moving right along…

James Eaton Whirligig

Gosh, people, where have I been? Up and down the highway back and forth to doctors, it seems.

Monday; to the City to visit my “old doctor” for a regular visit. I do visit a local doctor, but I just can’t form a real relationship, as yet, so I tend to return to my City Doctor from time to time. This was for regular scripts and a referral for a colonoscopy.

While there, it was decided to remove a mole low on the side of my neck and a few other skin issues related to my childhood spent in the Australian sun, but of course that couldn’t be achieved that day, so I had to return on Wednesday for that. The mole removal resulted in three stitches and it is just where every movement of my neck pulls on the wound. The driver’s seat belt also rubs right over it, something I didn’t realise until a few days later when Mr FD wasn’t chauffeuring me about the countryside, and I was solo in my car. Necessity being the mother of invention, I was therefore sighted driving down the highway with a cardigan rolled up and placed between neck and seatbelt! Viola.

I also had the “good fortune” to slot into a cancellation for a colonoscopy, on Friday 10th, which is still vacation time and so not needing a day off work, but we had to go back to the city for a preprep appointment and to collect my instructions for the days ahead. Things are moving along, shall we say. I have to take Movicol twice a day, start a low fibre diet from Monday, and then have the “explosive fun night” on Thursday. We have to present at the city hospital at 6.30 am Friday, meaning I have to rise at 3.30 to drink and do, before an hour’s drive to the city. Oh happy day!

Petite Fille and her Mummy came to visit for a few days as I was zipping up and down the road. One day, the local show (fair) was on, a shadow of what it was in my childhood, but Petite Fille enjoyed watching the dog show, the cows being prepared for judging, and the chickens. A man on a big red vintage tractor drove by and that topped our morning off. However, the best thing was the whirligig on a long stick that Grandma FD bought for Petite Fille. There was sheer joy on her face as she walked along with the whirligig spinning in the breeze. Priceless, as they say.

And please, do not say “there is a spotty dog” to Petite Fille, who will only reply that it is called a dalmatian. Get it right, Grandma! On the plus side, I just have to say the word “tough” and Petite Fille falls into giggles. I adore the mind of a 2 1/4 year old.

I actually followed them back to the city on Saturday, as it was Daugher1 and Mr Boy’s fifth wedding anniversary (yes, five years!) Mr Boy had asked me to babysit while he took his beloved to a fancy restaurant. It was quite the evening, where they sampled salmon, black ants and apple. Yes ants. Mr Boy stated his tasted like lemon, but D2 said the ants gave her move of a shock or zing in her mouth. They also feasted on duck egg, truffle and toast, which I had money on daughter selecting when Mr Boy shared the online menu with me. Daughter1 knew she was going out for dinner, but not which restaurant so it was a fine selection by Mr Boy.

Petite Fille and I feasted on kranksy sausage hotdogs at home, before retiring early. It was a full evening.

So week one of the holidays down! Body maintenance is the theme of the holidays. Stitches out Thursday also.

a moment in universal time

shooting star through the trees in Edsbyn, Sweden

High on our hillside at night, the lights of the town below glitter like dozens of sparkling stars. I sit outside my house and know that I could just raise a hand to pluck twinkling lights from the branches of the trees.

True stars, brilliant in the clear, country sky above, are not intimidated by my thoughts of  paltry substitution.  They have glistened for millions of years, and will for millions more. Humankind and streetlights, but a blink in their light years; a moment in universal time.

The moon in June and other blues

winter socks

June arrived with a shiver. We have been living foggy, 4C dawns. Rising at 5am is never a thrill, but there is no potential for joy on a cold, dark, winter’s morning. Mr FD stokes the fire before he retires for the night and the last couple of mornings I have risen to a not so harsh 17C within our double cavity brick home. Yeah for brick and wood!

Yesterday, as I drove down the hill, I was gifted a view of the setting moon, just above the horizon. So elegant, so silent. I carried the joy until I saw the first student walk into the library.

Minerva and I had a deep conversation about how physically and emotionally exhausting the present crop of students are to work with. Minerva has been at the school over ten years, and so has more experience with the demographic, but the narcissism and sense of entitlement that we are battered with each day is just wearing us all down. One teacher who has been at the school 17 years  and elsewhere before that, has declared one year level the worst in her long career.

I started writing report comments this week. You know, those things that we send to parents where we aren’t allowed to tell any truths. As frustrating as it is, spending hours to choose sentences from a small, restricted comment bank that never suits the student in need of the comment, it does mean that semester break is only three weeks away.

winter break

Two weeks winter vacation. No plans, no commitments. I shall stay in my pjs the entire time (I have multiple pairs, I will shower and change), except for when visiting Petite Fille.

Long weekend approaching. Invite to a first birthday party for the wee baby born prematurely last year. She has passed all her milestones and is a glorious little girl, now crawling (chronological age 12 months, but she was born three months early). Petite Fille will be attending as a cousin. If their Mummies are first cousins, what does that make the little girls? Third cousins? First cousins twice removed; though that is more an American description, I think? Playmates? Friends. Mates.

The most pressing thought is what does one wear to a First Birthday party? Machine washable?

birthday fashion

The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain!


Walking across the supermarket car park, I heard a female voice echo from a nearby car.

“He said I needed elocution lessons, so I said, “Fuck off”.”

I hastened my step.


The majesty and grandeur of the English language, it’s the greatest possession we have. The noblest thoughts that ever flowed through the hearts of men are contained in its extraordinary, imaginative, and musical mixtures of sounds.

Professor Henry Higgins: My Fair Lady


Not quite, Dog Crosses Road.


Darcy Doyle

One aspect of living in a rural area is the sense of community that has been created over time; or as Mr FD like to tease me as I was originally a country girl, generations of inbreeding. My mother declares to this day, demented or not, that she and Dad were not related – well, not closely anyway.

People get to know people. Your electrician is my electrician, that sort of thing.

We have a little community magazine, that started life as a weekly paper eons ago, but is now just a little 6 or 8 page magazine filled with local news, photos of garden show participants and the largest vegetable at the local competition. It is like sitting on the deck with an old friend to share a gossip. Important stuff.

This week’s main article was breath taking however. Memorable.

It seems that a local business had need of the help of the local electrician. He assisted working through the night to restore their power. Job completed Sparky locked up, went home and then onto another job. Business owners returned next morning only to discover they needed Sparky’s help again. But alas, he had gone to another job!

The word from his wife was that the route might take him down the main street and right by the business. So ever the need, the Owner wrote a sign with the words “Dan call in!” and plants it on the footpath. Dan being Sparky’s real name – sorry if you thought he was really called Sparky.

Now it gets hilarious here…

Turns out Owner has an employee named Dan who was having the day off. Someone saw the sign and told Day off Dan he was needed at work. So Day off Day gets dressed in his work clothes and presents himself. What a hoot, the wrong Dan!

Yes, that is the kind of community we live in now. The simplicity is just wonderful – quarter page article and photo of the sign complete.


Don’t spoil my day by asking why they didn’t phone Dan on his mobile. Let me live in my Norman Rockwell fantasy a few minutes longer.


Birds of a feather

The last couple of mornings, I have taken the end slices of a loaf of bread out to feed the birds. This morning, a rather chilly morning, I sat in my favourite chair with a lovely breakfast cup of tea. Augie Dog, however had other ideas, and after looking through the glass patio door to the garden beyond turned and barked at me.

Augie’s bark is a rare occurrence, and so when he does bark we normally pay attention. It took me a couple of minutes to realise that Augi wanted to go feed the birds. This is not in particular that he loves birds, it is more that it is one piece of bread for Augie, one piece for the birds!

So out we go, expecting the usual magpies and miner birds, but today we were blessed with a Kingfisher



and a dozen or more Scaly Breasted Lorikeets.

scaly-breasted lorikeet

scaly-breasted lorikeet

Terrible name, but so delicate and pretty. Very noisy though! We always know when they are in our garden, for when the flock, often two or three dozen birds, in our trees, their screeching rises above everything else.

and the sun came

breakfast may

Tres bit tired and emotional last night. A late rising this morning, our Saturday breakfast, which has even Augie Dog dancing about in the kitchen in anticipation each weekend, and then a return to bed to sleep until early afternoon, put Flamingo Dancer in a better place.

Most Saturdays, once everyone has risen, the timing of which is rather varied in a household of adults, I cook a bacon and eggs breakfast Sometimes with mushrooms, or bananas, or avocado or whatever we choose. Augie receives his usual breakfast piece of toast that he gets each day, but his weekend treat is a small rash of bacon.

As we cook it, he dashes back and forth across the kitchen. If it doesn’t seem as though we are paying attention to the bacon frying, Augie may bark in his frustration. Once it is in his bowl, he calms down and often has a wee nap. Surely, a reminder that the simple things in life are the best!

It is late afternoon, and I have accomplished very little today. A couple loads of laundry is about it. Right now, I am enjoying a Pink Flamingo cocktail (last night it was one Moscow Mule; we are big on the animal cocktail spectrum!).

Tomorrow it starts over again. Not quite an early weekday start, but I will need to leave by 8am, so no sleep in, no leisurely breakfast. They have promised us a free coffee and muffin…sigh.


[The rain cleared in our area, but five people drowned after trying to cross flooded roads last night, three in one family …]