Mamalade

My clock radio woke me with the news that the Queen Mother had passed away – peacefully, in her sleep. I couldn’t help thinking what a fitting time – at Easter, with its message of resurrection and life everlasting!

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! The church was packed this morning. Just as well we arrived a bit early. There was a joyous atmosphere and I came away feeling uplifted.

Sunday Dinner at Mum and Dad’s. My sister Relle came, and Joel and Frances with Miles and baby Hayley. Miles was in high spirits.

“Tell me a joke,” he kept insisting.

“Have another mouthful while I think of another one.”

When we had exhausted all the elephant jokes and the “why did the chicken cross the road” jokes, he invented his own, inspired by the table setting.

“Why did the tomato sauce cross the road?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“To get to the potato!”

The rest of his jokes were even worse!

My youngest sister Lea and her family arrived after dinner. 3-year-old Matthew, the former “man of a few words” has turned into a little chatterbox at last. Miles hadn’t seen him for a few months and was amazed at the transformation. He peered into Matthew’s face and asked, “Are you Matthew?” Then he turned to us and announced “He talks!”

Miles and Matthew had a great time playing doctors with Robert (Matthew’s older brother.)

“Let’s check your heart. “(located in the stomach) “Hmmmn… it’s a little bit not good.”

“I’ve got a sore toe…”

“Aha! I see what the problem is.”

“What?”

“It’s hurting! Sorry, I can’t fix toes. I can only fix toothache.”

“I’m taking all this money to the bank.” (It must have been a lucrative practice.)

“Quick, police! He’s taking all our money to the bank!”

The game ended abruptly when one of the patients rolled off the edge of the bed and crashed heads with the doctor.

Relle organised an Easter egg hunt and they all went home happy with chocolate around their mouths.

News in brief.

Some of the things I was going to write about this month but didn’t…

The heat. We had a cool change at the beginning of the month, then summer returned with a vengeance. It must have been the hottest March ever.

My birthday. Yes, another one! Relle took me to a Bach concert. The music was beautiful. The women in the orchestra wore iridescent purple, orange-red and lime green skirts. The woman sitting in front of me was wearing an expensive looking sheer pink ensemble – but her slip was too low at the back and the hooks on her bra were visible.

Our World Vision Fun morning. Everyone enjoyed playing the word game “Articulate.”

The Jumble Sales. We’re back in the hall at last. We had to hold the first three sales for the year on the street, while the hall was being renovated.

Our Easter street stall on Thursday. Plenty of people about and we raised a lot of money for the Fistula Hospital in Ethiopia. I enjoy watching the different people passing by. Some of them are more different than the rest. I was delighted when I spotted an old friend I hadn’t seen for years and I hailed him enthusiastically. He said “Hello” politely and moved on quickly. Then I realised it wasn’t him after all….

Toastmasters meeting. Always fun. I spilt water all over my notes and the ink ran…

A happy morning playing Skipbo with friends…

And I haven’t mentioned that 3-months-old Hayley is getting cuter and more beautiful every day. She smiles a lot and tries to “talk.”

It has turned cooler again this weekend and the pussies are cuddly. Perhaps we’ll have some normal weather at last.

My grandson Miles turned four this week. “I’m big like Dan now,” he told us. “See my long legs.” (Thirteen-year-old Dan is a favourite cousin, who needn’t fear Miles catching up to him for a long time.)

Frances bought a special birthday cake for Miles to share with his kindy friends. I went with her to visit the kindergarten. We arrived at morning tea time.

Miles was thrilled to see us. “Come and meet my friends,” he said. He took my hand and led me around the room. It was fun to meet so many little people, each with a distinct personality.

A pretty little girl dressed up and clomped around in large high-heeled shoes all morning, carrying a toy mirror – while a small boy followed her, waiting for her to let go of the mirror. When she put the mirror down for a moment, he darted forward, picked up the mirror and kissed it!

A gentle little boy hovered around a tearful girl, gazing into her face and giving her consoling pats on the arm.

A little imp of a girl sat on my lap while I joined construction blocks together, trying to satisfy the demands of several boys. “Make a plane,” “Make a truck,” “Now make a lollipop!” (That one was a challenge!)

Miles had a slight altercation with another boy who wanted the truck he was playing with. They soon settled down and played happily together after the kindy teacher reminded them to “Use words”.

Kindy is a lot of fun, but very tiring for grandmothers. I was glad to come home again!

The next day, Miles shared a party with one of his friends who also had a birthday. “Ella is my friend,” he told me later. “She’s a girl with wegs.” (Sometimes he has trouble with “L” sounds.)

“Oh…a girl with legs?” I tried not to laugh.

“L…egs,” he pronounced carefully. “It’s an ‘L’ kind of thing!”

The first time I went to Bribie Island was with Deryck before we got married. I remember taking off my shoes and burying my toes in the white sand.

Years later, when I said something about my unusually shaped toenails, Deryck said, “I noticed them that day we went to Bribie.”

Funny how things like that stick in your memory. That was over thirty years ago.

Last week I went on a bus trip to Bribie with a group from our church. The sand is still white. It felt good when I scuffed my toes through it, and the water looked clear and inviting.

“See how the waves sparkle when you look through these,” said one of the men, handing me his sunglasses.

The lenses made the sunlight on the waves turn to a shimmery silvery blue.

“Ooh, yes! It’s like the glitter on a Christmas card!”

It was a lovely day for a bus trip. A small group of us wandered away from the main group in the crowded shelter shed and spread our lunch on a small table closer to the beach. We were instantly surrounded by optimistic seagulls. I broke off a small piece of bread for them, but one of my friends jumped up and waved her arms at them.

“Shoo! Go away!”

“Oh, you meanie!”

“They’re scavengers,” she said. “You should never feed birds in the wild.”

She was quite right. Bread is not their natural food and it’s not good for them to be dependent on handouts. They should soaring high in the sky and swooping down to catch fish, not standing around in a pathetic dole-queue. Jonathon Livingstone Seagull would have scorned these dole-bludgers.

A large gull approached us boldly.

“Throw him a bottle top,” said someone.

“You can’t do that!” I protested. “remember what we studied last week… ‘If your son asks for bread will you give him a stone?’….. ”

“He’s not my son.”

“Same principle,” I said, surreptitiously tossing a piece of crust on the ground behind me.

There was a scuffle. One of the gulls emerged the victor and scolded the others noisily.

“There’s always a bossy one amongst them,” observed my friend.

“I suppose there is in just about any group, ” I said. I thought for a moment. “Which one is it in our group?”

Why were they all grinning at me like that?

“Me?”

“You whistle and I’ll point!” said my friend.

How do you tell?

There’s always someone who’ll talk to you in our local fruit shop.

“The mangoes have finished,” said an elderly man, pulling out a plastic bag.

“They’ve been lovely this year,” I said.

“Eh?”

Realising he was extremely deaf, I repeated it in a much louder voice.

We have so much wonderful fruit here. I looked around the shop. The mangoes, lychees, and cherries have finished. They were all plentiful this summer. But we still have apples, oranges, bananas, papaws, pineapples, rockmelons, grapes, passionfruit, peaches, plums, nectarines, watermelons…

“How do you tell if a watermelon is ripe?” asked my deaf friend.

“That’s easy,” I told him loudly. I tapped my head. “If it sounds like your head when you tap it, it’s not ripe. If it sounds like your belly it’s over ripe. But if it sounds like your chest, it’s just right!”

As I glanced around the crowded shop, I noticed that most of the customers were thoughtfully tapping their heads, their stomachs, their chests…

Missing Trolley

I soon completed my shopping in the supermarket. I didn’t need as much as usual. I left my trolley at the end of one of the aisles and wandered off to look in another store while Mum finished her shopping.

“I think that’s it!” she said, when I returned. “I’m ready when you are.”

“We’ll be home early today,” I said. “I’ll just get my trolley.” I hurried to the end of the aisle.

The trolley was gone.

I hunted up and down the aisles but there was no sign of it. I finally got a fresh trolley and started all aver again.

Aha! That bag of potatoes on top of the pile looked like the one I had carefully selected earlier. Someone had put it back. The supermarket staff must have thought my trolley had been abandoned and they put everything back on the shelves. They must have been having a slow day. I hadn’t been away that long!

I retraced my steps and reclaimed most of the items on my list.

“I don’t think we’ll be home early, after all,” I said when I rejoined Mum.

“Ah well, lets go and get fish and chips for tea!”

osunder

Happy Birthday Oscar

Every so often, I check my Birthday book to see if I have missed anyone’s birthday. I know all our family’s birthdays and most of my friend’s, but sometimes I slip up – like last week. It was Oscar’s birthday.

He turned three. That would be twenty-one in cat years so he was entitled to a “coming of age” party. I don’t know that I would give him a key to the door – he already spends quite enough time coming in and going out, thank you! But if I’d realised it was his birthday, I would have at least wished him a happy birthday and maybe opened a tin of gourmet cat food.

But someone remembered. A few days later, a Post Office delivery van stopped in front of my house and a big box was dropped at my front door. It was from Ben and Agnieszka (they’re in America) and it contained a 10lb pack of special light cat food (I’d told them the cats were putting on weight), a toy furry mouse and a dangly feather toy.

All three cats approved the food and Oscar insisted on a second helping. I refilled his bowl. After all, I had missed his birthday! But when he jumped on me and woke me at 3 a.m. and demanded more, that was the dizzy limit! I got up and deposited him outside the door. And I didn’t give him the key to get back in!

“It’s hard to believe this is the first day of Autumn!” said one of our customers yesterday. “This heat just goes on forever!” We were all dripping with perspiration. The brick hall where we hold our jumble sales is usually quite cool, but yesterday it was like a sauna. I was so glad to get home, have a shower and flop in front of the electric fan. The air was still all night. The sky loomed low and sucked up the last of my energy.

There was a refreshing breeze when I woke. I slept in late. If I’d been up early, I could have had the washing done and brought it in before the rain started. I think it has set in for days, and my clothes are hanging in the back shed.

The change in the temperature is quite dramatic. It’s hard to believe it’s only the second day of Autumn. During the morning I put on a light jacket. By afternoon I went searching for my old friend and comforter – my old blue dressing gown.

I’ve worn it around the house for nearly 25 years. It was already well worn when I bought it from a jumble sale for 80 cents. It has been mended and patched and the buttons have been replaced several times. Twice I’ve decided it had had its day and gave it to the cats to sleep on, then taken it back after a few days.

I have other dressing gowns, but none if them feel like my old blue friend. It’s soft, light and warm, fits comfortably over my clothes and doesn’t get in the way when I am working.

Well, that’s how it used to be. Evidently I didn’t look at it closely when I put it away after last winter. It didn’t survive the last wash. The raglan sleeves have frayed and pulled out from the neckband. The quilting has all come undone and the back is in shreds. It’s past mending this time. Oscar can have it to sleep on. A late birthday present, perhaps.

I hope he appreciates it.