Recently in Musings Category

When one is sitting at the gate lounge of an airport, waiting for the call to board, one is prone to try to find people to ring or other things to do to fill time in. My colleague was having trouble with his portable telephone named after a fruit, the emails were disappearing, so he rang our formerly monopoly national telephone provider in an attempt to get some satisfaction. Without a password, however, there is no chance of getting anything done to solve a problem...

My call to a customer service officer which ended being diverted to another country, resulted in a conversation which went something like this...

Customer Service Person: "Aaah, so I've been hearing a bit about Australia lately...."

Me (surprised) : "Oh, in what way"

CSP: "The number of problems you are having with  "insert name of former  wholly owned government airline", and I don't know that I would want to fly with them...."

Me : "Thank you so much, I am about to get on a flight (run by the former wholly owned government airline), and I very much appreciate you reminding me of this...."

CSP: "You're welcome"

You dear reader will be happy to know that my business trip to Sydney, on the aforementioned airline went safely, despite my misgivings....

In the list of talents that I was handed out, modest though they are, the gift of the gab was not one of them... While this has the advantage at times of not expecting myself to be articulate, and occasionally surprising myself, there are other times when I wish it were otherwise.

Not for me the remedy of a few glasses of something, freeing up the tongue, that option is much more likely to send me to sleep. There is a phenomonen called flight or fight response where fear freezes everything, or alternatively, one can react at a high level of awareness, articulation and even demonstrate incredible sporting prowess... I admire friends who can talk the hind leg off a dog (so to speak) and I am normally happy to be a contributor to a conversation, but it is only occasionally that I am fired up enough to be that articulate person that I dream of being. As I lay awake at night, not far off sleep, I know that despite all the rehearsals in my mind, sometimes the words just don't or won't come. Does it mean that the time is not right? Maybe, but time passes, and I need to remember that wars are not usually one with one battle, much more likely with a series of small wins, without necessarily having a grand victory. Or a fantastic speech.

In the scheme of things, maybe the ability to write things down might be a consolation in most areas- one can pre-prepare for the important stuff, and in my observations of others, one does not have to be a so called "great" communicator to get the message across, for when the message is expressed with sincerity and honour, the meaning behind simple words will somehow have more effect, and small influencing actions might in the long run have a much greater influence.

On our mantlepiece two framed photographs stand, the first one of my mother and Aussie Lass and Pink Ukulele. The other includes my mother, and my aunt, D, my Dad's oldest sister. The occasion: my grandmother's 100th birthday, held in Geelong in 1993.

In this snapshot of a moment in time, D's radiant smile lights up her whole face, amd my mum smiled too, as usual, happy to be in the company of her favourite sister-in-law.

This morning, we received a phone call: at 11 yesterday evening, D's brave and loving heart stopped beating at the age of 86. She is mourned by her loving family: 7 children, and many grandchildren and great grand children.

Shared memories of a kindred spirit: love of family, passion for Australian Rules Football, in her case, the Geelong Cats,  a love of reading and chatting and a welcoming home.

Memories of an afternoon on the farm in the Wimmera, when the Cats were playing the Saints, and the game was so close that neither of us could bear to be in the room where the radio was, so to relieve the tension, we walked down to the creek, and talked, sheer enjoyment for both of us. Later on, having mastered the technology of the video recorder, she would record the Cats games, and only watch the close games after she found out the result.

Before the age of the Internet, to read one of her letters to my parents was like hearing her talk, a rapidly written stream of thoughts, which made you feel she was in the room with you. She will be sadly missed by her wide circle of family and friends.

Be still my soul, the hour is hastening on

When we shall be forever with the Lord

When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,

Sorrow forgotten, love's pure joy restored

Be still my soul, when change and tears are past

All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Catharina AD von Schiegel

Looking for an activity to fill in some time on Saturday, we headed off to Yarraville to the Sun Theatre, to see Persepolis, an animated film, mainly because of the timing of the showing.

I knew virtually nothing of the story, other than it was the story of a young girl in revolutionary and war torn Iran, and the horror of the story told was not diminished in any way by the fact that it was animated. Instead the starkness of the black and white drawings, the humanity of the characterisation shocked me into tears for the terrible waste of lives.

And, then, the realisation that even in what we think of these enlightened times, people can do terrible things to their own compatriots, while we live our lives in ingnorance.

If you get a chance to see it, go...the time is definitely worth it.

Chance remarks can lead to interesting conversations... A phrase in French, referred to in this Blog, leads to new readers. And then I had to explain myself. Two smallish French/ NZ visitors  taught me this new phrase, so the next question? What was it?

Rather than offend you my dear readers, let me just say: in English "Shut up" was once considered a very rude way of telling someone to be quiet. There is a much ruder phrase in French, which I hope never to have a reason to use in "real" life. But, I now could, if I had to.

Reading other people's blogs where they are enjoying holidays in Northern Hemisphere summer weather is making me itchy to go somewhere, even if it is not hot.

I might have to have a weekend in Queensland, that might help, but saving up leave for a holiday in colder climates at Christmas still gets me just a wee bit excited, even four months out...

Well, let me tell you what I am thinking about, as a little does of anticipation just makes the whole experience a better one:

• Buying a crêpe with lemon and sugar from one of the tiny crepe vendors in Paris. (Yes alright, I can buy one that tastes almost exactly the same here, but it's just not Paris)
• Ambling around village streets and markets of France
• Enjoying sharing meals with the family
• Tasting boutique cheeses
• Preparing and eating a fresh baguette with goose or duck rillettes, mâche and tomato
• Practising my improving French language skills
• Catching up with old friends and new

Aaah....roll on December..

A weekend of sporting events, in the main viewed from the comfort of our living room, after a week fighting off a cold virus which was generously passed on to me, with some very satisfying results in tipping- a rare 8/8. An afternoon nap yesterday, then a disappointing showing by the Wallabies in Auckland means that any thought of sending clever SMSs is largely to be avoided..., this weekend, anyway, for the Wallabies only looked good in the first couple of minutes.

Today, the inconsistent Saints have kept their finals hopes alive with a stirring come from behind victory over Port Adelaide.

And finally, making for dinner tonight: an old favourite of mine, smoked cod with a cheese sauce, mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables. I can just hear Aussie Lass and Pink Ukulele groaning, a throw back to years gone by when smoked cod was a traditional dish on Good Friday. But I also know that Muffin Man and Yaya will sit down to any meal that their mother-in-law cooks in a very appreciative manner...oh, sweet revenge...

It's been pointed out to me that it's been weeks since I made an entry on this blog, so it's about time to make a comment or two. (And rather than keep my anxious readers waiting, while I wait for inspiration and time for the perfect blog entry, here goes)

The reason for not writing has been a very heavy workload, with two colleagues absent for various reasons, and a lot of their workload falling on to these shoulders. Mind you, I am not complaining about this, as I am enjoying the opportunity immensely.

Firstly, how do you compress eight or so weeks into a short posting? Well, you can't, so I will only mention some of the things that have happened in recent weeks..

The birth of a baby girl to C&M, congratulations!
The occasional win by my beloved Saints- not enough to live up to the early season hype, but as with any other love affair, sadly, disappointment at the reality of what they seem to be capable of seems to be an illusion...
The onset of winter, with two mornings late last week at 2 and 3 degrees C, requiring the windows of the car to be de-iced before leaving for work in the mornings
On a cold, wet Saturday afternoon, two weekends ago, the sheer joy of climbing into bed, and snuggling under the blankets with Coco the cat for an afternoon nap.
Just spending time with C and Y
Phone calls from France
E-mails from the European travellers, H and S, who sound like they are having a marvellous time.
Whimsical communications from various sources bring a smile on otherwise heavy days

Yes, these weeks have passed in the blink of an eye, but it's been a fantastic journey!

The Easter weekend in Melbourne starts early afternoon on Maundy Thursday, well, at least the traffic does. A normal trip of 20 minutes between Mt Waverley and Southbank was extended to one hour, on Thursday afternoon, even though I had left work at a little after three. Still, plenty of time to grab a bite to eat prior to my French class, as we explored the intricacies of indirect questions and discourse. Our teacher is encouraging us to work much harder than we had been, and a group of us are continuing to meet for French conversations to practice what we have learnt the Thursday evening before. This time with a two week break, and some difficult concepts to grasp, we had more participants than usual, and fortunately for us, the Creperie in Williamstown was open.

Even in French, I am able to explain that St Kilda have won their first game of the real season, by two points on Saturday night. My French language skills are not yet sufficient to describe the edge of the seat tension, the mix of both frustration and relief as both teams missed goal after goal, the dour defense tactics and finally the welcome burst of the final siren, with the Saints in front.

The rest of the first round of the AFL season goes on, with a similar thrilling win by the Bulldogs, and disappointing form from Melbourne against the Hawks, and Carlton against Richmond both of which may be a predictor of a long, hard season for those teams.

Another long conversation with Aussie Lass, last night, and further thoughts on the planned holiday later in the year: the timing is not set, but we need to make some firm plans soon.

I am now three weeks in to this year's French classes, and we have suddenly realised that for all the classes that we have attended, all the homework we have done or not done, there is still a long way to go. I have gone to the past two classes being quite tired when I got there, and I have found that having a much more stern and demanding teacher, demands much more effort from the student, however tired they are.

As we are all adult students, and we're now in level 6, it is reasonable to assume that we will have a reasonable vocabulary, know how to conjugate verbs, use of most of the tenses, even though we sometimes get them mixed up, but we generally are capable of making ourselves understood.

A regular Sunday morning brunch with classmates is reaping rewards, in improved ability to communicate, despite the occasional lapse into English when the words do not come.