The year of the skink

2 Replies

It may be the Year of the Monkey for some, but for me it is the Year of the Skink. Why, because the skink showed me what my 2016 New Year resolution will be.

Web_Colin-alert_7903 I was digging out weeds in my garden in the company of le chat bizarre dozing in the curve of a piece of sandstone in our garden. Suddenly my companion was alert, twitching tail, ears pricked, eyes wide open, watching something under the sasanqua. The loud rustling made me wonder whether there was a field mouse searching for food. Le chat bizarre’s latest sport is to bring them into the house, let them go and watching me chase them with a broom.

I moved closer and saw a the yellow underbelly of a large tree snake twined around itself and another reptile. Initially I thought it was a second snake then I realised it was a large skink that was being swallowed.

The skink’s head was inside the snake’s mouth and it was wriggling and thrashing its body and tail, trying to get out of that mouth. I and le chat bizarre watched mesmerised, as the snake moved its jaws wider and swallowed even more of the skink. That lizard was not giving up the fight. It was scrabbling against the leaves with its hind legs and flailing its forelegs against the predator. The snake wrapped its body even tighter around the skink and you could see the muscles contracting. I was convinced the skink was going to be swallowed but suddenly and I don’t know how, the skink managed to wriggle out of the snakes’s mouth and escape into the leaf litter. The snake slithered away and le chat bizarre went back to contemplating life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

That skink reminded me to always keep trying and never give up. Curiously, I read a quote the other day which dates from the 1920’s and sometimes attributed to Franklin D.Roosevelt.

Web_palm-seeds-&-rope_7898 ‘When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on.’

Life is very precious, fight for it.

(Skink and snake got away before either could be captured on film.)

Remembering the owl and the pussycat

4 Replies

Colin being benign_6867 ‘So my fave event about which I am most passionate is having dinner with my family.’ I floated my statement above the aroma from our dinner waiting for someone to nibble at the bait and expand on it. In the silence, I wondered whether they understood my teasing. Then came the laughter and their suggestions. Listening to the discussion bouncing between us reminded me that words are a pleasure and there is nothing better than to have a nonsensical conversation over good food and wine. Edward Lear’s Book of Nonsense with his clever prose and limericks was a favourite bed-time read.

I grew up with a mother who would write her rhymes in birthday cards and scrabble was frequently played after dinner. Before iPads, the Dictionary sat within reach of the table so that a point could be clarified. I encouraged my children to develop their skills in repartee, the better to extend their curfew times, and debate was often vigorous between us.

Captain A and I enjoy the power of eloquent language and frequently comment on the poor quality of reporting in our media. The list published by the Lake Superior State University, Michigan of words people have found annoying and overused has been a source of discussion in the news and I have my contributions to that list.

‘So’ on that note I am suggesting two of my ‘faves’: event and passionate. Over summer in Australia we now have ‘rain events’ and ‘flood events’. Doesn’t it just rain with a flood being one of the consequences?

Recently at a women’s networking function every speaker said they were just so passionate about improving the lot of women in the workforce. You might feel strongly, even very strongly about equality but passionate. Sorry, passion is what I feel for my husband.

Colin in hot weather_2 I would love to hear what my friends think are over-used or inappropriately used words. Send them through please.

Remember those who served their country

2 Replies

Well I have managed to grow poppies that are flowering in my garden. Despite the rains this week causing the tall plants to tumble over each other, the delicate red and orange flowers are raising their heads, reminding me that Remembrance Day is here again. Mingled amongst them is the occasional yellow rose which also symbolises remembrance.These same poppies do appear each year all over France, on roadsides, fields and between cultivated crops.

I went to our Remembrance Day service and each year another thought springs to my mind as I listen to the same ode and the same music. Today I thought about the many people fleeing their countries because of war, failing economies and governments that restrict freedom.

For these men and women that I didn’t know, I will remember their service to our country, our nation and to us whom they couldn’t know. Their lives were given so that we should live in a world that allows freedom of speech and thought. A freedom that should not be taken lightly.

I don’t think I will ever forget the many manicured cemeteries scattered throughout the French countryside. Sometimes it seems there is a cemetery beside each road however minor. It is worth stopping and walking past their tombstones. They are a gentle reminder, chiding us not to forget.

‘When you go home, tell them of us and say,

For your tomorrow, these gave their today.’

John Maxwell Edmonds 1875-1958

Polygon Wood, France

Hearing the words about loyalty and service to their country caused me to reflect on what these characteristics really mean. Sitting on my desk at home is my latest ‘Loyalty’ card. Loyalty is too easily trivialised into a point’s game aimed to attract my commercial loyalty to boost corporate profits. True loyalty remains even under extreme duress and absolutely awful conditions.

These still silent tombstones say it all.

I reflect on the concept of service. The corporate brand of ‘Customer service’ that is a commercial tactic to increase profit hijacks the integrity of true service. Who considers service any longer? Are we proud of the Service to our country and nation the way these men and women once were? I worry that the collective commitment to our country is being diminished in the public debate that espouses the greater need of individuality and cultural and religious identity over nationhood.

Sitting here listening and thinking is a humbling experience. I haven’t been in a situation where I have been called to give service to my country but I am surrounded by many family members who have. My feelings reach out to other mothers, daughters, sisters, and wives who waited and worried. These feelings have been shared by generations of women and men not just for the 100 years since World War 1 (WW1) but forever.

The words of John Maxwell Edmonds were part of a collection of epitaphs for WW1 are an adaptation of words written by a Greek poet, Simondes of Cios 556-468 BC on the battle of Thermophylae in 480BC between the Greeks and the Persians.

Go tell the Spartans, thou that passest by,

That faithful to their precepts here we lie.

Blanket Date or Doona Day

3 Replies

The early morning cool breeze and soft folds of blanket were tempting me back into bed. I dashed my husband’s hopes and justified my desire to have one cup of coffee in bed whilst leafing through my new book. ‘Why not? We have had early mornings because the grandchildren stayed over and we sat chatting and sipping wine until after 1 am.’ However, I resisted as I had things to do that wouldn’t wait. ‘If I am not going back to bed, then we have to make it,’ I said.

Blanket versus donna?

How can I have an immaculate bed when I don’t iron the donna cover?

Why I have this compulsion to make the bed once I am up intrigues me. There is no logic for why a messy bed wrecks my day’s organisation as our bedroom is tucked away at the end of the veranda and I don’t need to walk past it once I am up and dressed. In fact if the bed wasn’t made, I might not notice until later that night. If all our problems can be blamed on our mothers perhaps I will add this to the list. Mum always insisted that her children tidy their rooms and make their bed before going to school.

But getting back to a messy bed. Who cares? The bedroom isn’t my office so why does it make such an impact on my efficiency? I haven’t got an answer but I just know that I am calmer and easier to work with when the bed has been made. Muttering about hang-ups and hangovers, I reach for the covers.

Cat having Blanket Date

A claw sinks into my hand and anchors me to the blanket. Ouch! Obviously Cat doesn’t mind a messy bed. I extract my hand and very cautiously lift the blanket to find said Cat, curled into a lovely warm hollow and displaying no intention of leaving any time soon.

‘Don’t disturb my Doona Day’

The Cat won the day and I left him there while I pondered on blankets versus doonas. If I were a retailer I would be persuading customers to buy doonas because then they need a doona cover that must match the décor, the season, the latest colour trend etc.

Moi, I prefer blankets. One of my best decisions and investments (and I mean investment as we ate sausages for weeks) was to buy a pair of gorgeous very light mohair blankets that 20 years later I still adore cuddling under.

Mohair blankets are so soft and light.

I particularly dislike the trend of hotels to provide a doona in a sheet bag but no additional sheet. This is great in winter but means in summer you need the air-conditioning on very low to keep the room cool enough to sleep under a doona. I wonder how a committed ‘greenie’ feels about this use of energy. You either sleep with nothing or under the doona and by the middle of the night I find I am having nightmares because I am too hot. Most recently my husband was staying in a Hyatt hotel during a 35-degree evening where all he had was a doona. He phoned to say he had finally understood why I always take the doona out of the bag, so that I can use the bag as a top sheet with the option of the doona. This does cause great confusion in the morning when the hotel staff come to do the room.

I do love the look and feel of the donna wrapped and crumpled.

However, I do love the way the doona plumps up around my body when I sit up having coffee in the morning. There is truly something very sensual about being wrapped in a doona and having a Doona Day sounds so much catchier than having a Blanket Date.

A Father’s influence

2 Replies

A brand new father

‘The pleasure of your company’ has always been my father’s response to questions about what he would like for father’s day. To him it is just another day to enjoy our company.

I grew up with the understanding that a person’s intellect was far more interesting and of value than what that person owned. Dad has never placed great value on possessions although he is certainly observant and notices any new jewelry my mother’s friends are wearing but he would be far more inclined to give Mum an interesting book that he would then read. Occasionally and probably to keep the peace and because he adores my mother, he succumbs to gentle persuasion and goes with her to the current favourite jeweler.

I didn’t get my sense of fashion from my father. It isn’t that he is disinterested in clothes but they are there for a purpose and there are more interesting things in life to consider. His desk is cluttered with books, journals, and articles that intrigue him with little room for irrelevant toys and his tools have to be functional. Even his choice of cars were chosen for a purpose: the enormous Studebaker that fitted his four girls across the bench seat, the Range Rover that carried us all onto the beach at Stradbroke Island to go fishing, and the Audi that fits his golf clubs.

Despite being a slightly built man, Dad has always kept himself fit. This is possibly one of his few vanities. He has always run and swum, and passed on his love of exercise to his daughters. In fact I start feeling guilty if I slack off and don’t workout each day. Now that he is older, he still insists on walking the dogs around the block and if it is raining I hear him on the exercise bike. I think his next challenge is to set up a running track beside the bike for the dogs to use in rainy weather. Dad has always played sport, whether it was rugby whilst at university, squash with his mates, tennis with his girls, sailing around Moreton Bay and of course his golf game. Sport is where he has allowed his highly competitive nature its release. There are still 89-year old men who talk about his prowess on the rugby field. Forget about letting his girls beat him at tennis, and if you surfed he would be delighted to take you out the back and wait for the longest largest wave back to shore. It was not that he expected you to follow his example, it just never occured to him that you wouldn’t. Now his grandsons play golf with him and boast of his ‘Hole in one’ effort. He laughs about this last achievement as he says he is so blind that he hadn’t realized the ball had gone in and he was wandering around on the green looking for it.

Dad is incredibly clever with a very retentive memory and loves nothing better than sitting having a discussion about current affairs through which he sprinkles remembered facts from past read information. You can try to contest his knowledge but rarely do we get the better of him. I love listening to my nephews challenge him on something they have studied and watch his eyes light up at new knowledge.

He has been a moderating influence in my life, gentle and wise. He is a man of few words so when he speaks we listen. When he says, ‘Susan, have you considered….’ I know I had better pause and have a second think. I still treasure the moment when he dropped by one day during a challenging period of my life and said ‘What ever you decide, I will back you.’ He has probably forgotten that moment from 20 years ago, but it has given me enormous strength throughout my life.

So at 89 years of age, the star of my life is still my father and on father’s day we will gather as many of the family around as possible, have a barbecue and toast our good fortune in having each other.

Tutus and the little girl in all of us

Generosity of spirit

4 Replies

Well done to Lincoln Sherlock who showed by his quick response to an emergency situation that he is a selfless and brave man. Even more so, as once he had saved this man’s life, he left the scene beside the Brisbane River without seeking to be noticed.

Recently I saw a young girl pull up in a car and rush to ask an elderly man if he was okay as he leant puffing and heaving against a light pole on the side of busy Kelvin Grove Road. Another young girl passing by also stopped to see whether he needed assistance. It was heartening to watch.

Realistically very few of us are placed into a situation where they save a life but during our day kindness doesn’t have to be so dramatic. A smile, a greeting and a gesture of friendship or assistance without expectation of reward are what create a good society to live in.

On the week-end I bought some cheese from two young people, Stephanie and Pierre who have started a small business. I like their cheeses and I like them so I sought them out at the market. After purchasing the cheese, Stephanie placed another small goat’s cheese into my bag. I am becoming a regular customer of Le Fromage Yard and this generous act was much appreciated.

I don’t think generosity of spirit means that you have to offer a gift that costs money. It can be a simple genuine act of spontaneous friendship, kindness or thoughtfulness. The pleasure the person receiving this act should be sufficient and because happiness is infective it will make the giver and the receiver feel happy.

Rarely do you have the opportunity to return the gesture, rather, you pay back that generous act not to that person but to another individual because most people respond to kindness and want to reciprocate. Pay it forward, as the saying goes. You will never know what effect small acts of generosity of spirit may have; such as letting a car move in front of you when waiting to get into the carpark. I am willing to bet however, that it will have a ripple effect on those around you.

Passionfruit Flummery

2 Replies

I am still trying to use up all the passionfruit that sit on my vine. My sister reminded me of this flummery that our mother would prepare when we were children. It is an old recipe as it was handed down from our Grandmother, Marie Florence Young. Neither of her daughters can remember whether she inherited from her mother, was given it by a friend or found it in a recipe book.

It is a lovely light sweet dessert, quick and easy to make. The ingredients aren’t expensive which is perfect when you are trying to save money and still entertain. Dress it up with a shortbread biscuit and a little passionfruit pulp and it looks as if it has taken all day to prepare.

You can also serve it to guests who are on gluten or dairy free diets which makes it very versatile.

When I first made it, I hadn’t realised what a large mixture it is. I had pulled out 8 of our very old-fashioned champagne glasses which have flowers etched into a pattern on the side. These looked very pretty when filled but I had to keep pulling out the old unused glass and ended up with 11 champagne and parfait glasses filled with the flummery. If you don’t have that many glasses you can always pour the mixture into a large bowl and serve it from that.

Ingredients

1 cup water
1 cup sugar
1 cup orange juice
the juice of one small lemon or lime
1 dessert spoon cornflour blended with a little water
¾-1 cup passionfruit pulp (about 6-10 passionfruit)
1 tablespoon gelatine powder

Method

In a medium sized saucepan, add sugar to water and stir over a gentle heat to dissolve the sugar. Pour in the orange juice and lemon or lime juice and the blended cornflour mixture, stirring continuously to ensure the cornflour is completely blended with the liquids.

Increase heat to a gentle boil and cook for about 3 minutes until the cornflour is cooked and you cannot taste the flour. The mixture will be a viscous (thick) clear liquid.

Scoop out the passionfruit pulp and blend it quickly in a food processor to separate the seeds from the pulp. Strain the passionfruit juice into a bowl and sprinkle the gelatine powder over the top of the juice. Don’t stir, just let the juice absorb the gelatine. If not all the gelatine has dissolved, place the bowl over the top of the saucepan for a minute to warm the passionfruit juice and very gently blend in the powder.

When the gelatine is dissolved, pour the passionfruit juice into the saucepan and stir well.

Now pour a little of the juice mixture into the base of an electric mixing bowl and using the whisk attachment, start to beat the mixture on a slow speed whilst slowly pouring the remainder of the juice into the bowl.

Gradually increase the speed and whisk the mixture for about 20 minutes by which stage as it cools it will become a light creamy colour and very frothy.

The passionfruit mixture becomes a light creamy yellow and very frothy with lots of minute air bubbles.

Pour the flummery mixture into individual cups or glasses or into a large bowl. Place in the refrigerator to set.

Decorate with a little passionfruit pulp.

Passionfruit Marshmallow

4 Replies

I love the flavour of passionfruit with its contrasting sweet and sour flavour. It is one of the significant flavours that to me, represent Queensland. The passionfruit vine is also a fast growing dense plant that is easy to grow so when our neighbour replaced his roof and I felt I was being blasted by the reflection of the morning sunshine I grew a passionfruit vine to block out the sun. Little realising that I would also be feeding the entire possum population of my suburb. Our uninvited guest creeps along the electricity cable, jumps onto our veranda railing, and indulges in a passionfruit leaf salad with the fruit for dessert. Then satiated by its degustation meal a now corpulent possum will creep along the railing and jump into the bird feeder for an after dinner snooze.

I may as well place a sandwich board out the front of my house offering a meal to all those who need one. If there are any left overs the cockatoos enjoy a passionfruit slurpy.

Fortunately the vine is bearing prolifically and Cockatoo eating passionfruit (1) has twined its way along two sides of my veranda.

I admire its tenacity and how its tendrils curl around anything that they touch. and even my night time marauders can’t eat all the fruit so I have been exploring how many ways I can use passionfruit in my recipes.

We have had passionfruit sauces with duck and chicken, with pancakes for breakfast and brulées for dessert. I have made passionfruit ice creams and sorbets which are just so good and iced cupcakes and biscuits in passionfruit icing. Now I have made the most delicious passionfruit marshmallows.

I took some of these marshmallows into an organisation where I was doing volunteer work and a Danish woman said she considered the taste was the quintessential flavour of Queensland, whilst another fellow said it was like being in heaven and eating a passionfruit cloud.

They are also very easy to make and quite addictive and you have to be very strong with yourself to limit how many you eat. I watched my father and son eat 6 pieces between them while they were preparing lunch. They are a lovely light lemony colour and I served them on a pretty yellow saucer from the Laburnum Petal range. You can find it for sale at my other site, Maddie and Marie.

Passionfruit Marshmallow

Prepare a lamington tin by lining it with baking paper. Very lightly grease the paper with vegetable oil then sprinkle the surface with a spoonful of a mixture made up of equal amounts of pure icing sugar and cornflour. I use 25 g of icing sugar and 25g of cornflour. This is very important to do because it stops the marshmallow from sticking and when you cut it up each piece will stay separate.

Ingredients

180 ml passionfruit juice/pulp without seeds (I used 10 passionfruit)
20g gelatine powder
500g sugar
1 cup water
2 egg whites

Cut the passionfruit in half, scoop the pulp out and blend briefly so that the seeds separate from the pulp. Remove the seeds by pouring the pulp through a sieve. Discard the seeds. Make sure the pulp is at room temperature then sprinkle the gelatine over the pulp and allow it to soak and form a sponge. This doesn’t take very long.

While the sponge is forming, combine the sugar and water in a saucepan. Place on a low heat and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Increase the heat, bring to the boil then reduce the heat until it is just simmering and cook until it reaches 125°C and cook for 10 minutes. The best way to test this is with a sugar thermometer. This is also called the soft ball stage.

The entire cooking process will take about 15-20 minutes. Remove from the heat and pour in the passionfruit pulp. Stir the mixture to dissolve the gelatine.

In an electric mixer, beat the whites with a pinch of salt until frothy. Slowly add the passionfruit mixture and beat on a medium speed until the mixture is double in volume and has cooled down. It should be very light and frothy. Pour the mixture into the prepared lamington tin and spread it with an oiled spatula.

Dust the surface with the sugar and cornflour mixture. Allow it to set at room temperature. The marshmallow can be cut after 3 hours. Its flavor intensifies as it ages. Sprinkle the cut pieces with the icing sugar and cornflour mixture.

Then sit back and enjoy the faces of people who eat your ambrosial marshmallow. They will think they are in paradise.

The Consumer – are we necessary?

2 Replies

Two recent consumer experiences have made me question the importance of the consumer and my relationship with the retailer. Whether I am buying flowers which is a total sensual pleasure or buying petrol, which is a dirty smelly and negative product I want to feel as good as possible about my experience.

Entering a Parisian Flower shop – pleasurably tempting and a sensual experience of colours and scents.

Cars don’t do it for me the way flowers do but as this is my car as well as my husband’s I wanted to be involved with the final decision. So on a recent hot Saturday afternoon we walked around a couple of showrooms to get a feel for which model we preferred. We had done our research, knew the models we wanted to look at and test drive and were ready to make a decision. To be fair, we could have been mis-identified as ‘tyre-kickers’ however; the smart salesperson shouldn’t take that chance.

We walked into BMW and the receptionist immediately greeted us, enquired what we were looking for and whether we wanted to talk with a salesperson then offered us refreshment. The model we were seeking was on the floor and we were directed towards it. An attentive individual greeted us soon after and arrangements were made to test drive said vehicle. All good.

We walked across to Mercedes where the receptionist didn’t look up from what she was doing until we addressed her. She gestured towards the showroom saying the vehicle was there somewhere. We failed to find it, and after wandering aimlessly around for 5 minutes I accosted a salesperson. I am busy we were told and they didn’t have that vehicle on display at the moment as they had been busy selling so many of these models. A salesperson would be along in the next 10 minutes when they were free. Thanks, but we won’t wait. (There are plenty of other cars to look at).

We entered the Audi showroom and the receptionist looked up, smiled and enquired about our needs. She gestured towards the cars, phoned a salesperson and enquired whether we would like coffee or water. The salesman shook hands, introducing himself. After explaining that the model was not on the showroom floor he ushered us to the rear of the building where we looked at one of the recently sold vehicles. Arrangements were made to go for the test drive. No problems.

Mercedes made our decision a lot easier; by their disinterest they lost a potential customer and we only had the difficult choice of deciding upon one of the two very similar styles of vehicle. The new car arrives on Thursday.

Buying petrol is tedious but at least this window makes me laugh.

Buying petrol is tedious but at least this window at my local petrol station makes me laugh.

My second consumer experience was with a bank. I wasn’t seeking a loan, just information about small business accounts.

Business principles 101 generally impress upon you that first impressions count. Either I didn’t impress or in the business where there is no alternative other than the biscuit tin under the bed there is less need to. My local doctor’s waiting room has more ambiance than this bank branch and that is being complementary. The lobby if you could apply that name to the small space now allocated to this branch is one of the least welcoming environments I have recently entered. Darkly coloured and sterile, the concept of welcoming doesn’t even enter the vernacular.

Slightly blurry photo by a bleary eyed traveller yet the flowers made you feel absolutely wonderful.

A utilitarian space with a few photos of smiling enthusiastic people all looking so happy to be using this facility. Have you noticed that no-one looks unhappy when photographed for advertisements about financial institutions, funeral homes or retirement villages? This is what we have been waiting for our whole lives and we are just so happy to be dealing with this featured organization. Yes, well there are plenty of things I would be happier dealing with than any of these institutions. Note to self, I should have pinched one of my mother’s ‘happy’ pills before this venture; but I can do this cold turkey.

I am ushered into the usual fishbowl of an office, offered a rather limp and sweaty handshake by a boy probably younger than my children and seated at an angle that doesn’t allow me to see the secret men’s business on the screen. My adviser is friendly and tells me about another customer with the same business idea. He offers employment advice saying that he feels there is no shortage of jobs out there for older women as his mother has always had a job. That’s nice for her I say.

I venture to ask about business accounts. Oops, I seem to have wandered into the local foreign language school. Could I have a dictionary here as I am struggling to understand the terminology? Access Account? But surely access is a given, oh Smart Access – now I have to be a Mensa member to access the account?

‘Could I have some assistance here please, this customer needs help.’ Oh Customer Assistance, certainly ma’am, at a price you see as good customer service doesn’t come cheap, and forget about the old adage that without the customer we wouldn’t be here, that’s an historical fact and we are a future oriented bank. $1.10 per assistance is a bargain compared to assistance if you have a personal account where you pay $2.00 for the privilege of face-to-face communication.

Usually I have nightmares only when I am too ‘hot’ in bed and reader just don’t take that as anything other than temperature. Today was cold and I wasn’t in bed so discard that assumption and I am beginning to feel as if I have walked onto the set of a John Clarke and Brian Dawes skit.

‘Could you tell me..?’ I ask.

‘I can’t tell you that,’ says the young man.

‘What about..?’ I ask.

‘I can’t tell you that.’

‘Let me rephrase this. Can you tell me what you can comment on?’

‘I can tell you that I can’t tell you because Government legislation says I can’t advise on….’

‘Is this information available on the net?’

‘Yes,’ he beamed, ‘I can tell you that.’

Armed with the few sheets of information printed from his screen, I said I would go home and do further reading.

He proffered his hand and suggested I was welcome to visit again any time I needed more information. Personally I think I’ll stick to watching Clark and Dawes.

I would rather be poor and buying flowers in Paris over dealing with financial institutions.

M	T	W	T	F	S	S
1	2	3	4	5	6	7
8	9	10	11	12	13	14
15	16	17	18	19	20	21
22	23	24	25	26	27	28
29	30	31