Mamalade

A shocking incident

Did you hear about the woman who went shopping for a new kitchen sink?

The shop assistant said, “You’ll need a plug for it.”

“Good heavens!” said the woman, “Don’t tell me it’s electric!”

Yeah, corny, isn’t it? That old joke came to my mind because at our last Jumble Sale, the sink in the kitchen actually was electric! I had just made a cup of tea and my finger brushed against the side of the sink.

Was that a slight tingle I felt? I touched the sink again to make sure - well, you do, don’t you? It was very faint. I probably just imagined it, I decided. I finished my cuppa and went back out to the front room.

An hour later, feeling thirsty, I wandered back to the kitchen, where two of our helpers were enjoying a break. I picked up a cup and put my hand on the tap.

“Yeow!!” I wasn’t imagining it this time.

“Did you get a shock?” asked Mary. “I thought I felt a tingle last time we were here.”

We checked all the powerpoints. Everything was turned off. Weird things happen in this kitchen. We’ve heard voices coming from the plughole and then there’s the phantom phone that rings in the adjacent storeroom.

Mary emptied her cup and grasped the tap.

“Yeeoowww!!!” she yelled. “That went right up my arm!”

I ran upstairs and found the caretaker. He summoned an electrician who checked everything carefully.

“I can’t find anything wrong,” he told us. “The only explanation might be that the end of the electric jug cord was on the sink. There may have been residual electricity in that - even though it was turned off.”

It’s a wonder he didn’t condemn the old cord - its been patched up with insulation tape. I threw it out, anyway. We’ll get a new one for next time.

Nelson meets the cats

Frances and little Miles came around the other day.

“Do you think we could bring Nelson?” asked Frances. “I thought we could give him a bath in the back yard.” Nelson (their corgi) hasn’t been here since the cats, Oscar and Olive came to stay with me.

“Yes, let’s try it!” I said. “I don’t think the cats would run away now.”

When Nelson arrived, Oscar peeped around the corner of the house and disappeared until dinnertime.

Olive was curious about the strange dog that we covered in soapsuds. She watched intently from a few feet away. We were amazed that Nelson succumbed to our administrations with a cat so close by.

But when Frances released him, he circled round Olive barking excitedly. Olive turned round and round on the spot, growing bigger and fluffier by the second. An explosion seemed imminent. I would have loved to have run and get my camera, but common sense prevailed. I grabbed Nelson. (Grabbing Olive would have been like grabbing an exploding bomb.)

Olive streaked across the yard and over the fence.

She came back later and taunted Nelson through the security of the screen door.

On the tiles

From my back door I could see the shadow of the roof above. The normally straight smooth lines were interupted by two little points - which deepened into a cat-shaped silhouette.

“Are you on my roof again?” I went outside and looked up. There was my neighbour’s cat, Squeaky. Her slinky black and white catsuit sparkled against the brilliant blue sky.

Such a beautiful picture had to be shared.

“Look at your cat!” I called to my neighbour, who was in his yard.

“She must have climbed the tree!” he said, “I’ll get her down.”

“She can get down when she wants to,” I said. “I’ve put my wheelie bin where she can jump onto it.”

But my neighbour came over. “You’ll have to trim these bushes, ” he said, as he came round the side of the house.

He climbed the tree and called to the cat. My cats, Oscar, Olive and Ingrid came to watch the fun. Squeaky grinned and rubbed her chin along the guttering.

“You’ll have to get Joel to clean out your guttering,” said my neighbour.

Squeaky skipped up to the high part of the roof and rolled luxuriously on the tiles.

My neighbour tied a piece of rag on the end of a long stick and gradually coaxed her down to the low roof above my laundry.

“She can easily jump to the wheelie bin from there,” I said. But Squeaky was still having fun.

“I’ll lift her down.” My neighbour stood on a chair and tried to grab Squeaky. She slipped out of his grasp and skipped back up the tiles.

Olive sat on the wheelie bin and cheered. Ingrid rolled on the grass and kicked her legs in the air.

“You’ll have to get your house washed,” said my neighbour.

He finally gave up and went home for lunch.

I brought Oscar and Olive inside. When she was ready, Squeaky jumped down onto the wheelie bin.

This morning my neighbour called over the fence, “I cut the branch off the tree so she can’t get on the roof!”

Spoilsport!

I’m still trying to shake off the flu. I’m calling it flu, now - sounds more important, and it does feel like more than a heavy cold.

Apart from the hacking cough and dreadful weariness, it has been quite a pleasant week. I’ve been sleeping in late and just loafing around. I’ve been feeling too sick to do any housework, but not too sick to revel in the luxury of sheer laziness.

Back to the fifties

I’ve spent some time on the Internet looking for information on the Fifties. Our World Vision club is planning a “Back to the Fifties” morning next month, but so far we haven’t decided what form it will take. We tried brainstorming at out last meeting, but everyone just started reminiscing and we didn’t get any further.

The other day I started writing down things I remembered about the Fifties, (Yes, I’m that old!) starting with my early childhood and working through the years. So far I’ve come up with:

• “Kindergarten of the Air,” (A radio programme - we called it a wireless, then)
• Our ice chest - it was before fridges. The iceman used to bring a large block of ice and dump it on the verandah. I would run out and lick it. The baker would bring unsliced bread. It was soft and fluffy inside. Dad had a milk run. People would leave out jugs for the milk. Grandma had a crochet jug cover with beads around the edge. Dad drove his “Singer” Utility to a farm every afternoon to pick up milk. Sometimes I would go with him. The grocer came on a horse to get our order. It would be delivered by truck the next day. The postmen came twice a day and on Saturday morning. And he always blew his whistle.
• We used slates at school and had to take a “wet rag” and a “dry rag” for cleaning them. Mum made me a shoulder pouch to carry them in. The teacher would ask us to hold up our “wet rag”, then our “dry rag” to show that we had brought them. We also had to show that we had a hanky. If we had forgotten to bring one, we would hold up the “dry rag” twice. The plasticine we used at school was in big hard balls. It had to be left in the sun at “Big Lunch” time to make it soft.
• Measles. Anyone with measles or mumps had to stay away from school for three weeks.
• The church flowershow. I was always roped in to present the visiting dignitaries with a bouquet of flowers and to curtsey. I hated it! Rattlecats - an old lady used to make toy cats with a small tin of pebbles inside.
• Frosted jelly - made with jelly crystals, egg, milk and coconut. I wonder if Mum still has the recipe.
• Chopin Nocturne. I didn’t know what it was then, but it was always played on the local radio -sorry, wireless station to introduce funeral announcements.
• Dolls that would drink a bottle of water then wet their nappy. Mine honked when squeezed. She died of mildew.
• Mosquito nets, kapok pillows, striped mattress ticking, sagging beds. Tin bath, painted cream - the paint flaked and stuck to our bottoms.
• Outback dunny or “lav”. After watching “Cheaper by the Dozen” we renamed it “Mrs Murphy.”
• Songs: “How much is that Doggie in the Window” “Sweet Vi-o-lets” “She wears Red Feathers and a Hooly Hooly Skirt.”
• Guy Fawkes Night. All the neighbours came. A spark fell into my box of fireworks and they all went off together. (The fireworks, I mean!)
• My tiny”Boomerang” mouthorgan.
• Fridge. We had the first one in town- a Crosby Shelvador. Laminex table top. Chenille dressing gowns and bedspreads.
• Radio programmes: “Life with Dexter” “The Pied Piper Show” Jack Davey and his “Ampol Show” Bob Dyer’s “Pick-a-Box” “White Coolies” “The Argonauts” “The Muddle Headed Wombat”
• Grandma’s gramophone.
• The Queen’s visit to Australia.
• “Sunday-go-to-meeting” dress. Hat. Gloves. Nylon socks. Nylon knickers. (We called them “Barb Wires” because they enclosed but didn’t conceal much. Gorgeous Gussies. QCB’s (Queer Coloured Britches- home made.)
• My uncle’s Ford Customline. The latest thing in cars.
• Chairs in shops for customers.
• Crepe paper flowers.
• The first time I saw coloured toilet paper. It was pale green. I kept a sheet of it in a box with my collection of silver paper that I saved from chocolate bars.
• Hula hoops, yo-yos, monopoly, ballpoint pens, durex tape.
• “The Women’s Weekly” cost ninepence. Stamps were threepence- ha’penny. An icecream cone was fourpence - but you could also by a small one for twopence.

Apart from the flared skirts and rope petticoats, I can’t remember so much about being a teenager in the Fifties - but then, I was never a real teenager. We had moved to a small country town. I was not well enough to go to school, so didn’t know many people and didn’t go out much. Oh yes, I do remember those years, but not much pertaining to the era.

So what are we going to do for our “Back to the Fifties” Morning? I’m still looking for inspiration. Any ideas?

Things never work out the way they are planned…

Toastmasters meeting

After all that frantic preparation last week, I didn’t get to present my Educational on “Mentoring” at Toastmasters. Our meeting was running way over time - there was a lot of extra business to be discussed, reports from those who had been to the district conference (wish I could have gone, it sounded great!) then there was the election of new officers for the coming year… so I was asked if I’d mind if we left the educational for another meeting. Of course I didn’t mind - I had been too rushed to rehearse it properly anyway. But I’ve been afraid to look at it again yet, in case I feel compelled to rewrite the whole darn thing!

Oh…and I still haven’t returned the book I was desperately trying to finish reading. My friend left the meeting before I could give it to her.

World Vision meeting

Preparation for our World Vision meeting had been just as frantic. (I know, I know….. I should have started earlier!) Our project this month is the Fistula Hospital in Ethiopia. So I spent days looking for new information and trying to put it all together. At the meeting, one of our members handed me an update she had received about the Fistula Hospital - newer information than I had - so all I had to do was read it out!

Dr Catherine Hamlyn from the Fistula Hospital had written “…I counted five extra beds in both our waiting hostels, and each bed contained two patients! So our hospital is greatly needed and there is a task still to be done here in Ethiopia of mammoth proportions in treating women of this country. Women who are suffering from this most dreaded complication of pregnancy, one which, untreated condemns them to a life of misery and isolation and loneliness…”

There was also some interesting information about World Vision’s “Food for Work” programme in East Timor that allows the people to rebuild their lives while keeping their self-respect and dignity.

So I didn’t need any of the stuff I had prepared. Looks like I need to panic less and communicate more with the other club members!

KYB

All that unnecessary panic had left me feeling unprepared for our KYB (Know Your Bible) group. But it was one of the best mornings we’ve ever had! There seemed to be a lovely feeling of warmth and closeness as our discussion flowed freely.

We were discussing how “entering God’s rest” meant an inner peace. I said I believed it was possible to be “at rest” even if there was war and turmoil all around us. This led a wonderful quiet woman to relate her experience of war in Austria. We wept as she told vividly of how she had stepped over dead bodies… been held at gun point…the hunger…the fear…

“I’m going to race you all to the toilet,” I said, when we finished the lesson.

I only just managed to outrun the shrieking, giggling stampede.

We were back to normal.

Street Stall

We had plenty of competition for our World Vision street stall on Friday. The Presbyterians and the Cancer Fund had already started setting up stalls when I arrived with my car loaded with plants, books, stuffed toys, etc.

Our wonderful helper Mike had already picked up Mum with all her sewing and cooking and with a few other faithful helpers soon had our stall set up.

I wondered how we’d ever sell my plants when I saw the beautiful ones on the Presbyterian’s stall. The man who brought them told me he spends five hours a day watering his plants. Me…I encourage my plants to be independent and not depend on me! His plants all sold (I bought five of them myself - I hope they survive with my treatment) and most of mine sold, too. I only had to bring a few home.

We were kept busy all morning and raised over $600 for the Fistula Hospital.

Lazy weekend

I’d had a gluggy throat for a few days, but my nose didn’t start running until I got home from the stall. By evening, I had a full-blown fluey cold.

I’d been really looking forward to the weekend, when I’d have time to catch up on things that had been neglected all week and maybe pot more plants ready for next time. Well, I’ve just spent a weekend of total sloth. I didn’t feel like doing a thing!

Joel, Frances and little Miles came around for a while yesterday despite my dire warnings of flu germs. It was lovely to see them, but I hope I haven’t given them my cold.

“Say ‘Happy Mother’s Day’” Frances instructed Miles.

“Happy Meemar Day!” said Miles. (He calls me Meemar.)

Frances had brought a cake and Miles insisted that it have candles for him to blow out.

I spent the rest of the day loafing.

I think this week will be a lot quieter.

Busy busy week. can’t stop and talk.
I’ve been trying to …
Prepare for our World Vision meeting
Prepare an educational talk on mentoring for Toastmasters. (Shouldn’t have taken it on this week!)
Study Chairmanship procedures, so I can return my friend’s book next meeting.
Work on next lesson for our “Know your Bible” class - we’re studying Hebrews.
Sort/price/maybe wash piles of clothing for our Jumble Sale.
Sort and price plants, books, make cakes, biscuits etc for our street stall.
Make posters.

The house is a mess…who cares?

Back next week.