Tag Archives: dating

Dingo Attack!…Friday Fictioneers.

Perched on top of the ridge, the dingo pack was salivating.

“Fi fy fo fum  I smell …” Papa Dingo paused for dramatic effect.”Lamb chops infused with  rosemary and mustard.”

“Gourmet tonight!” Mama Dingo replied.

“All systems go.” The dingos howled. Right on cue, the humans were zipped inside the tent.

In a flash, the lamb chops were gone.

“Dingos??!!!!” Sally screamed.” When I agreed to go camping, you said NOTHING about dingoes! How are we going to see that “magical night sky” now?”

Suddenly, Jack remembered dinner.

“OMG, the dingoes got our lamb chops.“

“And my Nikon camera!…HOTEL NOW!”

……

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields. PHOTO PROMPT© Jan Wayne Fields.

It’s very late here and I plan to come back and polish this tomorrow. Although the tent in the photo prompt this week is quite modern, I was reminded of the tragic case of baby Azaria Chamberlain who was taken from her family’s tent in 1980 while they were camping at Ayer’s Rock or Uluru. This was one of the most debated and controversial court cases in Australian history.

Azaria Chamberlain (11 June 1980 – 17 August 1980) was an Australian 2-month-old baby girl who was killed by a dingo on the night of 17 August 1980 on a family camping trip to Uluru (also known as Ayers Rock) in the Northern Territory. Her body was never found. Her parents, Lindy and Michael Chamberlain, reported that she had been taken from their tent by a dingo. Lindy Chamberlain was, however, tried for murder and spent more than three years in prison. She was released when a piece of Azaria’s clothing was found near a dingo lair, and new inquests were opened. In 2012, some 32 years after Azaria’s death, the Chamberlains’ version of events was officially supported by a coroner.Wikipaedia

I was 11 when Azaria Chamberlain was taken. Everyone not only talked about the case, but debated and had a stance and Lindy Chamberlain was vilified. I also remember jokes going round school at the time. Racist jokes were equally popular back then so there wasn’t alot of consideration on many, many fronts.

Dingoes, which had seemingly passed under the radar, were also vivified and would’ve starred in “Australia’s Most Wanted”.

The difficulty is that humans and dingoes in Australia have been co-existing for thousands of years and dingoes are Australian natives.

Here’s a bit more about the dingoes:

“Dingoes know that humans are an easy way to get food, and you will often see a dingo watching fishermen, and waiting for free fish. Dingoes also occasionally tour through campsites and sit of the periphery of a camp, watching and waiting for an opportunity to be given some free food or to find some left over scraps. In most cases dingoes simply sit back beyond the light of the camp and watch. If a dingo chooses to sit near you feel very honoured and enjoy its company but do not try to approach the animal, and don’t try to lure it with food. Dingoes do not like to be patted so please never reach out you hand to pat them, especially over their head. This is seen by dingoes as predatorial behaviour and very threatening.

Dingoes are shameless thieves, and will take any opportunity to steal whatever they can from you. This is not because the item has your scent on it and they see it as a food item, it is because they love to play with whatever new and novel item they can find. Do not leave your thongs outside your tent, or leave anything out of your vehicle that you can’t afford to have stolen. This obviously includes food, but also includes sleeping mattresses, which they love to tear up into small pieces, and anything else you own including expensive camera equipment!”

Save Fraser Island Dingoes

Hope you’ve enjoyed something of a trip to Australia this week.

xx Rowena

 

 

Minding the Dog…Friday Fictioneers.

Emily was minding Jess’s place. This also included her precious Border Collie, Oscar, AKA “the Surrogate Man”. Although, Jess had left copious instructions, Emily was more laissez-faire  and gave up after the first page. A dog was a dog.

So, she didn’t read: “Keep the bathroom door SHUT!”

Tonight, Emily had invited Tom over for a candlelit dinner. Tom was so hot, he lit all her fuses at once.

Emily slipped into the bathroom.

“OMG!”

Knickers round her ankles, the door flew open and Oscar barged through wanting a pat. Eyeballing Tom, Emily wished she’d read the fine print.

……

You may well be aware that our Border Collie, Bilbo passed away recently. However, he remains such a part of our lives, fused into so many memories and like so many dogs, he had his “quirks”. In addition to being totally ball-obsessed, Bilbo never liked closed doors, even on a cold day, he’d insist on having the back door open. He’d also routinely open the bathroom dog and come in for a pat if you weren’t careful. Indeed, our house sitter mentioned that we we arrived home from holidays once. Not that this was quite the scenario in play, but I felt like a laugh today.

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields Photo prompt © Rochelle Wishoff Fields.

xx Rowena

 

Moonlight Sonata…Friday Fictioneers.

Mr Suave was wrapped around Claudia like a snake.

“Beam me up, Scotty,” she coaxed through the moonlight.

That jerk had caught her hook, line and sinker.

Barnie wasn’t happy.

“All brawn. No brains. Bet HE couldn’t fix her hard drive!”

Known on campus as “The Guru”, Claudia had brought in her computer. While Barnie couldn’t talk to women, he could hack into their hard drives. They were an open book. Every day, Barnie thanked God for selfies, although he knew the risks.

That’s how he met Claudia. Knew her inside out.

Now, she was going to know him.


This has been another contribution for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields. This week’s photo prompt is © Dale Rogerson. You can access the linky Here

xx Rowena

Slide Night…Dumped in Paris.

Wafting.

Dreaming.

Absent friends.

Screaming.

Waves that thrash.

Skies that roar.

Your corpse still dangling

at my door.

 

Fingers swing,

dangle,

drop.

Hard-hearing hands…

tick-tock,

tick-tock.

 

Illusions,

screens,

all my dreams…

crack and drop.

Drop with each

tick-tock, tick-tock.

Plip-plop, plip-plop,

Dangle.

Drop.

 

The bell has finally tolled.

Our love is dead.

There’s nothing’s left.

Even the vultures have gone.

 

Alone,

lights pirouette

across the Seine.

It’s murky depths

absorb my pain

‘til I am stone.

My heart is numb.

 

Soon,

swooping gargoyles

kiss my lips.

Hold me tight.

Sing me off to sleep.

Mon ami,

I’m no longer afraid

of the dark!

 

Yet, tick-tock time

is moving on.

My train’s just left

Gare de l’est.

Au revoir, mon ami!

You’re now nothing to me,

but a postcard from Paris.

 

Yet, one day,

I know I’ll be

flicking through

the touched up slides of memory…

Le Tour Eiefel,

Le Musée du Louvre,

les Jardins de Luxembourg,

Cafe de Buci…

 

Moi?

Non,

je ne regrette rien.

Rowena Curtin 24/7/1992 and 6/12/2016.


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My feet in the Luxembourg Gardens, Paris, 1992.

Twenty four years ago, I wrote this original version of this poem sitting beside the River Seine near Pont Neuf sometime after midnight. I was completely alone, aside from a couple of Africans across the river listening to their ghetto blaster and dancing. If I could write a letter to this 23 year old self, I’d be telling her to get her butt back to the hotel. That no one is worth dying for. Nothing is. Tomorrow is another day and the sun will keep on rising, even if you choose to ignore it.

Paris is called the “City of Lights”, the “City of Love”. However, where there is light, there is darkness. Where there is love, there is also heartbreak, rejection and terrible anguish. Surely, we’ve all been there, even if it wasn’t in Paris.

In many ways, this is a fictional poem. I didn’t actually have a romance in Paris and wasn’t actually dumped in Paris either. However, the heartbreak was real and that is what I lived with in Paris.

I don’t know whether some of the greatest heart ache is caused my semi-requited love. Or, when that precarious balance between friendship and lover goes out of whack and feelings go haywire.

For better or worse, the usual “dance” intensifies when you travel.

In 1992, I spent much of the year theoretically backpacking through Europe, although I spent 6 weeks in Paris and lived in Heidelberg much of the time. Be in the one place, provided the opportunity to get to know people and naturally, certain people better than others.

I met an older guy at Church and we never even touched each other romantically. Yet, the fallout for me was catastrophic. I wonder if it’s easier to move on when such relationships run their course, rather than getting chopped off before they even start.

So, rather than a physical relationship, we ended up with an emotional, mental connection and added to that the vulnerability of travel and being on the other side of the world (I come from Sydney, Australia), the fallout was horrific. I really do remember walking round Paris with no idea where I was in an absolute wiped out daze.

Twenty-four years later, I can be quite philosophical about all of this. Married with children,  two dogs and we’ve been living in the same house for 15 years, I am well and truly loved and grounded, giving me the ability to go back and really ramp up the horror in the original poem. I couldn’t resist adding those dreaded gargoyles, which you see poised on the roof top of Notre Dame. They’re a horror movie in their own right!

What’s your view on flirting with the dark side in your writing? I’m a pretty upbeat person most of the time but there’s a part of me, which really thrives on it. It’s also a great form of catharsis. Letting the pain out in a more constructive way than so many of the alternatives.

After all of this, I need a good, strong cup of tea!

xx Rowena

PS After returning to Sydney, I stumbled across a great band ironically called: Paris Dumper with lead singer Dominic Halpin. Here’s a link: https://dominichalpin.bandcamp.com/album/paris-dumper

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The Greatest Roller Coaster Ride-Flash Fiction.

Obviously, catching the roller coaster, was her boyfriend’s idea. She couldn’t wait to get off!

Terrified and tortured, the young woman tried maneuvering into foetal position. Yet, constrained by the seat belt, was a contorted knot, her tiny hands shielding her face. Squirming with every twist and turn, she embodied The Scream. Yet, she didn’t make a sound.

Why couldn’t she tell him she was scared of heights?

Why didn’t he respond? Try to help?

Too late! Her stomach betrayed her. The Dagwood Dog chasing her milkshake spun out of control. A cyclonic catastrophe struck.

That woke him up!

March 23, 2016 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write an adventure, experienced or witnessed. Explore your own ideas about what makes an adventurous spirit. Is it in the doing? Does standing witness count, and if so, how? Be adventurous!

Respond by March 29, 2016 to be included in the weekly compilation. Rules are here. All writers are welcome!

….

Today, our family had the most incredible fun at the Royal Sydney Easter Show. This was quite an adventure for us because tackling such huge crowds and walking long distances is difficult for me what with my “small engine”. So even though I had grown up going to the Show every year well into my thirties, we’ve never taken the kids before. From my perspective, this was a very serious breach because that’s what families do in Sydney abnd we couldn’t do it.

Anyway, we had such a great day and you’ve never seen such cheeky grins as the lot of us tearing round on the dodgem cars trying to wipe each other out. Don’t know why the sign says “No Bumping” because we all know it’s inevitable and a huge part of the fun!

After the dodgems, there was a big discussion about which ride they’d go on next. Both kids were looking at a fishing game, which was pretty elementary but then our son decided to go on this rollercoasters of rollercoasters, “The Spinning Coaster”, which promoted itself as the Greatest Rollercoaster in Australia. This ride was pure torture with sharp 90 degree turns and sense you were about to shoot over the very edge. Our son mentioned something to my husband about how he should’ve gone fishing instead.

Meanwhile, my husband noticed the couple who were sharing their compartment on the ride. He mentioned something to me afterwards about whether she’d be talking to him afterwards. It clearly wasn’t her idea to have a go. As I teased out what happened, this picture emerged of this absolutely terrified young woman who had tried curling herself into a ball but was tied into her seat by the seat belt and instead had covered her face with her hands and was trying to bury her self in the seat. Our daughter is pretty scared of heights and spent the first half of our ride on the Ferris Wheel with her eyes very tightly shut. Although I know it’s better for her to face her fears, particularly as a child, that doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to her pain. I feel it. I know it. Not that I’m afraid of heights but I was absolutely phobic of dogs as a child or more precisely, the sound of barking dogs and I know that crippling level of fear. For those of you who know how much I love dogs now, that’s a real encouragement.

Why did I write about this couple? I guess because I remember going on dates to the Royal Easter Show when I was in High School and that awkwardness of first dates where you might not have the courage to admit to your weaknesses. You want to impress and it can be a huge thing for someone to admit and share their very personal fears. Much easier to simply avoid them but then you can’t.

Of course, being fiction, I just had to make this poor woman’s misery even worse and make her sick.

By the way, I asked my husband how her boyfriend responded. After all, I would’ve been trying to help her. However, Geoff said he didn’t really seem to notice. That while he wasn’t quite as terrified as her, he was barely getting by himself. I asked Geoff how he noticed all this detail and he said that with our 12 year old son sitting next to the woman, he needed to make sure he was alright. Geoff was being a good Dad.

The other point of this story is that it’s better to admit your fears rather than covering them up or you could end up confronting them in a way that only makes them worse, fueling your anxiety.

Mind you, falling in love doesn’t always help our logic, does it?!!

xx Rowena

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Kissing Booth, Campbell Street, Darlinghurst.

Even manikins seem to be getting tech savvy these days. This one even accepts EFTPOS, although I’m sure 5 cents a kiss is hardly going to cover the transaction fee!

As you can see, my camera and I have had great fun exploring Surry Hills. By the way, Darlinghurst is next to Surry Hills and is only a few doors up from Crown Street, what I assume to be the main street through Surry Hills.

By the way, just as an aside, I was born at St Margaret’s Hospital in Darlinghurst, not long after the moon landing back in July, 1969 but that’s another story.
xx Rowena

Fiction: Man and His Shed

It’s not often that I write fiction at the moment. However, Geoff Le Pard from TanGental http://geofflepard.com/ put me onto a blogging challenge:  Alissa Leonard’s Finish That Thought at http://alissaleonard.blogspot.com.au/2015/06/finish-that-thought-2-49.html . It’s a flash challenge to write a story of up to 500 words using the first sentence.

This round the first sentence had to be: “I’ll tell you what you need, and that’s a rocket scientist.

and this is the special challenge Set your story in a war zone.

Here is my contribution,

xx Rowena

Man and His Shed

“I’ll tell you what you need, and that’s a rocket scientist.”

Margaret had had more than enough of George’s endless tinkering on his almighty invention ever since he’d retired.

After all, for at least the last ten years, whenever Margaret had mentioned doing anything at all, George’s stock standard response was: “when I retire”. This list had grown from caravanning around Australia to replacing the threadbare carpet, pruning the hedge and even to mowing their lawn, which had now metamorphosed into a veritable jungle. Indeed, the yard had become such an embarrassment that Margaret now parked around the corner and had acquired a PO Box. She was officially “of no fixed abode” and thinking about making it permanent.

Sick of nagging and his feigned stubborn deafness, something of a cold war had broken out at No. 15. While there was no masking tape dissecting the house, they kept very much to themselves. Their only common ground was the dog.

Yet, Margaret knew too well that at her age, a man in the hand was something to hold onto. After all, although well-preserved, she was hardly a dolly bird anymore. Moreover, all the men “of a certain age” (with the exception of George, of course) were dying like flies creating a “man drought”. Mary didn’t help things either when she complained: “all they want is a nurse or a purse”, as she bid 3 no-trumps.

Still, Margaret could be fiercely independent in her own way, reminding herself that a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.

All she needed was a good book…and the dog!

Besides, if she ever got stuck, there was always Audrey’s bloke…a young uni student who did a bit of mowing and repairs around the house. The talk was that he “had talents in other areas” and that his lifesaving skills extended way beyond the beach.

Quite out of character, Margaret had requested his card. It was carefully tucked away in her purse but she hadn’t quite plucked up the courage to call. She’d make herself a cup of tea and as she walked towards the phone, the cup rattled in its saucer, betraying her inner torment. She felt like an anxious school girl again. Only back in the day, she’d never called a boy. Oh no! Man was the hunter! It was her job to sit by the phone and wait but she’d never had to wait long.

She still doesn’t know why she picked George. Good, reliable George who was an up and coming accountant but Margaret couldn’t see any future in a Beatnik.

For no particular reason other than the extreme heat, Margaret waded through the grass and flung open the doors of the shed. She couldn’t make head or tail of what George was working on but it was out of her world.

“I’ll tell you what you need and that’s a rocket scientist.”

It was clear they no longer needed each other.

But then there was the dog…