We wait for warmer days

I can hear Caroline.  Softly singing to herself as pegs out the washing in our backyard.  The wind howls, and the skies are grey.  We get on with things, but fantasise on summer, as we wait for warmer days.
I can still hear Nanna.  Softly singing to herself as she pegged out washing on the line.  The wind howled, and the sky was the colour of slate.  With my nose pressed against a cold window pane, I fantasised about summer as we waited for warmer days.

Born to be Blue

Mel Torme once sang; 

“some folks are meant to live in clover, but they are such a chosen few. And clover being green, is something I’ve never seen, ’cause I was born to be blue”

Now whilst I’ve been luckier in love than the velvet fog (apparently) has been, the words of that song can be applied to my sporting loyalties without any hesitation.

My father, his father, and most of the family followed the Everton football club, and, for my sins, they passed that devotion on to me.  I in turn, have brought up my two daughters in “the faith” and now my ten year old Australian grandson has embarked on the journey.

I woke this morning at 3 am, dragged myself to the lounge, and sat, bleary eyed, in front of the TV just to watch my beloved side lose once more.

Why do we do it?

Ask Mr Torme

Eddie you idiot!

He went and did it again! First he asked if he should “bone” Jessica Rowe back in 2004. Next comes his suggestion that perhaps Adam Goodes should audition for King Kong.  His latest “gem” comes in the form of “a bit of harmless banter and lighthearted fun” when suggesting that a female journalist; Caroline Wilson, should be put forward as a candidate for next years ” ice slide ” at the MCG, with her having her head held down in the pool! Champagne comedy from old Eddie……NOT!  As bad as McGuires outburst has proved to be, I am more disgusted by the “support” given to him by his on-air colleagues: James Brayshaw, a Club President of North Melbourne, and Danny Frawley an All Australian selector.  A glance at the transcript of the broadcast makes for hair raising reading. At a time when women in Australia are the subject of violence and abuse in appalling numbers, this latest bit of “banter” from “Eddie Everywhere” far from being funny, actually stalls the process of raising awareness, and instead gives a degree of comfort to those blokes who think such outbursts are acceptable. My blood boiled today as some callers on 774 stated that anyone expressing comments criticising McGuire and his stooges were “overreacting” and that it was “political correctness gone mad” yeah! RIGHT! I sometimes despair of humanity.

Someone inspirational

At the last meeting of our writers group, the tutor, Nicole Hayes, brought along copies of an obituary written in honour of Muhammad Ali, the former World Heayweight Champion boxer. My curiosity was aroused at this choice of reading material, but was answered when Nicole informed us that our “writing prompt” was to write a tribute to someone who we found to be “inspirational”. 

My “inspirational hero” never won a world title; never appeared on television or in the pages of the newspapers; never wrote a best selling novel or an Oscar-winning screenplay and would be considered by many to be an anonymous “nobody”.  He went out every morning, regardless of  weather, and cycled five miles to the factory in order to keep our family clothed and fed. 

His name was George. I knew him better as “Dad”

The rain in Spain?


Well it was April 29th. It was Spain. It was Burgos, and it was pissing down. We were walking across Spain following the footsteps of countless other pilgrims, who had taken on the challenge of El Camino de Santiago de Compostela. After an exhausting day of walking through sleet and icy winds, my darling companion and I booked into a five star hotel to celebrate my impending 68th birthday. I’d forgotten the simple joys of a hot shower, clean, fresh bed linen and HEATING! Whilst wandering around our spacious room, and passing the huge window, I spotted this image of people coming and going across this footbridge and decided to take a photograph. Just for once in the last few weeks, it was now we who were able to observe how our half were faring from the vantage point of the other half.

Just gimme some truth!

“I’m sick and tired of hearing things, from uptight, short-sighted, narrow-minded hypocrites.

All I want is the truth. Just gimme some truth.

I’ve had enough of reading things by neurotic, psychotic, pig-headed politicians.

All I want is the truth. Just gimme some truth”

John Lennon

I love this John Lennon song. I’ve always loved it. I love it’s righteous anger, it’s rage against bullshit. Most of all I love it’s groove! Johns “scouseness” drips from every nuance of the song.

If ever there was a time that this song would strike a chord with me, it surely has to be now, as we endure another day in this election campaign, another day where spin takes precedence over truth. Political expediency takes precedence over community concerns. Am I overly cynical? Perhaps I’m simply  suffering the effects of “election campaign weariness”? Who can say?

All I know is that I’m sick and tired of spin. I want someone, somewhere, from whatever party, to treat me, ( and my intelligence) with a modicum of respect. Do I ask for much?

Just gimme some truth.

The gas man cometh

I Love my ducted heating. It’s no secret that we poms, particularly from the north are no strangers to the cold, however, this doesn’t mean we’re bosom buddies with it, so when the ducted heating goes, then so does my good mood! We’ve been without our friend captain braemar, since last week, but today the gas man cameth and we have HEAT!