During the winter we sit near the fire down at the front end Summer time means the outside deck is the place to be Unless it’s too hot – then it’s inside to eat and outside for drinks and chat
There’s free off street parking right there at the back door and if there’s ever a time I can’t manage the steps….well, The Golfer can drive round the corner and drop me at the main front door
I had a ‘lovely light lunch’ of quiche plus salad and a small serve of some perfectly cooked hot chips …….but Bad Blogger that I am…..I forgot to take a photo. I did take one of my coffee though😊. Someone had been practicing their latte art – an autumn leaf.
The 2nd of the ‘big boy’ jumpers is finished. And the 3rd in the trio is begun. Another Sirdar pattern from the same era so I’ve just used the same measurements and adjusted the side panel stitches. They should (hopefully) all be very similar in size
As simple as it looks it took a little while to get the cable sequences right and there were a few choice words spoken and rows unpicked at one stage so I might just chicken out and do a plain back as well as plain sleeves
When all three are finished and finally on their way to Knit one Give one aka KOGO the time will have come to concentrate on something different- something close to my heart – something I’ve been thinking about for a while.
It’s two years to the day since Patsy my blond curly haired little sister died Tribute – Sleep well my little one.
Next sister – Me – Little sister Patsy – Baby brother 1998
Take a look at this delightful photo (which I might have shown before) of Patsy (aged about 3)…….maybe just maybe, there might be some woolies coming up featuring little bunny rabbits. And as an aside it’ll be 20yrs on Saturday since my mum (she who knit Patsy’s rabbit jumper) died. These anniversaries are so hard on the heart.
I’m thinking my ‘2023 word to work with’ is going to be consider so I’ll have to think carefully about this one. Cardigan or Jumpers (sweaters). Size….can’t be too small or it will be dwarfed by the motif. Colour……practical for children in unknown circumstances or ‘soft and pretty’ because that’s what she was. I know there are graphs somewhere in amongst my patterns so guess what I’ll be doing today……if I don’t get sidetracked by my latest read .
Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont is a very short book to begin a shorter than usual month. Hopefully this will rekindle enthusiasm after my short reading lull during the last month.
Apart from the two mentioned early last month there was just one more book finished during January. The Commandant – Jessica Anderson. Historical Fiction about Moreton Bay Penal Colony (later to become Brisbane), involving the strange combination of its real life controversial commander Patrick Logan plus his wife’s (fictional) sister Frances. I didn’t make it to book club because covid had come visiting so after a reasonable pause this (January’s) book was delivered to my door. It would’ve been rude of me not to start it…….actually it turned out to be a very good read
Wednesday is the day Kat hosts ‘Unraveled Wednesday ‘ Today is also the first Wednesday in February so I’m sharing my post – pop over and discover what others are knitting, reading and talking about
Over the years I’ve often thought about something and wondered ‘did that really happen’ – was I there or am I remembering someone else’s recollections that might have been mentioned in passing. My memory sometimes plays tricks with me and on the odd occasion I’ve actually (in a nice way) been proven wrong. Which doesn’t do much for your self esteem when you think you’re ageing quite nicely.
Anyway when we were younger (1950s) and went over to visit family in Belfast we always stayed with the same aunt. Of Dad’s sisters she was the one who had the room to put up another family….basically doubling the amount of people in her house….now that’s what’s called love.
At the time there were 3 of us girls and 3 girl cousins and the words ‘6 in a wonky bed’ keep cropping up in my mind but I don’t remember it actually happening. It’s what family did in those days but I can’t see (in my minds eye) us top and tail in a big bed. I’ve no idea where Mum & Dad slept or Aunty Maudie and Uncle Herby slept but it’s where us 3 girls and the 3 girls cousins spent the night that’s been bothering me.
I had a surprise early last month when a cousin contacted me on a genealogy site – he is the ‘baby brother’ of these girl cousins, he was much younger than me so we didn’t actually ‘know’ each other which meant lots of newsy notes have passed to and from each other. He mentioned he’d forwarded them onto his sisters and this came back from one of them:-
Tell Catherine my memory is 6 of us sharing a bed when they stayed with us. xx”
When I passed all this on to my next sister this is what she came back with:-
Memories of Finaghy. Definitely the 6 in a bed plus the uncertainty of the springs dropping through the frame and us ending up on the floor.
So it looks like it did actually happen. I’m still wondering though if my memory has been sparked by others talking about it..
How do you go with memories…..are yours real? or second hand passed on by others who were also there?
Nobody believed me when I said I used to cook cakes
Even the ones who were there 😊
One little boy with his older brother – nearly seniors now Oh dear, how did they get to be that old
This hoard of old photos is really bringing back memories- I can see those two little lads sitting there by the back door as if it were yesterday.
I have some friends who dislike looking at old images because they see the years that have passed them by – me, I love them because I think they remind us of that passage of time and how it has defined the person/s we/they are today We are able to look back and see how our life has changed. See what we got up to in those years gone by, how or if we altered our attitudes, losing or gaining friends along the way. Happily or sadly how we ended up where we are today.
Whether they are forgotten experiences (as in the boys not remembering the chocolate cake) or ones remembered fondly (like me remembering the day I cooked the chocolate cake in the tiny kitchen with the boys hanging around to get a ‘lick of the wooden spoon’) there’s no denying they happened.
So yes in my younger days, even if the family think otherwise I did cook chocolate cakes
~ ~ ~ ~
How about you – are there things you’ve done (run marathons, climbed mountains, cooked cakes) that nobody believed you have/could have done??
(This is one of my long ‘thinking out loud’ posts – you’re welcome to leave now )
~ ~ ~ ~
Something that’s been On my Mindthese past few days has been how I reacted when I realised the use (or non use) of one thing led to the need and use of another which led to the need for and use of something much more necessary . And after seeing how quickly it struck, the realisation that even fully vaccinated (2 original doses plus 2 boosters) without the last item he would well and truly have been up sh*t creek. And yes, the full cost of that antiviral medication was $1101.39 AUD! ~ ~ ~
Being annoyed because someone decided…in an auditorium filled with about 1000 other people…( in an environment where now – rightly or wrongly – “…It is no longer a legal requirement for people diagnosed with COVID-19 to isolate…” source)… with case numbers rising again and me sitting beside him wearing one…NOT to mask up… was nothing to how I felt when someone told me a couple of days later ‘he felt a bit off’ but he’d taken a couple of Panadol so should be right. He seemed to be in denial even though his RAT test was +ve almost instantly (plus the 2nd one because ‘maybe the 1st wasn’t correct’)
A couple of hours later his temp was sky high and he was feeling ‘more than a bit off’ (And yes I know there’s no guarantee when masks are worn but at least you’re making an effort to protect yourself and others……including those you ‘love!)
That first day there was much anger…Angela rightly called it resentment…name calling, some involving words The Golfer didn’t realise I knew….because deep down I was worried. Both for him and also selfishly me. Everything seemed to take time – I seemed to be constantly on the go. Phone scripts are great if the link works, waiting for ones sent direct to the pharmacy took more time. Needing to start that medication plus use the prescribed inhaler asap seemed to make it go slower.
Then there was daily laundering – clothing and bed linen because of high raised temp/fever 38/39°, vomiting, spilled drinks, you name it, – unexpected incontinence even…yes maybe TMI but an unusual symptom – trying to get him to drink and possibly eat a little something (sore throat, don’t want it!) – dippy eggs with soldiers plus hot water, honey & lemon to the rescue! (Also grated cheese on toast done under the grill so it was soft then cut in quarters so he could nibble from the middle and leave the crusts. Nursery food!). Health dept. suggestion of keeping everything he used separate and sterilised was interesting but manageable.
Nature was kind so he was able to sit outside most days, which was a help – fresh air and sunshine were good for him – meant I could keep him company at a distance – all the doors and windows inside could be open – also because trying to get him to keep a mask on indoors (near me) was a trial – lots of wars of words – I was ready to clobber him one if I heard the words ‘yes mum’ again.
For me sleeping in the other bedroom (another ‘highly recommended- if possible’ health dept suggestion) was necessary but not fun. Almost had one ear/one eye open most nights… this was my strong confident man shuffling along needing to be guided to the toilet because he couldn’t locate the door, waking me to ask if I put the bins out (not on bin night tho’), heard rustling around in the linen cupboard, no idea where he was, looking for the hot water bottle ( my feet are cold – put some socks on – don’t want to) Oh dear illness does strange things to people.
It’s all over bar the shouting (and the lingering cough) now, daily health dept ‘check up’ contact calls have morphed into calls alternating with phone questionnaires,…. Wednesday he’s going to venture onto the golf course, attempting just half a round – 9 holes. I’m feeling a little guilty about how I felt and words that were spoken by ME – the one who has spent all her life living, working, then volunteering in a ‘caring environment’.
This time 3 years ago December 2019, we’d have wondered what all the fuss was about. Now we know better – but – if there was this much stress, frustration and disappointment (How could you – I don’t need this) in a household of just two people, how on earth did households with several covid cases cope?
If you got this far thank you for reading- I just needed to get it off my chest. Now it’s time for another cup of tea and wonder what this week will bring😊
There are so many rabbit holes on the internet designed to lure us in like fish to a hook. And like many of us who are searchers of family past and present I subscribe to one called Ireland Reaching Out – a free site ( no payment needed) one that you don’t have to be a ‘member of’ to enjoy the content. Just ‘drop in and read’ – if you are really interested you could join their mailing list – which is how I found this interesting article
But first…..
After my Granny in Belfast died (1960) and Dad had come back from the funeral it was a little bit quiet in our house. Slowly he started to talk about it and one thing he mentioned and seemed rather happy over puzzled us
Dad said ‘all the houses on both sides of the street had closed their curtains’
We sort of knew it was an old fashioned thing to do with funerals but that was all
Then Mum would often say ‘don’t put your shoes on the table – it’s bad luck’.
We had no idea what would happen but none of us dare put shoes (new or otherwise) on the table😊
That Irish website I referred to up above recently put out a new article. One where Rituals, Superstitions, Women, Games and the Church all played a part.
The traditional “Merry Wake” represented the core of the funeral customs of the poor. Opposed by the Roman Catholic clergy throughout the nineteenth century, the “Merry Wake” was performed right up to the first half of the twentieth centurysource
And after reading it guess what I discovered – two little gems that might explain Mum and Dad’s words…..plus much much more
All curtains in the house would be drawn except for the one nearest the body to allow a clear pathway to heaven
~ ~ ~ ~
Candles were placed at the head and foot of the deceased along with a pair of shoes to aid their travel to the next world
You know how it is, you’re having a conversation with someone, the topic changes and you’re left behind. That’s when you need a back up memory aka someone to remind you of the things you’ve forgotten
One minute I’m chatting to my next sister about what life in India must have been like during the late 1800s for our Gt Grandparents – John Joseph Patrick Doyle and Jane Muir.
John and Jane Doyle abt 1876
Even with the ‘perks’ a soldier of his rank (colour sgt) would have had, the climate and environment would have been something neither would have encountered before. Likewise for many of the ordinary rank soldiers who would have been going on patrol up country.
Then a short while later we are talking about hop picking. For a few years during the late 1940s/ early 1950s we lived in Cosham Hampshire – Dad had been posted away and Mum was always looking for ways to earn some extra pennies. I could remember during the summer school holidays travelling on an old bus along with what seemed like every local woman and crying baby up Wymering Lane and over the nearby Portsdown Hill to huge fields full of enormous poles with vines hanging down. Then having to carry bags full of ‘stuff’ my mother deemed we needed for the day. Next sister sent me this old photo to remind me of the look and feel of the hop fields.
She remembers so many different things to me, mothers singing in the bus, primus stoves and enamel tea pots, green coloured flasks with corks in the top, door stop sandwiches (no sliced bread). Being allowed to get dirty, running amok amongst the tall hop poles barefooted or in the previous years gutties with the toes cut out…..because our feet had grown and there was no spare cash to buy new ones. You can tell from those memories who was the younger one with less responsibilities!
Lots of laughter because when she mentioned gutties – I thought she said putties and had returned to soldiers in India😊
No, she said, those canvas shoes we wore during the summer. They made your feet sweat and we had to clean them outside with some pastey white stuff. Blanco I told her, made the laces go stiff and the white stuff used to come off, floating in the air like a fine dust
But weren’t they called Sand Shoes? Gym Shoes? Plimsolls?. No, Dad called them Gutties, something else I’d forgotten. That’s what they’re called in Northern Ireland
I showed her the photo of me in my white shoes and seeing the dress she had on she remarked (once again) how she’d never forgotten how she had to wear my old clothes. So I had to remind her about no extra cash and everything being passed on. There don’t seem to be any photos to prove otherwise but we think our little sister also wore the same dress one summer a few years later. Sadly she is no longer with us to say yay or nay🙁
Not the shoes tho’ – they’d had the toes cut out so we could get another summer’s ’round the house or playing in the street’ wear out of them
You know, all these years later I still wear some form of those white canvas shoes during the summer. Perfect for round the house or down the beach.
No need for all that messy white stuff these days – I just chuck them in the washing machine and hang them on the line to dry and if the toes wear through, no worries, they’ll be right for gardening the next year
What memories have you relived recently. ~ ~ ~ ~ I see no wrong in admitting you’ve forgotten something – to me being reminded in some circumstances makes the memory fresh again
Linking to Wednesday’s Words & Pics hosted by Denyse. Where you’ll find lots of life to read about
“…the carpet, originally green, but worn bare in many places, resembled a drought stricken lawn…”
Memories of the crisp brown ground we had in the back garden during those 10 long years of drought with no outside watering of any sort allowed
December 2006
Backyard cricket at Grandma’s in the early 2000s meant keeping something on your feet because the ‘lawn’ was hard and you never knew what you might tread on!
And yes, over the back fence was out….because nobody was game enough to go and ask for the ball back….because our ‘delightful neighbour’ would just tell them to get lost!
~ ~ ~ ~ . Green now after a recent ‘southern wet’….but who knows what this summer will bring
Wish ~ desire or hope for something to happen. If wishes were fishes we’d all swim in riches!
A winter wish from a few years ago!
Two photos taken in the very early 1950s came to light the other day and a whole lot of emotions bubbled up to surface – some good some not so good
Plus the word Wish….
I would have been about 9 in the first one – it was a happy day. My grandad from Belfast had come over on the boat to visit us in England and an uncle plus his family were there also. I had on a new dress and remember wishing I could wear it every day and that Grandad didn’t have to go back home.
As we were growing up there were times when my sister would wish she didn’t have to wear ‘cast offs’ with turned up hems. She would never accept the fact that as much as she wished otherwise, it wasn’t my fault I was growing out of clothes, she was growing as well, money didn’t grow on trees and she was next in line – as you can see.
You never get anything by wishing, my mother was fond of saying. Hard work and determination is what’s needed!,
That was my mother, wearied from the war years, the one I wished would love me more than the sister she gave my clothes to. If she loved me, she wouldn’t have got angry and cut (chopped) my hair off with her big scissors. I remember squealing and shouting as she brushed it one morning, trying to untangle the knots before it was plaited for school, all the time saying to me ‘I wish you would be quiet and stand still’ Oh how I wished I’d done as I was told that day – my mother was no hairdresser and I went to school that morning looking a bit – odd
It’s strange that all these years later I’m reflecting on this and wishing things had turned out differently – my mother and I never got on, my sister continued to get my ‘cast offs, I never grew my hair long, Grandad went away back across the Irish Sea and I only got to see him 3 more times.
Oh, but listen to this, my sister still wears ‘cast offs’ – chosen very carefully with a good eye for what will suit her – from ‘Green Boutiques’ (aka charity shops)😊
And….. the beach with a hammock turned up on Green Island Qld back in 2009……..still looking for the winning lotto ticket though 😊
Are you a dreamer hoping your wishes come true? ~ ~ or more like my mother ~ ~ who thought wishes were pointless?
Linking to Wednesday’s Words & Pics hosted by Denyse. Where you’ll find lots of life to read about
Someone else had a birthday a couple of weeks ago so we took the train ‘up to town’ on a Sunday and enjoyed our first time at the theatre in goodness knows how long. A second time of seeing ‘Come from Away’, (catching it before it closes this Melbourne season and moves on up to Sydney) and we enjoyed it as much as the first time in 2019. Reminders of a couple of visits to Newfoundland a few years ago now but still fresh in our memories.
Smiles at seeing the tv masts from the station at Mooroolbark, smiles at being back in the lovely little heritage listed Comedy Theatre with its chandelier type lighting and a bar down there on the lower level right next to the stalls. There was a brolly and a mask in my bag, plus a small book to read on the train – after all the rain we’ve had I was glad I didn’t need the brolly after all but I did use the mask. Too many people all close together with about 2/3rds of them maskless. Everyone seemed to have a phone though!
Smiles at seeing travellers on suburban lines in masks, I can’t remember seeing any on the country V/Line trains (or dedicated platforms) when I took the lower photo at (don’t make me say it) Southern Cross Station back in April. It will always be Spencer Street Station to me. There are times I wished we lived ‘out of town’ – compared to the comfort of the country trains the comfort (??) of suburban stock is nil.
Tuesday (25th) the heavens opened and we had floods out here in the eastern suburbs. Our back garden was like a swimming pool and (once again) the kitchen skylight decided to leak. I keep telling The Golfer there’s a reason I don’t get rid of all those old towels – although if this keeps up we’re going to have to invest in a new skylight.
Thursday under cloudy grey skies and a wet windscreen we drove out past the vineyards (old and new) and into the Valley again – this time The Golfer wanted to enjoy a light lunch at his second home because……
……as a member he gets a free one plus a tiddly little cake to celebrate 🎂🍷…..
Drove home from Healesville in pouring rain, hoping there wouldn’t be water on the floor Needed the bucket later in the evening so looks like we definitely need a new one.
Anyway Friday, dodging the showers I went to the gym leaving him looking a little lost – with all the rain the course is just a bit too waterlogged and once again nobody else wanted to play – I’ll be fine, he said, I’ve got this new book to read. Ink Black Heart – Robert Galbraith 1400 pages – that’ll keep me going for a while.
Big smiles when I walked past the court area – all set up for our next crop of Olympic gymnasts. Mats and beams, and bars and springboards – reminders of sessions at school all those years ago with a vaulting box and pommel horse.
(There’s a floor to ceiling net along the walkway to the gym door – saves any injuries from wayward basket/netballs. I took one snap from a corner then had to wriggle the camera around the holes to get the full on ones)
Well that was last week – this past week has been quieter with a few surprises…. Which I’ll leave for another time
#enjoyeverymoment
Don’t Forget – if you want to see it best……Click/ tap or finger slide to enlarge
I had an email from my contact at the nursing home telling me about a new memory project called ‘I Remember That’ that was starting about the time I return at the beginning of next month. The title had me remembering all those years ago when my aunt would come out with those words….admittedly after some subtle prompting by us with words or pictures…..but we were glad it had stirred something in her mind.
(At that time I belonged to a (now defunct) ’families and carers’ group where to ease the strain we wrote and shared pieces online – I hope you don’t mind me sharing another one from 2009)
Rememberingthe past
Talking to my Aunt the other day I was asking her what she remembered – its a hard question for her to answer some days but for some reason on that day she was clear in her mind about one thing.
She remembered her older sister Betty and how she made her laugh.
They were raised in India in house a house full of adults. Along with their Mother and Father there were also four spinster aunts – sisters of their Mother.
None of the servants had children they could play with so as well as sisters, they were playmates and also constant companions to each other.
“Oh, I remember that dolly”
Being priviledged they were sent off to boarding school at a young age, luckily not back to England as so many expat children were but somewhere in India ( she doesn’t remember where exactly) and were able to go ‘home’ for the holidays – so whenever Pam felt lonely or afraid Betty was there to comfort and make her laugh.
It was so lovely (and rare) to hear her talking of this life she led so long ago, dances were a way of life, Betty was the fun one attracting lots of admirers while Pam being a quiet one would sit on the sideline. They both married officers in the 9th Gurkhas Regiment so continued to live a privileged life as adults. They stayed in India till after the war and then returned to England to a very different lifestyle.
She was so clear in her descriptions of life in those days it was almost as if she was reliving them – till she came to the part of migrating to Australia in the early 1950’s.
Then nothing came – she just stopped talking. I assume ‘cose there was no Betty – who had remained in England – to talk about. Maybe I’ll be able to get her to remember those times again but I never know from one day to the next whats going on inside her head.
As a youngish widow she managed several trips ‘home’ to England over the years to see her beloved Betty – the sister who even as an adult had a way of making her forget her troubles and laugh. She recognised Betty in this photo of the two of them enjoying a special moment of laughter but had no idea where, when, or why.
“Oh, there’s Betty”
Betty on the left and A Pam on the right
Can you see the special bond they had with each other – the love in the eyes and the smiles on their faces? Hopefully she can still remember those moments inside her head even if she can’t talk about them
Once my aunt was settled into the nursing home my cousin (her son who lived in Perth on the other side of the country) decided put her place on the market so some clearing (decluttering) had to happen. As houses were more easy to sell if they were furnished he wanted a lot of the extra stuff gone – and apart from one or two items wasn’t interested in where it went.
I started to go through kitchen drawers and discovered her special recipe book, a very battered exercise book with handwritten recipes from friends here in Australia. For all her upbringing (and I mean that in a nice way ) she wasn’t a really fancy (or good) cook – born and raised in India she and her sister were sent to boarding school so had never been at home to see and learn how and I know Uncle John would sometimes take her out to dinner rather than have her get upset at trying to cook things that didn’t turn out well. I’m not making that up – he told me that on more than one occasion.
Anyway the only time I’d seen her use this book over the years was at Christmas time when she’d make ‘The Pudding’. It was the only tradition I remember about life in her house from the early 70’s when we arrived here in Australia. She would let everyone know when she was going to be cooking and asked if you wanted to come over and stir the pudding. Stir- up Sunday
There are 3 Christmas pudding recipes in the book and I can still see the faces of the people they came from quite clearly.
The first from Jean is short and very direct – just like Jean
The second from her sister Betty has lots of ingredients and simple concise instructions
The third from Joan a fabulous tennis club friend of Pam’s who played hard and partied in a similar fashion. Cooking time for her was similar to her parties….. all day for as many days as possible !
Where the first two suggest a wine glass of brandy like the good hostess who provides choices for her guests she suggests Rum, Milk or Beer – leaving the amount up to you.😊
Can you see which one was used the most?
Each year about November Aunty Pam would start to gather her ingredients to make Betty’s pudding, she’d buy new calico for the pudding bowls and then on the day tick as she added each ingredient to the mixing bowl.
Some years she’d tick as she wrote down her list to take the the shop to buy the ingredients and then get into a real muddle when she forgot which ticks were ‘buying’ ticks and which were ‘added’ ticks.
I had to make a mad dash to the house one year to try and find out what had been added to the mixing bowl and what hadn’t ‘cose she hadn’t just weighed out and put in individual little bowls, then put the packets back in the cupboard but was adding straight into to the mixing bowl after weighing, had packets all over the place and was quite upset because she couldn’t tell the difference between raisins and sultanas.
It was then we began to realise how muddled and confused she was getting, how things were becoming a problem and sadly that was the last time she made the puddings.
~ ~ ~ ~
So I had the book and the recipes (which she didn’t know); and one day about a year later we were talking about cooking and out of the blue she said it would be nice if I made her ‘that lovely Christmas pudding that Betty makes’ Her sister Betty had been gone for about 10years by then so I had no idea what made her say that.
None of my family really like Christmas Pudding but I gave her my word I’d give it a go. Unfortunately she never got to taste the one’s I did (and still do) make.
Betty’s Christmas Pudding 2013
Linking to the very last edition of Denyse’s ~ Life’s Stories.
Her thoughts this week are on Endings and Beginnings. A bit like A Pam leaving her home to me starting the Christmas Pudding tradition
So my dad was born near Portadown NI in a little place called Corcullentragh Beg – try saying that when you’ve had a few drinks ( or fitting it onto an official form😊
Yes its begun again – its been happening every four years since 1930. World Cup Fever is alive and well – lots of history to be seen here. The Socceroos have one more game to win to qualify for a place in the competition
Kicking that round ball is sort of a passion for some of the males in my family – my Dad and my brother were/are former players and great fans, one of my Irish cousins had a chequered career as NI international playing for Manchester United/Swindon Town in the 1970’s, after training with Sheffield United followed by a sports degree (Culver Stockton) a nephew (bro’s son) is now associated with a Sports Academy here in Melbourne plus our eldest son is a huge fan of Ipswich (TFC). He was over 11 when we migrated to Australia from England so by then the soccer/football bug was well and truly entrenched into his mindset.
The Golfer isn’t as fanatical these days as he has been. I clearly remember 1966 – we were living in Singapore at the time – and their TV broadcasts were mainly in Chinese but we just ‘had’ to hire one so he could watch as many of that years world cup games as possible!!
… … … …
My sister Bobby is the keeper of all Mum and Dad’s bits and pieces – and recently unearthed an old photo of Dad (bottom right) during his soccer (football) playing days in Belfast. After getting some online help we discovered that Windsor Star (a Linfield youth team) were second division champions April 1938 – hence the shield and whopping great silver cup! Dad would have turned 20 in June that year and joined the RAF in the August – staying on in service after the war ended, never returning to live in Belfast, just as a visitor.
I think my dislike of the game started when I was quite young – Dad did ‘the pools’ each week, putting a cross in some of the boxes and paying his money to the man who came round door to door on a Thursday.
(A football pool, often collectively referred to as “the pools”, is a betting pool based on predicting the outcome of top-level association football matches set to take place in the coming week) source
Come 5pm on a Saturday afternoon during the season the radio would go on and BBC Sports Report would start and then the Classified Football Results would be broadcast.
I can still remember hearing the man who read out those results going on and on – from League Division One all the way through the minor leagues and Scottish leagues as well. Weird and wonderful team names, places you’d never heard of but if they had a football team of note the score from their game for that week got a mention.
To make sure he heard all the results and was able to mark them off correctly in the chart printed in the paper and then check his pools to see if we were going to become millionaires Dad needed complete silence in the room – Ha Ha – not going to happen when Catherine is around lol
I even loathed the music that was played at the beginning and each Saturday when I heard it I promised myself I would not speak but failed miserably each time and boy, did my Dad have a temper. As Bobby said recently, his ”shut ya bake” and the sheer volume it was yelled at, snapped us to attention and silence followed by the scurrying of feet out of the room
Football is a winter sport and winter in England can be cold and back in the 1950’s we only had a coal fire in the living room of our house – bedrooms were not heated and I was sent to that freezing bedroom more times than I like to remember 😟
Its only recently when some friends were talking about associating music with feelings that I thought about trying to locate that music on the Internet. It seems that the cause of all my worries is a march called ‘Out of the Blue’ composed by Hubert Bath.
… … … …
Early Monday morning, cup of tea in hand and I’m testing myself by playing this version – listening to it has me wondering how a lively march like that could bring back such bad feelings.
I have no idea – but even hearing it again now makes me feel sick inside. Excuse me – I must leave the room
Do any of you have such reactions to musical tunes…or is it just me? … … … …
Corinne is back with Monday Musings – come see what she is talking about this week
(Conversations with your children often bring up long forgotten memories)
Summer 1978 – The Golfer and I were the best parents in the world!
At least that’s what we were told that February evening as we all sat near the front (not up the back on the grass) of the Myer Music Bowl waiting to hear this sung in real life
Sailin’ away on the crest of a wave, it’s like magic Oh, rollin’ and ridin’ and slippin’ and slidin’, it’s magic And you and your sweet desire You took me, oh (higher and higher, baby)…
’Our Big Girl’ has been home for a short while – this time last year they left town (towing their home behind them) looking forward to doing ’a big lap’ of Australia. So far they’ve had the time of their lives.
Yes, so far, is what she said – because decisions have been made and they are going to be off again fairly soon to give it another go and see some of the things they missed. Impressions so far – contrary to what some may say – everything’s alive out there.
Australia is a living thing!
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It’s Monday morning again and I’m sitting here in the quiet with that early cup of tea I enjoy so much wondering about how I’ll feel when the words Good Bye are spoken this time. We’ve given her ‘roots and wings’ , she’s acknowledged them several times , so I’m comfortable waving her off again….maybe it’s just me wondering if time is running out – wondering if I’ve lived all my dreams, – are there any more waves for me to crest’?
How about you – do you ever feel like life is passing you by
Corinne is back with Monday Musings – come see what she is talking about this week
I’ve been known to hang on to things…….just in case.
My other excuse is often – it’ll come in handy……
When – we don’t know, but it’s there just in case
Discussing our winter ‘going up north again’ plans and what to take with us, we (The Golfer and myself) had another look at some ’just in case/might come in handy/ you never know when’ items the other weekend. That’s when the word water bottles cropped up
Not so much the flimsy plastic ’comes in all shapes & sizes’ single use throw away ones you buy water in – though they’re bad enough……..more the keep and carry (sometimes plastic) ones seen in the hands of those who take hydration seriously.
Someone I know – let’s just say not me – has a likeing for water bottles. He has quite a few lot…..He’s out and about on the golf course in all weathers so definitely needs to be hydrated and (for him) filling a bottle with water from a dedicated tap at the 9th hole is ’not on’ so he carts his own (along with all the other weird and wonderful things that come tumbling out of his bag when he’s looking for something.)
I do have water in the car but can usually quench my thirst somewhere during the day.
So after going through the garage, various cupboards and cars, we came to an understanding – that we (he?) did not need the collection of water bottles we (he?) seemed to have gathered. When he was ’into volunteering’ each event had a water bottle supplied – suitably emblazoned with good/bad/ugly….usually necessary logos and advertising. Lots had been used then tossed aside (not away) in favour of others so after our chat he chose some to hang on to….not to use now……but just in case!
Most of them went into the rubbish and recycling bins
And as well as what he calls his ’good ones’ these others 👇 are what he kept
Now I love him dearly and I understand there are memories attached to each one and I can’t complain when I think about what I’ve still got tucked away….BUT
These few have never been used, just been gathering dust (and dirt) in the garage
Souvenirs of special events that made the most impression on him – Melbourne Commonwealth Games – Fina World Swimming Championships – Australian Youth Olympics – various National Australian Canoeing events plus a couple of other org. I don’t remember
Look at the dates – (You might have to enlarge to see) …..2006 2007 2013
They’ve already been there a fair while so I’m wondering how much longer they’ll have to wait for their….‘I knew they’d come in handy’ ….time to shine 😊
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And then of course there’s these
but they have my name on so no explanation is necessary 😊
(A forgotten draft post from quite a little while ago)
Had a little chat with my UK based baby brother last week.
Are you going out and about now? No!
Are the case numbers still high where you are? No, just can’t be bothered,
So no pub? No, not even the pub. Tried it to begin with Now can’t be bothered. Too much of a hassle, too many people. I’m content staying close to home
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We laughed and went on to chat about how things had changed
For years many had the attitude of Y O L O (you only live once) – spend up, take risks, enjoy life, blow the consequences – followed by F O M O (fear of missing out) – constantly wanting/needing to know and worrying about missing out on something.
Then along came ’The Pandemic’ – sometimes called Corona Virus – Covid19 – Rona – ‘Strange Times’ even ’You Know What’ – and even though we have constantly been assured all is well out there, some still have F O G O (fear of going out)
Now a new variant has arrived – H O G O (hassle of going out). Something baby brother and I have been feeling. That ‘do I have to go’ – ‘there’s always another time’ – ‘do I have to wear a mask’ – ‘how many will be there’ feeling.
Even though we want to, it’s all too much.
It appears we’ve both settled on J O M O (joy of missing out) as our sweet spot
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A few weeks on now …..We’re both feeling much better 😊
I’m enjoying resumed activities and he’s starting to visit his favourite pub. Both of us are still cautious, not fearful, just wary of people and places plus keep a mask in our pocket and wear it when or if necessary. Don’t know about the UK – but since our government has basically ’left us to do our own thing’ known daily positive case numbers in Victoria are averaging 10,000 a day
So it’s still out there!
How about you – are you feeling more safe, secure and comfortable or is it still a hassle
There are links to the original free BDM site plus some free census. But it was the VERY old parish BDM records (think 1700s) that held my interest. Both his paternal lines were/are entrenched in small Essex villages so one surname or the other plus a place name brought up so many facts – and a maiden name to boot😊
(And that’s where I’ve been this past week or more – it definitely cut into my blogging time!)
A few years ago The Golfer and I were regular visitors to a local Folk Club – one Tuesday evening back in 2011 the special guest artist was Martyn Wyndham-Read …which I blogged about here.
Anyway during that evening he sang a very poignant song One adapted from a poem written in 1916 about the thoughts Australian Soldiers (Diggers) may have had about leaving their fallen mates at Gallipoli (in Turkey)
One of my maternal ancestors served at Gallipoli unfortunately he, plus his Doyle and Muir cousins never made it home
James Bannister
This is my tribute to all those who served and never returned
And this is the poem – written by Cicely Fox Smith in 1916
Farewell to Anzac
Oh, hump your swag and leave, lads, the ships are in the bay — We’ve got our marching orders now, it’s time to come away — And a long good-bye to Anzac Beach — where blood has flowed in vain For we’re leaving it, leaving it, game to fight again!
But some there are will never quit this bleak and bloody shore — And some that marched and fought with us will fight and march no more; Their blood has bought till Judgment Day the slopes they stormed so well, And we’re leaving them, leaving them, sleeping where they fell.
(Leaving them, leaving them — the bravest and the best — leaving them, leaving them, and maybe glad to rest! We’ve done our best with yesterday, to-morrow’s still our own — But we’re leaving them, leaving them, sleeping all alone!)
Ay, they are gone beyond it all, the praising and the blame, And many a man may win renown, but none more fair a fame; They showed the world Australia’s lads knew well the way to die; And we’re leaving them, leaving them, quiet where they lie.
(Leaving them, leaving them, sleeping where they died; Leaving them, leaving them, in their glory and their pride — Round them sea and barren land, over them the sky, Oh, We’re leaving them, leaving them, quiet where they lie!)
A question bloggers often ask each other is – where do you get your ideas from- things to talk about, post about? Here there and everywhere is often the answer.
I’m tagging onto (pinching?) something Sandra at Madsnapper featured the other day – an idea she recently ’‘borrowed and adapted’ from a couple of other bloggers
A spoon rest is a piece of kitchenware that serves as a place to lay spoons and other cooking utensils, to prevent cooking fluids from getting onto countertops, as well as keeping the spoon from touching any contaminants that might be on the counter.source
So here is my ‘so not pioneer woman’ spoon rest – very similar in style to Sandra’s, complete with my very frequently used vintage British government issue tablespoon.
One of my contributions to recycling/reusing is a small stack of these plastic food trays that (in my case) minced chicken comes in. They get used for all sorts of things, a place to put spoons in use (or any other utensil) being one of them.
Maybe not as elegant and smooth as something purchased but free – if you discount the product that came with it. They come and go – one or two new ones in, one or two old ones out. ~ ~ ~ ~
The beautiful solid sensible looking tablespoon somehow found its way into my civilian kitchen when The Golfer was demobbed in 1968. It’s certainly been a ’trusty servant’ since then!
The markings on the back are interesting
SIPELIA – the manufacturer who had the government contract
After her death lots of my aunt’s bits and pieces found their way to my home
The ‘A.1’ Cookery Book by Helen H Lawson was one. I can find nothing about the author on the net so don’t know who she was or how she came to write a cookery book. It’s possible one of my readers might be able to tell me 😊
As you can see its quite an old cookery book – this is the 1946 (war time) 5th edition – very plain front with the title etc on the spine….. all words and no pictures; the first edition was published in 1901/2 and I imagine she was an ‘older’ lady when she got round to revising it for its fifth publication.
The front page suggests it contains everything essential for those who wish to have plain food daintily prepared’ and I can imagine thats what my aunt would aspire to but theres lots included that I think she’d have run a mile from.
Somehow I couldn’t have seen her stewing eels, boiling a calf’s head or foot, plucking and drawing a partridge, pheasant or pigeon. Note on pigeons – Tame pigeons taste better if cooked as soon as possible after they are killed – bet you didn’t know that !.
Lots of very old type recipes and many basic ones with some good hints and tips relevant to simple cooking these days.
The author mentions a tip that we all know about the water from boiled vegetables including potatoes and that in which rice, macaroni, or spagetti have been boiled are useful as a foundation for soups and sauces. But seemingly there was one exception – cabbage water, which must be thrown away at once. Unfortunately she doesn’t say why
Before the section on puddings and sweets she lists whether they need butter and eggs – eggs but no butter – and those that need no butter or eggs – which would have been a boon in the days after the war when not everything was readily available and there was still food rationing
Sometime or another I’ll really delve into this and find some ‘easy’ old recipes.
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After another look online Look what I found -….a site where you can access and read the 2nd edition (free) Scroll down the site a little until Read/Preview – then click through. There’s also a download feature as well.
A couple of little differences on the title page – the author is named H N L(not by her full name) plus the words ‘written in the simplest possible manner to help the inexperienced’ which are not on the 1946 version
Still Waters 