An Interesting Life
Without Prejudice
We've had an interesting life, my siblings and I. We've been places. My parents, Natalie and Ernest were interesting people and loved their kids with a passion. We were their achievements. They believed in education and that "travel broadens the mind". I went to 17 different schools In Australia and the UK. We travelled to Papua New Guinea, Sri Lanka, North Africa, Greece, Italy, France and The UK. There to Scotland and Welsh Wales, as the locals call it.
Then to Trinidad and Tobago, Curacao and Panama, Fiji, Tahiti, New Zealand. I went to Bali and New Caledonia and Ireland to drink Guinness with blackcurrant. Singapore, Japan, Brunei, Tasmania and Northern Territory, South Australia and Queensland. No place is more beautiful than the quiet places of the heart. Standing on a ship's deck looking out at the stars miles from anywhere.
A pristine beach at the Isle of Pines, or Mystery Island. No hotels, no high rises. Steel bands that play on the shore at Trinidad. The beautiful Caribbean, a colour that you can never forget, the warm winds that blow and the tropical flowers that grow there. I cannot thank my parents R.I.P enough for making us the people we are today. Learned and well traveled. rich in life's wonders and it's harshness. I am grateful to have crossed the world on ship and plane to see how others live. The ever smiling simple village people of Bali. The brown faced kids that swam out to the boat in Papua New Guinea, smiling with white teethed smiles that split their faces with delight. The clear greeny blue colour of the water, so clear, we threw coins and they dived for them and we could see the coins glistening at the shallow waters bottom.
The markets in North Africa that had meat uncovered being sold and swarming with flies. The heat and the shock of seeing a dead body on the side of the road, covered. The bidet I didn't know how to work in a Japanese Hotel. The smell of the markets in Singapore where dead snake could be bought. The food in the UK on cold days when all else fails to cheer you up. The warm pork pies and the smell of the cafes, warm and steamy at Wakefield market. Smelling of fried bread and bacon, eggs and sausages and hot tea.
A bonfire on a cold Novembers Evening with bonfire toffee and Yorkshire Parkin. A Scottish caff with loads of donkey Jacketed men shovelling down black pudding. My Mothers plum duff and Scottish tablet made with care. How Fiji smelled of coconut oil and Surfers did too but for very different reasons. How Greece smelled of hot coffee made in tiny cups with lots of sugar. And honey and nut Baklava
Bali with it's delightful hotels, the sun on the pool so early in the morning and the warmth with gentle breezes late at night. The crush of beggars in Kuta and the hot dirty streets of Nusa Dua. The Bum Boats in North Africa that tried to sell us junky leather bags, bracelets of thin coins and Fez hats. And Dad wearing one. Trying to buy bread in Rome to take on the train with us and warm wine in the carriage of the train.
The high teas on The Southern Cross, cress and cucumber sandwiches and Petit Fours with silver balls on them. Boston baked beans made properly on the ship and they made my Dad run for the cabin, so seasick for once. The races games we played in the Entertainment lounge and the little Indian girl that didn't get a present from The Arab United Nations Friendly Party.
The rudeness of the French and the bum pinching men in Rome. The happy rowdy English sailors playing Evie parts one two and three on the Southern Cross and the fancy dress parties. The celebrations of the "Crossing Of The Equator" and how we had to jump sticks. The limbo at Greenmount beach on a Sunday Afternoon where I won an Ice Cream cake for my efforts. It being delivered to the house at 484 Marine Parade Labrador in dry ice and what fun we had dropping it in buckets of water.
The outside showers on Surfers Paradise beach and it's cooling of sunburned bodies. The Picture Theatre at Southport on the Pier, with its uncomfy canvas sling chairs and the sea glimpsed between the boards. Swimming in the UK in an indoor pool with its smell of chlorine.Crisps that came with a little twist of salt in the bag. Not even wanting to touch haggis in Scotland, never mind eating it. And the Flying Scotsman that took us there. The Firth Of Forth. Mecca of delight.
Ireland and it's Cliffs of Moher rising up so high and chasing the location of Ryans Daughter at Dingle Bay. The Harry Ramsdens Cafe with cod and chips and mushy peas, bread and butter, H.P. sauce and lashings of tea from a pot. The croissants in Paris and the Cafe au Lait.
My ex being arrested at the Paris airport and being led away at gunpoint and he was still shouting. And how he ever found me in Paris at the hotel I was at. The cold ride back to the UK and his ranting for hours. The polite and friendly taxi driver there who took me back to the airport. The rudeness of the Japanese men shoving and pushing on the elevator in Japan. The coke that cost $10 a can.
I have traveled a lot and still will when the time presents itself as there is such beauty in the world to see yet.
Ray Bradbury died today, Author of Fahrenheit 451, and Dandelion Wine , The Martian Chronicles, some of my oldest Brothers favourites . R.I.P
Love Janette
Andrej Bryce- My great Grandson. Yes I know I am too young to be Great Grandmother. Lol x
We've had an interesting life, my siblings and I. We've been places. My parents, Natalie and Ernest were interesting people and loved their kids with a passion. We were their achievements. They believed in education and that "travel broadens the mind". I went to 17 different schools In Australia and the UK. We travelled to Papua New Guinea, Sri Lanka, North Africa, Greece, Italy, France and The UK. There to Scotland and Welsh Wales, as the locals call it.
Then to Trinidad and Tobago, Curacao and Panama, Fiji, Tahiti, New Zealand. I went to Bali and New Caledonia and Ireland to drink Guinness with blackcurrant. Singapore, Japan, Brunei, Tasmania and Northern Territory, South Australia and Queensland. No place is more beautiful than the quiet places of the heart. Standing on a ship's deck looking out at the stars miles from anywhere.
A pristine beach at the Isle of Pines, or Mystery Island. No hotels, no high rises. Steel bands that play on the shore at Trinidad. The beautiful Caribbean, a colour that you can never forget, the warm winds that blow and the tropical flowers that grow there. I cannot thank my parents R.I.P enough for making us the people we are today. Learned and well traveled. rich in life's wonders and it's harshness. I am grateful to have crossed the world on ship and plane to see how others live. The ever smiling simple village people of Bali. The brown faced kids that swam out to the boat in Papua New Guinea, smiling with white teethed smiles that split their faces with delight. The clear greeny blue colour of the water, so clear, we threw coins and they dived for them and we could see the coins glistening at the shallow waters bottom.
The markets in North Africa that had meat uncovered being sold and swarming with flies. The heat and the shock of seeing a dead body on the side of the road, covered. The bidet I didn't know how to work in a Japanese Hotel. The smell of the markets in Singapore where dead snake could be bought. The food in the UK on cold days when all else fails to cheer you up. The warm pork pies and the smell of the cafes, warm and steamy at Wakefield market. Smelling of fried bread and bacon, eggs and sausages and hot tea.
A bonfire on a cold Novembers Evening with bonfire toffee and Yorkshire Parkin. A Scottish caff with loads of donkey Jacketed men shovelling down black pudding. My Mothers plum duff and Scottish tablet made with care. How Fiji smelled of coconut oil and Surfers did too but for very different reasons. How Greece smelled of hot coffee made in tiny cups with lots of sugar. And honey and nut Baklava
Bali with it's delightful hotels, the sun on the pool so early in the morning and the warmth with gentle breezes late at night. The crush of beggars in Kuta and the hot dirty streets of Nusa Dua. The Bum Boats in North Africa that tried to sell us junky leather bags, bracelets of thin coins and Fez hats. And Dad wearing one. Trying to buy bread in Rome to take on the train with us and warm wine in the carriage of the train.
The high teas on The Southern Cross, cress and cucumber sandwiches and Petit Fours with silver balls on them. Boston baked beans made properly on the ship and they made my Dad run for the cabin, so seasick for once. The races games we played in the Entertainment lounge and the little Indian girl that didn't get a present from The Arab United Nations Friendly Party.
The rudeness of the French and the bum pinching men in Rome. The happy rowdy English sailors playing Evie parts one two and three on the Southern Cross and the fancy dress parties. The celebrations of the "Crossing Of The Equator" and how we had to jump sticks. The limbo at Greenmount beach on a Sunday Afternoon where I won an Ice Cream cake for my efforts. It being delivered to the house at 484 Marine Parade Labrador in dry ice and what fun we had dropping it in buckets of water.
The outside showers on Surfers Paradise beach and it's cooling of sunburned bodies. The Picture Theatre at Southport on the Pier, with its uncomfy canvas sling chairs and the sea glimpsed between the boards. Swimming in the UK in an indoor pool with its smell of chlorine.Crisps that came with a little twist of salt in the bag. Not even wanting to touch haggis in Scotland, never mind eating it. And the Flying Scotsman that took us there. The Firth Of Forth. Mecca of delight.
Ireland and it's Cliffs of Moher rising up so high and chasing the location of Ryans Daughter at Dingle Bay. The Harry Ramsdens Cafe with cod and chips and mushy peas, bread and butter, H.P. sauce and lashings of tea from a pot. The croissants in Paris and the Cafe au Lait.
My ex being arrested at the Paris airport and being led away at gunpoint and he was still shouting. And how he ever found me in Paris at the hotel I was at. The cold ride back to the UK and his ranting for hours. The polite and friendly taxi driver there who took me back to the airport. The rudeness of the Japanese men shoving and pushing on the elevator in Japan. The coke that cost $10 a can.
I have traveled a lot and still will when the time presents itself as there is such beauty in the world to see yet.
Ray Bradbury died today, Author of Fahrenheit 451, and Dandelion Wine , The Martian Chronicles, some of my oldest Brothers favourites . R.I.P
Love Janette
