Manners and other Matters

Food…Family and Friends....

2012-02-22T11:04:00.004+07:00

Fresh bamboo shoots, Cairns market (photo the author)

On my recent vacation I travelled from my home in Western Australia to visit my daughter in Sydney, on the East coast of Australia, and then northwards to the Gold Coast of Queensland to visit with a friend, and then even further north to stay with another friend in Cairns in tropical Queensland.

One of my passions is food…I have judged restaurants for a prestigious national restaurant award programme and I am an habitual food market visitor – whether here in Australia or in Europe. While our markets here are improving with the growth of the sustainable and organic food industry, they are nothing compared to the regular markets in Europe. I am particularly fond of the markets I visit in France, and my European friends always laugh when they see my eyes light up at the sight of a sign in a village indicating Market Day.

Market Day, Leysin, Switzerland (photo the author)

While in Sydney my daughter and I went to the wonderful Sydney Fish Market. She makes an excellent Chilli Mud Crab dish which I had not previously tried. When we bought the mudcrabs they were still alive and when we arrived home she placed them in the freezer to humanely “put them to sleep”.

The mudcrab trussed ready for the freezer

I was astonished by her ability to chop them up into pieces before dusting the pieces in cornflour and frying them in the wok. She then assembled all of the ingredients and wove her magic in the wok. The finished dish was sublime…though very messy to eat. No table manners required! Fingers were licked and napkins used and discarded.

The finished product...Chilli Mud Crab

Our modern cuisine in Australia is tending towards an east-west fusion, and given our proximity to Asia this is not surprising. The food tends to be light and reliant on extremely fresh produce. It was with great fascination that I visited with my friend Christine the weekly Cairns market. I encountered vegetables that I had never seen before…Ceylon spinach, Aibika, and varieties of mango and banana which are only found in the far north. It was an eye opening experience and one which really inspired my imagination.

And the flowers! So many different varieties of orchids, even ones with scent; and beautiful tropical plants presented in wonderfully colourful arrangements.

On my first night in Cairns, Christine bought reef fish (a melange of various fish from the Great Barrier Reef) with fresh vegetables and she cooked them in a bamboo steamer…it was light, fresh and delicious.

Bamboo steamer over the wok

The following day we headed north to Port Douglas, about 60 kms from Cairns. It is one of the most spectacular drives in Australia with the road often between sugar cane plantations on one side and the spectacular Pacific Ocean lapping against beautiful, wild beaches on the other. And all of it overseen by the soaring mountains covered by thick rainforest. Travelling even further north up towards Capes Kimberley and Tribulation the rainforest actually extends down to the beach….it is spiritual to walk the empty beaches, devoid of any other human beings.

Cape Kimberley (photo Damien Personnaz)

In Port Douglas we visited a well known restaurant, Salsa, for lunch. Despite the oppressive heat of 35 degrees with 96% humidity, and no airconditioning we managed to enjoy a stunning dish of local fish served on a potato and spring onion gallette with a tom yum beurre blanc sauce and a green mango and chilli salsa. It was so inspiring that I tried to replicate it the following evening using beautiful fillets of local coral trout.

Fresh coral trout (photo the author)

(If you would like my recipe, please email me and I would be pleased to pass it on).

The finished dish (photo Christine Simmonds)

All in all the “food fest” of my vacation was wonderful; the hospitality of my hosts and their willingness to allow me to experiment in their kitchens made a perfect combination of great food, love, laughter, washed down with some beautiful Australian wines.

Waiting for Kangaroos...

2012-02-21T18:43:00.002+07:00

A kangaroo in the distance under the tree in the centre of the picture (taken with my iPhone)

I am having a night away from home, staying with a friend who has a B & B south of Perth, Western Australia.

The B & B "Piazza di Caro", Lake Clifton, Western Australia

Having been in tropical north Queensland last week I am now in the arid and dry landscape of an area which has had enduring searing 38-40 degrees all summer; in the bush, waiting for the sunset to arrive to see the wild kangaroos come into feed on the grass just outside of my room.

B & B in Malanda, Far North Queensland (photo the author)

This incredible difference between the north east and south west of Australia reminded me about the vastness of this wonderful, mystical land I call home.

"Tame" kangaroo (photo Damien Personnaz)

Tonight, it's all about wild kangaroos...

Travelling in my vast country...manners matter...

2012-02-18T19:23:00.001+07:00

Cairns Crocodile Park (photo Damien Personnaz)

I have just returned from a two week vacation catching up with friends in Queensland and my daughter in Sydney. It was a time of healing and also an opportunity to spread my wings with wonderful people, way too many wines and a lot of laughter and some adventures...with crocodiles, sea turtles, sting rays, and parrot fish.

Snorkling with friends on Michaelmas Cay, Great Barrier Reef

(photo courtesy Ocean Spirit Cruises)

The holiday was also enhanced by fabulous meals and observations about the diversity of the fresh food available and the cooking styles used to complement it…from the sophistication of Sydney to the fusion, east/west cuisine of Tropical North Queensland. I will post again with more about the cuisine of Australia.

The Gold Coast (photographer unknown)

It was wonderful to travel up the East Coast of Australia, from Sydney, to the Gold Coast; and from the Gold Coast up to Cairns in FNQ – Far North Queensland as it is referred to up there. Each place is so different…the climates, the population demographics and the landscapes. I live in a truly breathtaking country!

A view from the road between Port Douglas and Cairns (photo Christine Simmonds)

All of the places I visited this time I have also been previously. But somehow I viewed them through different eyes. Perhaps it was because I was solo and so had many opportunities to talk with my fellow travellers, both tourists and locals moving from place to place. I was able to explore the reactions of Europeans to our hot and humid climate after the freeze of their winter; and to chat with fellow Australians about matters such as airline standards, airport ease and the ongoing tirade about taxi drivers.

A view north to Port Douglas (photo the author)

Perhaps the observation I found most interesting was the ease of the people and their face to face communication as I moved north. In Sydney, when in Centennial Park, the other walkers did not make eye contact; on the Gold Coast I was invariable greeted with a “Good Morning” and in Cairns with a “G’day!”…it was as if the pace of life which infuses the residents of the various regions was entirely proportionate to the ease of eye contact and friendly communication. Perhaps there is a lesson for us all in taking time out to respond to others…personally and not through electronic devices.

I also noticed those same subtle but distinct differences in the shop assistants I met. In Sydney they would often remain on the phone, or folding clothes, except in the luxury boutiques of Chanel, Tiffany, Louis Vuitton and Gucci which I visited to “browse” and where the service was impeccable. But in the smaller boutiques and shops the customer in Sydney seemed to be regarded as an intrusion. On the Gold Coast, everyone was pleasant in offering assistance; in Cairns they were effusive, without being uncomfortably so.

Michaelmas Cay, Great Barrier Reef (photo the author)

And so, in many ways my vacation was an all consuming experience. Travelling on my own for the first time in some years, enjoying the support and encouragement of my family and friends and seeing the differences in the people who enjoy living, like me, in this vast country of mine.

And shopping at the markets, cooking, enjoying restaurants…more next time….

Mademoiselle, Madame, Ms...and Women of a "Certain Age"...

2012-02-01T13:53:00.005+07:00

Les Demoiselles de Rochefort: Catherine Deneuve & Francoise Dorleac, 1967

I was sitting with a few girlfriends, or should that be “women friends”, the other day chatting over a few nice Margaret River sauvignon blanc wines. We were discussing an article which had appeared in a weekend newspaper about the French title “Mademoiselle” and how the French feminist movement was defending a woman’s right, irrespective of age or marital/partnership context to use the rather elegant title historically reserved for a young, beautiful girl.

Catherine Deneuve (date unknown)

It would mean that we women usually referred to as “Madame”who are married/partnered, divorced, never married, or no longer blooming with youth could join Catherine Deneuve, and the late Coco Chanel in being referred to as Madamoiselle. As the writer advised, in the absence of a neutral gender, the “Ms” that we have had in Australia since the 1970s as dictated by the feminist movement of the day, the Parisienne femolinguistic agitators want more feminine versions of forms of address. They would like, for example, a woman writer to be referred to as an ecrivaine, a female author as auteure rather than always referred to as ecrivains or auteurs.

Coco Chanel (date unknown)

The battle is also, apparently, taking in the French grammar which imposes that the masculine gender should always have superiority over the feminine when both are at work in a sentence. It has been in place since the 17^th century when the Academie Francaise was appointed as the official guardian of the language of Moliere codified along sexist lines.

As only the French can do, apparently the argument has raised a number of “oh, la, la’s!” among the various elements of the Feminist movement. The battle lines have been drawn and now a militant faction of feminists want the word “Mademoiselle” expunged from official records and banned in daily conversation!

...and what about the Perfume.?

The novelist and Elle magazine columnist Sophie Fontanel commented: “Not only does it (the use of mademoiselle) not shock me: Jádore!” “I don’t understand the polemic. (Mademoiselle) is a sign of liberty. It reminds us that we have never been married, that we have remained free. Catherine Deneuve is furious when she is called madame”.

The lawyer and academic Marcela Iacub suggests “Mademoiselle better encompasses (women) who transform themselves, who experiment with new ways of being in the world, (and) who do not know what they will become. Madame makes us think that our fate is already discovered, traced out and almost lived, that we are politically dead, so dead that the only thing that remains for us is to be like cadavers or silences to be respected.”

The French certainly know how to throw it out there!

So, how do we in Australia respond to ageism, marital/partnership staus, use of the “maiden” name (that of one’s family, usually father), in the 21^st century?Well, I am actually a good case in point. I have been, as my life progresses, a “Miss” + father’s name when born; a “Mrs” + husband’s first and family name when married (correctly, with regard to the etiquette of the 1980’s when a woman took the form of Mrs + own first name + husband’s family name she was widowed!!) and now“Ms” + first name + father’s name as a divorced mother of two children.

“Ms” has in many countries become a form of address readily accepted when uncertain of the correct form for a woman, particularly in business. But there are hundreds of thousands of women who have spent a lot of time, effort and money in getting “Mrs” in front of their name who are insulted by being referred to as “Ms”.

I was asked recently by a talk back radio caller if he was being old fashioned by insisting that his professional wife-to-be renounce her own name (under which she has worked for a decade) to take his family name? My resounding, but polite, answer was “yes”!!

His argument was that it would be complicated for their children when their mother had a different family name. I explained to him that this was extremely common, not only in Australia now, but in many other countries around the world. In fact in many countries the woman always, without question as a matter of culture, retains her father’s family name.

Young at heart...Brittany, 2011 (photo Damien Personnaz)

So, here in my country I am very comfortable when referred to as “Ms” … when I next return to France I will be absolutely delighted if someone has the good grace to address me as “Mademoiselle”. I will accept the term with pride as a woman who remains very much young at heart!

Australia Day...kangaroos, food and lovely music....

2012-01-25T15:52:00.020+07:00

I am, You are, We are Australian...The Seekers
The Pinnacles, Western Australia (photo Damien Personnaz)

I am celebrating Australia Day tomorrow. Over the last decade or so Australia Day has become an important holiday, in fact not unlike Thanksgiving in the US.

Not only because we have a day off from work, but because we Aussies respect Australia Day.

It's a day which is marked by many with time at the beach, barbecues, and having a beer or wine with friends; and it finishes here in Perth with the annual Skyshow....fireworks over the Swan River.

We are a tolerant and multicultural society; our Anglo Saxon roots no longer define us. In fact, since I was a little girl going to school in the 60s most of my friends have always had family names which weren't Anglo Saxon. My children's father is an Italian-Australian and I have recently had five years with a Frenchman travelling between two hemispheres. Sharing languages and cultures is part of the Australian psyche.

So what is it that makes me have a tear in the eye when I am choosing YouTube clips for this post? What is it that makes me Australian?

I Still Call Australia Home..

It's an Australian bush hat (photo Damien Personnaz)

I think primarily it is the freedom. My French friend defined it as not having centuries which are a burden...of history, cultural education, etc. But so many of we Australians travel to find, and experience, that historical burden. To learn more because we have no real patina yet.

The first Australians were here forty thousand years before those from the West....and so we have a heritage of which I am immensely proud. I was delighted to read today that the new National Curriculum for children from Year 3 will include the topics of Australia Day, Anzac Day, Harmony Week, National Reconciliation Week, NAIDOC Week and National Sorry Day

Europeans tend to be impressed by our optimism. Americans relate to us; but we less so to them I think, despite the ever pervasive popular culture opportunities. Our Asian neighbors envy our space and our "laid back"attitudes.

We are a culture which defines itself with a self deprecating humour, a "get on with it "attitude, and a belief in the importance of giving everyone a fair chance...we tend not to be judgmental unless confronted by....(you know what I mean!)...

So, will I be entertaining my guests tomorrow with Australian lamb, an Australia Day staple?...actually no. At a forecast 41 degrees, we are suffering the worst heat wave since 1965!

My salmon with a light mayonnaise

It's going to be a salmon starter followed by a light pasta alla vongole. And lots of Margaret River sauvignon blanc!

My pasta alla vongole....grazie nonna!

Happy Australia Day! I hope you enjoy the musical moments...

Sunset in Esperance, Western Australia

(photo Damien Personnaz)

Frenchmen, Love, Infidelity...and Manners…

2012-01-16T13:58:00.023+07:00

I have been reading “The Men in your Life”, by Geneviève Antoine Dariaux, published in 1968. It was given to me by a friend as I have recently had a long relationship with a Frenchman. It makes for fascinating reading, divided as it is into alphabetical subjects, covering all aspects of relationships with advice for both men and women. It speaks of earlier days and often different morals and values to those we consider normal today and is of course presented from a French perspective. It gave me some laughs, and some reasons for deeper thought.

Madame Dariaux remains firmly of the opinion that women should nurture their men – fathers, husbands, lovers, sons – in order to hang on to some semblance of order and control in their lives. And she believes that infidelity should be viewed on a case by case basis.

So…here are a few extracts, taken directly from the book…

Adultery: Madame…it is far more serious a matter for you to be unfaithful to your husband than it is for him to be unfaithful to you, since it is very rare for you to attach as little importance to it as he does. So before you fall into the muscular embrace of your ski instructor, it is essential that you be modern enough to be able to do so without the slightest romantic notion in the back of your head. Can you?

If he is having a liaison which he openly flaunts, there should be a discussion. Futile questions, such as “What does she have that I haven’t got?" (probably twenty years less) will not bring you any closer to a solution. If you show him calmly that he is certainly going to lose his job, or two million votes in the next election, that in any case you intend to keep the house, the children, the dog and most of his salary which your lawyer is sure to obtain for you, but that if he immediately drops the girl you will never mention the episode again – there is still a very good chance that he will think it over.

Breasts: I have always wondered whether the adoration men display for bountiful breasts is not merely due to a subconscious recollection of being well fed. Has anyone ever thought of making a survey to find out if the majority of homosexuals were not bottle-fed babies?

Caresses: Sentimentally speaking, caresses are of value only when they are spontaneous and not performed like a well-learned lesson. But it would be deliberately closing one’s eyes to certain aspects of the masculine nature not to admit that many women hold on to their husbands and lovers primarily by means of artful caresses. As for women, the more deeply we’re in love, the less we feel the need for skilled caresses.

Courage: A woman’s role is to help the men in her life discover in themselves a courage they perhaps never knew they had, and you can be sure that in the shadow of every courageous man there has been a mother, a sister, a wife or a daughter who encouraged him at one time or another.

Divorce: “To err is human”- and the idea of indissoluble marriage is rather intimidating….But then crash! One fine day, nothing in the world exists for him except some tall, raven haired beauty or some mousy little blond. He is ready to abandon everything for her and he begs you for a divorce. Is it better to be patient or to give him his freedom in a gesture of magnanimity? I must confess that personally I would probably not behave very elegantly and would hang on to him in the hope of an eventual change of heart…avoid a definite rupture in the hope that your husband’s great love will vanish as suddenly as it appeared and that you are really doing him a service by preventing him from marrying a woman for whom his apparent passion may be merely a passing fancy. But if after those same ten or twenty years you no longer have anything in common, if you live together like two more or less courteous strangers…it is certainly more honest to ratify this moral separation by getting a legal divorce.

Fidelity: There are many kinds of fidelity, for more of less valid reasons. Feminine fidelity may be due to love, education, a sense of duty, lack of opportunity or simply force of habit. Masculine fidelity is based on love for a brief moment and most often on lack of time. But neither men nor women can understand the true meaning of fidelity until they have grown old together.

Fifty: How often we hear of the “dangerous fifties” and the demon that inflames middle-aged men with juvenile desire! There is little one can do to combat this impulse, apart from engaging a good lawyer who will make it ruinously expensive for the husband to get a divorce. But if he hasn’t the faintest idea of divorcing and simply wishes to prove to himself that he is still attractive, you have every interest in giving him a free rein, for he will only be too happy to come home again in order to find peace and perhaps to recover his health, which will probably have been somewhat undermined by the excesses that are really too much for a man of his age.

Damien Personnaz, Pays Basque, 2007 (photo the author)

Frenchmen There still exists throughout the world a prejudice in favour of the French that often surprises me. You are undoubtedly expecting me to describe that Don Juan, that charmer, that great wit, that deep thinker, that light humourist, that inventive genius, all of whom are incorporated in every Frenchman. Yes, this used to be true, but at the present time certain less attractive aspects of his personality are in the process of submerging the qualities that were responsible for his reputation and his glory. It has been said that the typical Frenchman is a man…who is chauvinistic but courageous, unfaithful but charming, stingy but resourceful, obsessed by unimportant details but full of good common sense, rather inhospitable but gallant, endowed with a logical mind and a love of justice. All this is true, but unfortunately the first adjectives may make you forget the value of the second and if you top them all off with incredible self-satisfaction, and pride inflated to bursting point….its not surprising that our popularity is on the wane. But he still talks of love better than anybody else, with less ardour than his closest relative, the Italian, but with greater sincerity.

Gentlemen: It is difficult to turn an ordinary man into a gentleman. While most self-made men are rich in other qualities, few of them are authentic gentlemen, for this requires a certain nonchalance and a habit of command that are acquired only by the second generation at the very soonest.

Heart: I wonder why this rather unappetising organ should symbolise love, kindness, courage and the very essence of matter? To tell the truth, one encounters more hearts carved in tree trunks and portrayed on playing cards than in the course of everyday life.

Homosexuals: In our age, when husbands are too overworked to assume all the roles we would like them to fill, a well organised woman should always have several good homosexual friends as confidants and dancing partners, in addition to her couturier and her hairdresser.

Illusions: In many cases women are much more realistic than men, and if they are ugly they try all sorts of artifices in order to make themselves more attractive. Whereas men tend to believe that all they have to do is to pay in order to possess us body and soul.

Jealousy: Jealousy perturbs more marriages than does actual infidelity because it can be completely groundless;it is a malady. Sometimes a couple never experience jealousy until the day when one of them realises that the other has always lied; and nobody can be sure that he will never know this acid, this tumour, this monstrous emotion that drives people to the most terrible deeds

Knowledge: It sometimes requires a heroic effort to remain silent when a man discourses in your presence on a subject you know better than he does – and yet it is the only possible line of conduct if you want him to like you.

Women: Know Your Limits (an hilarious YouTube clip...please enjoy)

Lies: In order to differentiate between truths and lies one must first have a very clear idea as to what exactly is the truth. At what point does it become a sin to tell a lie? When it is slanderous, or when the lie is told with the intention of causing harm?

Love: Love can mean so many things…a feeling of omnipotence, of fulfilment, of bliss which finally dispels the oppressive sensitive of solitude that everybody feels in a crowd. But love, when you have lost it, can also be complete and hopeless despair.

Lovers: Technically, a lover is a gentleman who enjoys the favours of a lady who is not his wife. The true lover belongs to a race that is fast becoming extinct, for in order to exercise his talents he must have time as well as imagination. A lover worthy of the name will not start by taking your breath away as he presses you tightly to his breast while dancing, but he will make you laugh by telling you amusing stories. He doesn’t have to make you drink in order to make you lose your head, because the little spark in his eyes will intoxicate you much faster. The ideal lover is a person whom you help to create something, whom you inspire, who immortalises you on canvas or in a book.

Paris October 2011,Damien Personnaz and the author (photo a fellow tourist)

Manners: Good manners should be placed right after love as the best recipe for an enduring, happy marriage.

Marriage: For many women marriage means social position and in order to acquire this façade they are willing the pay the price in private. A successful marriage is…neither a mating or a partnership but nevertheless a little of both, because everyone knows that a marriage can be really successful only when there exists a moral as well as a physical harmony between the two partners.

Mistress: Despite our more liberal morals there is still only a very tiny minority of women who do not prefer the title of “Mrs” to that of mistress, even an “official” one. And a married man who takes a mistress must have a very special character in order to enjoy being caught in the middle between two jealous women!

New: It’s a woman’s reason for buying clothes. It’s a man’s reason for falling in love.

Nudity: Don’t reveal too much if it isn’t absolutely flawless; thus, when he discovers imperfections it will already be too late.

Passing Fancy: Nobody has yet invented anything better than a passing fancy for passing the time.

Pipe: A pipe is a photogenic and reassuring accessory…many men are making a mistake in failing to exploit its advantages. A pipe gives a man a masculine air and the various rites he has to perform in order to make it work give him time to think.

Damien Personnaz, Home Island, Cocos (Keeling) Islands 2007 (photo the author)

Questions: There are certain questions that we regret ever having posed and with age we realise that certain facts are better left unlearned.

Regrets: Sooner or later in life we all have to make a choice between remorse for having done too much and regret for not having done enough; the most painful regrets are those you feel on realising that you have let an opportunity escape; and the most unbearable remorse results from hurting somebody you love.

Sex: If Frenchmen enjoy a flattering reputation as lovers throughout the world I do not think it is because they have greater endurance in bed than other men but because they have always known how to surround the act itself…with embellishments of wit, imagination and tender phrases, all of which are far more effective than mere technique. So instead of rushing to buy all those handbooks (of techniques) that can only result in disappointment, women would do better to content themselves with the men whom they have chosen…and to make them happier by letting them discover little by little all that they are capable of giving them.

Tenderness: The tenderness one feels for another person is a marvellous sentiment that warms the soul. It is very close to love but much less demanding and more understanding; in fact it is often the final stage of a great passion and it is more comforting in old age…Perhaps there is nothing in the world more touching than the sight of a very tender elderly couple.

Vanity: All men, even those who seem most modest, indulge in some form of vanity. It is sufficient to discover the object of a person’s vanity and then to flatter him about it in order to make a friend of him. It is preferable to praise a very handsome man for his wit and a genius for his beautiful eyes.

Bretagne, 2011 (photo the author)

The book was insightful if at times, as viewed in the 21^st century, a little old-fashioned in its advice. My friends have asked if I would enter a relationship with a Frenchman again.
Peut-être! But not without consulting Madame Dariaux first…

The Big Banks...and Manners. Compatible or not?....

2012-01-06T10:50:00.000+07:00

Always read the fine print

After reading an interesting article in a weekend paper which encouraged depositors to “shop around” for good Term Deposit rates, I did just that this morning.

Armed with newspaper ads from the business pages I approached my usual bank and asked for the best rate they could give me. A very polite Gen Y assistant advised me of the figure 5.20% When I advised him that the advertisements from competitors offered better rates he rang his superior...”OK, Madam, 5.60%. He then suggested that I see other banks to compare the rates! All of this service, and with a smile and a professional manner.

So, down the highway I went and offered my business to another of the Australian “ Big Banks”. The portly and pleasant assistant quoted the published rate and I suggested he might like to explore the opportunity of me moving all my banking needs to his institution....again with a smile, “Certainly, Madam, please excuse me while I check with my Manager...” . “OK Madam, if you use us as your primary bank we can offer you 5.70%

And again down the highway to a slightly smaller, but very competitive bank. “Yes, Madam, how may I assist you?” asked a young Gen Y assistant of Asian background. After hearing of my request he checked the published rates and then consulted with his manager, having requested information about the previous rates I had been offered. He appeared a few minutes later with a forlorn face. “Please accept my apologies, Madam, but we are unable to assist you with a competitive rate”. Then with a smile, he said: “Perhaps our E Saver Account could help even out the differences in your interest rates for some of your other accounts?” A great suggestion I am likely to follow through with.

Spare Euros from my recent visit to France

I regularly hear that the Big Banks are unfeeling and ungracious to those of us that wander in and don’t only use their ATM and internet banking facilities. It has certainly not been my experience today.

However, a fellow customer of my initial bank to which I returned, armed with the competitor information, made me squirm in the queue. He was dressed in “Stubbies” and thongs, with a large gut poking through a dirty red tee shirt. And he was not only gesticulating rudely to the very polite Gen Y assistant I had spoken to earlier, but also speaking in a tone which was not only threatening but could have been seen as abusive. And the problem for “Sir” was that he hadn’t read the date on his notification from the Bank about his Term Deposit rollover and so he felt that they had “scammed” him in order not to pay him a higher interest rate. He wanted to remove his funds and they didn’t try to dissuade him.

And Which Bank did I remain with? My initial bank which, after the Gen Y assistant made another call to a superior, offered me a rate of 5.70% and the sweetner of fee removal on currency exchange. And a very pleasant “ It is has been a pleasure doing business with you; is there anything further I can assist you with?”

The lesson in all this....common courtesy goes a long way...and so does “shopping around”.

A New Year...IZ says it all....Remote Islands and Manners....

2012-01-01T18:08:00.016+07:00

King Kamahemeha Day Parade , Hawaii 2008 (photo the author)

It’s a new year. And when I was preparing for friends to visit today I listened to IZ Somewhere over the Rainbow He was inspirational…and has now sadly passed. I hope, as you enjoy the first day of 2012 you also enjoy this inspirational clip.

I have spent many months of my last few years with my companion traveling around remote islands while he researched them for his books. To be able to live with and enjoy and learn from the people of these islands has been an unexpected gift for me.

These buses were everywhere...feeding the participants in the Pipeline Competition

While the remote islands of Cocos (Keeling) Islands, Christmas Island, Yap, Palau, Norfolk Island and more have intrigued me, when I went back, through IZ's music, to the time when I was travelling with my companion in Hawaii in 2008 I found my memories just there. And here I share some photos.

"So, did you leave me some coffee?" (the gecko in our house in Hawaii photo the author)

Happy New Year…please don’t forget to dance as if there is no tomorrow….and to remember to be kind, considerate and genuine. To yourself, and those you love. It’s all about the manners…

The island of Molokai...and the resting place of Father Damien

A New Year, Wild Birds, Manners and Good Wishes....

2011-12-31T14:25:00.003+07:00

The galahs, following a pecking order for feeding at the clam shell (photo the author)

Another year is about to begin. I am glad to be leaving this one behind. Despite some wonderful opportunities and experiences in the earlier part of the year, such as travel through the North Cook Islands in the South Pacific, even on the ghastly SV Discovery South Pacific Expedition; and a lovely trip to France where I could practice my French language skills and indulge in the wonder of the markets, little towns and the landscapes of Brittany, the last quarter was one of sadness.

"Is it your turn or mine to eat now?" (photo the author)

But my own situation was rendered insignificant by the terrible suffering of people throughout the world this year; the violent impact of Mother Nature when she is angry; the fear of the persecuted; the anxiety about economic meltdown around the globe; in Australia the devastation of bushfires and floods; and for two of my acquaintances the loss of children in tragic road accidents.

"Ok, if you feed me I will stop making so much noise!" (photo the author)

I have recently enjoyed a few days at my beach house. I feed the local wild birds…the galahs, or as we refer to them here “the pink and greys”. They are cheeky, and unfussed by my presence nearby on the verandah. Their freedom, their manners, a very obvious “pecking order” at the feedbowl which is the clam shell, intrigue me and gave my guests and me enormous amusement.

Elbow and BBC Concert Orchestra

This week I was also introduced to the band Elbow. I hope you enjoy this clip of their song “One Day Like This” with the BBC Concert Orchestra. It's about having a beautiful day.

Happy New Year. I hope 2012 brings happiness, love, laughter and serenity to your lives.

The True Spirit of Christmas...via the Cocos (Keeling) Islands....

2011-12-24T09:50:00.002+07:00

Direction Island, Cocos (Keeling) Islands (photo the author)

I received this email yesterday It is self explanatory, and to me shows the true spirit of Christmas, kind communication and consideration...Merry Christmas to you all....

"Good morning Louise,

I met you in the early 2000’s on West Island, (Cocos (Keeling) Islands) at your father’s home.

I heard you on the radio yesterday talking about Christmas cards. My wife (Michelle) and I are still traditionalists in this regard and together managed about 60 this year – although my contribution was a fraction of this. I was on my way to collect rocks for a stone wall I’m building on our property when you came on the radio .I changed out of my work clothes into some more appropriate attire I had put in the car that morning and it just so happened that I had put a Cocos Island North Park t-shirt which I haven’t worn for years – so my rock collecting outing turned into a trip down memory lane.

I thought a lot about your father and how I lamented not being able to make it over to the islands for his funeral service. I wrote the attached poem(something I rarely do) for Bob and I believe it was your son who was kind enough to read it out at the service.

Anyhow, after hearing you on the radio yesterday I spent most of my head space that afternoon happily on Cocos so thought I should drop you a line and thank you for eliciting those fond memories – by rights I should have written but my poor hand writing skills are generally only on display in those few Christmas cards that I contribute some words to.

All the very best for Christmas and wishing you and all your family a safe and prosperous 2012.

Kind regards

Tony C."

South Island, Cocos (Keeling) Islands

T’was a mere twist of fate that bought Bob to these isles

A life changing journey of thousands of miles.

He was grieving the loss of his beautiful wife,

His souls’ true companion, the love of his life

Her sad parting, a void that nothing could fill,

He lost his direction and purpose until,

One day in the paper his daughter did spy,

An invite for tourists to Cocos to fly.

He flew to the islands on that very first flight,

A sense of excitement as they came into sight.

With anticipation he surveyed his surrounds,

The vague familiarity of sights, smells and sounds.

The islands were tiny and the amenities few,

Bounded by an ocean of shimmering blue.

So much like his days on the bridge out at sea

He thought to himself, “this feels just right to me”.

His most pleasant surprise were the people he found,

Two cultures so different yet commonly bound.

These islands of contrasts appealed through and through,

A place to reflect and to make friends anew.

How effortlessly did he made friends by the score,

So kind and compassionate right through to his core.

The finest of gentlemen in every sense,

He even gave Cocos its first white picket fence.

His charming warm smile will be missed by us all,

And his clear sparkling eyes and that smooth naval drawl.

But his soul will live on for evermore in these parts,

Commodore Bob you remain in our hearts.

Bob Percy's grave, Cocos (Keeling) Islands (photo the author)

Christmas and Manners…Happening or not?

2011-12-22T07:36:00.001+07:00

Christmas Tree for 2011 (photo the author)

Recently I read an interesting article quoting a psychology professor at the University of California, Riverside (Sonja Lyubomirsky). It stated that "Academics have long theorised that expressions of thanks promote health and happiness and give optimism and energy. Now, the study of gratitude has become a surprisingly burgeoning field and research indicates being thankful might help people feel better. However, there is a catch: you have to say thanks more than once a year..."

After a week in which I encountered rude airline passengers and staff I thought about this concept. Why is it that people having the opportunity to "fly", which was so seldom offered to people 30 years ago, and even then when it was it was a "luxury", believe it is appropriate to be rude to each other? How lucky are they compared to those for whom travel is merely a dream?

So many of us will be travelling over the Festive Season and given that Christmas is, I believe, a time for reflection on the place of ourselves in families and wider communities, why don't we just take time to say "thank you", or "merci' or the thousands of other words with the same meaning, to those who assist us and to those whom we love?

It is after all a phrase which we teach our children, in all cultures, as the basis of good manners. But come Christmas time, people are so "busy" and "stressed" trying to achieve their goals of gift choices, food choices and more that the spirit of a kind word, a gentle touch and a genuine word are lost....with the spirit of Christmas.

Please smile at the person who assists you at the airport, in the plane, the bus, the train; and the shop assistant at the counter; and smile at the family member who helps you with the Christmas wrapping and food preparation.... and above all, for those of us fortunate enough to have people with whom we can share the Christmas spirit, be grateful...and say thank you.

Corporate Manners...and Christmas and birthdays....

2011-12-21T10:32:00.000+07:00

I recently received the following request for information from a woman who has settled in Australia from Asia. It particularly interested me as it was as much about cultural differences as it was about modern manners.

“I have question in my head about etiquette that bothering my mind. This is about birthdays. Would you please be able to help me?

1. A member of our Board of Directors who is also the founder of our company and father of our CEO has birthday on 24th Dec. What is the proper business etiquette, do we send flowers to him or hamper on his birthday? We did not do anything on the last time but I would like to correct this in the future. My husband said that in Western society, birthday are usually only for relatives. So, I would appreciate any explanation or suggestion from you.

2. Secondly my CEO’s birthday will be this Saturday, would it be appropriate to send text to him on Saturday? I don’t really want to give wrong impression.

3. On Christmas day or New Year’s Eve, what is the etiquette, do we send text messages to our management? Again, I don’t really want to give impression. The Executive Management in the company are very close to each other; but I would rather to keep it as business relationship. So there is minimum work correspondence out of business hours which may lead problem with my family.
Thanking you in advance for your guidance.”

And my responses were:
1. I would suggest a hamper as a gift only if it is a “special” birthday, such as a 60th, and only after consulting with your CEO.

2. If you are the CEO’s personal assistant, a birthday card is more appropriate than texting him on his birthday.

3. Christmas/Season’s greetings cards are traditional and in an office environment more correct than texting the executive management.

And so, manners are evolving in so many ways. Do we text, do we Twitter our work colleagues and superiors? In looking at the trends of this new decade I have heard recently that the social networking we have accepted in the last decade will continue and evolve; that we will be more reliant on all aspects of the internet, known and still to evolve, for the little things to make our “busy” lives easier….but what place tradition then?

The corporate environment, while changing and in many areas becoming more relaxed, still has its unspoken rules… the order of precedence and the hierarchy of superiority are still very much entrenched and should be respected.

Internet Infidelities...Manners, or not?

2011-12-18T13:50:00.003+07:00

Adele, singing Someone Like You

After my recent post Manners, Pen Pals...and Internet Friends I have been inundated with emails from people with similar stories about negative internet influences on their personal lives with devastatingly painful effects. Partners, be they personal or professional, deceiving, through a virtual life.

I have explored with a psychologist how such duplicity can exist in otherwise quite reasonable people. The condition is referred to as “internet psychosis”, brought on by the self absorbed behaviour in those who live, via the writing of blogs and chat forums, in a virtual reality. They are able to reinvent themselves to a certain extent. And with blog writers, the quality of the written word, true or not, becomes paramount, and in the most severe cases, becomes delusional. It is increasingly becoming a psychosis seen by mental health professionals.

Any breakup is painful. But when the internet is involved, a new paradigm of manners is raised. How much deceit is possible virtually and when do you admit the truth? Should one read their partner’s emails, and iPad history, when they are being sent, clandestinely, from their shared computers? And as one reader asked , when does the accessing of SMS on a partner’s telephone become OK?

Where do the manners of the traditional face to face relationship stand when clashed by the subterfuge of the internet and virtual relationships?

I am regularly asked if manners and etiquette are old fashioned? No, from my perspective they are evolving daily, and a standard for the code of behaviour for this new age is still developing.

Manners... and generations... compatible or not?...

2011-12-16T14:20:00.000+07:00

I have recently had some interesting experiences relating to generational differences with regard to manners; the way the young see the elderly and their more “traditional” manners, and the way the elderly see the youth of today with their “lack of manners and respect”.

It all began a few weeks ago, while I was taking a quiet walk along a nearby street with my dogs. An older gentleman (I think he would have been late 70s)went past me on a bike, and then stopped suddenly to look at a new “McMansion” being built on the other side of the road. I acknowledged him with a smile and a “good morning”, and he said: “I grew up in the house that used to be there”. I remembered the previous house as being quite elegant, on a large block, filled with beautiful trees. He said: “I lived there for the whole of my childhood”...and then commenced to tell me about the suburb in those days and what he remembered of the area at that time.

Fathers and daughters (photo the author)

After we had finished a really interesting conversation I continued my walk. Along the way I passed a few young people (OK, about their 20s) and a few young couples, all connected to their IPods, as I was, none of them acknowledging my eye contact and “good morning”.

Does this make me “old fashioned” in that I do acknowledge others on an early morning walk? I mean, I don't necessarily want a long chat at that time of solace and early morning light, but an acknowledgment is perhaps not a bad thing.

Fathers and granddaughters (photo the author)

One of the musicians I am most enjoying at the moment is Amy MacDonald who has an insightful song “Youth of Today” on her great album “This is the Life”. I was listening to it following my encounter with the old gentleman and it made me think. She is in her early 20s and has a following around the world – 3 million albums – which, as a result of her insightful lyrics and wonderful melodies, crosses all age boundaries. http://www.amymacdonald.co.uk/gb/lyrics/youth_of_today/

The traditional manners of those aged over 50 often seem disproportionate to the young, as do the casual manners of the young to those more mature. The young find it difficult to deal with the formality of the manners which dictated for their parents rigidly how people greeted each other, dated and certainly ate at the table in the days before McDonalds. But that doesn’t make the more formal manners of times gone by less realistic than the manners of our modern life.

The new manners guide on whether we can make and break a first date by text; and how we can date via internet introductions rather than friends; and how to deal with a table laid with western cutlery and asian utsensils together; and then dealing with the "modern manners" which guide parents divorcing with attendant partners, blended families and how the children and their friends cope with those situations.

If common courtesy and respect for each other are by definition the basics of good manners, whether they are traditional or modern, we should all see the differences in standards not so much as difficulties but as opportunities to talk about the evolution of codes of behavior for the times in which we live.

Christmas Cards…Old Fashioned…or not?

2011-12-12T12:18:00.004+07:00

Villard Sur Chamby, Switzerland

As the Christmas season approaches I have been thinking about the fabulous tradition of Christmas cards. I remember as a child racing to beat my sister to the mailbox to collect the dozens of cards which arrived each week from the beginning of December. We would hang the cards on string around the lounge room, making space for the artificial Christmas tree which was such a symbol of the 60s

Now in the 21st century, where our concentration is very much on the environment, the silver tree has long been buried in land fill and replaced with a “real” one. And the numbers of Christmas cards received has slowed to a trickle.

Is this demise of the Christmas card tradition only because of the environmentally conscious among us who are concerned about the destruction of forests? Or is it because many of us are so “busy” that we don’t have the time to sit down and handwrite a quick greeting to friends and family, near and far?

Email particularly has encouraged the demise of the card as much as the cassette tape and CD did for the vinyl record. There are a myriad of different programs available to assist in the creation of electronic Christmas cards. Social networking sites are starting to fill with greetings. But do these electronic messages have the personality of the traditional card with its cover depicting reindeers and snow, or kangaroos and beaches, in celebrating the Festive Season?

This year I am again sending Christmas cards to family, friends, business colleagues and clients. It is a lovely, wild garden in the mountains, at Villard sur Chamby, featuring towering pine trees and a wonderful holly bush behind an abreuvoir. I have had the cards printed on recycled paper and am enjoying, in my quiet moments, writing brief notes and greetings in them. For my friends abroad I am enclosing a letter detailing the past year.

The paper Christmas cards I receive will be displayed prominently as part of my Christmas decorations. It is a truly great tradition which speaks to the heart of what I think the Festive Season of sharing is all about…long may it continue, either on paper or via electronics.

Christmas…and the Spirit of Giving….

2011-12-06T17:36:00.016+07:00

The welcoming wreath for this year

I have been approaching the Christmas season this year with mixed emotions. I am still suffering the grief of a recent personal loss. But today the true meaning of Christmas occurred to me while I was decorating the Christmas tree to welcome my daughter and her partner here this weekend for an early Christmas celebration.

New Christmas decorations for the tree from my visit to Samoa May 2011

I cast my mind back a few years to when I used to deliver Meals on Wheels to the elderly in my neighbourhood; the service of hot, daily meals allowed these people to live relatively independent lives in their homes.

One of my favourite women was named Joan. She was a woman of over 80 years, very lined in her face, rarely changing from her nightclothes, despite the most fervent efforts of her visiting daily nurse . She appeared to be distrustful and cynical in her attitude towards other people. She lived in her family’s home, in the little annex bedroom, a verandah attached to the formal part of the house. She listened to talk back radio all day and all night when she could not sleep. Whenever she heard me talking on one show or another on the radio, she would comment when I delivered her meal on a Friday. If I had been on TV and she had seen the show she would comment, usually negatively, about my appearance. She had a grudging respect for me, I think…I had a great respect for her.

Joan had lost her fiancée in the Second World War and had never fallen in love again. She chose to live with her widowed mother for the rest of her life; and when her mother died, she became somewhat of a recluse. After about two years of delivering her Friday meals she asked me to enter the inner sanctum of her house. I was most surprised to be invited. It was like walking back into a different time. The little weatherboard house was clad in pressed iron, walls and roof. The furnishings were from the 1950s; even the lightening was antiquated.

But the reason she asked me inside was to show me a photo of herself as a young woman. This wizened, craggy old woman, had been absolutely beautiful when younger. Her photo showed her in a figure hugging dress, discretely draped, her hair coiffed in the style of the times, her demeanour elegant and poised. All she said to me was “I wanted you to see this, now, off you go.”

The recipes are ready for Christmas..new and old choices this year

Joan died a few years ago. But the reason I mention her now, is that after sharing herself, I chose to include her in my Christmas time. She had no one to visit her on Christmas Day…”it’s just another lonely day” she would say. So I decided to change that, even though she was reluctant. After Christmas service I would visit her; casually, with some Christmas food and even on one occasion my children. She would say that I was wasting my time, but as I was leaving, I would see a tear, gently coursing down her craggy, lined face, from her lovely eyes.

That to me is what Christmas is about. Not the gifts, not the elaborate church services, but the spirit of Christmas… giving to those in whose life you can make even a tiny difference. And giving thanks to those who have reached out to you with kindness.

The Voyage from Hell through the Islands of Paradise: Pacific Expeditions and SV Discovery

2011-12-04T18:40:00.033+07:00

The intrepid travellers on the SV Discovery, May 2011. (Photo courtesy our crew member)

I have reposted this post (initially written in June 2011) as I was contacted yesterday by a concerned previous client of Pacific Expeditions, from Maui, who advised that my TripAdvisor comment on Suwarrow National Park and Pacific Expeditions had been removed...and I advised him that it was certainly not by me. When I then visited my blog I saw that this post had also been removed...I have now reinstated... .

It is a good story...reminding us all to be aware of internet descriptions...and deceptions.

SV Discovery. Sitting low in the water May 2011 (photo the author)

The minute we saw the boat at the dock in Rarotonga, Cook Islands, we knew that things were not as we had envisaged by reading about and booking our voyage at the Pacific Expedition’s website.

http://mannersandothermatters.blogspot.com/2011/05/manners-mannerseverywhereeven-suwarrow.html

When I introduced myself to the person I had been told was the captain he acknowledged me, didn’t give his name and pointed towards a young woman who was inventoring freight at it was put abroad the boat. She advised us that the departure date was more likely to be before sunset than 12 noon…”it’s island time, and the freight is late”…”you can look around town for a while”…she suggested as we left our passports with the as yet unnamed captain to be processed through the Cook Islands immigration office.

After 7 hours of wandering the two main streets of Rarotonga, enjoying a beer at Trader Jack’s and some internet time at the Telecom office we staggered under the heat back to the boat. At 5 we were allowed to view our cabin. What a shock! The same cabin, or double berth, displayed on the website was ours… reached from the main deck by a greasy, engine oil covered ladder down a depth of about 2 metres. The heavily enclosed atmosphere, with four bunks, which would be occupied, outside our non-private entrance, was complemented by the rancid air from the nearby engine room . I hung a sarong over the entrance to our cabin for a semblance of privacy...for us all.

A "nest"? (Photo the author)

The cabin bore no resemblance to the glossy photo on the Pacific Expeditions site detailing the standards on board the SV Discovery. My companion was horrified but I assured him we could manage and I would try to make a little “nest”for us to call home for 14 nights. My optimism would be sorely tested.

Shortly after we were joined on the main deck by our fellow passengers. We were a mixed bunch, representing Australia, New Zealand, England, Canada, Japan , America and Switzerland. Our ages,we would learn, ranged from almost 70 to 29. We were to bond together as intrepid travellers, united in our anger and disappointment at the condition of the boat and the arrogant and non-communicative approach of our captain, Graham Wragg. Later we would also be united in the fear of danger presented by a vessel which was at the very least hazardous, if not obviously unseaworthy.

We all knew something was amiss when the captain “addressed”us on the main deck, advising us, randomly, of the safety equipment on board the vessel. He then told us of the water shortages which could occur and informed us of the ritual of a “naval shower”and the preferred option for the male passengers to pee over the side of the boat. The one toilet/shower room, about the size of an aircraft toilet, was for the use of the 12 people on board.

Under a beautiful sunset we departed Rarotonga for the isolation of two and a half days at sea before we would reach the island of Palmerston. The sea initially seemed quite calm but the Discovery, being a badly weighted catamaran tossed up and down and side to side. Seasickness was shortly an unwelcome cloud of darkness for most of us.

Eating that evening was out of the question for most of us. Fortunately as it turned out. The “rations”that the captain had supplied were meagre we were to learn. In the fresh food department there were two cabbages, 6 or so tomatoes, 6 carrots, about 5 papaya, some bananas, potatoes, oranges and onions. Otherwise, it was 6 packets of frozen vegetables, 2 kgs of frozen minced beef (the expiration date was June 2010), 6 kgs of frozen chicken pieces, some frozen loaves of bread, some soft drink, cans of vegetables, numerous cans of tinned meat and some Asian dried noodles, rice and pasta. For 12 people for 14 days.

http://mannersandothermatters.blogspot.com/2011/06/palmerston-atoll-beautiful-island.html

The wonderful people of Palmerston giving us a beach seafood "barbecue" (Photo the author)

But we survived. On arrival on 30 May in Apia, Western Samoa our vessel was boarded by the customs, immigration and health authorities. After initial inquiries, the vessel was declared unfit for passengers and senior authorities were called by the various officers to the wharf. After giving our various statements, we were able to go ashore, many of us wishing to kiss the ground. We were safe, but exhausted and some of us wounded by gashes, grazes and bruises from the never ending swell as our boat was tossed like a cork in the vastness of the Pacific Ocean for 14 days.

http://mannersandothermatters.blogspot.com/2011/06/suwarrowisolation-manta-rays-sharks-and.html

Damien Personnaz and the author at Suwarrow ( photo a crew member)

As a group we were indeed intrepid travellers and we became great friends, bonded in our resolve to stop Pacific Expeditions ever operating another passenger voyage. And my 14 days with these wonderful people was a testament to the Confucian saying…”All people are the same; it is their habits which are different…”

The beauty of Suwarrow (photo courtesy of a fellow passenger)

Not only did I have the opportunity to see selfless consideration and manners among my fellow passengers and our one crew member each day, but the generosity of the island people I met was a joy I will never forget.

Grief…Manners and Communication

2011-12-04T17:32:00.001+07:00

The sky over the South Pacific 2010 (Photo Damien Personnaz)

I have been sympathising lately with an acquaintance who is suffering a profound sense of grief. I actually met her at the funeral for her cousin the day after I returned from my recent trip to France. http://mannersandothermatters.blogspot.com/2011/08/vale-paul-lockyer.htmlShe had also buried her eldest daughter 6 weeks earlier, a young woman who had not yet reached 30 years of age.

I had been in Europe when her daughter died and I had not heard the news until my return. What to do? Her friends advised that she was coping as best she could; that she wasn’t receiving visitors but that mail was being collected from her mailbox.

Her Facebook page was filled with condolences. But for me, the loss of a daughter required a personal, handwritten message of sympathy and support. Old fashioned perhaps, but still that personal touch seemed to resonate even with the younger friends, who surprisingly also chose to write to the bereaved mother, rather than to only commiserate through the internet medium.

Storm clouds over the island of Palau, 2010 (Photo the author)

I recently have also had an enormous loss, albeit one which doesn’t even remotely compare with the loss of a child. But nevertheless has been devastating for me and a level of grief, and its stages, has been encountered.

And it has been inspiring to see how my friends and acquaintances have reacted. Unanimously, from around the world, their friendship has been paramount in their support. It has shown itself in the most amazing ways…certainly internet support via emails, SMS and Skype. But also in the old fashioned way. Flowers with handwritten cards, offers of cooked meals, holidays…and certainly from those nearby, hugs.

The island of Yap 2010 (Photo the author)

As I wrote in a relatively recent post
http://mannersandothermatters.blogspot.com/2011/08/friendshipsgold-and-silverreal-and.html gold and silver standard friendships stand the test of time. And they certainly assist when grief is overwhelming.

My thought regarding the manners of dealing with people with grief is this…empathise. It is what the concept of manners is about, putting yourself in the shoes of the other person and responding with kindness and consideration.

Manners… Pen Pals, and Internet Friends…

2011-11-26T14:44:00.013+07:00

Discarded flowers in full bloom in Paris, October 2011 (photo taken by the author)

I wrote a post a few months agoFriendships...Gold and Silver..., after giving a radio interview on the subject, about friendship and the rise of “internet friendship” in the last few years. l I questioned the reality and honesty of communicating via an effectively anonymous medium, one in which regular checks and balances are difficult, if the “friends” involved have “covered their tracks” with pseudonyms. Facebook and Twitter are certainly employed as search and discover mediums. In earlier times, the checks and balances were made more simply through friends and work colleagues.

I compared these modern medium friendships with the ones in our lives which are silver and gold standard relationships; the ones which are long standing and able to withstand sometimes critical and deliberating conversations, face to face over coffee or cocktails.

I appeared on ABC TV recently discussing the same subject (photo courtesy the author)

But, then I wondered, how different is the internet correspondence of today to the “pen pal” correspondence of 40 years ago? I had a pen pal at another school when I was I was a little girl; the writing of letters was encouraged by our teachers to assist with our English writing. Years later I had a pen pal in France. And I remember watching the TV show Mash and seeing the character of Radar writing to someone and fabricating his status in the army, his height and good looks…and then suffering enormous remorse; and having the courage to correct the lie. A courageous and poignant episode I thought at the time.

It has recently come to my attention, through a friend involved in the experience, about this phenomenon of the building of relationships via blog comment, subsequent blog related emails, more personal emails, SMS, telephone calls and finally a meeting when the fascination level has reached a crescendo. The first meeting of the correspondents, the subsequent meetings and the development of what can become a genuine relationship. Sometimes love. And then subsequent betrayal when the underlying, carefully constructed lies are exploded by reality.

And I particularly found it interesting, as this friend and I had discussed many times the possible hazards of spending so much time, via blogs, with “virtual friends” . At what stage do they become real friends on the internet? Is it when we know their real names and email addresses - should we ask if they are real names and addresses and how do we check?

Musee Rodin Paris October 2011 (taken by the author)

And should we all ponder the words that we use to describe ourselves and our circumstances…are we all truthful or is embellishment, depending on the day and our temperament, such an enticement to deceit?

In the days when I was a child my parents spent many months apart. My father was in the Navy and away for up to six months at a time. I have many of my late parent’s letters and their reel to reel voice tapes, all of which were received, of course, some weeks later than their transcription.

Trust was paramount for them, in their long term correspondence.

It encouraged me to wonder about these days of long distance relationships which are also nurtured by modern communications…the emails, the SMS, the telephone calls, which bely time zones. How does one check the veracity of what we are told in long, languid email prose and time varied correspondence?

Wisdom tells us that the internet will allow no lies; that the ability to find all information, to see truth at all levels, with more resources every day at our disposal, is possible.

But, I ask myself the question: whether the correspondence is via letter, Skype, emails, SMS, cell phone messages, do positive friendships and loving relationships exist without trust? I think not.

France… Food and Special Moments in the Sun…

2011-11-25T15:01:00.010+07:00

Seafood in Saint Malo

This post is not so much about manners, but my other passion: food. Sometime it’s nice to write about something which is not necessarily the subject matter, but rather connected to it.

I have been back now for six weeks from my month in France; and it’s been a busy period with television commitments with The Queen’s visit to Australia and preparations for the visit of my companion from Switzerland.

Now that I have the time, as he has departed, I have been wandering through all the photos, reliving the wonderful times…and the stunning food experiences.

I was there during the “Indian Summer” and even managed to swim in la Manche (The English Channel )on 30 September after a lovely picnic on the beach.

Simple but lovely picnic

The French were incredulous that they could swim at 5.00 p.m. in the heat; as an Australian, I was delighted to revel in the small waves, the cool water and the gentle salt of a clean sea. One with a very low tide at that time.

It was interesting to be there in September/October as I was able to see through my Australian eyes the focus on the Euro Zone economic problems; and, I must say, take advantage of the strong Australian dollar. I was amazed at the inexpensive prices of the seafood and wine, of excellent quality, which we found not only during our days in Paris, but throughout Brittany where we spent most of our time.

Perfect combination: champagne and a "people watching table"

Paris was very pretty during late September. Wandering through le Jardin des Plantes, having icecream at Berthillion and mussels at Leons in Montparnasse; and the obligatory coupe de champagne, for me, at the touristy but pleasant Les Deux Magots.

But it was Brittany which was our focus. Firstly a week near Forte La Latte just near the la Manche coast.

A pretty little stone cottage, vintage French Revolution

I revelled in my passion for cooking; we stayed in a self catering, lovely stone cottage, close to the coastline, with abundant local produce and the end of season blackberries which my friend made for me into fresh jam. Combined with the bread and stunning pastries from the excellent local bakery in Plevenon, our breakfasts were sublime. Because the weather was balmy, mild with gentle light in the evenings, we were able to eat outside for most of our meals…local fish, seafood, artichokes and wonderful salads.

Sole and salads

Unfortunately we were too early for the Coquilles St Jacques from Erquy. But I was able to taste them later, in Concarneau…beautifully, plump, juicy and tender.

And we did have great fun, running from the incoming tide while still picking mussels from the rocks; only to learn from our local neighbours that evening when we had a sunset drink with them that they didn’t eat them. Perhaps too much pollution in the water they said. What a disappointment! We decided not to take the risk.

Fresh, but polluted? No risk taken

Beautiful Saint Malo seduced me. The weather was again perfect, it was pleasant to walk over the ancient cobbles, to wander into chic but welcoming shops and dine on langoustine and oysters washed down with wine or local cider.

Local oysters and langoustines

And then it was down to the south to the little fishing village of Loctudy. Once the hub of a thriving sardine fishing region it is now a shadow of its previous self, expanding with tourists in the summer, but otherwise a web of random streets and lanes which are surrounded by shuttered homes, hiding behind large stone walls.

Pretty, renovated fisherman's cottage

But there was a marvellous fish shop which provided local produce from the trawlers both early in the morning and from 4 in the afternoon. A certain haven for a cook like me! I experimented with fish I had never heard of, and had difficulty pronouncing. Most of our meals were a success!

We also visited the beautiful regional cities of Quimper and Rennes. Both charming in their own way and for both of us, unexpected surprises. Wandering through winding, narrow streets, filled with 17^th century houses, lived in still, with their ancient beams creaking with stories, we enjoyed the ambience of cities older than the European settlement of my county.

On our way back to Rennes we also, surprisingly came upon the village of Josselin which has the most stunning Chateau…it was to be our last picnic lunch.

A picnic in front of the Chateau at Josselin

My French language skills improved; my friend insisted that I do the market shopping, the daily shopping and most else so that my confidence would build. And I did with a smile on my face and a skip in my step as I wandered around the market stalls and shopping aisles. Certainly, I am now able to read in French, much more confidently than I speak it. A skill which I appreciate when reading recipes and other correspondence.

I don’t know when I will next return to France. But after this trip it will be with even less trepidation to live among the people. It is my seventh trip to France in 20 or so years. The food remains delectably fresh and accessible; no need to mention that the wine is delicious. And the French people…very warm, and kind, from Paris to Loctudy. Wonderful memories of days in the sun.

The Queen has left, the memories remain…

2011-11-04T16:13:00.003+07:00

Channel 7, Perth

I had a great week while Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II and The Duke of Edinburgh were in Perth. As one of the few people here who specialise in etiquette and protocol, I was given the opportunity to speak about the varying aspects of protocol associated with the Royal Visit, from whether the Prime Minister, Julia Gillard was correct in not curtsying to the Queen, to whether the Queen would eat the kangaroo stew she was being offered during her visit to Clontarf Aboriginal College.

Channel 10. Should the Prime Minister have curtsied?

It was all great fun, and a wonderful learning curve, as when reviewing the at times unflattering images of me which TV produced, I developed an enduring respect for those TV presenters who provide us with news and reportage each and every day. The make up and clothing choices are exhausting!

But I had the opportunity to meet and work with very talented professionals. We take for granted the news bulletins which enter our homes and electronic devices so many times a day. But the incredibly intricate production which goes into every programme is most impressive. Three of the programmes I was invited to join were broadcast live…the last one, with Channel 9 for the Great Aussie Barbecue in Perth lasted over one hour; exhausting and envigorating at the same time.

I had the chance to gain the opinions of many people about the Royal Visit. And it was universally agreed, even by the often cynical members of the press, that the visit was an extraordinary success. The British media, travelling with the Royal party, were apparently astounded by the reception given to The Queen and The Duke by the Australian people at large. In every city The Queen visited the crowds were considerably larger than expected by the Royal watchers.

The Queen at the Great Aussie Barbecue (Photo the Herald Sun)

And the soul searching among Australians began. It was only a decade or so ago that we were invited to vote on whether Australia should become a Republic and dispense with the tradition of the Monarchy, and The Queen as the Queen of Australia. In hindsight, the whole process, in my opinion was a shambles, wrecked by vested interests and shallow politics.

Commentators remarked after the Republican option was overturned that it was mainly the popularity of the Queen, who first visited Australia in 1954, that had influenced the final vote. And many agreed with them.

However, to see multi-cultural and multi-generational Australians turning out in their thousands to wave Australian flags, and to present bouquets of flowers to a woman, 85 years of age, was truly extraordinary. They smiled, they shouted and they were genuinely excited to welcome their Queen.

Channel 9

The more cynical commentators who had suggested that the only real interest in the British Royal Family was with the newly wed Duke and Duchess of Cambridge were left somewhat “red faced”.

And the questions began. Why did Australians react like they did to this grandmotherly figure who has been on the throne for nearly 60 years? Is it because, with such an uncertainty in the world of 2011 people look for genuine, not contrived, consistency? Is it because there was a profound sense of community, and shared friendship, among the thousands who lined the streets, without a normal fear of “stranger danger”? Or was it merely a distraction from the mundane and banal sense of “celebrity” which so often swamps popular culture? Perhaps all of these.

At the end of a 10 day visit, I was asked by one of the presenters with whom I was working: “Well, Louise, what do you think Her Majesty would be thinking?” And of course I had absolutely no idea.

But I hoped that Her Majesty and The Duke of Edinburgh would be congratulating themselves on a job well done…with a grateful sigh that warmth and genuine friendship are felt for them by Australians.

Her Majesty The Queen...and me...

2011-10-25T15:55:00.006+07:00

Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

(Photo: The West Australian)

Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II arrives in Perth, Western Australia tomorrow afternoon. There is great excitement among those who are traditional Monarchists and also those who will meet and greet her as the Australians who will probably vote for a Republic in the not too distant future.

Quite aside from politics, Her Majesty has reigned as Head of the Commonwealth since she became the Queen in 1952. This remarkable lady has outlasted many Prime Ministers, Presidents and Heads of State during her reign. One can only imagine the stories she is able to tell about them. And certainly from the public images we have, Her Majesty has seen the change of century, world tribulations, crises, technical innovations and more with courtesy and graciousness.

My family were staunch monarchists. I remember my mother taking my sister and me down to stand under one of the pylons of the Sydney Harbour Bridge in 1963 to catch a distance glimpse of the Royal Yacht Brittanica..."she's on board you know girls"...and all we could see was a small ship. We were rewarded for our patience with icecreams.

The Royal Yacht Brittanica in Fremantle Harbour 1963

(Photo The West Australian)

Why do so many Australians see the opportunity of a Royal Visit as such an occasion? When so much of our culture is dominated by American or European based influences, how is it that a woman of 85, who lives a life so far removed from everyday reality, can engender a real sense of excitement in so many ordinary Australians? If we were still a largely British based society, I could easily understand the connection. But Australia in 2011 is diversely multicultural, with links more often aligned, particularly in Western Australia, with Asia rather than the United Kingdom.

Perhaps the answer lies with the fact that she has "stood the test of time" as a Head of State and has changed and adapted with the times, maintaining her graciousness and the rather more old fashioned values which are so lacking these days. There is a dearth of world leaders of the calibre of Nelson Mandela and The Queen at the beginning of this century. We as people, wherever we are, want leaders who we can advise and guide through the good times and bad. And such people are few and far between.

In 1981 my father was invested by The Queen at Government House in Perth as a Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, of which His Royal Highness, The Duke of Edinburgh, is the patron. It was a very grand occasion, attended by my very proud mother, my sister and me. We wore new dresses and hats and were very conscious of the protocol of the occasion.

My late father's CBE

For many years, my role as my father's hostess during his time as President of the WA Chapter of the Order, included greeting State Governors, Premiers and distinguished guests and other recipients of the Order. I was always amazed how so many of these people, much older than me, could tell stories of war, of bravery and humility, self sacrifice and remarkable tales of heroism, as if what they had achieved was normal.

And it was not always that these feats of courage were made during wartime. Quite often, the recipients would have been going about their daily lives when something quite exceptional occurred which required their assistance. I was always genuinely humbled by these people, and pleased for them for their pride in being given acknowledgement by The Queen.

This week I have been asked to be an "expert commentator" in the media during The Queen's visit to Perth. It's a great pleasure to be able to share some of my knowledge, and stories, with the many people who will be tuning in to their TV's, just as they have done for decades, to see the arrival of Her Majesty.

In reviewing my media role, I have been going back in my memory to that early morning in 1963 when I am sure I complained to my mother about standing for too long, getting cold/hot, and bored. It's amazing to think that little girl is tomorrow, 48 years later, going to be commentating on the arrival of the same Queen, not from a ship this time, but an aircraft. And then over the coming days about her engagements during her stay and finally her departure.

Her Majesty the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh departing Perth 1981

(Photo The West Australian)

Long Live the Queen!

Cuisine from Malaysia to France…and all in one week!

2011-09-20T07:12:00.000+07:00

A sign on our hotel balcony in Langkawi

After being back at home for 5 days after a fabulous week with my daughter in Malaysia, today I am leaving for almost a month in France. I am joining a very special friend in Paris and we are going to navigate our way through the tiny villages and coastlines of Brittany before, as we say in Australia, “going off the beaten track” to see what else we would like to explore.

I am taking my favourite French recipes and some new ones on my IPad so that I can try them with the French seafood, which is so very different to ours Downunder. I absolutely love cooking so I am excited about the many possibilities I have for success, and even perhaps some failures. And I will try some "fusion" experiments with some recipes I picked up in Malaysia.

Spicy crab, sauteed stingray, steamboat chicken and more...

The food in Malaysia was wonderful. From the food stalls in Chinatown where we sampled spicy chilli crab, sautéed stingray with saltwater vegetables, steamboat chicken, fried noodles and local beer, to a sublime, rather more elegant meal of seabass and crab at a great new restaurant in Langkawi called The Cliffe.

The Cliff

And the Malaysians certainly know how to make great cocktails as we discovered at a quaint little bar on the beach at Pantai Chenang in Langkawi.

So today a long journey to Paris, once again flying Malaysian Airlines. I don’t mind long distance travel; after so many trips I seem to be able to cocoon for the 24 or so hours and enjoy the multi faceted experience, most of the time, and of course the odd glass of champagne…during the flight and certainly on arrival in one of the world’s loveliest cities.

So until I return with more recipes and stories… à bientôt…

Malaysia...mothers, daughters and women of Islam

2011-09-19T14:59:00.007+07:00

In the courtyard of the Masjid Jemak

I have recently returned from having a great week with my daughter in Malaysia. While I had previously visited Kuala Lumpur to make presentations at conferences and visit clients when I had an office in Singapore, I had never had the opportunity to explore the city.

And what fun we had! The shopping was amazing…ranging from Chanel and Gucci boutiques to the stalls of Chinatown with the “knock off” Longchamp and Louis Vuitton bags, badly copied CDs and millions of copied watches. But unlike Bali, the street vendors were not “pushy” and loud, but respectful as we wandered around the colourful and lively stalls.

The city was decorated everywhere we went with Malaysian flags, draping from all the buildings, whether they were in the city centre, Chinatown or the Indian section of the city. The Malaysian National Day was celebrated on September 16.

During our selfstyled “cultural tour”, where we walked for kilometres exploring this fascinating city, we were fortunate to arrive at the central Merdeka Square when hundreds of school children were leaving the area having taken part in rehearsals for the National Day Festivities . We had so much fun with them; the children were completely relaxed with us, interested in where we were from, and eager to have their photos taken with us. It surprised me, as it was almost as if these children were not used to seeing tourists…

End of rehearsals at Merdeka Square

But perhaps the most interesting part of the couple of days for me was living with, and learning about, the Islamic life, its rituals and religion. We visited two mosques. At the first one, Masjid Jamek, we were able to wander around the grounds, covered appropriately with clothing provided by the mosque.

The second visit was to the National Mosque, where once again we were provided with covering garments; but where we also met a fascinating old man, who had served as an Exchange Officer with the Royal Australian Air Force, and who for half an hour or more spoke with my daughter and me about Christianity and Islam. We both learnt a lot and left the Mosque with a genuine desire to understand more.

The great Prayer Hall of the National Mosque

Certainly to Western women, unfamiliar with the cultural norms of Islam, some of the guidelines, and etiquette instructions we encountered seemed unusual. But, in the city where so many of the young, female school children had their heads covered by their scarves, and then by their baseball caps we understood and appreciated the culture we were encountering.

One of the many colourful shops

After two days we left for the island of Langkawi. And it was perhaps here, even more than Kuala Lumpur that I encountered the differences between the Western woman and the Islamic woman.

A mother in her "burquini"

There were mothers with children who wore their “burquinis”in the pool; and the young new brides who wandered a few steps behind their new husbands on day one, but by day two were holding hands; all the time furtively glancing out from their black Abaya and Niqab.

Young honeymooners

And for all of we women there was a commonality. For the mothers, like me with children,young or adult, we had mutual respect and interest. And for the young women, fully covered in black I had as much fascination as they must have had for my daughter and me in Western style swimming suits.

Confucius said apparently: “All people are the same; it is their habits which are different”. My week in Malaysia certainly reinforced this sensibility.

Vale Paul Lockyer

2011-08-20T21:49:00.002+07:00

Graphic from the ABC memorial site

The world lost a gentleman yesterday. His family lost so much more.

Paul Lockyer was a friend of mine in the mid 1970s in Canberra. He was working for the ABC and I was working in Malcom Fraser’s press office. He was about 5 years older than me. And we became friends. He encouraged me to achieve more than what I felt was possible. When I went to Perth to assist my family, and then decided to “migrate” he was one of the few friends who understood…he was a West Australian.

Some years later I met him again. He had married his Maria and I had married a West Australian; we met at the home of mutual friends. And as friends, we picked up where we left off….

Time passed. And on Christmas Day, last year, outside the Holy Rosary Catholic Church in Nedlands, our eyes met. And it was such a pleasure to encounter such a friend…again, we picked up where we left off…and had the joy of introducing our children to each other.

The last twenty four hours have reminded me about the importance of friendship…and kindness…and old fashioned values that are so often overlooked.

Because Paul Lockyer, and two colleagues, died tragically yesterday filming a segment on Lake Eyre for the ABC. As you will read if you visit this site, he was highly regarded …and he is missed by me, and so many others.

Spring may come early…unlike my New Year Resolutions…

2011-08-10T13:20:00.001+07:00

Lucinda in front of the lemon tree

The weather today is beautiful. A mild day of about 18 degrees under a very blue, Western Australian sky.

The jonquils under the Chinese Tallow Tree

This morning I noticed that the first of the jonquils had burst into flower underneath the still bare Chinese Tallow tree. The snowdrops are flowering around the chilli bush, above the vincas, which have very bravely hung on through a bleak winter and around the roses, only pruned a week ago and still nestling in their very sandy soil. I will build it up with manure as their leaves start to sprout.

The chillies keep the aphids off the roses!

And around the pool the bougainvillea and geraniums are bursting into colour to brighten my day.

The bougainvillea is showing off!

In the courtyard Lucinda gazes down on a bare soil which will soon be planted with white primulas, but she is comforted I’m sure by the background lemon tree which is heavy with lemons after the generous winter rains.

The broad beans are loving the early spring sun

In the vegetable patch the snow peas are suffering, as are the dwarf butter beans. The weather has been so cold and the sun so sparse that they have complained by providing very little fruit despite the best efforts of the very busy bees and me. But the broad beans are thriving and I am so looking forward to my son’s stuffed artichokes which require the freshest broad beans in the recipe.

The geraniums are "doing their thing"under the palm trees

And so all this early spring effort by the friends in my garden has inspired me. I am enthusiastically revising my existing, but limited French language knowledge, and actively pursuing more knowledge through a great, do it yourself, course which I am thoroughly enjoying.

It was my New Year’s Resolution, yes, 8 months ago, to be able to not only read but comfortably speak, in a very simple manner, in French by March…it didn’t happen. So now, the birds, bees, flowers, budding trees and bulbs in the garden remind me of my resolution…and the inexhaustible opportunities once I can converse in a second language.

Masterchef Australia...and table manners... or not?

2011-08-07T13:54:00.003+07:00

I read a comment the other day about the table manners being displayed by the judges on Masterchef Australia. And I had to agree. At what stage did licking the knife become any style of good table manners?

Apparently one of the judges, when asked about his manners, responded that his grandmother had taught him table etiquette and that it was, on occasion, OK to break the rules…does national television equate to “on occasion”?

With a vast television audience, multicultural and across all age groups – with respect, a great achievement by the programme – I would have thought that this occasion would be one where the judges would in fact endeavour to “put their best foot forward”… closely follow by their best table manners. Hopefully tonight’s Grand Final will allow them to showcase their etiquette skills.

It’s not old fashioned…it's just good table manners.

Good luck to the finalists, Kate Bracks and Michael Weldon. I will be watching and applauding their efforts... and viewing the table manners of their erstwhile judges.

Friendships…gold and silver…real and virtual…priceless

2011-08-03T15:13:00.010+07:00

My 21st birthday dinner...Oh so formal then!

I was talking with a friend the other day about friendship. About how it impacts on our lives, from childhood and teenage friends, to becoming friends with boyfriends’s friends, husband’s friends and their wives, parents of other school children, social club friends, friends after divorce or death of a partner, passing friendships, acquaintances…and now virtual friends.

It’s complicated. And I am finding in my “middle” years that my need for friends has reduced…not that I don’t value and cherish my friends, but my actual need has lessened. Why, I wonder? I used always be a “People who need People” (with apologies to whoever wrote the song made famous in Funny Girl) sort of a person. I was always out and about, making sure that I saw my friends, knew all that was going on with them and theirs.

Afternoon tea for the girls...with bubbles!

However, as the years have moved on, my children have become independent and my own life has taken a turn which involves a great deal of travel with my companion who lives abroad, I feel more settled with solitude.

My friends who are married don’t usually have the luxury of the occasional boredom with self…but they envy me mine! They relish the few days they have away from their spouse when a holiday or work takes them or their partner away for a few days. They then look forward to the sharing time with friends. And reconnecting after the few days apart to share news.

I have had some wonderful friendships throughout my life. While I don’t see her often, I am still in contact with friend whom I met on our first day of school in 1961.

May 1961, Loreto Kirribilli

My other “oldest” friends are very much in my life. My dear friend whom I met when we were 12 and at boarding school. My terrific friend whom I met at 14 when I moved school at that ghastly teenage period when a “friend in need is a friend indeed”. My great friend whom I met when I started work in Malcolm Fraser’s office; my dear friend with whom I have a friendship which went beyond friends to working partners and back again; a woman whom I met through my sister, and best friend. And a woman whom I met through my ex-husband and remains a great and loyal friend; and more...and perhaps most especially, my daughter. And they are just the women. I also have some great male friends, mostly husbands of my girlfriends who I know would support me in an hour of need, as I would them.

We are all great girls!

And over the years there have been friends who have dropped by the wayside for various reasons, sensible or not. But they remain in my memory fondly, and I guess that’s what friendship is all about.

I don’t yet have any “close” virtual friends. I have a few blogs which I follow and look forward to reading daily. I know people who have virtual friends, and I am sure they will meet one day as they have much in common through their blogs.

But when one moves, for whatever reason these days, is it easier to make friends “online” to avoid the awkwardness of meeting at a social club or elsewhere, if mutual friends are not at hand to make introductions? Is it not easier to type emotions and thoughts to someone who seems to be on the same wavelength? But what does this say about our sense of community?

More great dames!

The virtual world is reestablishing the ground rules of friendship. Social Media, “friends” and “defriending” are all concepts which were unknown 10 years ago, and are now very much the normality.

Online dating sites have their own etiquette for meeting “friends”…yes, it’s a different world. A better world? Time will tell. But for me, nothing is more valid in friendship than eye contact, voice contact and genuine caring and sharing. Old fashioned? Yes, but that’s OK too.

Autumn of roses...and hand writing?

2011-07-22T16:09:00.004+07:00

My last roses and my favourite plens

I read an article in The Australian newspaper last week about handwriting disappearing from classrooms in the US, with the new national curriculum putting more importance on the computer keyboard than writing skills.

There is a strong argument that children need correct typing skills for efficiency; but surely the core standards for young students should be using a pen, pencil, crayon - whatever the implement – to write.

I remember the “good old” days when the teachers drew horizontal lines on the blackboard, all in chalk, and they would then form beautifully cursive letters for we little children to copy, carefully, in our own lined exercise books. Once we reached Grade 3 we used a “dipping pen” which we dipped in the ink of the built inkwells of the desks . And if we “dripped” the nuns would get very cross.

I asked my niece, who is training to be a primary school teacher what the standards are in the Western Australian school environment, and I was delighted to learn that handwriting is still very much part of the curriculum from pre-primary level.

I am sure this argument of keyboard verses pen will be taken up by wiser people than me, canvassing all aspects of the discussion, motor skills v. comprehension levels, etc.

There are still authors, such as Jeffrey Archer, who write their works in longhand. Is it old fashioned to expect others to type the manuscript? I have read that by putting “pen to paper” the words which issue from the writer are more carefully chosen; and the argument against this view is that editing can always be undertaken later.

I personally have changed my writing style over the years, and a friend of mine regularly suggests that while my handwriting is nice to see on a page it is virtually illegible to anyone but me! I must say, that after a fall a couple of years ago when I dislocated two of the fingers on my right hand, my handwriting has taken a battering.

I enjoy using beautiful writing implements. I have a lovely Montegrappa pen which I found among my late father’s bits and pieces; a gift from his time as Naval Attache in Washington DC in the ‘70’s. It writes beautifully, although it is a ball point. I also have his gold Cross pen, which he insisted could only be used with black ink – informing me one day, in no uncertain terms, that “blue ink is for children” …!

Since the accident with my right hand, I have found that using an old fashioned fountain pen assists with my writing ability. And I use a lovely sepia coloured ink.

I enjoy writing, and receiving, handwritten notes, be they for thank yous or birthdays. And many of my Gen Y clients enjoy the "challenge" which the old fashioned method of communication offers them.

Computers over lovely writing implements…old and new?…a clear choice for me.

Parents and Children…and Seasons in the Sun

2011-07-19T14:57:00.001+07:00

The bougainvillea and palms think they are still in summer

It’s been a week of contrasts. The weather can’t decide whether it should still be winter or sneaking towards an early spring. And so my garden is filled with cascading bougainvillea and colourful geraniums, against flourishing and abundant lemons, but drying and languishing dwarf butter beans and tentative broad beans and sugar snap peas. The vegetable patch looks lush…but is providing very little…style over substance at this stage, I think. Confusion all around.

Lucinda's petunias are finished just as the lemons ripen

And my son can’t decide if adulthood is all it is meant to be. It is such a matter of seasons, this maturity thing. For plants, it seems less complicated…unless the weather upsets the natural order of things. For people, it’s also a matter of circumstances…and timing.

The geraniums and ivy don't seem to care about the season

It’s tough as a parent to see one’s child trying to dodge the pitfalls in the minefield which is the long road of a life’s journey. We can always look back with the wisdom of hindsight…and perhaps realise the times that when our decisions were difficult the winds were blowing more favourably . And at other times, less kindly. But those lessons are what make us mature…

The veggie patch - is patchy!

So for now, I’m off to the veggie patch to harvest what few beans are trying their best, some chillies which always seems to flourish – it must be their fiery nature – some herbs and, with love, to cook a meal for my son.

Food...simple pleasures and lovely manners...

2011-07-13T14:50:00.008+07:00

Mia with the heart of palm in Royale Taikitumu Villas, Rarotonga May 2011 (photo author)

My last few months have been complemented by food. Firstly, I had my companion visiting me on his annual trip from Switzerland. He loves my cooking and so I was able to try out my favourite and new recipes with an appreciative audience.

Tasmanian salmon with aioli (photo author)

Then to my arrival in Rarotonga where I scoured the markets for some beautiful fresh produce, and where I encountered for the first time the wonderment of real “heart of palm” which can only be extracted when a coconut palm tree has to be cut down…a tragedy perhaps but a privilege to be able to eat its heart with a light vinegar dressing in which to dip it before welcoming its texture and exquisite taste….a true taste sensation. And enjoying such a morsel while at the same time winning, with my companion as my partner, the boules competition at the Royale Takitumuu Villas Resort with an amazing sunset in the background captured the nature of the Southern Cook Islands perfectly.

Market stall in Rarotonga, Cook Islands (photo author)

And then we departed on the heaven and hell voyage on the SV Discovery through the Northern Cook Islands where I had the opportunity to “cook”, or within the confines of this rusty old tub actually it was more preparing food with the most rudimentary of ingredients, as many of the other passengers/cooks were confined with seasickness.

Not much food on board Discovery and most of it at the bottom of a rusty freezer May 2011 (photo author)

(Those of you following my Discovery posts will be pleased to know that Discovery has now been put up on hard dock in Fiji with no signs of sailing any time soon, hoorah!!)

To then reach Palmerston where we were feted with beautiful local produce and shown the endless means in which coconut can be prepared with local fish from the reef caught by the children of our hosting families.

Reef fish on Palmerston Island, cooked under pandanas and coconut leaves on the beach. May 2011 (photo author)

And then Suwarrow where we feasted on tuna caught by fellow intrepid travellers, Philip and Steve and prepared in a variety of ways by TaiChii.

The "galley"on Discovery (photo author)

The next stop was Nassau where we were welcomed ashore for the morning to tour the lovely little island, be welcomed at its school and given fresh coconut water and where we were shown how a tiny island can be so self sustaining....

Ben showing the taro, sugar cane and banana family plots May 2011 (photo author)

And then Puka Puka where we stayed with Teresa and her family. Such simple, lovely people who gave us literally the best room in the house, actually a separate house, and a supper of bread, a rare commodity with almost no flour supplies remaining on the island, and jam and tinned butter, with rainwater tank fresh water for tea.

And then as it was a feast day, the luxury of mud crab which, along with chicken can only be “taken” on special days…fish is plentiful, everything else, other than coconuts, rationed. These islands are so remote they are visited by freight carrying vessels only every 3 months or so.

Teresa showing her personal taro plot on Puka Puka May 2011 (photo author)

The next morning Teresa arrived with hot water for tea, as we were sharing the family’s only rainwater tank. Some local donuts, fish and mud crab and more jam…a feast for us on a remote island. We were truly privileged. When we asked Teresa and her mother what we could send from Australia they requested vegetable seeds. They were sent on our return with photos for the family. When will they arrive in Puka Puka...it is in the hands of the 3 monthly ships...we hope the seeds will ripen and give growth as our way of genuinely saying thank you to these people who have nothing, but share everything.

Fresh fish was the one component which had a commonality throughout the last month or so...albeit in the Pacific Ocean or now the Indian Ocean. Last night my 25 year old son arrived back to live with me for a few months. And in between settling in with each other we devised a recipe to cook a Pink snapper with herbs from my garden.

Pink snapper with tomato, leek, fennel and mixed herbs (photo author)

People who need People …from Suwarrow to Dalkeith…we are the same…

2011-07-07T15:08:00.004+07:00

Nassau island...beautiful people....May 2011

In the last four weeks my journey has taken me from the horror of the SV Discovery and the wonderful people with whom I shared the voyage, to the islanders I met on the remote Cook Islands , to some members of Australia’s Defence Force with whom I shared a week in presenting The Ambassador Program. And finally , to a day with a married couple who needed to spend some “quality time together” after the husband’s medical problems and chose to spend it talking about table etiquette with me.

And in between there was a funeral for a friend who departed way too soon.

Teresa on Puka Puka with her grandparnets

Confucius wrote “All people are the same, it is their habits which are different”. And what a sage he was! On the Discovery I shared a sometimes frightening voyage with a disparate group of travellers. However, our ability to share our concerns, to give each other the necessary space required when no private space was available and to laugh out loud when we had the appropriate moment, or to cheer out loud when Phillip or Steve landed a tuna on a line, resulted in a friendship which in fact knew no bounds – not age, culture, country or expectation.

My friends from the school on Nassau Island. May 2011

On our return to Australia my companion and I dealt with our minds reacquainting with an urban reality, after a month in remote islands. It’s never easy to return to “normality” particularly after a challenging adventure.

During the week I presented the Ambassador Program for some defence personnel. l I was intrigued and fascinated to learn from them as much as I had from the islanders about adventure. And I was privileged to learn, as I had with the islanders, about a life which is never standardised. One of the army soldiers is married to a soldier who regularly undertakes tours of duty to remote war zones. And the isolation they encounter, emotionally, is exactly the same as that encountered by the remote islanders when their family members leave for New Zealand or elsewhere for education, or work opportunities. The tears still fall in the same way.

My soldiers after graduation with their Certificates and a glass of Champagne

And so this month I have learnt far more than I have taught. I have learnt that Confucius was correct: all people are the same, their habits are different.

Suwarrow...isolation, manta rays, sharks and lovely manners....

2011-06-24T19:28:00.008+07:00

The beach on Anchorage (photo courtesy of fellow passenger)

From Palmerston Island we sailed for two days to reach Suwarrow…a remote atoll, of enormous beauty and pristine condition, a Marine National Park, unreachable by any boat which is unable to navigate the “clearing” through the treacherous reef.

I had been passionate about wanting to step foot on Suwarrow after reading Tom Neale’s book “An Island to Oneself” and having spoken at length on Palmerston Island to Stella Neale, his daughter, about the man, and the father.

The "monument"outside Tom Neale's shack

After a tortuous two days at sea on the ghastly SV Discovery, Suwarrrow loomed on the horizon.

The island is uninhabited, except for the ranger and his family, who live, fairly much like Tom Neale, above the cyclone shelter. They are visited irregularly by passing ships with supplies; most of their “treats” are provided by passing round-the-world sailors on yachts who choose to moor in the pristine waters of Suwarrow for peace, relaxation, to walk in the footsteps of Tom Neale and perhaps most importantly, to resupply their fresh water.

The Intrepid Travellers go ashore

I have never been much of a fan of yachts…until, on the SV Discovery, with its diesel engines working irregularly and inefficiently, its lack of holding tanks for sewerage and its generally ugly appearance I viewed our arrival, through the channel, with the eyes of the environmentally aware yachties.

A truly special sunset at Swuarrow (photo courtesy of a fellow passenger)

And Suwarrow was lovely. We ended up staying for two nights there, again anchored, hopefully not destroying coral, and going ashore, or to snorkel with the sharks and manta rays with the leaking Zodiac.

But as a group of passengers we really bonded. We shared gin and tonics at sunset, jokes about the sharks which swarmed around Discovery, and the cooking duties. The meals were inventive, washed down with some good New Zealand wines.

The sharks circled the Discovery waiting for scraps...

And perhaps most importantly, in front of one of the most remote and isolated islands in the world, we all agreed that good manners, love for the environment and old fashioned kindness towards each other, made the ghastly times with which we had to deal on the SV Discovery less difficult.

Palmerston Atoll: Beautiful island, wonderful people…and lots of coconut….

2011-06-15T18:24:00.003+07:00

Palmerston Atoll in the distance...land ahoy!

On the third day after leaving Rarotonga and two nights of seasickness, little sleep, cracked heads and shins on the exposed hatches of the never ending rocking “rust bucket”the SV Discovery, little food and increasing concern about the seaworthiness of the vessel, we glimpsed a sliver of land on the horizon. Palmerston! We crowded onto the upper deck to view the sliver increasing in size as we got closer.

The captain had briefed us previously that the islanders of Palmerston knew nothing about tourism and he had had a nasty alteraction previously with one of the elders, Simon, about the visitors going to the island. It seems that Simon also had a long memory. When we were finally shipped ashore by the islanders who greeted us with huge smiles, hearty waves and much excitement, Simon addressed the passenger group as a whole, explaining that Graham Wragg was not welcome on the island…but that we were. The captain had broken a well understood protocol about visitors to the island and their accommodation situation with the island’s families. Simon made it clear to us, however, that we were most welcome and that no effort would be spared in making our two days pleasant ones.

I made us another cosy nest in our bungalow loft

After being shown to our sparse but comfortable “bungalow ”loft above the local “yacht club” my companion, Damien, and I joined the other passengers, by now good friends united in our distrust of the captain, at what can only be described as an island feast, prepared by one of Simon’s relatives, Kai and her family. As it turned out, Kai’s cousin was Stella Neale, the daughter of the lone inhabitant in the 60s and 70s of Suwarrow, Tom Neale, who recountered his experience in his book An Island to Oneself (see my post of May 10). Stella, the island nurse, was to be very much the liaison for us all during our stay.

Our first meal on land..a banquet in a thatched dining room

The feast included chilled coconut water, drunk from the coconut, fish, some salad (which we had brought with us on the boat), and coconut bread. I contributed some New Zealand sparkling wine to toast our hosts.

The following morning we all met again for breakfast, again in island style, with fish, island fruit, coconut donuts, and coconut bread.

Then it was off to a nearby motu (little island) where we could all snorkel and join in the experience of cooking freshly caught red reef fish in a makeshift “oven” on the beach which was covered with leaves to steam the fish while it roasted. We also had uto straight from the fire. The youngest coconut is husked and then put in coals. When it is opened the flesh of the coconut, the uto, is the consistency of firm marshmallow with a sweet, smoky flavour - delicious!

Stella with uto fresh from the fire

Kai made baskets and plates with coconut fronds and pandanas leaves and if we needed any implements to complement our fingers Taii Chi, one of our fellow passengers, made chopsticks out of pandanas stalks.

The afternoon was truly magical and inspirational…that people will so little could provide so much – not just food and friendship, but the laughter and genuine happiness that comes from sharing wonderful experiences.

That evening was yet another feast! So simple, but this time, we were joined at the table by Kai’s extended family. And included in the buffet was a fish caught by one of our fellow passengers, Phillip, the previous day as we were arriving at Palmerston. The fish, a trevally, was marinated in coconut milk and soy sauce and barbecued over coals complemented by coconut husks...a true taste sensation.

The fish is placed under the leaves in the oven

Simon preparing the fish in the beach oven

It was wonderful to see the beautiful manners of the children, and the respect shown to their elders.

The islanders all speak perfect English. The main religion is Christianity and the following morning dawned with the pealing of the nearby church bells calling the islanders to Friday prayers. The bells were soon replaced by beautiful island singing…a dawn chorus with no rival.

We were able to all given a small monetary gift to our host family and also a donation to Stella’s local medical centre. Additionally, I had taken some hand towels, which Stella gratefully accepted for the medical centre, and colouring in books, pencils, and crayons for the little children

It was with great reluctance and heavy hearts that we farewelled our friends on Palmerston. We exchanged email addresses, hugs, kisses and promises to “keep in touch”. We were unable to promise that we would return…

Manners, Manners..everywhere…even Suwarrow National Park?

2011-05-10T13:37:00.005+07:00

The SV Discovery...my home for two weeks

It has been a very busy two weeks. I was asked by numerous media outlets to comment during the leadup to the Royal Wedding of Prince William and Catherine Middleton about the protocol and etiquette which was likely to be in place for the event; and then to comment after the beautiful wedding about the etiquette, protocol, and dress standards which were evident during the ceremony and following proceedings. In short, I loved it all, the splendour of the occasion and the pomp and ceremony, albeit with a modern touch. And sharing the joy of an obviously loving couple.

Then it was Mother’s Day. And I received the annual requests for information from the media about how to combine a happy Mother’s Day with the dysfunctional family arrangements of separated families. My answer on all occasions is…with dignity and consideration for everyone involved. Sometimes it works…and sometimes it doesn’t…but there is always another year. And we mothers love being appreciated every day anyway!

And now I am off to explore the South Pacific. I am joining an expedition voyage on the SV Discovery which leaves from Rarotonga in the Cook Islands and two weeks later arrives in Apia in Western Samoa. On the way we visit a number of atolls and islands in the Suwarrow National Park.

Tom Neale fishing: a photo from his book mentioned below

I am particularly interested to visit the island where the New Zealand “hermit” Tom Neale spent many years, alone, in the 1960s. His book “An Island to Oneself”is not only inspirational but fascinating in its raw accounts of life without others…and the manners he has to remember when he is rarely visited by passing vessels. The thought of seeing his “shack” and where he lived is exciting for me.

It is going to be an adventure for one who is as comfortable in five star resorts as I am on remote islands…but on a 53 feet long catamaran? As far as my companion, Damien, and I know, there are at least five other people joining the expedition. We will have to assist with the on board duties, but I will draw the line at assisting with the mast and sails as I suffer vertigo…I will offer to cook in the galley! It will be a wonderful opportunity to see manners in their many guises: amongst those living within the close confines of a small vessel; and with the local families in whose homes we will stay on Palmerston and Pukapuka Islands.

I will share with you the details of my adventure on my return in four weeks.

Anzac Day…Australian Mateship and Manners….

2011-04-25T15:03:00.024+07:00

Bob Percy's funeral December 2006 Cocos (keeling) Islands

Today is Anzac Day. ANZAC refers to the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, a Commonwealth unit which most famously fought at the Battle of Gallipoli in Turkey during the First World War. The attitude of the young Australians, and New Zealanders who were, arguably, sent into battle by their British commanders knowing that they were likely to be slaughtered is legendary…the same heroism of young, teenage men, from a young country at that time, far from home was displayed gallantly at Villers-Bretonneux in Northern France in the same war.

These young men, and those that preceded them in the Boer War and followed them in the Second World War, the Korean War, the Vietnam War and latterly the Iraq and Afghan conflicts are honoured on the 25 April every year.

I have my friend from Europe with me in Australia at the moment. Today he asked me what does Anzac Day mean to me? He has been in many fields of conflict as an humanitarian aid worker; as such he is not dispassionate about war and its influence on the innocents – the civilians who suffer during conflict.

He quoted me some figures about the balance of mortality between soldiers and civilians in the conflicts since the Manchurian War…they are startling and remind us of the magnitude of war.

I was born into a military family. My father, when he died in 2006, had been long retired on a remote island in the Indian Ocean, the Cocos (Keeling) Islands. He retired as a Commodore in the Royal Australian Navy after 40 years’ service. These remote islands had been touched by war, but my father more so, as with so many of his generation. When he died, his belief that war and fighting for freedom of speech and religious interpretation were worth the sacrifice, was envisaged. His funeral service on this remote Australian coral atoll, 2 metres above sea level, was attended by most of the island’s Muslim and Western, Christian, and agnostic population. And was a celebration of his life.

My father's funeral on Cocos, December 2006

I still have a lump in my throat when I hear the traditional Naval Hymn sung. I still have a lump in my throat when I see on the news naval ships returning to the safety of Australian shores after being away – in many conflicts around the world – for 6 months or so. It reminds me, when as a child, my mother would dress my sister and me in new dresses to greet our long departed father, on the wharf on his return from duty. And how my sister and I would get a special bag of chocolates or other sweets, and a rare opportunity to watch “day time TV” while Mummy helped Daddy get over his terrible headache!

But these memories only reinforce in me the questioning about the necessity of war, or “conflicts” as they are referred to these days if they don’t impact directly on the security or defence of our own nation. I am reminded during these musings by my European friend, whose family was both the recipient of POW status and refugee status, what war means to Australians who have never been invaded by land, or suffered a conventional civil war.

I was bought up with a respect for the serving military. When my sister and I urged our father in 1986 to first march in an Anzac Day parade as part of the Royal Australian Naval contingent he was hesitant. But I remember making a particularly strong argument, probably over a family Sunday lunch with roast lamb and wine, that without his participation his grandchildren would view Anzac Day as an irrelevant public holiday. He marched proudly that year, and for many years later.

Anzac Day 1986

And so to today, when our Australian troops are scattered around the globe, in various conflicts, defending our honour, our ability to free speech, our alliances? I also suggest to my children that they remember the innocent victims of conflict, not only the military personnel but the forgotten heroes. Please remember that those you meet as you pass through your lives will have had members of their families touched and traumatised by war and conflict. And remember what is to be an Australian when you meet them. Our ability to be compassionate and broad minded Australians is what my father and so many others, I believe, fought for.

I feel proud to be Australian. And when asked by my European friend about the spirit of Anzac and what it means to me, I have had to think for most of the day. Is it a legacy based on the friendship and support for soldiers or sailors or airmen, one for another during time of war, on which we reflect as part of our relatively new history? Or has that mateship, that sense of “us” filtered through so very much into our community life, our psyche as Australians, that we no longer see Anzac as an expression of a military comradeship but, as a friend of mine reminded me today ‘Pride in ourself as a small nation which can “punch above our weight” '?And to be a home for all those who aspire to and are inspired by such a value. And who help one another in times of “droughts and flooding rains” in the spirit of a mateship born through the Anzac tradition.

Courtship...Can we Help?

2011-04-17T09:27:00.002+07:00

Filming on 25 February 2011

The Can We Help? segment on Courtship...Then and Now...went to air last night on ABC1. We had filmed the segment on 25 February over 7 hours...which resulted in about 7 minutes of footage! The subject was Courtship rituals between the1950's and the 2000's.

It is always confronting to see one's self on TV but for those of you who would like to view it, please click here .

Esperance. Food, wine, snakes and beaches….

2011-04-11T16:34:00.003+07:00

An Esperance Beach from Twilight Beach Road 7 April 2011 (Photo Louise Percy)

Our exploration of Esperance is complete. From the rugged, secluded beaches of the Cape Arid National Park to the expansive beaches reached by Twilight Beach Road we have swum, walked, romanced and dined along the Southern Ocean coastline.

Jo at Tentacles (Photo: Louise Percy)

And the food we have had! Esperance is renowned as a place for wonderful fish and we met Jo at Tentacles of Esperance seafood on our second day of discovery. She is very knowledgeable about the local fish and advised me almost daily about what was fresh and gave suggestions on how I should try to cook it. I love cooking and came to Esperance with the intention of trying many new, particularly Asian recipes. I bought my wok and bamboo steamer…and the tasting sensation of Kylie Kwong’s recipe for line caught bar cod steamed with ginger and shallots was sublime, even if I do say so myself! The bar cod had arrived fresh from the fishing boat only a few hours before I cooked it. We are actually taking about 3kgs of fresh fish back to Perth with us when we leave in a few days.

Picnic at Dolphiin Cove, Cape Arid National Park (Photo Louise Percy)

During one of our day long excursions to Cape Arid we discovered Dolphin Cove, a perfectly shaped bay, with talcum powder coloured sand and azure, crystal clear water…we swam, walked the stunning beach, met a baby dugite snake slithering between the rocks and enjoyed a picnic between swims. A truly magical day in a small piece of paradise.

And sometimes when exploring it is possible to find a hidden gem. About 40 kms from Esperance is Dalyup River Estate winery. We met with Tom and Jenny Murray and they explained to us the skepticism of their neighbors when they began planting vines in 1976. No-one had ever attempted to grow grapes, let alone make money from wine in the Esperance area. But their neighbors soon changed their mirth to merriment when the Murrays began winning awards for their wine. We will go back to the vineyard today to stock up on their Duke (cabernet sauvignon, merlot, shiraz) and Stokes (shiraz)wines – named for various aspects of the Esperance region – to take back to Perth.

The Duke 2008 with flowers from the garden at Paperbark Cottage (Photo Louise Percy)

At the Tanker Jetty from Thursday to Sunday evenings Beryl’s Eats van pulls in alongside the beach and sells some of Australia’s most famous hamburgers. The family run business has been going for over 30 years and the current owner, John, is rightly proud of his heritage…and his products. It’s a real institution in Esperance and as John explained when we visited, he started going there as a teenager and now owns the business. When asked to recommend his favourite hamburgers replies….”all of them”!

John and his Beryl's Eats Van (Photo Louise Percy)

So, tomorrow our adventure takes us to Woody Island, the only island in the Recherche Archipelago able to be visited. We are staying overnight in an eco-safari tent. The gourmet meal will include kangaroo on the barbecue, with a perfectly matched bottle of Dalyup River Estate Duke…I wonder what the wild, native kangaroos on the island will think of that!

Esperance. Stunning one day…beautiful the next…

2011-04-03T15:44:00.009+07:00

Paperbark Cottage April 2011

In my earliest memories I recall my mother speaking about the holidays her family, who lived in Kalgoorlie, would take in Esperance. A branch of the Heenan family had settled there at the end of the 19th century and rebuilt the Pier Hotel in 1900. The building was constructed from stone brought from Coolgardie apparently. My mother delighted with stores of elegant and fun filled days in the 1930s when they took the train, The Flyer, from Kalgoorlie to Esperance, a trip of 13 hours - and only 398 kilometres!

Three years ago I had my first opportunity to visit Esperance. I was travelling with my companion from Switzerland, a French speaking writer interested in the “colour and characters” of inland Western Australia. We drove from Perth to Kalgoorlie, following the water pipeline and the railway line, through vast stretches of open road, boardered on either side by intensely red soil and smokey coloured dry and squat bushes…no water to be seen for hundreds of kilometres.

As we drove we laughed as the temperature gauge in the car rose consistently, almost at one degree every 10 kilometres. By the time we arrived in “Kal” it was 46 degrees!

A couple of days later we headed south to Esperance. The temperature gauge remained well above the mid 30s and when we finally arrived at the coast of the Southern Ocean it was still over 40 degrees. We settled into our hotel and took a quick walk on the Tanker Jetty to meet with Sammy the Sea Lion and try to breathe some fresh, albeit very hot, air. The next day, true to form, the Esperance temperature peaked at 21 degrees! The locals told us always to be prepared for all weather eventualities: “This is Esperance!”.

Sammy the Sea Lion April 2, 2011

We made a promise to ourselves to return to Esperance and so here we are. We have rented a little cottage, “Paperbark Cottage”, nestled in 5 hectacres which are filled with hundreds of native birds. While the town is spread out around very predictable rectangular grids, it has a mixture of the old, the new, the attractive and the ghastly mistakes of the 60s in its architecture.

The people I have met when “getting my bearings” around the township, in the grocery store, the fishmongers, the newsagent for my daily paper are wonderfully friendly; I am often greeted with “G’day love, how long are you staying?”…

So now to explore the famous and fabulous coastline, and to get used to the weather…again.

Prince William..then and now…etiquette and travelling with children…

2011-03-21T13:07:00.008+07:00

Photo: abc.net.au

Prince William in Australia with his parents, March 1983

Prince William has spent the past few days representing The Queen in the earthquake ravaged city of Christchurch in New Zealand and the cyclone and flood affected regions of Australia.

I have just completed an interview with Radio 6PR about the manners of children when travelling with their parents. The producer advised that they were running the story in response to the 28th anniversary of Prince William first visiting Australia with his parents, Prince Charles and the late Princess Diana, in 1983.

The interviewer asked me what I thought of the trip back then…if I was old enough to remember it? Such a compliment! I enlightened him by saying that my own daughter was 10 days older than Prince William, and so I empathised very strongly with Princess Diana and Prince Charles not wanting to leave their baby at home while they undertook a long and extensive overseas tour.

When Queen Elizabeth II came to Australia when Prince Charles was a baby she was obliged by protocol to leave him behind – heartbreaking I am sure, even for a Queen… first and foremost a mother.

Photo: Media.thestate.com Prince William in Newn Zealand March 2011

I was reminded of a trip to England in June 1985 when my daughter was about to turn 3 and I was 20 weeks pregnant with my son, who would be born in London. My daughter has always been wise for her years and on that Cathay Pacific trip between Australia and London she behaved like a little adult. I always packed a special bag of “surprises” – not lollies and tasty treats, but new toys, puzzles and books which I could share and read to her. And I was a strong believer in giving her a little Phenergan before she slept – probably quite politically incorrect these days! I tried to keep her timetable to that of the country in which we were arriving…a habit I maintain for myself today.

Some months later we returned to Australia with our four weeks old son…he slept like an angel in between feeds. I was so excited about returning home and showing off my new baby that I let my daughter be pampered by the Cathay Pacific staff in the lounge in London, a big mistake as it turned out. They gave her a “milkshake” with half cream. We had no sooner left London’s Heathrow bound for Hong Kong and she started vomiting. The poor little thing was ill for hours. I had an new change of clothes for the children and me so that we could change in the lounge in Hong Kong in readiness for our arrival in Australia looking fresh and revived to show off a grown up little girl and new baby boy…the best laid plans, as they say..go astray.

By the time we arrived in Hong Kong some 14 hours later my daughter and I were absolutely exhausted. The four week old baby was fine having slept most of the way, and the father was fine too having slept as well! We were able to shower and freshen before boarding our last flight.

By this time, the baby was awake, fretting because obviously his mother was fraught with exhaustion. But at no time did we as parents, let our guard down with our children, and allow them to dominate the proceedings of the flight for our fellow passengers.

And this is where I think the parents of today – excuse me if I sound a little too mature! – let their children down. I was recently on a business class flight from Singapore and no less than 5 children were allowed to run around in the cabin, leaning over chairs, wandering the aisles with handfuls of food and being very noisy. Should we blame the children? Or the Singapore Airlines staff, who were as always immaculate with their manners even when confronted by rude and inconsiderate parents?

No, it is neither the fault of the children nor the airline staff…it is the inconsiderate and ill-mannered behavior of the parents.

I am often asked if I think children these days are less well mannered than their parents? Absolutely not. They are products of the often ego-centered behavior of “time-poor” parents who would rather spend their free time over a social coffee than in reading, interacting and teaching manners to their children.

The young people I meet are on the whole charming and considerate…perhaps in spite of their “busy” parents, or in reaction to them…long may common sense reign in the new generation.

Tsunami…a tragedy…and a people with dignity....

2011-03-18T13:16:00.001+07:00

(Photo US Navy 13 March 2011)
PACIFIC OCEAN (March 13, 2011) A Japanese home is seen adrift in the Pacific Ocean. Ships and aircraft from the Ronald Reagan Carrier Strike Group are searching for survivors in the coastal waters near Sendai, Japan.

The world has been watching with awe and horror the unfolding tragedy in Japan. I think the vision and commentary surrounding this natural disaster will remain with many of us for years and we will recall exactly where we were, and what we were doing, at the time that it occurred.

I was travelling to the airport to meet a friend. He is very interested in geography, weather and its repercussions and so it was with a sense of almost trepidation that I relayed to him the news that I had heard on the ABC radio station I had been listening to in the car. But even then, although most of the regular radio programmes were interrupted for the live commentary of the earthquake the broadcaster was only just hearing, and relaying news of the tsunami. And of course my friend had been in the air at the time of nature's onslaught.

Over the next few days we watched the television news showing the quiet calm of the Japanese people affected by the tragedy. The sense of community working together; queuing for hours without complaint to get rudimentary groceries, petrol, water; and sharing and caring for each other in evacuation shelters. The word that came to mind was dignity.

The link below is to an excellent French speaking blog. You can translate it with Google translate or a similar application. I commend it to you. The honesty and simplicity of emotion from the writer who was involved with a UN agency at the time of the Banda Aceh tsunami and assisted on the ground after that disaster, spoke to me of the true horror…and reminded me to admire a people who confront such horror with a sense of innate dignity.

Here is the link .

Women...then and now...

2011-03-08T16:50:00.004+07:00

I don't know who did the underlining...not me!

I have just returned from being the “Master of Ceremonies” should that be “Mistress”? at an International Women’s Day luncheon for the Centenary of International Women's Day. I am the Patron of the Belmont Business Enterprise Centre which was a co-sponsor for the event. I don’t actually do much as the Patron other than assist at official functions. But I meet amazing people. And today was no exception.

(Photo Julie Williams)

After a Welcome to Country by a local indigenous elder, a practice which is now common in Australia, we heard some inspirational speeches. From women who came to the country as migrants with little or no English and have achieved wonderful things…for themselves and their families; to young women who are choosing paths of international modelling opportunities; or “expressing themselves” in wonderfully artistic ways.

My dear friend, Carol Hanlon, the CEO of the Belmont BEC was last night inducted into the first Western Australian Women’s Hall of Fame. She is a tireless worker for migrant women, establishing courses for them to start their own micro businesses. And not only here in Australia but in the Philippines.

My daughter sent me some time ago this 1955 Good Housekeeping Article…and we had a good laugh over it. But it is a timely reminder of the choices and voices which she and I have in 2011. And while we can endeavour to keep the momentum for equality and opportunity for women in our lucky country, in so many countries around the world, women have no choice and certainly no voice. They need our help.

Courtship through the ages…manners change, or do they?

2011-02-25T14:13:00.007+07:00

Camera ready...action!

I had such a great day yesterday filming for the ABC show “Can we Help?”on the subject of courtship and marriage from the 1950’s to the present.

While I am very comfortable with radio interviews, TV is obviously a completely different vehicle for interviews and I was nervous. But the presenter, Christian Horgan, the director, James, and the crew were fantastic and assisted in making me feel completely at ease.

James directing on small matters of detail

It was filmed at various places in my home, as each decade was broken up into its own segment with the filming style reflecting the style of the time: the 1950’s in the reception room over afternoon tea; the 1960’s and 70’s around the pool with Christian changing into a very retro 70’s looking shirt; the 80’s and 90’s in my kitchen, leaning on a bench; and the 21st century decades in my office with my computer and online dating sites as the desktop backgrounds. And all of this in 36 degree heat! Fortunately I have a very efficient airconditioning unit and it was working at full capacity, combatting the heating effects of professional TV lighting.

I had undertaken a vast amount of research about this "courtship through the ages” topic. I have etiquette books which I have uncovered in ancient bookshops all around the world going back to the beginning of the 20th century.

And some of the quotes are priceless. In Etiquette and Good Manners by Sarah Maclean, published by Pan Books Ltd. London, 1962 the introduction included the following:” ‘ All the world loves a lover’, an etiquette book of the 1920s advised the engaged couples, ‘but this does not keep the world from watching closely and criticising severely any breach of good manners – especially on the part of the engaged girl.’ “

From Australian Etiquette. The Rules of Good Society by Lillian M. Pyke , published by J. Pollard, Melbourne 1953: “ The Courtship: There is no fixed rule regarding the period of courtship and the length is usually arranged to meet circumstances for the benefit of both parties. It is customary for the father of the prospective bride to give consent prior to the proposal of marriage being made. The father will naturally expect to be informed fully as to the position and prospects of the person seeking the hand of his daughter”.

And then we had the 1970s when everything loosened with regard to ritual; the 1980s when I was first married and while traditions were still retained the concepts of marriage consummation during the honeymoon had long gone and the wedding gift register had made an appearance; the 90s when the concept of the prenuptial agreement gained a strong following; and the 21st century when I became a “mother of the bride”…and revelled in the rituals surrounding a classical wedding; and now the ‘teens when internet dating has given a whole new meaning to “courtship” and romance.

And the final comments that Christian and I made during the interview were that romance and communication between two people are what make love, courtship and commitment a joy…and a liberal dose of good manners helps too.

Valentines Day… love and manners…at all ages….

2011-02-13T12:52:00.003+07:00

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day…a day of sentimental songs on the radio, ghastly rom-coms on the TV, overpriced red roses, overcrowded restaurants, declarations of love - many which will soon be retracted - and heartbroken singles. What does it all mean? These days, I think mostly commercialism. It’s not so relevant apparently in non Anglo countries – in fact, it’s a very American “thing” which has only been introduced into Australia, like Halloween, in the last 20 years or so.

But I did send a sort of Valentine’s Day card to my beloved… it was in fact a postcard from one of our trips away together…and in it I said how fortunate we were that we didn’t have to celebrate our love on just one day…that it is a daily occurrence for us. And we live in a long distance relationship; he in Switzerland and me here in Australia. With us being in our 50’s, it’s unconventional but it’s ours; encompassing in it mutual empathy with our periods of loneliness during the separations and exhilaration when we meet.

Some of my friends are still in their original marriages. I am not, obviously, but I remain close to my children’s father and cherish our relationship. At my age, I see many partnerships dissolving after 20 or more years as people move on with their lives. Is this a good or a bad thing? Who knows, and who is anyone to judge but those involved: partners, children and family? And some of my friends have been widowed and are dipping their toes with trepidation into the pool of dating after so many years with a partner.

Love has many guises.

Last year on February 14 I was in Sydney visiting my daughter and her partner. The three of us went to a special lunch at one of Sydney’s loveliest, harbourside restaurants…yes, we did illicit a few glances on Valentine’s Day, the obvious lovers and the “other, older woman” – perhaps a mother, or mother in law! But when I looked around the restaurant, I realised that we were just one table of diverse diners. There were tables of gay and lesbian couples, older men with very much younger women, and older women with young men, obviously not their sons, and elderly 80ísh couples still gazing into each other’s eyes with known and familiar love.

I am giving a television interview later this month on the subject of courtship and marriage in this day and age. What a wide subject! The weekend papers have been filled with articles about internet dating, casual sexting as an alternative to the face to face kind of dating interaction, chat room love affairs and more.

But for me, call me old-fashioned, there is nothing more loving than a glance across a room at someone who knows and loves you...words just aren’t necessary.

Telegrams and letters…good news, then and now….

2011-02-02T14:31:00.004+07:00

My father meets me for the first time at the wharf

The clean out of my cupboards to prepare my house for new carpet after 20 years has yielded some wonderful “finds”. A couple of days ago I found an envelope which my mother, who died in 1991, had kept and had obviously given to my father to keep for me. I found it when he died in 2006 but I had never opened it…until now.

In it I found the story of my birth. It was filled with telegrams, military cables and loving letters between my parents. You see, my mother was told she was pregnant with me on the 29 April 1955 a week after my father had left for 6 or more months at sea as an officer in the Royal Australian Navy. In one letter, after my birth, she writes to him: “It must be hard (for you to visualise) as you haven’t seen me pregnant and being away all the time”…

Dated 29 April 1955, a December birth is expected

As with so many women of the time, with husbands away at war or absent for other reasons, my mother managed her pregnancy in Sydney on her own, away even from her family who were based in Western Australia...a world away in the 1950's.

My father learnt of my birth via military cable

My father arrived back in Sydney on the 19th December 1955, a little over 2 weeks after my birth.

And these cables, telegrams and letters, so beautifully written made me think about the immediacy of communication that we have in 2011. With military personnel from countries all around the world on peacekeeping and other missions their communication opportunities to “speak” with their loved ones are so different to those of 55 years ago.

My parents had to communicate via telegrams and letters. The telegrams at least gave a certain feeling of “immediacy” but the fuller, more detailed letters often took weeks between writing and reading. My mother would carefully calculate where she expected my father’s ship to be at a certain date and work back to know how long before she should post her daily letters.

When I was a little girl I remember my mother, sister and me recording our voices and our stories into reel-to-reel tapes which my father could play on his heavy recording device. And I also remember the absolute excitement when we received a tape from him, which we would play over and over again, so that we could remember his voice.

With electronic technology so rapidly changing and evolving our communication opportunities the sense of the spontaneous excitement of good news is now normal. And while the romantic notion and excitement of cables, telegrams and long awaited letters is from a by-gone era it is part of my inheritance and I bless my parents for it.

My mothers hospital wristband dated 3.12.1955

Girlfriends, Galahs and Guilderton…memories are made of this….

2011-01-23T16:21:00.002+07:00

Final Year Photo CCGS 1973

I have just returned from a great week at my beachhouse at Guilderton, about 100 kms north of Perth. I had originally hoped to have 2 weeks there but it was not to be. So, 6 days it was and we certainly made the best of them. We laughed, cried, danced, sang, swam, cooked and drank too much wine – altogether a perfect “girl’s gettogether”

And it was a wonderful mix of my friends, one of whom I have known since we were 14 and attended the Canberra Church of England Girls Grammar School. As we were both children of military officers we also ended up sharing a dormitory in our last year of school as boarders. Our parents had been posted elsewhere and we revelled in our new found "freedom" in the boarding house together.

The galahs made nearly as much noise as the girls!

Another friend used to work with me in Malcolm Fraser’s office when he was Prime Minister. She and I have been organising a fundraising event here in Perth with the world renowned writer, Jeffrey Archer, who is coming to Australia to launch his new book. We were laughing to find out that one of our colleagues from the 1970’s now works for the Governor General and another for one of Australian Premiers…what a small world is the world of politics.

My friend Dianne, who was chased by the kangaroo recently (see my post Lazy Dayz of Summer) made up the group for a few days. We have known each other for 12 years and met through my former husband…as we always say, it is so special when friendships can withstand the difficulties of divorce. Invariably some friends seem to be lost in the separation process.

And then on Friday I cooked a meal for my “newest” friend. Maggie and I met about 8 years ago when she and her husband, Norm, bought a beachhouse near mine in Guilderton. She is the kind of person who everyone loves…she makes us laugh, she helps us to cry when necessary and now she needs us all very much. Her wonderful husband died suddenly at the end of November. She has always enjoyed my risotto so it was my great pleasure to cook her a favourite meal and share a tear and great memories.

The Moore River meets the ocean at Guilderton

I have always found that friendships can have their ups and downs. Our lives and the choices that we make, the divorces and deaths that we endure, all have an impact. But to have girlfriends who can weather the years and remain loyal friends to me is a blessing. And I hope to nurture these friendships into our twilight years.

The sunset from my verandah is spectacular

Mementos, Memories, The Concorde...and manners from another time...

2011-01-13T16:40:00.004+07:00

The Concorde Menu: BA 172, New York-London, 7 June 1978

I have been cleaning out cupboards in preparation for the upheaval in my house in two weeks to enable the laying of new carpet. And it is amazing what I have found…I am much more of a hoarder of mementos than I realised.

In the mid 1970’s, when in my early 20’s I had what I was sure was the best job in Australia. I was the assistant to the Press Secretary to the then Prime Minister, Malcolm Fraser. I held the position between 1975 and 1979. I travelled the globe, worked ridiculous hours and loved every minute of it. To this day I am still very much a “political animal” and a news devourer.

Late last week I had a call from my old boss. We keep in touch a couple of times a year and after such a long period of time I like to think of him as a very dear friend.

The Official London Program

And then this morning when I was sorting, ruthlessly, through my cupboards I found some of the mementos of my second trip to Europe in 1978. The first had been the year before when the PM had also visited Britain and France. It was a fabulous time, staying at the Savoy Hotel in London and the Hôtel de Crillon in Paris. We worked around the clock. Travelling with a large contingent of journalists and allowing for the time differences meant that we had not only to know what they had written in the Australian press but to brief them continuously. I revelled in the pressure.

The Official Program for Paris

But the absolute highlight of the 1978 trip was the flight on the Concorde between New York and London. And I will let my letter to my parents tell the story…

The original letter, complete with smudges

7 June 1978. “Dearest all. Well, what a morning! Here we are, finally in the air, after an aborted take-off and a 3-hour delay. I wasn’t frightened at all, though, a few of the people travelling with us were, I guess because they knew what was happening – my only thought when we finally stopped, having reached a medium take-off speed of about 210 mph was that in all the fog (like pea- soup, and we were late anyway as a result of this and the heavy air traffic at Kennedy) something else might hit us – anyway of course it was all fine and here we are off again.

The other novelty is that Jackie Onassis is on the same plane and really is very stunning – very little make-up, very natural. One of our TV crews is sitting opposite her, so I went back for a look on the pretext of giving them the London programme!

The imagination runs wild on a flight like this – the captain talked us through breaking the sound barrier at Mach 1 and at the moment at 51,000 foot and 1300 mph (?) we are at 1.95 Mach and still accelerating to get through Mach 2 which will take us to about 60,000 ft and 1350 mph – amazing isn’t it? The PM went up to the cockpit for the passing of Mach 1 and for us down the back we could really feel the “reheat” on one side and then the other as we hit supersonic speed: all very exciting…”

When I read this letter, which my mother had kept for all those years until her death in 1991, I was immediately transported back to the plane, its cramped and tiny seats but its sublime service and utterly sophisticated menu and the way that all of us were completely overwhelmed by the ultimate experience of its day.

The Concorde menu, fashionably 1978

Our memories are there to be shared, I think. My daughter and her partner are coming back home for the weekend for a wedding and I just know she and I will sit down, with a glass of champagne, and have “girls time” going back over the bits and pieces of the life that I had before I was even married.

So perhaps the enforced clean out of long forgotten boxes will yield more delights…I hope so!

Lazy Dayz of Summer...and impolite animals...

2011-01-08T09:52:00.013+07:00

Ruby waiting for a stick to be thrown into the river this morning. Apologies to the fisherman

I have just returned from a long, languid and lazy walk along the Swan River which laps ashore about 250m from my home. The New Year’s weather is stunning, and the mood in Perth is very much high summer, with most people not starting work until Monday, or even the 17th. This period from Christmas to mid January is when many take their holidays, even if they don’t do anything more with their days than enjoy their families and our beautiful beaches.

And I have been doing just that over the past two weeks. I have caught up with friends and heard some funny stories about the way the Australian animals, and in this case a very impolite kangaroo deal with the heat and lack of water. My friend, Dianne, who lives in the hills near Perth, had me laughing hysterically the other day when she retold her story of a close encounter of a very scary kind with a 2m tall kangaroo. She had gone outside to hang her washing and heard behind her a growling, hissing noise…not at all like the “tch, tch” of Skippy the Bush Kangaroo of TV fame. She turned slowly to see a huge kangaroo staring at her, only about 2m away. It had been nibbling on her loquat tree and drinking from the pond beneath it when she disturbed it.

Perhaps a relative of Dianne's unfriendly kangaroo?

Thoughts of saying “shoo” to it went through her mind, but in a matter of seconds when it continued to hold its ground and stare at her she took flight, almost literally, to run back inside the house about 50m away. No sooner had she picked up the pace, slipping over rocks and tree roots, than the “thump, thump, thump”of a bounding kangaroo echoed through her head. The beast was chasing her! As she reached the house she slid open the old sliding door, which made a terribly creaking noise which scared off the angry ‘roo. As I write, there remains a standoff in Roleystone between our national emblem and my friend. She is presuming that once it has finished all the loquats on the tree it will retreat back into more dense bush…fingers crossed, anyway.

A dugite snake, a native of SW Western Australia

That story lead, invariably to another one about Australia’s dangerous wildlife…Guilderton is a sleepy beach town 100kms north of Perth. It is not actually “bush” but no one has told the snakes. A friend of mine who lives there told the tale of a man who had been going about his own business in his shed when he was interrupted rather nastily by a bite from the dugite snake on his big toe. A dugite snake is extremely venomous and he had the peace of mind to remain calm, move slowly away and bandage the site, to stop the venom moving into his foot, before calling the emergency number. Apparently he is fully recovered but the warning has gone out among the residents of the town to be on high alert as the snakes are coming into the more inhabited areas, aka homes, to get away from the heat. Two years ago when I was there, walking in the evening with my two little dogs, we were were stopped by a passing motorist who advised us to pick up the dogs because a tiger snake was having a nap, curled into a coil, in the middle of the road. And I plan on visiting my beachhouse in the next 10 days!

A jellyfish in the shallow water of the Swan River this morning

And this morning, I was unable to wade in the Swan River because of the huge number of jelly fish which were not only in the water but washed up on the beach. I hate jelly fish and even though these ones don’t sting, in the south west of Western Australia and in the beaches in Queensland the “stingers”or blue bottle jelly fish are lapping in the shallow water, enjoying the warmth of it, and they really sting.

Bribie Island, Queensland

Surprisingly the cure to the sting is not ice but in fact hot water…but if at a remote beach you will often find bottles of vinegar carefully positioned as rubbing vinegar into the sting also helps cut the pain.

What a country I live in, I hear you say while under the snow in the northern hemisphere! Yes, we have some scary creatures, but also wide open spaces, stunning beaches, often completely empty of people, and friendly Aussies…

http://www.australiassouthwest.com.

My favourite beach near Esperance in Southern Western Australia

Boxing Day Sales...rude people...but good service...sometimes

2010-12-27T15:22:00.002+07:00

Cottesloe Beach

Today I am going to take my daughter to the airport for her return to Sydney and then I am going join the crowds and try to get a new TV at a bargain basement price…and be amazed at the appalling manners of generally well behaved people during end of year sale season as they push and shove to get the “best” deal they can. It will be quite a contrast to the quiet tranquility of Christmas and I am sure quite confronting.

Christmas Day was wonderful this year despite the heat. Here in Perth, Western Australia it reached 40 degrees and so it was difficult for me to relate to the icy conditions of Europe – they actually seemed rather appealing

As is traditional in my family, Christmas Eve was celebrated with a huge, traditional English-style dinner at my sister’s home. Christmas Day lunch was shared with my children and their father, and this year my menu included a few of the favourites of both deceased grandmothers. From the Italian grandmother a ravioli in a tomato cream sauce and vitello tonnato and from my mother a frozen Christmas pudding with mixed berries which had been “drowned”in Cointreau. And I cooked a turkey with a pistachio and cumquat stuffing which I served with asparagus and broccolini. (I’m sorry there are not photos to share but despite being fairly well organised I forgot to charge the camera!)

And then it was Boxing Day…traditionally a big day in sport in Australia with the launch of the Sydney to Hobart Yacht race and the Boxing Day Ashes cricket series at the Melbourne Cricket Ground. And the Boxing Day shopping sales. All of which I avoided yesterday. I chose instead to go to Cottesloe beach for a swim with my daughter and fortunately avoided the little stinging jellyfish which are hovering near the shore in the hot weather and the flat seas.

Surf lifesavers icing a "stinger"bite (Photo WAN)

And now I am back from the expedition to buy a new TV. Success! And despite the fairly petulant behavior of some people queuing for 10 minutes or so at the cashier desk, the experience was positive. The staff at Harvey Norman had obviously been extremely well briefed They were caring, efficient, enthusiastic and knowledgeable. Online shopping has its advantages, but nothing beats good face to face service for me.

Christmas and Blended Families....manners matter....

2010-12-20T13:14:00.001+07:00

My Christmas Table

My phone has been ringing with people wanting to know how to handle the difficulties that arise during occasions such as Christmas with “blended” families. The old adage that you can choose your friends but not your family is often relevant at Christmas, and particularly with families which have divorced and perhaps remarried partners. Unfortunately there are very few happy melded families like “The Brady Bunch”...at least initially.

If having good manners is about behaving well around other people and treating each other with respect, then at times of probable stress and possibly strife, the need to be even more cautious with words and actions is really important.

My children’s father and I have been divorced for many years. But over the years we have developed strategies to make our shared Christmases with our children and our new partners as pleasant as possible. We have always attended Christmas church services together, and afterwards had a glass of champagne and the opening of gifts. And then we have gone our separate ways with the children going with one or the other for a period. And most of the time it has worked without tears.

Decorated by all the family

I have found that it is sensible to have a predetermined plan and timetable in place and have the children well informed about what to expect, whom they will be meeting etc. And as parents we need to be alert for sad eyes and downturned mouths....and remember that the spirit of Christmas is all about the fantasy, festivities and friendship of the season.

And so this year is no different. Our adult children will join us from around the country, our Christmas Day will be divided after Church but we will all get together later for seafood, good wine, hugs and fond thoughts of those with whom we would also like to be sharing Christmas Day.

May I wish you Seasons Greetings and a safe and happy time with your families and friends.

Office Christmas Parties and Alcohol....faux friends....

2010-12-14T14:24:00.004+07:00

It’s that time of year again when the office Christmas parties start and my phone runs hot with enquiries about what should, and shouldn’t be the behaviour, and then after the parties, how to apologise for disasters which have occurred.

Having recently given interviews to the The West Australian newspaper and Radio 6PR regarding Christmas party etiquette I was reminded of some of the hilarious instances I have heard about over the years. Invariably, of course, the main culprit is an over enthusiasm with the free alcohol on offer. The story of the meek and mild secretary who , after a few cocktails, turned into a candidate for Playboy; and the quiet, IT geek, who after way too many beers tried to chat up the office vamp and when successful had no idea how to take the “opportunity” further. Both of these situations I learnt about when the protagonists involved rang me to find out whether it was necessary, and then how, to apologise for their out of character behaviour.

It’s important to remember that the Office Christmas Party is just that....an office party. It is not an occasion to let your hair down and show your colleagues and bosses what you are generally like on weekends when with forgiving friends. And in these times of competitive employment the interpersonal skills are often considered just as important as the technical skills. The office party is an opportunity to display your social skills.

Before attending Christmas parties I always advise people “if in doubt...don’t”. If wondering whether that last cocktail is a good idea, the chances are that you already know you should move onto water. Definitely don’t take the opportunity in a more relaxed environment to complain to your boss or gossip about colleagues. Even if you don’t remember the conversation the next day, others will.

The “silly season” as it is often called is a time for fun and good cheer with colleagues, clients and customers. Courtesy, a caring manner and charm are the most representative attributes of someone who is considered charismatic...something we should all try to emulate.

Labuan Bajo and the Gold Coast...different worlds...

2010-12-08T07:04:00.003+07:00

(View from Bintang Flores Hotel)

A mere three weeks ago I was on the remote eastern Indonesian island of Flores, staying in a comfortable 4-star hotel in Labuan Bajo, the Bintang Flores, which overlooked a “squatters” camp which had

no fresh water or electricity but which shared the view over the sea. The children played happily.

Today I am a world away on the glitzy and glamorous Gold Coast of Australia visiting friends. And while I enjoy a view over a scenic canal bordered by luxurious mansions my mind returns to beautiful Flores and a world filled with gentle people who need little in life but their families, their health and a few rupiah to buy rice for their bowls.

It is difficult not to be cynical when I compare these two very diverse worlds. But I actually feel more lucky because I am content in both. When I first arrived at Labuan Bajo I found the poverty confronting. The streets, where they were paved, were dirty and filled with rubbish which nestled in amongst drying fish, covered in flies, and tired fresh vegetables and fruits wilting in the sun. The stench of fish was oppressive. The fishing village of approximately 12,000 people was the poorest environment I had every encountered.

The Squatters Camp

I was on Flores with my companion, Damien, to visit the Komodo National Park. It is a UNESCO heritage site which apart from the unique Komodo dragons is filled with a marine wonderland, the likes of which I have never seen before. The snorkeling opportunities were boundless. We were able to go out with our German dive master and other divers and snorklers four times. During the days in between we jumped on a motorbike and explored Labuan Bajo and surrounds. And slowly, but surely, my eyes and my mind became more accustomed to the sights and smells. My “cultural compass” found its bearings.

After a couple of days I found myself waving to the little children who called out a raucous “hello” to me as I passed. We all laughed together and shared our delight when the sun peeped out from the heavy rain clouds which typify this region during the “wet” season.

And I also found myself wanting to visit the markets with the dying fruit and vegetables as the innate “foodie” in me longed to find out which spices complemented which fish and rice dish. We had massages at a centre for sight and hearing impaired people…the most wonderful massage for me by a girl with no hearing but the broadest smile and shining eyes who recognized me with a wave whenever our paths crossed in the village.

Labuan Bajo village, from the motorbike

After our nine days we farewelled our gentle hotel staff and made our way to the little airport. To our initial horror we found that we would not be flying as our local airline had gone bankrupt that morning! So after making arrangements to fly with another airline the following day we returned to our hotel, checked that all was as we had sadly left it two hours earlier – the familiar “squatters” camp, the stunning ocean views – and settled down very happily for another day in a poor, but particularly perfect, paradise.

A bankrupted airline?

Bali...and gentle people with gentle manners...

2010-11-30T14:04:00.004+07:00

The Balinese temple of Tahna Lot (Photo L Percy November 2010)

From the time I was a child, my late father, a retired Royal Australian Navy Commodore, instilled in me a respect for people . I didn’t ever see anyone as being “different”.

In the early ‘60s my father was at an officer training college for the member countries of the Commonwealth. He was joined at the college by officers from countries as diverse as India and Pakistan, Colombo (Sri Lanka) Malaysia, Singapore and England. My parents were great hosts and so our home became a “drop in centre” on Friday nights for many of these officers who were unable to bring their spouses with them to Australia during their training. These same gentlemen taught me to eat curry, even for breakfast, taught me to play the piano and immediately after lessons learn to correctly and politely eat rice in my fingers in banana leaves. And to never be judgemental.

These same men went on through the later ‘60s to fight against each other in wars, and for some of them to be killed. A life lesson for my sister and I from an early age.

A couple of weeks ago I was exploring the north coast of Bali – unknown to many fellow Australians who choose to stay in the southern areas of Legian and Kuta.I was delighted to find that those sharing our resort and fascination at the coral reconstruction project off the nearby beach were mainly French and German tourists. It took a few days for my "cultural compass" to centre on the European languages being spoken, as opposed to the Aussie accents I had expected to hear. No complaints though!

Taman Sari, Pemuteran (Photo L Percy November 2010)

And I had the chance to learn more about Balinese culture, again away from the tourist areas. After learning about the centuries old Indian influence history of the Balinese people, the remaining inherent caste system, the enduringly central role of the family and the worship at the home temples, I was even more respectful of the gentle pride I encountered in those I met in Pemuteran.

Pemuteran is a much poorer region than the tourist area of southern Bali. The streets are often unpaved, the drains open, the stalls saddened by dying fresh produce. But actually that is to my untrained eye. There is no sadness in the people, only in the dried fish and wilting vegetables. The local Balinese are full of enthusiasm, about the reef restoration project, the weather, their fish...their lives.

It has long been said that the people of Bali are gentle and peace loving. But for me it was the smiles, the gentle gestures, the encouragement after a few days of my attempts at the language…the inherent kindness of a people who on the face values of the Westerner have so much less than me, but as I learnt, in so many ways, they have so much more.

Tahna Lot (Photo L Percy Novenmber 2010)

My visit to northern Bali was a reminder of the lessons I was taught before the age of 10 by among others Colonel Sherry Singh, the turban wearing Indian, and Colonel Saewo Edhie of Indonesia who I clearly remember gave me a lovely gift for Christmas in 1965.

I was to learn even more when I visited Labuan Bajo on Flores Island a few days later.