Indian Summer 2
Without Prejudice
This Past Week
Aunty Mary died aged 105 in Wakefield Yorkshire.
Messages from young males : 2
Prizes at School: Cruz goes up a reading level and at 6 is reading aloud to the preps.
My I Q score is 167, according to a Facebook Quiz and surely that must be right.
And. Cyclone Debbie hurtled in to the coast of North Queensland, ripping off roofs and causing mayhem with its 236 km winds and lashing rain. I knew of old we down South and thousands of miles away in Melbourne would receive a follow on weather pattern and for the last three days we did.
We were treated to our own howling winds and torrential rain that fell straight down my eaves and drenched my window sills on the inside. The guttering unable to cope with the deluge and overflowing on to the aluminium sills, splashing on to the curtains, causing me the extra task of mopping up with towels.
Ironically right next to the air conditioner that was supposed to evaporate overflow into itself. So it overflowed on to the carpet out of a rubber hose at the back that was only supposed to be used when emptying the drain after seasons end.
I hopped and clucked and cursed in bare feet. My unit is way up off the ground and I never imagined it could be partly flooded by sheer stupidity. Mine. Nor the stupidity or laziness of The Maintenance Plumber. A young man who ran up the fifteen foot extension ladder like a gazelle on speed and told me the leak in the gutter on the corner couldn't be fixed.
Why didn't I insist on new guttering ?
Why didn't he suggest it ?
I was hopping mad and literally hopping as I had removed one air conditioner from the unit by myself ( in anticipation of crisp Autumn days ) and it was heavy and awkward and being the impatient woman I am, I just kept tugging it forward.
I should have waited for one of the boys to come around but I didn't and damaged a big nerve that runs from the back to the feet. The sciatic nerve. And instead of my lower back hurting, the pain targeted my hip. It felt like someone was shoving a sharp needle into it and a few days later the side of my leg hurt and then my bum.
Only when you hurt your lower half do you become aware as to how many times you bend over, under in any one day. At night the pain was worse and made for some interesting sleeping positions. I had pillows between my knees, pillows in the small of my back, screamed aloud at the pain of rolling on my hip, used deep heat, a water bottle an ice pack and nothing helped.
I mooched down to the local Doctors like a sulky child and he of the high turban and fastidious manner told me it might be arthritis and was prepared to send me for an XRay. I told him it was NOT arthritis but sciatica and refrained from telling him I knew this as The Maintenance Man, ( the one that affixed my stove complex back to the wall ) told me had had Sciatica as I hobbled around making coffee.
He said that it hurt like a Son Of A B***ch. I nodded and agreed doped up as I was on Panadol.
Major drugs, ha ha.
He was fixing the stove complex, The Maintenance Man, to the wall, unannounced, as a lady in NSW had fallen against one and to save herself grabbed at the oven door and it tipped over on her and though he didn't say it and I didn't dare ask the intimation was that she died. If not why then were they affixing 1400 of the oven complexes across New South Wales and Victoria ?
I made sure he showed me I.D. Before I let him in, there have been a few violent home invasions in Dandenong and Hampton Park which are only a few suburbs away. And even though, realistically, they would have to bring something in here to rob it, one never knows.
There might be some avid 60' s and 70's retro memorabilia collector out there with XRay goggles who has seen my vivid orange canisters and lusted after them in his heart.
Or has seen me sashaying down the road in my black pants and top, with Shilo the 3 year old grand
daughter sashaying by my side, her tiny hand in mine. Me perhaps with three pink flower clips in my
hair, and lips smeared with " wipstick "
Makeup And Hair courtesy of Shilo Fashions.
She is probably dressed as " Elsa " with satin crinoline dress and tiny pink glitter heels. She in heels exactly matches my demented hobble and that's why we are able to sashay in unison.
For some reason, I thought of Kelly D. as I hobbled and sang " Let It Go ".
A lady I have known for a few years through another of my daughters.
Kelly is around my age, a devoted Mum, wife and a beyond thrilled Grandmother to 2 boys and a
baby girl. I always liked and admired her, married happily for 38 years to Darryl, a devoted husband, great Dad, proud Granddad. Married young. No real money worries, all but one kid off their hands.
I saw a Post on Facebook about 2 years ago. A Valentines Day photo of surprise presents Kelly had received from Darryl. A beautiful bracelet, perfume, chocolates, flowers. The whole Valentines Day, shmeer. I can distinctly remember wishing I had a husband like that. I felt jealousy for the first time in a long time, or perhaps it was envy.
But I liked Kelly and was happy for her, it wasn't like I hadn't had Valentines Day flowers, chocolates, jewellery perfume, myself over the years. And I am always grateful to be made to feel special for that day or any day. But that day I can distinctly remember feeling a dose of angst, a twinge of jealousy or envy. A decided feeling of something that was missing from my life. A life partner, but not a husband.
I know too many " husbands "
Unfaithful, disloyal, un affectionate to their wives, abusive but most of all Unfaithful. Being single I know there are so many of what I call " husbands" or maybe I've just had one too many chase me around the kitchen trying to get a kiss.
I am a very loyal person and think nothing of expecting the same in a partner.
And Over the last month I had noticed Kelly had gone back to her maiden name on Facebook. I wondered about it but didn't want to pry. The usual reason a woman changes her name is because of an acrimonious split from her partner. It's easily done to change back to your maiden name, the process starts with your licence.
So I contacted her on Facebook and she said, short and sweet
" we separated "
I was shocked but said nothing and she didn't elaborate further.
Two days ago I bumped into her at a local shop.
And the whole story came out, all in a rush, almost.
Eighteen months ago Kelly's husband phoned her and asked her to drive to her Sisters house.
When he walked in she asked him what was the problem.
When he told her she was a mess.
This Past Week
Aunty Mary died aged 105 in Wakefield Yorkshire.
Messages from young males : 2
Prizes at School: Cruz goes up a reading level and at 6 is reading aloud to the preps.
My I Q score is 167, according to a Facebook Quiz and surely that must be right.
And. Cyclone Debbie hurtled in to the coast of North Queensland, ripping off roofs and causing mayhem with its 236 km winds and lashing rain. I knew of old we down South and thousands of miles away in Melbourne would receive a follow on weather pattern and for the last three days we did.
We were treated to our own howling winds and torrential rain that fell straight down my eaves and drenched my window sills on the inside. The guttering unable to cope with the deluge and overflowing on to the aluminium sills, splashing on to the curtains, causing me the extra task of mopping up with towels.
Ironically right next to the air conditioner that was supposed to evaporate overflow into itself. So it overflowed on to the carpet out of a rubber hose at the back that was only supposed to be used when emptying the drain after seasons end.
I hopped and clucked and cursed in bare feet. My unit is way up off the ground and I never imagined it could be partly flooded by sheer stupidity. Mine. Nor the stupidity or laziness of The Maintenance Plumber. A young man who ran up the fifteen foot extension ladder like a gazelle on speed and told me the leak in the gutter on the corner couldn't be fixed.
Why didn't I insist on new guttering ?
Why didn't he suggest it ?
I was hopping mad and literally hopping as I had removed one air conditioner from the unit by myself ( in anticipation of crisp Autumn days ) and it was heavy and awkward and being the impatient woman I am, I just kept tugging it forward.
I should have waited for one of the boys to come around but I didn't and damaged a big nerve that runs from the back to the feet. The sciatic nerve. And instead of my lower back hurting, the pain targeted my hip. It felt like someone was shoving a sharp needle into it and a few days later the side of my leg hurt and then my bum.
Only when you hurt your lower half do you become aware as to how many times you bend over, under in any one day. At night the pain was worse and made for some interesting sleeping positions. I had pillows between my knees, pillows in the small of my back, screamed aloud at the pain of rolling on my hip, used deep heat, a water bottle an ice pack and nothing helped.
I mooched down to the local Doctors like a sulky child and he of the high turban and fastidious manner told me it might be arthritis and was prepared to send me for an XRay. I told him it was NOT arthritis but sciatica and refrained from telling him I knew this as The Maintenance Man, ( the one that affixed my stove complex back to the wall ) told me had had Sciatica as I hobbled around making coffee.
He said that it hurt like a Son Of A B***ch. I nodded and agreed doped up as I was on Panadol.
Major drugs, ha ha.
He was fixing the stove complex, The Maintenance Man, to the wall, unannounced, as a lady in NSW had fallen against one and to save herself grabbed at the oven door and it tipped over on her and though he didn't say it and I didn't dare ask the intimation was that she died. If not why then were they affixing 1400 of the oven complexes across New South Wales and Victoria ?
I made sure he showed me I.D. Before I let him in, there have been a few violent home invasions in Dandenong and Hampton Park which are only a few suburbs away. And even though, realistically, they would have to bring something in here to rob it, one never knows.
There might be some avid 60' s and 70's retro memorabilia collector out there with XRay goggles who has seen my vivid orange canisters and lusted after them in his heart.
Or has seen me sashaying down the road in my black pants and top, with Shilo the 3 year old grand
daughter sashaying by my side, her tiny hand in mine. Me perhaps with three pink flower clips in my
hair, and lips smeared with " wipstick "
Makeup And Hair courtesy of Shilo Fashions.
She is probably dressed as " Elsa " with satin crinoline dress and tiny pink glitter heels. She in heels exactly matches my demented hobble and that's why we are able to sashay in unison.
For some reason, I thought of Kelly D. as I hobbled and sang " Let It Go ".
A lady I have known for a few years through another of my daughters.
Kelly is around my age, a devoted Mum, wife and a beyond thrilled Grandmother to 2 boys and a
baby girl. I always liked and admired her, married happily for 38 years to Darryl, a devoted husband, great Dad, proud Granddad. Married young. No real money worries, all but one kid off their hands.
I saw a Post on Facebook about 2 years ago. A Valentines Day photo of surprise presents Kelly had received from Darryl. A beautiful bracelet, perfume, chocolates, flowers. The whole Valentines Day, shmeer. I can distinctly remember wishing I had a husband like that. I felt jealousy for the first time in a long time, or perhaps it was envy.
But I liked Kelly and was happy for her, it wasn't like I hadn't had Valentines Day flowers, chocolates, jewellery perfume, myself over the years. And I am always grateful to be made to feel special for that day or any day. But that day I can distinctly remember feeling a dose of angst, a twinge of jealousy or envy. A decided feeling of something that was missing from my life. A life partner, but not a husband.
I know too many " husbands "
Unfaithful, disloyal, un affectionate to their wives, abusive but most of all Unfaithful. Being single I know there are so many of what I call " husbands" or maybe I've just had one too many chase me around the kitchen trying to get a kiss.
I am a very loyal person and think nothing of expecting the same in a partner.
And Over the last month I had noticed Kelly had gone back to her maiden name on Facebook. I wondered about it but didn't want to pry. The usual reason a woman changes her name is because of an acrimonious split from her partner. It's easily done to change back to your maiden name, the process starts with your licence.
So I contacted her on Facebook and she said, short and sweet
" we separated "
I was shocked but said nothing and she didn't elaborate further.
Two days ago I bumped into her at a local shop.
And the whole story came out, all in a rush, almost.
Eighteen months ago Kelly's husband phoned her and asked her to drive to her Sisters house.
When he walked in she asked him what was the problem.
When he told her she was a mess.
