Mamalade

Yes, that’s a typo. I really meant to type “block,” but somehow “bolock” seems more adequate, so I’ll leave it.

Well, it’s the last day of September, and I would really love to have something to say before the month vanishes into - well, where ever it is that used months vanish to. (I was trying to sound literary, but failed miserably because I’m suffering from a severe case of “writers bolock.”)

So what’s been happening since I last updated – that I could write about?

I could write about Spring Cleaning and how I keep opening the cupboard door just to feast my eyes on the temporary neatness!

Or how it’s so dry here, even the weeds are too weak to offer much resistance.

Or about an obnoxious customer at our jumble sale. (But what if she read it?)

Or our World Vision Craft Morning when Pam showed us some lovely things from “Fair Trade.”

Or the hilarious game of “Articulate” we played with Shea and Callum.

But my mind just feels too lazy to develop any of it into something worth reading.

So the last few days, when I tried to write, I ended up playing Free Cell. I’m quite good at it now.

I turned to my ‘Tunnel Writing” book for inspiration. Most of it is very boring tunnel writing (I’ll explain that term soon.) mixed with accounts of dreams that I remember. No inspiration there, but then I started writing about different kinds of writing:

The usual way. Stare at a blank page or computer screen. Mind goes blank. Well, not really blank – different ideas chase each other round your brain but you don’t feel like committing to any of them, because that means making a mental effort.

Make a few feeble attempts to write the first sentence. Decide it doesn’t sound right. Cross it out or delete it. Try another one. Ditto. Give up and play Free Cell.

Slam writing. Start with an idea and a vague plan about where it is leading. Write fast – whatever words come. Don’t worry how it sounds, it can be rearranged and corrected later. Just get it all down before it evaporates.

Tunnel Writing. You don’t have any idea at all. You just pick up a pen (I find it works best with pen and paper) and write – anything at all. Each sentence suggests the next sentence. You don’t know which way it will go or where it will end. It’s a matter of lowering your horizon – not worrying about where you are going or whether it will be worthwhile, but you enjoy the trip and occasionally you discover something.

(This is mostly unedited tunnel writing with just a touch of Slam.)

Oh… just in case you’re interested, here is the most recent dream I recorded in my book. You’ll probably find it boring – you had to be there!

Dream
I was talking to Joyce* at a Toastmasters Executive meeting. John* called me over and asked “Are you alright?”

I was surprised. I said, “Yes.”

He said, “Do you have insurance?”

“Yes,” I said. “The World Vision office faxed our certificate through for our stall.”

I went out the front of the house to call Del* in to the meeting. She wouldn’t move. I realised there were rough looking men in a car outside and she didn’t want to walk past them.

“Climb over the fence,” I told her.

Del and I walked through a long paddock on our way back to the house. I picked up a broken knife that was lying on the ground. I didn’t want the men to find it, so I thought I’d take it back to the house and put it in the rubbish bin.

The men were close behind us. I didn’t want them to see I had the knife, so I slipped it under a blue bunny rug that was spread out on the ground.

The men followed us into the house and went into the front room. I went out the back and said to Penne, “Ring the police on your mobile phone.”

Penne said, “I can’t, they’re not doing anything.”

One of the men came out the back. He was escorting a woman with a baby in a stroller. She was taking a short cut through the house. The man was polite and helped her with the stroller on the stairs.

One of our jumble sale customers came to the back door, intending to take a shortcut through to the front street. I felt I should warn her about the men, even though they seemed to be letting people through.

Before I could say anything, one of the men grabbed her and held the broken knife to her throat. Another one ran a big knife that acted as a metal detector over her body.

I thought, “If they do that to us, they’ll find Penne’s phone.”

* Joyce’s house had been broken into at the weekend. She was telling us about some of the undesirable characters in the area.
* Penne phoned John on her mobile phone during the meeting.
* We talked about Del doing Table Topics.

Miles gave his first speech in front of an audience last week – and he’s only five! Nothing remarkable about that really – all the kids at his pre-school have a turn at being the “Star” for the day and to tell their “Life Story.”

Frances had helped him (well, I think she really did most of it herself) to compile a book of photos of himself, his family, friends, pets, etc, so all he really had to do for his talk was to show and explain the pictures.

I minded Hayley while Frances took Miles to pre-school and sat in on his talk session.

“The kids were so funny,” she reported when she came back. “The teacher told them to ask Miles questions after his talk. All they wanted to know was, ‘Where do you keep the book?’ ‘Where do you leave it when you come to pre-school?’ Miles were getting frustrated. He kept telling them. ‘We just made the book last night!’ The teacher asked if anyone had a different question. One little boy said he did. So he asked, “Where do you put the book when you go to bed?’”

Meanwhile, Hayley and I had enjoyed our morning together. She’s talking well for a 20-months-old. She soon discovered the cats. “Hello Kitty!” she greeted Olive who was stretched languorously on the ironing board. Then Ingrid scuttled past and Hayley exclaimed, “Here I are – more Kitty!”

I realised how much her speech has improved when the rubbish truck came and emptied the wheelie bin. (An exciting event ) Two weeks ago she had waved after the departing truck and called “Seeya, wubbi guk!” But this time she said, “Seeya later, wubbi shruk!”

Hayley insists on calling Miles “Gobble.” I tried to get her to say “Miles.”

“Can you say “MmmmmmmmmmmmMummy!” I coached her.

“MmmmmmmmmmmmMummy!” said Hailey.

“MmmmmmmmmmmmMeemar!” I prompted.

“MmmmmmmmmmmmMeemar!” said Hayley.

“MmmmmmmmmmmmMiles!” I said.

“MmmmmmmmmmmmGobble!” said Hayley.

When they were leaving, Hayley waved, “Bye,bye Meemar, seeya later!”

“See you later, alligator!” I said.

Hayley chuckled. “You nunny, Meemar!”

“You’re funny too, Hayley,” I said.

Some days I wonder if I should have just stayed in bed. I woke up late on Sunday, feeling fuzzy. I wondered if I should phone Mum and tell her I didn’t feel like going to Church, but I knew she’d already be dressed and waiting. I got up and pointed the body, hoping my head would clear. Mum said she was feeling tired when I picked her up. She hadn’t slept well.

“Will we stay home and rest?” I asked.

“No, let’s go.” She turned back to get her house key, then decided, “I won’t need my key – you’ve got one.” (I keep a spare key to Mum’s house on my key ring.)

It was our Church’s 23rd Anniversary. I began to feel glad we’d made the effort. The service was a joyous celebration with plenty of bright singing, skits, and even dancing girls! (Things have changed in the last 50 years!) The dancers were totally at one with the music and their movements flowed naturally. But one or two little girls seemed conspicuously self-conscious. Oh, they were making the same movements that the others did, but they appeared to be trying too hard. A perfect illustration of what the sermon was about, “Faith versus Works” - if we are totally to yielded to God, then our actions come naturally…. (Here endeth the lesson!)

Outside in the Spring sunshine, Mum was looking weary. “Do you want to sit in the car?” I asked “I won’t be long.” I wanted to speak to a friend for a few minutes. I groped in my handbag for the car keys. They weren’t in the usual compartment.

“Are they in the outside pocket?” asked Mum.

“No, it’s full of Leopard Tree seeds!” (Don’t ask!)

I sat on a nearby seat and emptied the contents of my bag…purse, small pack of tissues, cassette of last week’s sermon, two muesli bars, water bottle, ginger nut biscuits, tiny carton of long-life milk, peppermints, (People with Hypoglycemia are always preoccupied with food!) more tissues, two rolls of sticky tape, drawing pins, church bulletin, notepad, nine pens, postcard from Dublin…

“No wonder you can’t find anything,” observed Mum.

“Surely I couldn’t have…” I hurried to the car and peered through the window in dismay.

There they were, dangling from the ignition, with the photo of my two grandchildren serenely smiling on the key ring!

“Have you got a spare key at home ?” asked a friend. “I’ll drive you home to get it.”

We headed toward her car. “Oh, no!” I suddenly realised. “My house keys are in the car!” They were on the same key ring! Then I brightened. “We can go to Mum’s and get my spare house keys!”

And so we could have, if the key to Mum’s house hadn’t been also locked in the car!

Joel has keys to my place, but I knew he and Frances had gone out for the day. Maybe my sister Relle still had spare keys…

Meanwhile, about six of the young men had come to help and were trying to unlock the car with pieces of wire, tape and screwdrivers. If they were successful, it would save my friend an unnecessary trip, but I hoped they wouldn’t damage the car.

“Maybe I should see if Relle is home.”

Someone produced a mobile phone. Yes, Relle was home and had spare keys to my house.

Mum waited in the shade while my friend drove me to Relle’s place to get my house keys, then to my place to get the car key, and back to the church.

“I’ll try it in the lock before I tell Mum the good news,” I said. The car door opened and I retrieved the bunch of keys.

I ran over to where Mum was waiting and brandished the keys triumphantly. “Da,dah! Now we can go!” We both flopped into the car in exhausted relief. It was hot and we were getting tired and hungry. I turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. No lights on the dashboard, just dead silence.

I went in search of help again. More men came to my aid. An older group this time, each one of them determined to prove he was the one who could start the car.

They pushed the car back (narrowly missing a tree) to make room for someone in a big van with jumper leads. No luck.

“There’s a loose wire on one of the terminals!”

“It must be the generator!”

The fan belt needs replacing!”

“They must have disconnected something when they poked wire down through the windows!” That was my suspicion too.

“I’ll get my son to come and look at it later,” I said firmly.

“Can I give you a lift home?” asked a man called Toby.

“Yes, please!”

Mum and I sank gratefully into the back seat of his car. Half way home, Mum asked me, “You’ve got your keys now, haven’t you?”

“Of course!” I felt in my handbag for reassurance, but I didn’t find it – nor the keys!

“Oh, no! I couldn’t have!”

Toby pulled over to the side of the road. “Now take your time and have a good look. If they’re not there we’ll turn around and go back.”

I spread my jacket on the seat and emptied my handbag onto it… purse, small pack of tissues, cassette of last week’s sermon, two muesli bars, water bottle, ginger nut biscuits, tiny carton of long-life milk, peppermints, more tissues, two rolls of sticky tape, drawing pins, church bulletin, notepad, nine pens, postcard from Dublin, the spare house keys and spare car keys, but not the original set of keys which included the key to Mum’s house, which was where we were headed.

Toby made a U Turn and drove back toward the church while I stuffed the contents of my bag back in place. As I lifted my jacket off the seat I heard a familiar jingle.

“Oh…I found the keys. They were in my lap!”

How embarrassing!

Toby made another U Turn and headed homeward once more.

“This would make a good story,” said Mum.

“Yeah,” I said. “In a hundred years time we’ll probably laugh about this!”

Joel came home late in the afternoon and drove me back to the church and got the car going. It was the battery after all. When I had left the keys the ignition, I couldn’t have quite turned it off properly. I don’t know why the men couldn’t jump start it that morning. Maybe they didn’t charge it for long enough.

Joel got me to drive my car back to his place and he put it on the charger all night, I played with the kids until Joel brought me home at 8.30 pm - 12 hours after I’d left home that morning! I was so tired I went straight to bed.

Yesterday, Frances came and got me so I could bring the car home. When I came back, my neighbour was trying to get into his own house. He had locked himself out.

How could anyone be so stupid!