MANNERS AND OTHER MATTERS

I haven't been to Europe this year and will have to wait until next year to visit now.  There are a number of reasons why, mainly my family related visits to Sydney from my home in Perth,  but also because I have had friends visiting from overseas and interstate and the renovations on my beach house have continued.   While I have kept up with my French language online courses following my visits to the Institut de Français  I have missed the interaction with living as a local in a little French village and testing my language skills particularly during my visits to the weekly markets. But the advantage has been that I have been able to appreciate much of my own country.  My regular trips across my country offer the most fabulous panorama of the landscape.  I have been enchanted by the changing vistas offered as I peer down from a window seat.  I hope you enjoy my transcontinental picture journey. Lea...

My journey as a "rookie renovator" is almost at an end. Six months ago I began the journey when I bought full equity in a beach house I shared, as told here . I have learnt so much from a great group of local "tradies" who all worked together, with impeccable manners shown towards each other and the rookie renovator! The kitchen has always been the hub of the house for me...I gain enormous pleasure from cooking for family and friends.  The "new" kitchen is open plan and has a great use of light. The back room opposite the kitchen and beyond the lounge room was opened up by removing the dividing wall, et voila, a huge, modern open space. To all of those who assisted me with thoughts, advice, corrections, hugs, wines and laughs, many thanks...you all know who you are. Geoff the 'project manager' and Steve 'handyman extraordinaire' Geoff was such a great teacher and support The old kitchen with little ...

I am the child of parents who knew all the words to all of the musicals of the '50's and '60's, and my mother's favourite movie was West Side Story. ..so this song by Barbra Streisand and Josh Grogan was part of my emotional development. And as I reflect on my life of love and longing, it resonates with a singular truth. Recently I was asked by a friend for advice about her love life because, as she offered, she respected mine.  Well, that certainly opened the repository of memories! I have loved and been loved.  My first love is still in my life, albeit from the other side of the world.  We are friends who share memories of a teen love, but a very real love which impacted on both of our lives and remains a testimony to the innocence of youth. My children's father remains one of the great loves, and friends, of my life. So many of the friends I have loved, and sometimes lost, remain in my heart.  As I explained to my friend, friends can be loved without...

It all started in January.  My partner and I were having a two week holiday at my Beach house, a good time to get the little jobs done around the house and garden. It is an asbestos clad modular house built about 1970.  I have co-owned it since 1989 and loved it for its rustic, very casual ambience, never worrying too much about maintenance as it was just "The Beachhouse". Being in the country, as the house is located at the mouth of the Moore River and overlooks the river flowing into the Indian Ocean, I was advised to have a termite/white ant checkup as the house had not been inspected for some years. From the moment he arrived the termite expert looked worried..."there's a lot of activity around the garden" (activity being termite trails) and when he finally climbed to the top bedroom and I casually mentioned a bit of a "bounce" in the floor boards, he pounced.  With what appeared to be a moment of almost glee he pulled back the carpet and ann...

Moored off South Island (photo the author 2007) I am returning in a few days to the island paradise of the Cocos (Keeling) Islands  after an absence of nine years. It is with mixed emotions, I must admit.  The last time I spent Anzac Day   on Cocos was April 2007;  I took up my late father's headstone for his grave, he had died on New Year's Eve 2006.   My father's grave in 2007 (Photo the author) While I am  again visiting for Anzac Day and ready to enjoy all of the commemorations which accompany such an important memorial day on a remote island, I am wanting to show my partner, and fellow avid snorkeller, the beauty of a remote part of Australia, visited by few.  He has a milestone birthday due in a few months, and so by way of a birthday tribute I felt a visit to this island paradise would be a fitting gift. And the gracious man that he is appreciates that there will be moments of the past ...

It has been six months since I posted to this blog.  For a number of reasons.  Those of you who are regular bloggers probably never get "blog block"; it occurred when my imperative to write, to share life's matters and my thoughts on life's manners seemed so much less important than living the life which has been mine for the last six months. But the "block" has lifted, and after so many very special events, most of which  involved modern and traditional manners in one way or another, this post is a chronicle of the "block" time. It all started in September last year. My son turned 30, the same age I was when he was born.  So many memories resurfaced as we  shared stories of the growing up and maturing of "my baby". Rather than having a large party, his choice was a lunch for family and close friends...a world apart from the fast paced life he had lived for the previous ten years. He is a considerate, worldly and well mannered man ...

'My little prince' and me...July 2015 I have had a night of reflection following an extraordinary one and a half hours in which I shared 32 year old Super 8mm film reels with my daughter. There is no soundtrack;  the only audible comments are those we made while watching them together so many years later.  She is now a mother of a 17 month old son, and awaiting the arrival of another child in December. The reels, filmed mainly by her father, commenced with minutes of her, before she could walk, staggering for a few steps before falling onto her bottom, only to straddle forward for another few steps. They concluded with her, at about 5 years of age, riding a small tricycle with a back tray in which she carried her younger brother. In between they documented the life which was hers for those 4 or so years.  Our family traversing Europe while I was pregnant with her brother, returning to Australia and showing, even at such an early age, her enduring s...