Archive for December, 2001

Joy to the world…

December 28, 2001 at 6:13 pm · Filed under Newsletter

But not for everyone.

Christmas Day was the hottest on record since 1972. Five people in Brisbane died from the heat on Christmas Eve.

Over a hundred bush-fires are raging out of control in New South Wales since Christmas Day. Most of them were lit by arsonists. So far, 170 houses have been destroyed.

Meanwhile, some residents of South-East Queensland and Tasmania are cleaning up after wild storms flattened trees and houses.

Not everyone had a happy Christmas.

Thankfully, our Christmas here was far less dramatic.

It felt strange, waking alone on Christmas morning, without Miles lifting my eyelids to see if I was awake. I was able to lie in bed for a while and read one of the books I found in the parcel from Ben and Agnieszka. I just love book presents!

The rest of the day followed the usual pattern. A visit to Joel and Frances’ house to see Miles’ new Thunderbird toys, a quick visit to my neighbour and Christmas Dinner with the family at Mum and Dad’s.

No baby yet. Miles has been a bit concerned. “I hope the house doesn’t fall down,” he said, “When Mummy’s tummy goes BOOM!” We reassured him that it won’t be like that.

Some of the gifts I received this year were:

A cordless phone, pink sheets, a mug with cats on it, a pot of Ivy, secateurs, a transistor radio, home-made shortbread (I’m not telling Joel where I’ve hidden it,) books – “Cats in Japan,” “The Ultimate Quiz Book,” “Writing Your Life,” “Bridget Jones’s Diary,” a cat calendar, an address book…and soap.

“You might think I’m funny, giving you that soap,” said my neighbour, “but it’s so long since I’ve seen it in the shops – I just had to buy it.”

I unwrapped the shiny parcel. “Pears soap!” I exclaimed. “When I was little, I always wanted my mother to buy Pears soap for us, but she liked Cashmere Bouquet. I used to think you couldn’t be a Christian if you didn’t use Pears soap!”

“Why was that?” laughed my neighbour.

“The family next door used it,” I explained. “And they always went to church. Their little girl was about my age and she used to tell me in a superior tone that they always used Pears soap, because it was pure. I never felt good enough because my mother wouldn’t buy Pears soap!”

I know now of course, that if we could purify ourselves in any way, there would be no Christmas. If we could save ourselves, a Saviour wouldn’t need to be born, would he? That’s what Christmas is really all about.

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Hot!

December 24, 2001 at 6:11 pm · Filed under Newsletter

olivetired

olivetired

Still waiting… and it’s hot, hot, HOT!! This afternoon it was 40 degrees (Celsius) in the shade. I’m not sure what that is in Fahrenheit – well over 100, I think. The electric fan only makes the house feel like a fan-forced oven. The cats are draped around the place like limp rags. More heat predicted tomorrow and the next day.Joel, Frances and Miles have just gone home. The house is quiet after having them here for five weeks. I’ll go round in the morning so Miles can show me what Santa has brought….unless the baby arrives tonight!

Only one more sleep…

“But there’s no snow!” protested Miles.

Never mind, Merry Christmas!

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“Snip, snip!”

December 22, 2001 at 10:14 pm · Filed under Humorous Speech Competition, Speeches

This speech won second place in our club for the 2001 Humorous Speech Competition. Time: 5 to 7 minutes

 

Snip, snip!

 

 

I’d like to tell you about my Uncle Dan Druff. Uncle Dan was a romantic and a great collector of souvenirs. Some people save their concert programmes. Some collect cutlery. But do you know what Uncle Dan collected? Toenail clippings!

It all began when he married his childhood sweetheart, Kitty Litter. On their wedding night, while Kitty was taking a bath, Dan sat on the bed and trimmed his toenails. Snip, snip!

Kitty came in, rosy and tender from her warm bath. Eagerly she slipped between the silken sheets. Ow! Something dug into her soft pink flesh.

“Dan Druff!” spluttered Kitty. “Can’t you put your toenails somewhere else?”

So Dan found a glass jar and swept all the toenail clippings into it.

Next morning, Kitty was about to dispose of the toenail clippings, but Dan stopped her – just in time.

“You can’t throw them out,” he protested. “They are a reminder of our first night together – a symbol of our love.”

Kitty was touched and agreed to keep them – along with the wedding serviettes, the telegrams and chicken wishbones.

But it didn’t end there. A month later, Dan trimmed his toenails again, and put them into the jar. “These are a reminder of our first month together,” he told Kitty, as he used one of the longer clippings to pick his teeth.

And so it continued. Dan saved his toenail clippings to in remembrance of their first down-payment, the first time the toilet blocked up, and eventually, their first argument.

Kitty said she didn’t mind Dan keeping his toenails in a jar, but why did he have to keep them on the coffee table in the living room. She was tired of the strange looks she received when people visited – specially when they mistook the jar for the sugar bowl.

Now Dan was a reasonable man, but on this issue he was adamant. Other men kept trophies, he insisted, women cluttered their houses with knick-knacks. What was wrong with a bloke displaying his stuff?

Kitty stormed out of the house. Dan plonked himself down in his chair and took out his nail clipper. Snip, snip, Ow!

In his anger, he had snipped too far and cut off the top of his big toe. Dan hobbled into the bathroom, to look for bandages, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

While he was wrapping his toe, Kitty returned, saw the blood on the floor and screamed. “Aaaaaagh!!” She thought Dan had been murdered!”

Dan rushed out of the bathroom as Kitty dropped to the floor in a dead faint. He picked her up and lay her on the sofa. To make her more comfortable, Dan removed Kitty’s shoes. That’s when he noticed that her toenails needed trimming.

Snip, snip. Kitty came to and found Dan working on her toenails. It was the last straw. Kitty yelled and kicked Dan right where it hurt.

Dan reeled back, bumped against the coffee table and knocked the jar of toenail clippings to the floor.

The jar shattered and the floor was strewn with glass and toenail clippings. There was a hushed silence as Dan and Kitty surveyed the damage.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” said Kitty. “I’ll sweep up the mess.”

“No,” said Dan quickly. He found two jars, then he knelt down and picked out the toenail clippings. He put them in one jar. Then he picked up the tiny shards of glass and placed them in the other jar.

“I’ll throw out the glass pieces,” said Kitty.

Dan was shocked. “You can’t do that! These are a reminder of our first row. They symbolise how fragile a relationship can be…”

He ducked as Kitty added to his collection by hurling a glass bowl at his head. The shattered glass panel in the door as she slammed it on her way out was a symbol of the end of their marriage.

Poor Uncle Dan Druff! He went quite flaky after that. He lived alone – no one called to visit because of all the broken glass and crockery piled up in the front yard. But when he passed away, he left me his most precious collection – his toenail clippings. I keep them in a big jar on my coffee table.

And I can hardly wait to get home tonight to trim my toenails!

 

 

COMMENTS
Bit corny, isn’t it? But it went over much better than I expected. More about it in my July Newsletter.

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Countdown

December 19, 2001 at 6:11 pm · Filed under Newsletter

“It will soon be Christmas,” I told Miles.

“Yes,” he said. “When it snows.”

Not much chance of that in tropical Queensland!

Miles helped me make an Advent Calendar. Just a one-week calendar – that’s long enough for a three-year-old. For each night we drew a picture of him sleeping and we stuck a shiny Christmas sticker inside each door for the days. It helped to take his mind off the bump on his head. I told him not to bounce on my tummy when I was lying down, but he still bounced – too high, and crashed down with his head against mine. He’s OK now, but my brains are still rattling.

Frances is also counting down the days. The baby is due this week.

“Do you think Joel ought to drive the car to work?” I asked at breakfast. “Just in case…”

“No, I don’t think it will happen today,” she said. “Maybe tomorrow…”

They’ve all been staying with me for the last month. Joel suddenly decided to get all their rooms painted before the baby arrived. (It’s sheer madness, of course, but it seems to run in our family – Ben & Agnieszka got their house painted and the floors sanded just before they moved to America.)

Anyway, the painting is finally completed, the mess cleaned up and most of the furniture back in position.

Now we are waiting for the baby to arrive.

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