Claws and Tiger Pear
It is now Wednesday in the mountains and autumn is definitely doing its thing. You know, lovely lovely clear blue sky days, a gentle breeze and perfect mid range temperature. Did I mention the quality of the light? Don't get me started on light quality. As a photographer light is everything. Light, light, light light. But, I will save you a discourse on the quality of light. Well, at least for now. Just don't get in a room with a group of photographers and bring the topic up unless you have an hour or two to spare.
It is now days since I was 'naked on the face of the earth' at the wombat house. Hum, well I can only stay naked for so long and headed out on Sunday afternoon. The drive back was fairly eventless, just me and Miss T. My mind drifted from claws to prickles. That morning my first year nice sat by me by the fire and started reading a short story from a child’s horror book, something like Stories for the Midnight Hour I think.
She liked the story '10 Claws' and read it to me while the smoke of the fire drifted in and out of the story. You couldn't buy magic moments like that! She then gave me the book and asked if I would read her another story. Fairs fair, how could I refuse.
So with the tiger pear and the claws story it seemed that spikey was my theme for that weekend. Well, the tiger pear has always been there but I was a little more cautious about it this time. On my last visit I was spiked through my thong (cultural note: aussie's call rubber things that go on your feet like sandals, thongs) Good to get that out of the way. Anyway, I was limping for about a week then my bloody foot (cultural note: bloody is not an abusive word in Oz, no bloody way mate)and it got infected and I had to take antibiotics and basically Tiger Pears are evil weeds. You look at them and tell me they aren’t evil!!!!
Leaving all spiky things behind I am now sitting back in my caravan. Yep, trailer trash on my own property, go figure. Have spent the last two days shuffling paper to please the tax man and my accountant but am starting to feel the cabin fever coming on again. Or is that caravan fever. At least I choose to be here. Can't imagine what it would be like if you found yourself trapped in a caravan park with no prospects. Imagine being trapped inside for weeks during a wet period. See, my mind is racing, the fever has began.
Tomorrow will be better, tomorrow will be better, tomorrow.... Well actually, Sunday will be better. I'm off to Victoria on a wee little journey with my daughter. I am helping an old friend move her stuff to a new location, new life down there. Margo is a Dutch woman who has been in Oz for many years now. She keeps saying to me, 'why didn't anyone tell me about Melbourne'. She is behaving like a young child going on an adventure and I suppose if you pack up all your worldly possessions and move to another state, new friends, new faces, new everything then it is an adventure. Go Margo! She is one of the first people I knew when I moved to the Blue Mountains. Taught her radio production skills at the local community radio then came back into contact with her some years ago. I have received praise and criticism on many things over the years but no one has ever given me credit for the attention I took to record, yep vinyl, care and cleaning and for folding my washing when I take it off the line. 'Arh, you are doing it the Dutch way'! Well, really, I'm just lazy and don't like ironing and that's the way my mum always did it. Spent many hours talking to my mum while she put out the washing or took it in. Well, she had six children so that was fairly often. A lot of people talk about family discussion happening around the kitchen table but I think most my real communication with my mum happened under a gum tree as she laboured with cloths and a piece of wire hang between two posts.
I am hoping to catch up with some relatives in and around Melbourne who I haven’t seen for many years, perhaps as much as 25 years. Well, that is not a life time but it is a hell of a long time, a bloody long time. Quiet a few have actually passed on since I last visited relatives down in Melbourne. Anyway that's enough for now. Catch you on the road to Vic. Catch you on the mighty Hume! One last thing, Melbourne is not such a bad place, it's just a little too far out of town. (You have to live in Sydney to appreciate the joke). Must go and polish the hub caps on the van
It is now days since I was 'naked on the face of the earth' at the wombat house. Hum, well I can only stay naked for so long and headed out on Sunday afternoon. The drive back was fairly eventless, just me and Miss T. My mind drifted from claws to prickles. That morning my first year nice sat by me by the fire and started reading a short story from a child’s horror book, something like Stories for the Midnight Hour I think.
She liked the story '10 Claws' and read it to me while the smoke of the fire drifted in and out of the story. You couldn't buy magic moments like that! She then gave me the book and asked if I would read her another story. Fairs fair, how could I refuse.
So with the tiger pear and the claws story it seemed that spikey was my theme for that weekend. Well, the tiger pear has always been there but I was a little more cautious about it this time. On my last visit I was spiked through my thong (cultural note: aussie's call rubber things that go on your feet like sandals, thongs) Good to get that out of the way. Anyway, I was limping for about a week then my bloody foot (cultural note: bloody is not an abusive word in Oz, no bloody way mate)and it got infected and I had to take antibiotics and basically Tiger Pears are evil weeds. You look at them and tell me they aren’t evil!!!!
Leaving all spiky things behind I am now sitting back in my caravan. Yep, trailer trash on my own property, go figure. Have spent the last two days shuffling paper to please the tax man and my accountant but am starting to feel the cabin fever coming on again. Or is that caravan fever. At least I choose to be here. Can't imagine what it would be like if you found yourself trapped in a caravan park with no prospects. Imagine being trapped inside for weeks during a wet period. See, my mind is racing, the fever has began.
Tomorrow will be better, tomorrow will be better, tomorrow.... Well actually, Sunday will be better. I'm off to Victoria on a wee little journey with my daughter. I am helping an old friend move her stuff to a new location, new life down there. Margo is a Dutch woman who has been in Oz for many years now. She keeps saying to me, 'why didn't anyone tell me about Melbourne'. She is behaving like a young child going on an adventure and I suppose if you pack up all your worldly possessions and move to another state, new friends, new faces, new everything then it is an adventure. Go Margo! She is one of the first people I knew when I moved to the Blue Mountains. Taught her radio production skills at the local community radio then came back into contact with her some years ago. I have received praise and criticism on many things over the years but no one has ever given me credit for the attention I took to record, yep vinyl, care and cleaning and for folding my washing when I take it off the line. 'Arh, you are doing it the Dutch way'! Well, really, I'm just lazy and don't like ironing and that's the way my mum always did it. Spent many hours talking to my mum while she put out the washing or took it in. Well, she had six children so that was fairly often. A lot of people talk about family discussion happening around the kitchen table but I think most my real communication with my mum happened under a gum tree as she laboured with cloths and a piece of wire hang between two posts.
I am hoping to catch up with some relatives in and around Melbourne who I haven’t seen for many years, perhaps as much as 25 years. Well, that is not a life time but it is a hell of a long time, a bloody long time. Quiet a few have actually passed on since I last visited relatives down in Melbourne. Anyway that's enough for now. Catch you on the road to Vic. Catch you on the mighty Hume! One last thing, Melbourne is not such a bad place, it's just a little too far out of town. (You have to live in Sydney to appreciate the joke). Must go and polish the hub caps on the van
posted by transavante | 4:33 p.m.
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