Mamalade

Trash and Treasure

At last! The piles of rubbish were finally picked up this morning and there are patches of yellow grass where they have been. Clean up week was entertaining at first, but the streets soon became an eyesore. The scavengers had reduced my pile by half. Why would anyone want my old screen door? It was rusty and falling apart and Buddy had ripped the mesh into shreds. The big stereo speaker boxes had disappeared, but I saw them again yesterday on my way to church. They were on a different footpath several blocks away. Someone must have discovered why they’d been put out in the first place! I even retrieved something back off my own pile. I needed to put prices on pot plants for our Jumble Sale and realised the slats on the old venetian blinds would be just the thing to cut up and poke into the soil.

Zero growth

Now that my old screen door is not leaning against the fence anymore, I was able to get at the long grass growing behind it and pull it out. My current neighbours are very tolerant. When Betty lived next door, she used to nag me all the time about my weeds. She was an old lady - nearly 90 - and we got on well, but she had this thing about weeds. She used to get me to buy Zero (weed poison) for her when I did her shopping, then when I was out, she’d lean over the fence and spray as far as she could into my yard. I’d come home and find my ugly dead patches all over my lawn.

She also used Zero to spray all around her kitchen to keep the flies away. I was afraid she’d poison herself.

So, I would substitute the poison with water in her Zero bottles, and use the real stuff to spray where it was really needed. After a few weeks, she’d say, “When you go shopping, will you buy me some more Zero? The last lot didn’t work very well.”

Cleaning up

The rubbish is piled high along the streets. Cars cruise slowly as their occupants appraise each heap. A few pull up and eagerly pounce on some treasure, joyfully calling to their friends, “Hey look what I found!” Others come stealthily at night. By the time the big pick up trucks arrive, not much is left that is worth salvaging….

East Timor? The aftermath of a cyclone? No, it’s council cleanup week in our suburb. It happens about once a year. Residents are encouraged to bring out their junk and the Council picks it up off the footpath.

I love it! It’s a wonderful opportunity to get rid of all those things that don’t fit in the wheelie bin. And I love the camaraderie of the neighbours as each one builds up his pile of junk, while eyeing off his neighbour’s pile, and the fun of seeing which items disappear overnight.

“They could be had up for stealing,” mutters one of my neighbours. But I feel thrilled if someone thinks my junk is worth salvaging. I like to think it hasn’t just gone to waste.

Some people are easily entertained.

Man in a hurry

Uncle Charlie and Aunty Edna were at Mum’s when we got back from shopping yesterday. They live on the Sunshine Coast. Uncle Charlie had to come down for doctors appointments. He’s 89, but no one would believe it. They’ve just had their 65th wedding anniversary, so we had to see all the photos, cards and messages - there was even one from the Queen.

Uncle Charlie’s most prized message was from a woman who had known him when she was a little girl (she’s a grandmother now.) She’d written such a funny letter telling him why she had always refused a lift to school with him - because he drove too fast!

Uncle Charlie is always in a hurry. Riding up the stairs on Dad’s chair lift, he complained, “Won’t this thing go any faster?”

He wouldn’t stay for lunch - he said he’s like the swifts that fly to China with their mouths open, catching insects.

I had a vivid mental picture of him speeding along in his red car, with his head out the window and mouth open catching insects!

An old friend

When I was a teenager I worked for a while on the telephone exchange in the small country town where we lived. I enjoyed it, in spite of being in awe of the postmaster, who had a violent temper.

There was a little hatch door in the main door of the exchange, and after the Post Office was closed, anyone wishing to make a trunk call on the public phone outside would ring the bell on the door and pay the call fee through the hatch door.

Because of this, I wasn’t too keen on the late shift, because I was alone and never knew who was on the other side of the hatch door. (Looking back, I realise now that the back door presented a graver danger - we never locked it!)

Anyway, shortly after I started to work there, a woman began to visit every time I was on the late shift. She would ring the bell, and when I popped my head out, she’d ask me the time. I must have been something like a talking cuckoo clock! She would talk for a few minutes, then disappear into the night. I didn’t know who she was - she would have been about middle aged and seemed very lonely.

A year or so later, our family moved to Brisbane. After a while, I received a letter from this woman. Her name, I discovered was Marie. I wrote back. That was about …um…at least 35 years ago. She has been writing to me regularly ever since. She doesn’t wait for an answer to her letters - if I am a bit slow replying, she writes again. Through her letters, I have learned that she has had a very hard life. She doesn’t seem to go out much. Her son (who is not well) lives with her. She always says that my letters brighten their day. (That is partly what inspired me to include a newsletter on my website - I figured that other people might enjoy getting a newsy letter!)

Since we left that country town, I had seen her only once for a few minutes about 20 years ago when we were passing through. Until today.

Last Sunday night, Marie’s son phoned to tell me she had been brought down to the city for an operation on her foot. She had the operation on Monday, and today I caught the bus to the hospital to visit her.

She seemed a bit vague - probably still groggy from the operation, but she soon grasped who I was and we had a good talk. She was very tired, so I didn’t stay long. If she’s still in the hospital next week, I’ll try to visit her again.

Friendship Club Breakup

It seems early for Christmas Break Up parties. Our Friendship Club broke up this week. We had a nice relaxing morning, doing some simple Christmas craft. We made angels out of paper doilies, and boxes and lanterns out of old Christmas cards. And we cut out and glued teapot shapes with a slot in them for a teabag with the verse,

“On Christmas day at half past three,
Make yourself a cup of tea.
I’ll think of you and you think of me
As we sit next to the Christmas tree.”

An old memory

I heard one of the ladies say to her friend, “I’ll cut out yours for you when I’ve done mine.” It brought back an old childhood memory which I shared with them:

I was eight and in Grade Three at school. Our teacher handed out new exercise books and told us to write our name and the subject neatly on the cover. Cynthia, the girl who usually sat next to me was away that day, so the teacher asked me to write on her book for her. I wanted my book to look really good, so I decided to practise by doing Cynthia’s book first.

While was I was carefully writing on mine, the teacher came and stood behind me. He picked up Cynthia’s book, which I had just done, and examined it. Then he put it down with a thump (which scared the living daylights out of me) and he exclaimed to the rest of the class, “What an example of unselfishness! This girl has put her friend before herself and written on her friend’s book first!” And I just sat there and let everyone think how unselfish I was. I must have been a rotten kid.

I don’t know if I have changed much.

Two parties

Two parties in one weekend! Yesterday, we all went to my sister Jan’s place for Callum’s birthday party. He’s five. The kids had a wonderful time. They spent most of the afternoon in the big wading pool. Miles joined in the splashing. At 20 months, he thinks he’s one of the kids now. Matthew, (3 months younger) was more interested in trying to drink the pool water!

Today, I went to a surprise Birthday party for my friend Denise. Once, at Toastmasters the Round Robin Master asked us to talk about the person whom we most admired. And I said, my friend Denise - because she always laughs and jokes in spite of her life threatening health problems. She’s on oxygen all the time now, but she’s still bright and bubbly. We were all asked to take a flower that reminds us of Denise. I took a poppy, because they dance in the wind, get flattened and bounce up again - like Denise does. When everyone arrived with their flower, they made a beautiful bouquet.

Illegal action

Buddy is trying to tell me he hasn’t had enough to eat. He just stepped on the keyboard and my computer informed me that “an illegal action has been performed”. The first time I saw one of those messages I really thought I had done something wrong. And can you imagine my consternation the first time I received a “fatal error” message! I wish computers wouldn’t use such dire terminology.

I suppose I’d better feed the darn cat before he pulls the curtains down.

GNIHCAYMHO! That’s “Oh my aching back!” (Try reading it backwards.) I find Street Stalls more tiring than Jumble Sales, even though I take a folding chair and sit as much as possible. At least the results make it worthwhile. We raised quite a lot for the World Vision Street Children’s Centre in Bangladesh. (That’s our project this month.)

On the street

It’s interesting, being on the street. I like to watch the people going by. I see a lot of familiar people - some are our regular Jumble Sale customers, a lot of them are people that I see every week when I go shopping - but I don’t really know them. I recognise their faces and they often recognise mine and say hello or just smile. It gives me a sense of being part of the community.

I was glad to come home after the stall and rest. And I thought what it must be like for the Street Kids. They don’t have a home where they can go to get away from the hustle and bustle of the streets.

Miles is better. Frances brought him over on Monday. He went straight to the piano, looked at me and said “narna, narna.” Frances explained, “He wants you to sing “Bananas in Pajamas.”

Windy

When I opened my backdoor yesterday morning, I was surprised to find it was blowing a gale outside. The backyard, which had just been mown and tidied the day before was strewn with twigs and pinecones. Later I discovered it was actually the edge of a tornado that hit Gympie and flattened a house. Its still a bit breezy and quite cool for this time of the year.

Just in time

I don’t usually go shopping on the same day as our Toastmasters meeting, but this was a busy week with the street stall coming up, so Mum and I decided to shop in the afternoon. By the time I arrived home, I had just over half an hour to feed the cats, grab a quick meal, take a shower and get myself to the meeting. You should have seen me, trying to pull my dress on with the hanger still in it! I arrived, breathless, just in time. But I don’t think I was quite as frazzled as the Toastmaster who arrived just after the meeting began, flopped into the chair beside me and proceeded to pour water into her glass before realising that the glass was still turned upside down.

Another Toastmaster was so absorbed in the programme, when he was passed a glass containing the voting slips, he picked up the water jug and poured water into it!

It was a great meeting. The President opened the meeting with such enthusiasm and humour, everyone remained on a “high” for the rest of the evening. The speeches were really good. We heard an excellent “Icebreaker” first speech, and another Toastmaster gave his Tenth speech, which was his best ever.

Round Robin

As well as Table Topics, we usually have a “Round Robin.” Everyone has to speak on a topic for one minute each. Sometimes it’s something thought-provoking - like the last time, we gave our thoughts on the Referendum and the Preamble. Sometimes it takes the form of a continuing story, with each person adding to it. This time it started with a story about a couple on a cruise ship. By the time it finished, the ship had struck an iceberg, there was lingerie hanging from the chandelier and Maxwell Smart was calling “Mayday, Mayday” on the phone in his shoe.

World Vision update

At our World Vision meeting this week, we had an update on the Fistula Hospital. It’s one of our favourite projects. The Ethiopian government has given them land, which will be used for a village/farm. Because of their condition, some of the Fistula patients are never able to go back to their village to live a normal life. Some of these women have had operations known as “ileal-conduits”, where an artificial bladder has been made from the bowel, because their whole bladder has been destroyed during long obstructed labour.

The farming community is an ideal way of helping these women, and to be able to grow vegetables, keep chickens, and supply eggs and vegetables to the hospital.

It was also good to hear about World Vision’s “Food for Work” scheme in East Timor, providing the local people with productive employment and dignity as well as restoring the war ravaged streets.

They have an enormous task ahead of them.

Little Miles is not well. He’s hardly had any illnesses so far, but he has had a bad cold and for the last couple of days he couldn’t keep anything down. I spent the afternoon with him yesterday. He was a bit quieter than usual, but still wanted to play. Frances rang tonight and said he’d had some dry biscuits today and kept them down. I think he’ll be alright, now.

What’s cooking

I’ve just been baking Anzac biscuits for our World Vision Street Stall later this week. They are pretty foolproof and this time I had enough sense to only make one triple batch and then stop. I usually try to do too much at once and end up exhausted. Last time I tried to make a triple batch of Jam Drops using the biscuit pusher. The mixture was too stiff for the pusher and the whole task was such an ordeal, that half way through it I grabbed the recipe book and scrawled across the top of the page - “Don’t ever make triple batch!” Later when all the mess was cleared away, I picked up the book and wrote “Think hard before making double batch!” I haven’t made even a single batch since then.

You’ve probably guessed, I really don’t like cooking.

Lost..and found

My cardigan turned up again at our last Jumble Sale. It hadn’t been sold - it was probably too scruffy to appeal to anyone else. It’s not the first time something has disappeared and reappeared. Like the time our trolley vanished. (It’s really just the frame of an old pram, but it’s handy for transporting heavy items from the car to the hall.) We couldn’t understand how anyone could have taken it or why they would even want it. But when we returned the following week, there it was in the middle of the room. We just stared at it in awe.

“The man upstairs must have put it there.” said Mike, reverently.

“Who….God?” I asked.

Mike shook his head. “No, the caretaker.”

But later when I asked the caretaker if he was the good fairy who had found our trolley, he said he knew nothing about it and wasn’t too keen on the term “fairy.”

It’s still a mystery.

Melbourne Cup

Last Tuesday was Melbourne Cup Day - the day when the whole nation stops for three minutes while the race is run. I usually watch it on television. I think most Australians watch this race even if they are not usually interested in horse racing and a lot get dressed up and attend Melbourne Cup parties.

Anyway, when I was watching the race, I suddenly thought of my cousin Mandy. She used to stay at our place sometimes when we were kids and one year (It must have been around Melbourne Cup time) she had named all her dresses after racehorses. She’d get up in the morning and say “I think I’ll wear ‘Rising Fast’ today.” That was over 30 years ago. I wonder if she still names her outfits!

Voting day

Yesterday we had to vote on the Referendum - whether we want Australia to become a Republic or retain the Monarchy. I gave my neighbour a lift up to the polling booth at the school and she voted one way while I voted the other. So that was an exercise in futility, wasn’t it? Looks like the Monarchists have won - so now we can get on with our lives until the whole thing gets dragged up again.