Christmas celebrations

This Silly Season

Come on its lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you, um, please excuse me after the last few weeks of ‘Bunnings torture’ this type of tune has left what is probably a permanent record on my synapses. Has anyone gone on a sleigh ride since the Communist Revolution? If that weren’t enough the steadily rising height of pallet stacks, the congestion of side stacks in isles and the ever larger variety of clip strip product makes it almost impossible to make your way with a trolley without some bell ringer or Rudolf the red nosed reindeer to guide your sleigh tonight. Ooops! Shopper and team tensions rise and lead to more instances like the one I had with the lady who wanted the fan that seemed to be advertised on the hand written label for $29:99 but had no other identifying message. Hand written labels must be accompanied by a fineline number which identifies what it relates too, this one in contravention to that rule had none. Anyone with a felt pen could have written it and as she alternately begged, cried and threatened in a display that would have made Kate Blanchet look amateur I began to wonder was she in fact the author. Is it any wonder then that I find myself dreaming of a white Christmas just like the one we had before – not. I’ve got to get a hold of myself.

Now you find me blissed without a carol in the world after yesterdays Boxing festivities. It never ceases to amaze what memories a day’s indulgence of the fermented grape can obliterate. Boxing Days family festivities were so well attended this year that it seems unnecessary to report them at all as there would be no non attending reader to benefit. Then I remember Chris and Andrea who had attended last year, the only ones who could benefit from the traditional early morning (their time) phone call. Well I’m afraid they’ll have to rely on others this year as all I’m prepared to report is that the newest family easily stole the day. For my part I can report that I departed without effort at around six in taxi in company of Alice and Jack. Checking through my photos today has proved a useful reminder of our adventures thereafter which included luxurious walks harbour side, punctuated by pit stops at conveniently located pubs.

Up at six this morning and feeling remarkably well till coffee withdrawals began to set in I set out to retrieve my car wondering just which way a train would go from North Sydney to Epping. Blow me down though for by some divine intervention as I walk up to the station a bus pulls up plainly stating its destination as Epping. Twenty odd minutes later, after only a brief diversion to Macquarie Shopping Centre and University, I was at Epping station beginning to comprehend that the light heartedness I felt was probably a remnant of yesterdays drunkenness, and wondering about the consequences this might have on car retrieval. Alls well that ends well as they say and an hour later I was safely ensconced, with the door locked, at home.

With batteries fully charged I set off about four thirty for Coogee Bay via McMahons point for my gifts including the wonderful recorder. I had no intention of leaving these unguarded (Jack and Alice were back at Palmy) protected in this security building only by the constantly droning talk radio and the lights on timers travelling like phantoms from room to room. Travelling south I had an excellent view of a massive thunderhead stationed it seemed directly over The Coogee Bay Hotel (nice touch Kell) and wondered should I prime the recorder for some cracking hail effects. Arriving drenched and sober I was treated to the spectacle of a good proportion of my family, drunk in public and determined to hang onto their hard won four way seating station in the protection of a giant brolly thingie. These brollys were quite effective, the closer to the centre the better, off the flooded ground preferably, the latter achieved by sitting on tables and chair backs. Communication between tables for bar tidys though was a wet nightmare. Each rib of brolly ended in a running tap, plentiful and impossible to avoid. Drunken and cavorting family barely seemed to comprehend these things which were far too obvious, to one already saturated and not wishing to walk back to Coogee today, on light. Safe to say I never got completely into the spirit but it was truly wonderful to see my family from this perspective. Now I know I need never more suffer that guilty doubt after a family day that I laughed too loud or talked too much. I love you family. Hope there are not too many sore heads today.

Epilogue: Appendix 1; ( Liver 0) Instead of sensibly consolidating my day of sobriety and staying home to publish last night, I fell for the ‘Night out with Kara’ trap. This led as some of you knew even better than I, to The Woollahara Hotel to be entertained by the wonderful Rinki Dinks who I duly recorded on my wonderful new machine for later upload to the net. Sympathetic to Kara’s period pain I treated both of us to a heart starting cocktail before settling to a steady diet of Redbank Emily. (Surprising; the detail you recall) It would have been OK had I gone home when the entertainment ended at about ten but as I’m learning it is about this time that the Kara effect comes in to play and I have vague recollections of the Annandale Hotel but not the brand of drink. Enough to say I woke very early, minus another ten thousand odd brain cells, for which I tried to compensate with codeine. By one I recognised that I would live and leaving the house for essential food discovered my agony was to be prolonged by the walk to Annandale to retrieve my car. Ah well seasons greetings I guess.

Aunty


The Star who with all of his being seemed to say “Ho–hum are we there yet?”


The proud father


Probably the only member of the family aside from James and Jamie with clear memories of the day


Stephen workshopping his upcoming role in Overbelly II as ‘The Menace’



I was fortunate to get this picture of the cast of Overbelly II and am in negotiation with People Pix and Post for an obscene amount of moolah



This well presented fellow appears strangely and not always supported by Mat trying to upstage, in many of this years photos


As it’s well known that beautiful babies inspire in others the desire to make families and families need homes I thought I should include this untimely oportunity

Im So Excited

My dear youngsters,

The reluctance of the ATM to even process my request let alone its tortuous slowness in dispensing the brand new $50 bills had me checking them for any imprint that would indicate Zimbabwe origin. No doubt it was just groggy from a recent gas attack and like any NSW public servant deserved not my ridicule but rather sympathy, counselling and stress leave . Could it be a symptom of the global financial meltdown that has seen bankers and miners flooding into Centrelink in recent weeks. For my part it all seems good. Bunnings still enjoys sales in excess of expectation and has moved on from its role as a presentable child of Westfarmers to a major breadwinner. Share prices at a current fifteen odd dollars are only a third of their value a few months ago but to an employee receiving his annual of one thousand dollars worth allocation this has proved a fifty five share windfall.

If last nights Christmas party is any indication I’m in for a good year. The funny money which seemed to clone in my pocket actually worked, at least till about eleven PM, when someone more sober than I wisely decided to rescind its mint. Alice attended as my guest and enjoyed the company of the ninety odd Bunnings revellers amongst whom I was pleased to find a good contingent of the recently arrived Nepalese. These affectionately known as the Sherpas (there are even two sherpini) arrived in mass only six weeks ago along with more Iraqis to join with the Kenyans and Zimbabweans who help to spice the previously bland Chinese, Indian, Maori, Anglo and token Aborigine Bunnings melting pot stew.

I accept your invitation to the Coogee ‘poo’ Bay for post xmas festivities Kell and with plenty of time for recovery, I don’t go back to work till Jan7, may even squeeze more dates into the calendar. Stephens family day seems obvious, could be arranged at the drop of a hat and you know I have one.

Speaking of gentlemen’s accessories I’ve been having great difficulty finding a set of braces. The demise of Gowings was a great tragedy for both me and my daughter’s father in law. Ever reliable David Jones have only a choice of black or black at a cost of $40 or $40 so I was chuffed to find “at Lowes” non racist black and white and patriotic green and gold versions, obvious when you consider the girth of those footy show hosts, and at only $20. Never mind all that, once the fashonista have seen my pencil stripe shorts and braces ensemble this summer they wont be able to get enough of them. If you have spare money to invest take a good look at braces stocks, they can only go up.

Now due to writers block I must bring this blog to an end.

Love you all,

Edith


Here Mart, if I may be allowed to call you so, is what we Sydney sider’s regard as the gateway to the city, at least to those from no father than Manly or Ermington.



Behind us is this giant fornicating snail which has so far resisted all attempts to crush it.



A little beyond your good queen Victoria, there her skirts, admires the attempts of this homeless person an he fakes his early morning tai chi



Further still along the road toward reality rather than myth.



We reach the essential heart, no body, um mass, of Australia which you already know from the movie of the same name.



I hasten to assure you that none of the above is in any manner representational of the iconic seaside village of Coogee.

Merry Christmas

Happy Christmas to all, Love Sue, kelly, Olly & Chris

Goolmangar

Spending tonight in Lismore so drive out to have a look at the farm. It looks very green and lush. The farm paddock has two relaxed horses with a new foal. Lots of contented frieshans in the paddock near Boland's looking towards Aintree, and the two fig trees still look healthy. Lots of dairy cows in the area and even the store has cows pulling Santa's sleigh. It was a cloudy misty day and the valley looked beautiful, and Olly though it would be a great place to live !!! love Chris, Sue & Olly

Christmas spirit um spirits

My dear Girls,

At the risk of sounding like your very selves allow me to here communicate the frenzy of my pre Christmas life. Unlike yours mine will be more verbose and in much more detail as you no doubt already see.

I’d known for some time of my charming work colleague Megan’s so called kitchen warming, in plan for only eighteen months now, it was scheduled for this Saturday evening so it was with some surprise that I received a call from Cynthia early last week asking ‘everything ok for Friday’. Eventually a vague memory of the promise to baby sit for her work Christmas party returned and of course I was. Clever girl, she reminded me twice more as the week proceeded till eventually when seeing her name attached to the call on that clever mobile do I remembered this responsibility.

No problem really for an old fart. One fifteen year old boy and a thirteen year old girl with her best friend staying over, who calls that baby sitting. Don’t know why I’m here really. This question becomes even more relevant as I settle to Sam’s entreaties to watch a video with him. This proved to be the most bloodthirsty and sexually violent piece of crap that I, who have lived almost fifty years more than Sam, had ever seen. I had to keep asking myself was I there perhaps to adjudicate what possible ‘Lord of the Flies’ style nonsense he may have gotten up to with his sister , her friend and a carving knife. I did reflect that at his age I could still count the movies I’d been to on one hand and three of them were Oklahoma. There was no TV. At the same time I recognised that this stuff was what I was looking for in those days and look at the wholesome creature I turned out. Ahem.

I retired some time after ten to lie atop Cynthia’s cat piss smelling bed fully clothed to prepare for my seven AM start at Bunnings but did not sleep well. Capable of sleeping through thirteen year old teenage girls deep and troubling silences I could not sustain repose through the hysterical screaming phases of their natural rhythm. Throughout all, Sam’s videos continued with incessant screaming, gunfire and explosions and were that not enough the elder cat, troubled by a very recently arrived kitten for whom all outdoor access had been prohibited constantly walked over me to check once more whether the window had been opened.

Its enough to say that I didn’t sleep much and when I went for a leek at four AM discovered a mysterious mound of bedding outside Audrey’s room that I had to climb carefully, least there were a body, for access to the bathroom. Every light in the house was on including that in Sams bedroom though there was no sign of Sam. Returning to bed I noticed the mouse like sounds of a drunk attempting to putt key in door and opened it for Cynthia, her girl friend and a bloke, not a bad one really, hope for Cynthia’s sake it was hers. With the certainty that only insomniacs and other psychiatrically prescribed folk possess I bade them goodbye, to the receding sound of Cynthia’s “what’s this” and “are you still up” questions.

Quite out of sorts I arrived at work though soon gained my second wind, ran a quite successful DIY ‘Build a retaining wall’ class, resisted the temptation to teach folk the most successful worm farming techniques and was home at four for washes, naps, food and alcohol stimulus. Back with my third wind at Megan’s around six I drank too much, laughed too loud, ate too much and expressed too many opinions on too many subjects. Work colleagues met for the first time the Bob that you who attend family days know only too well. I succumbed to their entreaties to try their home brew Sambuca, and Irish cream whisky, I graciously accepted a glass from the Heineken Keg and drank lustily of my own favoured sparkles. I Enjoyed their home made Genuine Black Forrest Tort, Chocolate Cream Pavlova and congratulated their expertise with Lemon Cheese cake and lashings of cream. These at least are my memories which were I a teacher giving a report would have included the phrase ‘displays little self consciousness’.

Kerry and Authur gave me a lift home on their way to Campbelltown, hardly out of their way, and Kerry especially scoffed at my claim that I would retrieve my car on my morning walk. Retrieve though I did as prescribed finding the streets of Alexandria and Mascot unlike those of Stanmore and StPeters to feature endless industrial blocks where I thanked Nigel for the Sunday quiet.

Last night, or that night in this context, Alice and I went together to the Opera House Concert theatre for a tribute to Jackie Orzascky organised by his ex partner and friends which we both enjoyed immensely not the least for the opportunity to pick up with old friends. It was an early night Sydney Sunday style where the quiet of the streets put me in mind of my own youth with no Sunday trading. Perhaps the economic downturn is having its way with the entertainment industry and there is good reason why poor Justin Hemmes is always denying press rumours of trouble.

Now it’s Tuesday afternoon and I’m well rested though none the less stressed. I delivered some important papers on behalf of Alice and her extended family to Clarence Street in the city earlier this afternoon and had a disorienting experience with modern technology. An infrequent user of parking meters there seems to be such variety that I must always spend five to ten studying and trying to interpret their souls meaning. This one rejected all monies with a decisive message to “collect your money’ along with a subliminal message about max and min. After serious concentration I was able to distinguish a 0.01 after min and interpreting this to mean one cent (correct me if I’m wrong) wondered just how long this meter had been here.

Abandoning this endeavour to the fates I proceeded to the lobby of 35 Clarence where I found six lifts (I was headed for the forth floor) but no lift call buttons. Chic I’m sure so I waited and boarded the next lift wherein I found an equal lack of directional buttons and waited for what was next. Doors closed and after no perception of movement reopened to the lobby to where defeated I retreated. This must have been one of those special card only, voice/iris recognition, members only thingies I resolved and joined two girls awaiting other lifts. In here too were no directional buttons and I was forced to ask of these youngsters ‘what the hell’. Resisting their natural instinct to scream and run they bravely informed me that outside and around the corner was a key pad where if I punched in my floor it would inform me of what lift from A to F I should board. This worked well and soon having delivered my package to floor four I needed only to depart. Joining a lift with a professional courier this amateur asked ‘do all lifts go to ground’ and he explained that I must once more convey my wish by means of the key pad. Observing the key pad across the lift isle (for want of a better word, please don’t hesitate to advise) with only zero to nine as is the nature of key pads I had the foresight and good sense to ask which is ground before his lift departed and he replied ,though rather unsurely ‘er zero’ and was right.

Now as I drove home and passed the Observer hotel on Sussex Street I noticed a sign saying ‘let us organise your function for you’ and I was tempted to go in and have my hard drive updated to cope with all this um modernity I suppose.

I guess that’s (apply your own adjective here) enough so I’ll leave you with this entreaty to come home soon and turn on the light.

Love Nanny um no aunty xoxxxo

You've no idea how this tempted me on Sunday morning but you'll be pleased to hear I was strong

Which has helped me resist the temptation to deface this image with words like'as do greed and theft, so what!

Christmas in Devon with the Tidmans

Hi everyone

Mart and I spent the weekend with his family in Devon for an early Tidman Christmas. It was great fun to see Mart and both his brothers mucking around and it was really relaxing to be out in the countryside for a weekend.

Here's some pics of the festivities. Christmas has begun!

See you in 19 sleeps xxx

Me and Mart


The whole Tidman family


View from our guestroom over Denbury village

What? Who's memory?

Dear Family

Just like house work which if left for a week quickly turns into twenty minutes work, skimp on a blog and in no time there’s a blog jamb. Thank Nigel there are others responsibly taking care of recent births. Where to start is a problem and it’s too late for chronological order as over such a long span all memory of that’s long gone. Alice and Jack, ably assisted by the Rudd Government , remembered their paper anniversary suitably with books and art, while Jack assisted by Alices’ nepotism had published a delightful ode to love at the back end of one years marriage. Those of you interested, jealous or merely curious enough should check it out in Women’s Health December 2008, page#96 if you wish to devour it at the newsagency and avoid paying the A$6.95 which one way or another may turn out to be the last straw in these troubled times. Go to page #158 for more nepotism with Jungle Janes gardening tips.

I made personal contact with the exploding customer at Bunning’s and discovered in my ability to jump backwards the remnant of an adrenal gland I thought long gone. I marvelled at the soporific effect that Laurie the relief manager had on this dude whom I would have handed to the paramedics with their straight jackets and syringes. Watching him in Laurie’s gentle dispatch some twenty minutes later like a temporally lost child with dummy replaced was awe inspiring. I’m not claiming complete innocent in lighting this lad up but as any of the less than ten fingered fire working folk will tell you “who knows how short a fuse”.

Whoo! Chronology is the missing link from most writings don’t you think. Here it is eight thirty Tuesday night as I wake in alcohol addled fright to the certainty of a blog unfinished and destined to wait another week if not now completed. ‘No greater love does one man have than that he give up his Tuesday night to the blogging pleasure of his fellow’ that’s how Dickens would have put it had he a blog. Spent the afternoon in the company of Shara (first ex wife) at the delightful Exchange Hotel, Circular Quay where after a bottle of wine she decided without any encouragement (I swear) that the best thing to do was another. She had a fractured toe after all and remaining sedentary in proximity of the Manly ferry made sense don’t you think? She’s well (apart from an obviously sore toe which readers may recall I regard with some seriousness) and sends her greetings to all who might remember her.

Unfortunately (or not) for you the cleaners have been in and erased my memory of any drivel that I might have dredged and I’m left with little other than future prospects such as next weeks long awaited BBQ at Megan my work colleagues place and the work Christmas party, which I have generously agreed to attend in company with Alice this year, on the following weekend. Let’s not hear that any economic strictures could dampen party enthusiasm in the emerald city.

Yes, you guessed it, that’s all for this week. Cant wait for the Christmas festivities and I think I speak here for Alice also.

Love from Aunty

Following please find an essay entitled ‘there but for the love of Nigel go I’


These small critters are soooo vulenerable

Steal me and I'll scream

Are we but memories

I didn't say that