The Most Wuthering Heights Day Ever!


My daughter and I and some dear friends went to Sydney Park last Saturday to pay homage to Kate Bush, whilst at the same time, denouncing domestic violence. I used to listen to Wuthering Heights as a young girl, living under the oppressive understanding that a violent and possessive man would be deciding when my life would end in the near future. I didn’t have to imagine him telling me that I was ‘going to lose the fight,’ nor have ‘bad dreams in the night.’ He told me routinely, and I indeed had bad dreams. I imagined coming back dressed in red, banging on the window, trying to get somebody (anybody), to hear me and welcome me in. Never in my wildest dreams would I have envisioned joining so many others, dressed in red, dancing to this song so many years later! It was a powerful remembrance of how far I have come, watching my little girl twirl by my side. St Peters has a special place in my heart. I was a young poet/artist when I lived there, selling my wares to the little shops up King St. I would take my little dog, Mitzi Winstopple to Sydney Park each evening, and dream of the future.

In preparation, I raided our fancy dress box and my daughter found a 50 cent gown that fitted her beautifully.

It was cathartic, and I felt cleansed. We wandered up King St to the Union Pub, where scores of other Cathy’s gathered. We bought felt hats for $10 at a bargain store, and I told my friend of my life in St Peters, and the sadness I felt at leaving. I came back not only to pay homage to Kate Bush, but to retrieve something I had left behind; myself.

The next day, I paid for my dance. I wept with the pain, but it was worth it. If there is a price to be paid, always make sure it’s worth it. Two days later, my spine is coming good. I can’t wait until next year!

 

Vivid, Wirrimbirra and how to talk with kids about terrorism.


Psychologist John Blythe has the following advice on how to talk to kids about the latest horrors. I was grateful to read it before I sat my daughter down to answer her pressing questions. My heart is with all who have suffered as a result of these atrocities.

There is evil in this world, the energy denser than tar, and yet there is goodness, shimmering and light as gossamer. There is also beauty, and thank goodness for that!

We had a little walk around Vivid last week. Sydney can get bitterly cold this time of year, and the food trucks supplied us with chilli bowls, hot chocolate and tea. Scores of volunteers of all ages cheerfully directed the crowds, and strangers chatted and greeted one another. I would suggest going on a week night, rather than the upcoming long weekend, as it is far less busy!

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We also went to Wirrimbirra Sanctuary, where we met the following characters.

There is evil, but there is also light and beauty.

 

I went back…


A friend had just moved to a place which holds many memories for me. I hadn’t been back to this town for many, many years. I had lived close by at one time, and produced art, selling to shops on the main strip. I would be up all night, painting and writing poetry to take in my trolley the next day. After I had visited my lovely people, I would go to a little florist shop, who would sell me the last bunches of flowers at the end of the day. The florist insisted on only taking a few dollars. My home would be filled with the aroma of roses and lilies for the next week, then the ritual would be repeated. Listening to the buskers in the outside mall, sipping coffee and eating organic fruit… Such lovely memories.

The memories which overshadowed the above were dark indeed. I was raped in this town at fourteen years of age, on a blistering summer’s day, by the river. I had to board a bus back to the clinic with the creature responsible… Years went by-years of difficult recovery-and there I was, selling my art in this town. I was having my coffee, listening to the buskers in the mall, when I saw him. He had already seen me, gazing at me through his sunglasses. I could feel his eyes, as reflective as oil-slicked puddles, reaching out to me. My chair tipped over as I instinctively ran. I was fourteen all over again. I locked myself in the ladies toilet, crouching down as he banged on the door. He wanted to talk. I sure as hell didn’t. I remained there until I heard my name called by the friend I had been with. The coward slunk away. I never went to this town again, after uncovering he was living nearby. It wasn’t the last I heard from him, though it was the most traumatic occasion.

I ended up having to leave Sydney for a time, a decision the police supported. My life went on a different trajectory; you could call it being rail-roaded. It felt peculiar to be back in the same mall the other day. Nothing had changed! The gum trees were still present, as were the buskers. The little florist shop was open, as was the book shop I used to frequent. I took deep breaths, the memories (of which I hadn’t told my friend), flooding my brain. I felt the pressure building. We stopped and had lunch, and as I sat outside with my friend, her husband and our kids, I had an epiphany. If I saw him today, I wouldn’t run. I would face him, challenge him, and he would be the one to bolt. I am not locking myself away anymore. With that, I once again became the young artist who sold her paintings to shops, and filled her house with flowers each Saturday. I came back for her. All the things he had commanded I couldn’t have-an adult  life, a child, my legs, my sanity- were on proud display. I walked back to the car, holding my daughter’s hand.

Royal Easter Show


We went to the Royal Easter Show on Friday, and had a wondrous time. We uncovered that our little bird, Friendly, is in fact a White Pie Face. She would have won first place, for sure! She’d have loathed to be put in a little cage though, finding a way to escape in all probability, releasing all the other birds too!

One thing I love about the show is learning about new products about to be launched. We came across a group of delightful ladies, who managed to tame my daughter’s thick hair, without causing pain. The brush glided through her mane, and afterward, her hair was silky and shiny! Impressed, I bought the brush and their peppermint and lavender Nit deter and detangling sprays. You can find Tangled Kids Hair Care here.

I gave my daughter money, and aware that once that was spent, there was no more, she impressed me with her cautiousness. She decided to spend a portion on a gorgeous pendant, with a picture of where the moon was on the day she was born. It was a gorgeous blue moon, which glows in the dark. You can find the jewellery pieces here.

We bought hats and tried out Sydney’s new light rail system.

With my bunged-up back, my daughter decided against doing any rides solo, and instead we stopped to admire the fashion, animals, cakes, flowers and art.

Some people are outrageously talented!

My advice for getting the most out of the show:

  1. Download the Royal Easter Show App. You can select showbags and put in your preferences and date you will be attending. An itinerary will be selected for you!
  2. Download the Opal App! I typed in Royal Easter Show, and an alternate route to the way I intended to go came up. We caught a train and then an express bus right to the gate. So easy!
  3. Decide what you want to do and see before you go. You will end up walking around aimlessly otherwise!
  4. Get money out as soon as you get there, and stop for a cuppa, a snack and a toilet break before venturing further than the nearest facilities!
  5. Comfortable shoes are a must, and drink lots of water to prevent dehydration.
  6. Enjoy yourself! Stick to a budget and research showbags before you get there. This advice is imperative! You don’t want to be wandering around the showbag hall without knowing what you are intending to buy!
  7. Buy showbags  just before you leave!
  8. Enjoy yourself! The show has a proud history, and is a celebration of agriculture, creativity and joy.

Melbourne


I recently flew down to Melbourne with a wonderful group of friends. People have raved about how beautiful Melbourne is, but it surpassed all expectation. From the moment we checked into our apartment on Flinders Lane, there was a sense of coming home. A lovely friend was minding my daughter, and I found myself abandoning the infamous mental list of things I must do.

Laneways were emblazoned with art, and a Romani musician delighted with his violin. Scented candles and essential oils beckoned you into little shops, and my mind was torn, as I decided on where to eat, and what to eat! There were so many choices! Within an hour of arriving, I had fallen hard for Melbourne. It’s architecture is stunning, and rather than dismantle its history, it seems to preserve it. It is easy to get around, and the public art is astounding! My soul wept with the beauty it was being fed. I stood in Bourke St Mall, silently remembering those who perished a few short months ago. There was almost a holy reverence at play amongst the crowds. We shopped and dined at Chin Chin, a funky bar/restaurant, which catered to our individual requirements with aplomb. We walked to South Bank, ate at cafe’s and pubs, and had an exquisite time. Melbourne is far cheaper than Sydney, that’s for sure! It felt as though it didn’t matter what your leanings, you could find your tribe here. I was sad when our three days came to an end, and it was time to fly home. Melbourne, you have captured my heart, and I can’t wait to come back with my daughter.

 

 

Gnome Convention


On the 26th January, the Gnome Convention was held at Glenbrook Park. This annual event is put on by the Rotary Club of the lower Blue Mountains and we look forward to it all year!

 

 

It is whimsy at it’s best. We were entertained by the extraordinary bush poet, Greg North. If you haven’t experienced his act, you are missing out! Check him out here! img_0553

Brendan Kerin had us enthralled with not only his music, but stories. Did you know that the Didgeridoo’s actual name is Yidaki? It originated from the top half of Australia and was named the Didgeridoo later on as that is the sound it seemingly makes.

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We bought Gnome Hats, and had a grand time amongst the gnomes and fairies. It is my birthday today, and I bought this delightful Green Man incense burner (the smoke comes out of his head) for $15. We all need whimsy in our lives, and knowing that the money raised goes to charity is extra incentive to get your gnoming game on!

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Sizzling in Sydney


It’s almost time to get back into the craziness of Term 1 of Homeschooling. We have had many days at home, decluttering and organizing, reading and resting. One of my daughter’s friends came to stay for a few days, and my heart nearly flipped out of my chest when I heard them talk as we went for a walk. They chatted about how they were both their mum’s last chance. How we were both down to one follicle. They talked about being miracles. I am glad they both understand that they truly are! Sydney has been hit with many days of searing temperatures, and we have sought comfort in the southerly winds offered by the coastline.

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Performers at Luna Park
Performers at Luna Park

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There have been a few visits to Luna Park. I purchased an annual pass for my daughter a few months back, and it has proven it’s worth. She can enjoy the rides and then swim next door in Nth Sydney pool to cool off afterward. If I go once a month, it works out to $8 a visit. At the back of Luna Park, you can walk to Lavender Bay, and visit Wendy Whiteley’s Secret Garden. On the way, you will uncover treasures such as these.

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We took some little fairies there to replace those that were pinched behind magical little doors. It seems they have gone again, but I will continue to replace them when I go there. It’s a bit like life; your gifts may be stolen or crushed, but you keep on getting up and giving it all that you have. You must.

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A friend was bitten by a bee at Luna Park the other day. I thought she was having a lend for a split second, as you don’t expect to find a bee by the water! She wanted me to pull out the stinger, but I thought I might make a hash of it, so we hurried to the First Aid room. The first aid lady was efficient and friendly, and as the stinger was taken out of her neck, I assured my friend that it was good luck to be stung and it meant she was incredibly sweet!

My daughter and I have met all kinds of characters on our city adventures. She complimented a fellow on his bright hand-painted shirt and it turned out he was an artist from the Southern Highlands. We waved at the lucky travellers on a cruise ship as our ferry went by, and met a lovely elderly man who comes down to Circular Quay most days to watch the boats and people. On Saturday, I dropped my daughter’s friend back into the city to meet her parents, and the girls noticed that a sky-writer had written TRUMP in large letters, spearing the blue film above us. This started a diatribe from the ten and eleven year old’s, unscripted and delighting everyone waiting to cross at the lights. Many were women on their way to march at Hyde Park. I am glad our young girls have a voice, and feel able to use it. I am glad that they can debate and know that their opinions shall be valued.

Our Home by the River
Our Home by the River

January has been a time of crushed ice, cold drinks, cold packs and swimmers. It has been a time of parades at Luna Park, park dates, pools and oceans. It has been a pilgrimage or two to the Secret Garden and dancing to buskers we meet. In Melbourne, it has been a time of mourning. Sydney stands with you in your grief over what occurred in the Bourke St Mall. I hope you can feel the solidarity. There but for grace and timing, go any of us day-trippers, who think nothing of walking along a boulevard or mall. Now more than ever, we have to hold onto one another. To donate to the appeal for victims of this travesty, click here.

Felting with The Magic Weave


I had the privelage of meeting two of the warmest and gentlest people at the beginning of the year. Cristina is a felt artist from Chile who met her beau in a wondrous collision of fate, and together, they run The Magic Weave. They asked me up to The Creative Arts Centre in Glenbrook to partake in needle felting recently. Though I was excited, I was worried my non-existent sewing skills may let me down. To my delight, there was no sewing required! It was meditative, working the fibres with the needle, before turning them into gnomes, snowmen and angels. Cristina had the packs ready and waiting, and the whole process was like witnessing magic!

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There is such joy in learning a new craft, and I must say, I never knew I could be skilled with a needle and pile of wool and felt! Cristina and her partner, Frank, are excellent teachers. If I can pick it up in a few hours, so can you! I hope you get the opportunity to visit them in the lower Blue Mountains and catch one of their classes.

The glorious Cristina
The glorious Cristina

 

 

What I learnt from Pottery Class


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This was meant to be a tray, but the side on the left broke off!

When our children went to home school classes run by Casula Powerhouse, we would gather at the coffee shop. Some of the parents would seize the opportunity to do their work on laptops. Some brought their textbooks along and studied. Some would sit and chat over coffee, and some would walk by the river. One of our group organized for anyone interested to go to pottery classes whilst our kids were in classes. Brilliant! Here is what I have learnt.

  1. It requires more focus than you first realize. You have to work the clay with your hands, deliberately and with intent.
  2. Ladies who gather around a mound of clay talk about a wild myriad of subjects, and it feels like sharing your soul with your tribe.
  3. Things go awry, and it’s okay. Legs wobble, bowls are misshapen, and dishes crack when fired.
  4. It is nerve-wracking to send your baby to it’s first firing. You also learn the fine art of surrendering when you relinquish your object to the kiln after glazing. You have no idea if it shall survive. Indeed, you have no idea what colours it shall be, nor the depth of those colours.
  5. The image of what you wish to create often differs from what is done!
  6. Scooping up your pieces of pottery-which cracked in the kiln-you are awestruck at their beauty, and imagine what you can create with them.

Pottery is a metaphor for life. We start off with an idea of what we can create, and do our level best to make it happen. Circumstances change, people have their turn shaping the clay and there is mess. We put the rearranged piece in the kiln and hope for the best, knowing we have done all we can. We read the colour on the bottle of glaze, and try to imagine how it shall look, before spreading it on in liberal strokes. Whatever we end up with, we take pride in having created it with our own hands, however wonky it may be. Life is pretty much like that. If we wanted cookie-cutter perfection, we would have to look to mass-production, and life shouldn’t be like that.

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