubt it’s going to be a great day and I’m bracing myself but I’m still not entirely sure what for yet. If my breathing has improved a bit maybe it can improve enough. If the dermatomyositis is still playing up, that could be intensive treatment. It’s a wait and see but I’d appreciate your prayers please.

Now, I’m just waiting for Miss to call. She’s working at McDonald’s tonight and I’ll be leaving shortly to pick her up.

Anyway, I hope you’ve all had a great week and have enjoyed the coffee.

This has been another Weekend Coffee Share hosted by Natalie the Explorer.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Bridging The Gap…#99wordstories

April 24, 2023, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about the color of hope. Who is in need of hope and why? How can you use color to shape the story? Pick a color, any color. Go where the prompt leads!

“One day, I’ll jump off The Gap,” Martin muttered throwing up half a bottle of vodka. Equally drunk and disillusioned, no one battered an eyelid.

Now, they’d all gone to uni, while Martin still drifted in between the lines and beyond a diagnosis.

“Take these,” his GP said.

“How many at once?” He’d been tempted but didn’t ask.

Today was it, but first his last supper… fish and chips from Doyle’s.

Sitting in the park… perfect blue skies, Sydney Harbour, rainbow lorikeets flying and chirping in the sun.

Nothing had changed. Yet it had.

Martin caught the bus home.

….

99 words.

The magnificent View from Robertson’s Park across the road from The Gap toward the city.

The Gap is Sydney’s infamous suicide spot. Located on the Southern Head of Sydney Harbour it is part of Watson’s Bay, which is an absolutely beautiful location with a beach and stunning harbour views. I recently caught the ferry to Watson’s Bay and walked up the hill simply to photograph The Gap and as I stopped in Robertson’s Park across the road, a large flock of rainbow lorrikeets was flying through the park and the air was filled with their chirpy singing. I guess people don’t talk about The Gap too much, but I’d never heard anyone mention there were rainbow lorrikeets there and I truly wondered how anyone could come here, experience these birds and then end it all. Of course, that’s a rather simplistic view and to be honest, I am fighting to save my life instead of trying to cut it short. However, I have experienced acute ongoing anguish and the temptation to somehow eject from it all. Yet, at the same time, these days I try to encourage others and try to take the edge off their load where I can. Then again, I’m a little more mature these days and have what I think is called perspective.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Rainbow Lorikeet

Farewelling The Joker- Friday Fictioneers: 24th March, 2023.

“We always called him “The Joker”. Even back in boy scouts, he had us rolling around the campfire in stitches. My favourite was his legendary encounter with the jellyfish he meant to throw at me. That SQUID squirted him in the face and while he was screaming like a banshee, we almost died laughing.

Tragically, we now know there was another side to Mark. Yet after his shows, we’d have a few beers, more jokes. Never anything about his troubles. Mark was my best mate. Now…. I wonder if I knew him at all!

Hey, guys, we need to talk.”

…..

100 words. Photo prompt Lisa Fox.

This story was hard to reduce to the 100 words and I’m pretty stoked I got there in the end. Unlike the speaker in this story, I have long been aware of the clown with the tear. The anguish behind the smile. Yet, at the same time, if someone refuses to talk about their angst and won’t seek professional help, it’s a tough spot for a bystander. That said, sometimes just having someone sit alongside you and know they care or even love you can be enough.

I also wanted to mention actor Heath Ledger who wasn’t the inspiration behind my story, but at the same time clearly deserves a mention.

Here in Australia we have a suicide prevention program based on asking people: RUOK? We even have RUOK Day, which will be on the 14th September, 2023. They also have some resources to help you progress the conversation. Last year, I also did a suicide intervention course through Lifeline and found it incredibly useful unfortunately. Not every joker is always joking.

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff Fields at Addicted to Purple.

Best wishes,

Rowena

A Walk To Cremorne Point Reserve, Sydney.

Last night, I received a sudden wake up call. While writing up about our three week holiday house minding at Cremorne Point, I’d become seriously waylaid in Watson’s Bay consumed by back story after back story after back story, which we writers and researchers colloquially call a “rabbit warren”. I really loved Watson’s Bay and I was also drawn into it’s history via Christina Stead’s first novel Seven Poor Men of Sydney, which was set there. However, it was now time to get back on the ferry and had back to Cremorne Point and onto the next day’s events.

Sydney Harbour Looking towards the Heads from Cremorne Road.

After coffee with a friend and meeting up with our son at Circular Quay and catching the ferry back together, I decided to go for a swim at MacCallum Pool located in Cremorne Point Reserve. However, before we get to the pool, we’re going to walk down Cremorne Road and I’ll share a few stellar views along the way. While I was doing this walk just before sunset on this occasion, I’ve also included some photos from a previous walk so you can see what the reserve looks like during daylight. I’d also like to emphasise that Cremorne Point offers an excellent vantage point to watch the sun set on Sydney Harbour and the reserve itself is a great place to watch it over a casual picnic.

Meanwhile, I’d just like to let you know that Cremorne Point was originally known as Wulworra-Jeung by the Cammeraygal, the Aboriginal people who inhabited the land on the lower northern shores of Port Jackson prior to the arrival of Europeans. Initially known as Robertson’s Point, it became known as Cremorne after the Cremorne Pleasure Gardens which were established in 1856. Although they only survived six years, the name stuck. There were attempts to mine coal at Cremorne Point and to sell off the harbourside land which was declared the reserve in 1905 but thankfully resistance conserved the natural beauty of Cremorne Point for the future and for all.

Magnificence everywhere you turn!

While my photos brilliantly capture and share Cremorne Point’s captivating natural beauty, and sensational views of the harbour and ethereal skies, they fail to relate my personal struggle. As I’ve mentioned before, I have dodgy lungs and 50% lung capacity and struggle to get up hills, stairs or even gentle slopes on a bad day. Unfortunately, Cremorne Point is quite hilly which is fine when I’m walking down to the point, but at best “a challenge” walking back up. I’d had trouble getting back up the hill when we’d previously done the walk to MacCallum Pool.

How incredibly relaxing!

However, I’d been doing more walking and thought I might just pull it off. Besides, the pool was only round the corner. If I took it slowly, I’d be fine. The only trouble is that I wasn’t. I’d got myself into deep water and with no other way to get home, I had to keep going. Every single step at this point was like moving feet of lead and my breathing was very strained. What I also didn’t know at this point, was that there had been a botch up with my prescription and I’d been on half the prescribed dose on and off for a year and the muscle weakness was returning. I was battling extreme shortness of breath on top of muscle weakness and I really did feel like I was about to break down. Although I did make it back, I have no doubt doing that walk was a mistake.

Sunset from Cremorne Point Reserve

Yet, at the same time, the photographer in me not only loves and cherishes the photos I took on that walk, but also the experience of merging with that magnificent sunset over the harbour and becoming one which invigorated my soul as well as my senses.

Hope you enjoy my journey and I’ll be back with a focus on MacCallum Pool in my next post.

Best wishes,

Rowena

From Novid to Covid.

After arriving home from Balmoral, I had a nap which almost felt like going into a deep coma or sinking like a stone to the very bottom of Sydney Harbour. My sinuses also felt like they were in a vice and all of this felt like nothing I’d experienced before. For those of you who have had covid, perhaps you also know that sinking feeling that you’ve succumbed to the plague and are concerned and perhaps even curious about what’s going to happen next.

That was Saturday night.

Sunday disappeared, all except that all important RAT test.

With Geoff and Mister already positive back home and despite isolating before we left, we couldn’t avoid all being in the car together driving home from the Gold Coast which was about a ten hour drive in an enclosed car. Geoff wore a mask, but the rest of us knew we were probably done for and our time had come.

Still there was hope.

I’ve heard of multiple families where a few people got it but not the whole family. I could be lucky, even though I’m immuno-suppressed and at higher risk but stranger things have happened and covid doesn’t like to be predictable.

Anyway, much to my horror two red lines appeared and I was done for (Golly, it was like doing a pregnancy test!) With my autoimmune disease, damaged lungs and being immuno-suppressed, this is what we’d been dreading and why I’d self-isolated much longer than the official lockdowns. However, it all got too much and I not only needed to be around a wider circle of people, the lack of interaction wasn’t good for my neurological or mental health. At the same time, although I was out and about a little, I generally wasn’t in crowds and was still being careful. However, that all changed on New Year’s Eve when we went to Surfers Paradise to see the midnight fireworks. The beach in front of us was packed, but more importantly we were jammed into the tram on the way home like sardines, and it was like the perfect covid breeding ground. Geoff succumbed two days later and also developed a chest infection.

Two days later Mr succumbed.

Two days later Miss and I each had a PCR test and they were both negative, but I had it the next day, but Miss was still negative.

The next day I rang our local doctor back home who sent me through a script for the antivirals. It was a bit awkward going through all of this away from home and our local pharmacy as I could ave rung them and they would’ve dropped them round. As it was, I found Cremorne Pharmacy on Google and Miss picked them up. I felt like an intrepid adventurer sorting this out. Holidays aren’t just about fun and relaxing. Being is a different environemnt also fires up the brain cells (and hopefully doesn’t blow them up!)

So, for those of you who have had covid, how did you pass the time? Did you have a book you read? Watched movies? Boardgames? After all, having covid and being part of history isn’t the same as catching your garden variety cold!

As for me, I decided to read Julia Morris’s book: Julia Morris Makes it EASY. This crackpot spoof on being a celebrity was hilarious and just the thing to read when you’re down with the plague. My only complaint is that for some reason I didn’t get to finish it in the three weeks we were there. However, Julia Morris will be forever bound with my covid experience.

One last word on my covid experience. Due to my vulnerable status, I was referred to the Covid Care Team at Gosford Hospital, the local hospital back at home. I didn’t hear boo from them and thought they’d forgotten me until around midday on day 5, Geoff was ringing me frantically on the phone. You haven’t answered your phone and the care team is about to send the police around for a welfare check. I was doing fine, but it was all because I’m a covid infected night owl who was sleeping the morning away. By the time I rang them, I was at day 5 and out of isolation although much to my disappointment, she didn’t think I should go to Church until after Day 10. She even said: “they may not want you there”. Sob! However, after being so careful about avoiding covid myself, I did the right thing and went on a ferry ride instead almost flying in the wind on the deck outside and out of harm’s way.

A second last word on covid, I’ve had more than my share of respiratory bugs through the years, and a chest infection which turned to pneumonia was the worst of the lot so far. As I said, covid didn’t go to my lungs, and posed no risk to me. That said, I’ve had two vaccinations and two boosters and was on the antivirals. So I think it’s worth vulnerable people to be vigilant with preventative measures but not just because of covid. A friend of mine also dobbed in Influenza A as being far worse than catching covid as an elderly person with heart issues. So for me, I’m still taking precautions to avoid catching stuff and being careful and I’m thrilled to have come out the other side of covid fairly well.

What have been your experiences?

Best wishes,

Rowena

Unforeseen…Friday Fictioneers -15th June, 2022.

“Everything was meant to be okay. Not this.”

Despite her family history, Ebony had faith in early detection, and regular mammograms. Then, came the diagnosis .

“I’m going to beat this!” She wrote in her journal every day. However, grit and determination were no match for bad luck. The cancer had spread. She was only 28.

Arriving home, she found roses and a “Get Well” balloon from Mike on the doorstep. She’d told him it was long covid.

Ebony had no idea when the knife came from. However, the balloon was found later with forty stab wounds and was unresponsive.

…….

100 words PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Last year, two close friends of mine died of breast cancer, while my sister-in-law was fighting a rather gruelling battle with it and facing obscure complication after obscure complication and a run of very bad luck. One of those friends never told me she was sick and I found out after she’d died. The other was seemingly cancer free and after a gruelling eight year battle, the cancer came back with a vengeance and she was gone in a week. It was like one of these fierce Australian bush fires, and it consumed her. They both had teenage children, and the loss was obviously focused on them. However, grief rippled out. They were much loved, and it’s still so hard to believe they’re no here.

I hope you’ve had a great week!

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields at https://rochellewisoff.com/ We’d love you to join us!

Best wishes,

Rowena

Weekend Coffee Share…15th May, 2022.

Welcome To Another Weekend Coffee Share!

This weekend I have the absolute privilege to share something incredibly precious and rare with you…sunshine. Unfortunately, I suspect it’s but a rare intermission in between our months and months of rain, but that makes it all the more special and I guess I should’ve been out there today to make the most of it.

However, I went for a magnificent bushwalk yesterday to my favourite little spot overlooking Pearl Beach and across to Palm Beach and all of Pittwater. While, it’s not Sydney Harbour, the views are almost as breathtakingly beautiful and from my vantage point, I feel like I had to all to myself. I didn’t need to compete with all of Sydney for a vantage point…only the birds!

Looking towards Umina Beach. We live in between the beach and the white sphere about a third of the way in from the right.

How was your week?

Mine was good, but fairly busy juggling family commitments, while getting stuck back into reading two novels by Australian literary giant, Ethel Turner, which are set in World War I and so also crossed over with my research there. I managed to finish: The Cub, which was published in 1915 and sees seventeen year old John leave for Gallipoli after his older brother who enlisted in England, was killed in action fighting in France. However, this forms only a fraction of the story, and the thread is picked up in the second novel in the series: Captain Cub. However, the books focus more on the home front than the war itself and the sagas of two families.

The reason I was binge reading Ethel Turner last week, was that I’d booked into an Open Day at her former home Woodlands in Killara, and I was trying to wake up my dormant brain cells so I could sound at least somewhat knowledgeable when I introduced myself to the speakers there, which included two of her Great Grandsons. However, it didn’t really work because all that happened was that I had all this Ethel Turner stuff in my head in a jumbled fog, and nothing was coming out in neatly defined packages, and especially not the whole grail where you can sum her prolific and profound writing output up in a single word and be the ultimate unrivalised genius on the subject. Or, at least that’s what distilling facts into a single word is supposed to do. Personally, I don’t feel it would do her justice, but when you’re trying to enter the realms of the academic elite, you need to play by their rules not your own.

Anyway, in the end I decided not to go. It was going to be at least a one hour drive, and they were expecting huge crowds, terrible parking and I couldn’t help conclude that I could well pick up covid. After two years of caution, it seemed stupid to throw caution to the wind. Moreover, I saw the doctor on Friday and in what sounded like a prophetic warning, she told me that more people have died from covid in the last six months in Australia than the previous two years. So, while the politicians might be telling us we’ve switched the clock back and returned to an almost normal, the stats and medical folk are telling a different story.

Meantime, while I had my nose stuck in The Cub from 1915, our daughter, “Miss”, posted a clip on Tik Tok and unlike any of my posts here on WordPress, her clip went viral and as far as I know has now had 2.5 million views.

Well, you might ask what attracted such a response, and fool like me, you might actually believe that her video was especially meaningful and required many hours of careful planning, creativity and construction. However, you’d be mistaken. It was a very spontaneous and erroneous piece which she’d put together during her Nursing TAFE course. The school has a small quasi hospital set up and she filmed the patient dummy in bed, and then turned to film her friend swinging in the swing chair. It lasts all of a minute, and while funny and quirky, doesn’t justify that many views, especially when my philosophical musings which really might improve someone else’s life, barely attract enough traffic to fill a lane let alone a super highway. I have been wondering lately what it means to live in a society where people can read, but choose not to. This could sadly be the result.

The Lockheed Hudson A16-112 built 1939 and received ex-USA on 5th December, 1941. Photo: Geoff Newton.

So, meanwhile Geoff headed North to Newcastle to attend the Central Coast Air Show. Here’s some footage from Seven News: https://www.facebook.com/7NEWSsydney/videos/371368371635055

Lastly, I thought you might appreciate checking out last week’s contribution to Friday Fictioneers. Our photo prompt this week was a single long-stemmed rose, inspiring various interpretations of love, marriage, relationships. I found them very thought provoking. Here’s a link to my story: Musings Of A Rose, and it will take you through to the rest: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2022/05/12/musings-of-a-rose-friday-fictioneers-12th-may-2022/

This is another contribution to the Weekend Coffee Share hosted by Natalie the Explorer at: https://natalietheexplorer.home.blog/

Best wishes,

Rowena

Happy Easter Weekend Coffee Share- 18th April, 2022.

Wishing you a Happy and Blessed Easter and Welcome to Another Weekend Coffee Share! Easter was very low key and virtually non-existent at our place this year, because I fell at my daughter’s dance competition last Wednesday and for some reason haven’t been feeling right ever since in ways that go well beyond the sore foot.

Photo: Emily Stoddart Photography.

The dance competition was intense on steroids both in terms of how incredibly talented, moving and beautiful each and every ones of these dances was, but also in terms of the huge amount of physical and emotional energy it demanded from each of the dancers, their teachers and parents. Miss competed in seven dances I think, which really was a phenomenal effort especially when you factor all the costume changes and steps involved. It’s mind-blowing and I really don’t know how she does it, except she’s been doing it since she was three, and it is her absolute passion and calling. I doubt this is something you can even consider going into half-mast.

The life of a dancer is thwart. There are days where all your ducks line up andeverything goes your way. However, there are also times when it can completely fall apart, which we haven’t really experienced. While I’m a Christian, I still suspect there’s a Lord of the Dance out there too, who is either for or against you on the day. It’s almost like you need to leave a burnt offering on the altar outside when you go in. Well, of course, I didn’t do that, but I did pray that she would come first before she did her classical ballet solo with her new tutu and routine. I wrote a note to myself: Is it wrong to pray for your daughter to come first with her ballet solo? The other dance mums I conferred with thought it was fine, and were equally enthusiastic to see her perform, which was absolutely delightful and made my day. There’s inexpressible joy, but it can get a bit foreboding, and I can’t even begin to describe what goes through your mind while you’re sitting there. However, her dance went beautifully and she won. She has won other sections before, but this meant so much more. She was competing in the open section which is the highest level, but what it meant was that she’s on track for reaching her dream of becoming a ballerina. It was a resounding: “YES!!!” (although she still has such a long way to go!!)

Of course, I was proud. However, my overriding emotion was relief and pure joy!

BY the way, I drew on my years of supporting my daughter’s dance efforts, to write my 100 word weekly contribution to Friday Fictioneers: Last Flight of the Swans: https://beyondtheflow.wordpress.com/2022/04/13/last-flight-of-the-swans-friday-fictioneers-13th-april-2022/

However, somehow this ridiculously compulsive book addict managed to make it to the the local Pearl Beach Book Sale on Saturday. Trust me. For a book addict like yours truly, it’s up there on a temptation level right alongside a chocolate shop. Moreover, since all the Easter eggs had virtually sold out by Thursday according to my husband, feasting on books it is.

The other drawcard about this Pearl Beach Book Sale is that the books are top notch. Pearl Beach is a rather exclusive retreat, and attracts a lot of creative people, who seem to have great taste in reading material. I arrived mid-afternoon, and I don’t know how much the books were at the outset, but I was paying $2.00 each. Of course, this was an absolute steal. So, it didn’t make too much sense to be too selective. It was more a case of fill a box, another box, and while you’re thinking about it, why don’t you fill this one too. The irony of all this was that I’m actually in the process of seriously downsizing our book collection, and the boot of the very same car I drove to the book sale, was full of books I’m planning to drop off for the next book sale at the local PCYC.

Another issue is that I am not a voracious book reader. I read a lot doing my history research. However, that’s mainly involved old newspapers online. I also read blog posts. I also do a few Bible studies and try to read my Bible daily. So, it’s not like I’m not reading at all. I’m just not one of those people who polish off a couple of novels a week. Geoff was doing that without any dramas when he was commuting to work on the train. However, he’s been working from home for the last two years. So, he’s reading has dropped off a lot. He’s just finished reading a Harlan Coben novel: Hold Tight. Have you read it? We’ve been making our way through a few TV series based on his novels. I mostly love them, although there was one that I felt had too much violence, and was just too seedy. I managed to pick up another Harben Coben at the book sale: Just One Look.

Meanwhile, we didn’t really celebrate Easter. I haven’t been well since my fall last week, and my dad had surgery last week and we thought we’d leave it a week or two. Yesterday, was also my brother’s 50th birthday and he didn’t mind when we got together. However, I did spend last night going through my photos and fishing him out. I might actually manage to get this photo attempt printed up.

Anyway, I hope you and yours had a Happy and blessed Easter.

Love and blessings,

Rowena

All dance photos were taken by Emily Stoddart Photography.

Last Flight of the Swans – Friday Fictioneers 13th April, 2022

Age didn’t soften the blow. He was old, and she was old. Still, his death was brutal. She’d held onto his ice-cold body until the neighbour called their daughter. “It was time.” No! It would never be time. They would dance together for eternity: the swan and her beloved prince.

Celeste made them tea, right through Winter, and barely noticed he never said a word.

Now, the snow was thawing, and his chair had risen from the dead.

She couldn’t bear it.

The neighbor found Celeste lying on the snow still holding the axe.

The chair was split in two.

…..

100 words. PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

For those of you who know me well, you’ll know our daughter dances seriously. After a very disjointed couple of years, dance is back with a vengeance and I spent hours at the studio last week for open week and it’s dance competition this week. Part of me quite enjoys living and breathing dance, but am just a bystander and with my health issues, it’s really difficult to keep up with the demands of high pressure dance. At today’s competition, it wasn’t one of the dancers on stage who crashed and had a fall. It was yours truly who managed her feat of brilliance from her chair. I ended up on the floor and the whole competition came to a grinding halt for a good 10-15 minutes. I felt humiliated. What no one tells you about having offspring pursuing a high octane career path, is that they’re taking you with them. You also have to measure up. Sadly, I don’t believe I can. Well, not in a physical sense anyway. However, I’d imagine I’d be hard to beat if imagination had anything to do with it. However, that’s not the domain of a dance mum, and could even be a curse. Much better to stay in your place. Fire up the engine. Sew up those pointe shoes, and pay the bills. (Humph, feeling a bit sorry for myself tonight and very sore. Perhaps, my love affair with dance might return again in the morning.)

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields: https://rochellewisoff.com/

Many thanks and best wishes,

Rowena

Me & My Gal At Avoca, Australia.

Well, as you may recall, Miss is learning to drive, and has had her learner’s permit for about ten days now. In that brief amount of time, I’ve been to more of the local beaches than I have in the last ten years, especially in a short space of time. Although I had ideas about starting at one end of the Central Coast and working my way up North, that plan never got off the ground. I’m not sure why, but blaming covid is a pretty safe bet. It’s killed off so many good ideas, and not just ideas either!

Anyway, this new lease of life I’m having driving all over the place with Miss, has brought me to the confronting realization that instead of being the “carpe diem seize the day person” I believed myself to be, I’ve become more of a “tomorrow” type. Tomorrow, I’ll go for a walk. Tomorrow, I’ll get to the shops. Tomorrow, I’ll get to those emails, bills, cleaning, washing. It can all wait, and it’s a pretty reasonable philosophy when you’re drifting through lockdown, and your pyjamas have become your second skin. However, we’re no longer in lockdown and although we’re still being very cautious, there’s nothing wrong with outdoors.

Avoca Beach, NSW looking towards Terrigal.

I guess being Sunday, it was only appropriate that Miss and I headed out for another drive. This time, we headed over to Avoca Beach. It’s quite a popular beach, but has more of a village feel than Terrigal. There’s an ocean pool, as well as some great surfing spots.

Another beach closed due to water pollution from the heavy rain.

However, to be perfectly honest, we weren’t heading to the beach today. Unfortunately, It had been raining AGAIN, and Miss was also hungry. So, we headed into the fish & chips shop which is particularly good, and ordered a fisherman’s basket. Given the weather, we sat inside and enjoyed listening to live music, and feeling like we were in Byron Bay.

It’s a shame the weather has been so wet and overcast as we’ve been checking out our local beaches. Naturally, I’d much prefer blue skies dotted with a bit of white cloud and radiant, golden sunshine especially for photography. However, in the overall scheme of things right now we weren’t that concerned. As I said to a friend last week, we’re not living in a war zone, and the house hasn’t been flooded. We are good. Indeed, we are beyond good. Events of late have indeed been sobering, and I wish there was more I could do, especially as a solitary individual of limited means.

By the way, as we drove to Avoca, Miss asked me if she’d been to Avoca before. I remembered a trip with my parents once. However, I’d forgotten catching up with my school friend Emma there, and I had to share this beautiful series of photos. Miss was only six years old then, and clearly I was a tad younger back then as well.

Footprints in the sand.

An extraordinary moment.

My daughter took this photo of me and you can really see the connection between us. Mummy playing up for the camera.

It’s interesting seeing that photo above of myself. I look at her, and would really like to have whatever it was she was having. There’s such joie de vivre in that face. You’d be hard pressed to find anyone exuding so much joy, and yet life wasn’t easy then, and I was really quite unwell. However, as much as I can perform for the camera, you couldn’t bung that on. I was really happy to see Emma again, and we both enjoyed watching Miss cartwheel across the sand, although it was also bittersweet (but that’s another story.) Sometimes, when life is really hard and you’re just hanging on by a thread, you really do have that love of life where you’re simply grateful to be alive.

Anyway, I might put some thought into regenerating that joy, and reconnecting with my inner sparkle.

What have you been up to lately? I’d love to hear from you.

Best wishes,

Rowena