Oh Susanna

Many days of business, means little time for blogging, so here's a quick update...

• AFL has finished for the year with my lovely Saints in fourth place, which is an improvement from 9th last year
• The Hawks were a surprise winner of the AFL grand final, after Geelong had been the form team all year long. The Hawks supporters might tell you something different...
• An enjoyable afternoon watching the grand final with our lovely neighbours...
• A small moment of embarrassment at Auckland airport involving a (very) small apple, meant that I am $200 Kiwi dollars lighter than I should be. (Plus foreign currency charges) (And the amused chuckles of my colleagues....)
• A house warming for C & Y at the weekend, with so much food left over that we had to go back yesterday to eat some more food!
• My step mother is finally home after almost four weeks in hospital following her fall of 4.5 metres in September. Walking, talking. WHich in itself is a bit of a miracle.
• Warm, dry weather at the weekend reminds us that summer is on it's way, and parched crops in the North of the state will be struggling, even more.

It has been an exceptional weekend, with two invitations to share meals with the family of Y, which we found very enjoyable, with a fine selection of Lebanese dishes in two different households on the east side of the city. Tabbouli, Hommus, Baba Ganoush, Kibbeh among other savoury dishes and a range of delectable sweets.

I was fortunate that my hosts were mindful of the importance of the business end of the AFL season, had their TVs on so that those of us who were interested could keep track of what was happening at the MCG.

Last night, the Saints turned on a stellar performance in defeating the Collingwood Magpies by 34 points, and move into a Preliminary Final next week against Hawthorn. Driven by a desire to give Harvey one last tilt at a Premiership, the Saints may yet play in a grandfinal on the 27th September.

In an apparently equally intriguing and tension ridden game, the Wallabies went down to the All Blacks in Brisbane in a tight 24-28 result. Regular SMS updates during the evening meant that I did not miss out on all of the excitement.

Yesterday my stepmother was intending to head off to Sydney for a couple of weeks, and round 9am decided to take her laptop on to the roof of the underground house that they live in, which my dad had built in the mid eighties, to connect to the aerial directly, presumably so she could check her emails before she set off.

She connected the laptop to the aerial, then sat down on the skylight, which after twenty something years had become somewhat brittle, and fell four metres into the dining area, hitting a piece of pottery and a  bookcase on the way down. The fall resulted in three cracked vertebrae and lacerations which required stitching. As a result she will be in hospital for a minimum of two weeks, under strict orders not to move.

When I think of what could have happened, I think she has been very lucky not to have been injured more seriously.

As always, the dry with of my Uncle R, came forth in a telephone conversation with my Dad, not more than a few minutes after the ambulance had been called, when he said "That's a most unorthodox way of entering a house...."

My Dad, another exponent of dry humour, in yet another phone call shortly after, when asked whether she had left for Sydney said, "Well, she's about to leave the house, but there's a change of plans and she's going in the worng direction!"

When one is sitting at the gate lounge of an airport, waiting for the call to board, one is prone to try to find people to ring or other things to do to fill time in. My colleague was having trouble with his portable telephone named after a fruit, the emails were disappearing, so he rang our formerly monopoly national telephone provider in an attempt to get some satisfaction. Without a password, however, there is no chance of getting anything done to solve a problem...

My call to a customer service officer which ended being diverted to another country, resulted in a conversation which went something like this...

Customer Service Person: "Aaah, so I've been hearing a bit about Australia lately...."

Me (surprised) : "Oh, in what way"

CSP: "The number of problems you are having with  "insert name of former  wholly owned government airline", and I don't know that I would want to fly with them...."

Me : "Thank you so much, I am about to get on a flight (run by the former wholly owned government airline), and I very much appreciate you reminding me of this...."

CSP: "You're welcome"

You dear reader will be happy to know that my business trip to Sydney, on the aforementioned airline went safely, despite my misgivings....

In the list of talents that I was handed out, modest though they are, the gift of the gab was not one of them... While this has the advantage at times of not expecting myself to be articulate, and occasionally surprising myself, there are other times when I wish it were otherwise.

Not for me the remedy of a few glasses of something, freeing up the tongue, that option is much more likely to send me to sleep. There is a phenomonen called flight or fight response where fear freezes everything, or alternatively, one can react at a high level of awareness, articulation and even demonstrate incredible sporting prowess... I admire friends who can talk the hind leg off a dog (so to speak) and I am normally happy to be a contributor to a conversation, but it is only occasionally that I am fired up enough to be that articulate person that I dream of being. As I lay awake at night, not far off sleep, I know that despite all the rehearsals in my mind, sometimes the words just don't or won't come. Does it mean that the time is not right? Maybe, but time passes, and I need to remember that wars are not usually one with one battle, much more likely with a series of small wins, without necessarily having a grand victory. Or a fantastic speech.

In the scheme of things, maybe the ability to write things down might be a consolation in most areas- one can pre-prepare for the important stuff, and in my observations of others, one does not have to be a so called "great" communicator to get the message across, for when the message is expressed with sincerity and honour, the meaning behind simple words will somehow have more effect, and small influencing actions might in the long run have a much greater influence.

Last Sunday afternoon, we headed off to see my beloved Saints (St Kilda in the Australian Football League) play an old enemy Essendon at the Docklands stadium. The Saints had ensured their place in the finals the previous week, with a stirring victory over Adelaide at the same venue. Even though I was unwell with a virus, I had bought tickets earlier in the week, so we headed off to the stadium, and took our seats with a friend, anticipating a quiet end to the home and away matches, as the Bombers had nothing to play for except pride, and while there had been a couple of shock losses by other teams in the round, the Saints could make the top 4 if they were to defeat the Bombers by at least 16 goals.

At three quarter time, it was clear that the 16 goal target was indeed achievable, and the excitement of being at the game when despite all the odds, they made the top 4 was an incredible feeling.

Just a pity that they have to play Geelong in the Qualifying final tomorrow, who have the much better form going into the finals, and who look invincible. However, strange things can happen in finals campaigns, so one never knows... However, the good thing is, we have a second chance, whatever happens tomorrow.

On our mantlepiece two framed photographs stand, the first one of my mother and Aussie Lass and Pink Ukulele. The other includes my mother, and my aunt, D, my Dad's oldest sister. The occasion: my grandmother's 100th birthday, held in Geelong in 1993.

In this snapshot of a moment in time, D's radiant smile lights up her whole face, amd my mum smiled too, as usual, happy to be in the company of her favourite sister-in-law.

This morning, we received a phone call: at 11 yesterday evening, D's brave and loving heart stopped beating at the age of 86. She is mourned by her loving family: 7 children, and many grandchildren and great grand children.

Shared memories of a kindred spirit: love of family, passion for Australian Rules Football, in her case, the Geelong Cats,  a love of reading and chatting and a welcoming home.

Memories of an afternoon on the farm in the Wimmera, when the Cats were playing the Saints, and the game was so close that neither of us could bear to be in the room where the radio was, so to relieve the tension, we walked down to the creek, and talked, sheer enjoyment for both of us. Later on, having mastered the technology of the video recorder, she would record the Cats games, and only watch the close games after she found out the result.

Before the age of the Internet, to read one of her letters to my parents was like hearing her talk, a rapidly written stream of thoughts, which made you feel she was in the room with you. She will be sadly missed by her wide circle of family and friends.

Be still my soul, the hour is hastening on

When we shall be forever with the Lord

When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,

Sorrow forgotten, love's pure joy restored

Be still my soul, when change and tears are past

All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

Catharina AD von Schiegel

Looking for an activity to fill in some time on Saturday, we headed off to Yarraville to the Sun Theatre, to see Persepolis, an animated film, mainly because of the timing of the showing.

I knew virtually nothing of the story, other than it was the story of a young girl in revolutionary and war torn Iran, and the horror of the story told was not diminished in any way by the fact that it was animated. Instead the starkness of the black and white drawings, the humanity of the characterisation shocked me into tears for the terrible waste of lives.

And, then, the realisation that even in what we think of these enlightened times, people can do terrible things to their own compatriots, while we live our lives in ingnorance.

If you get a chance to see it, go...the time is definitely worth it.

An exciting weekend for Pink Ukulele and Y, who moved into their new home on Friday. It is so much fun to see their excitement and pride in their new abode, and to hear their plans for the future. Chickens, fruit trees, garden beds. But first, some small maintenance tasks to make the place more comfortable. And anticipation of many family gatherings in the future.

Once upon a time there was a princess of royal lineage who in the spirit of dynamic and modern woman, accepted a role far from the country of her birth in the land of the long white cloud. At her new home in the Great Southland there were many adventures to be had, people to meet and places to go, and a house to furnish.

As all modern princesses do, in search of a bargain, this princess enjoyed the use of eBay, that modern electronic market place of many, many temptations.

One day the princess bid on an item of furniture for her new palace, was pleased to be the successful bidder at auction, after carefully noting that the location of the item was indeed the same state in which she was residing, and the abbreviated location name was not too far from her place of employment.

A telephone call to the vendor apprised our brave princess of one of the realities of life in the great southland: distance.

The location was not a shortened form of a city suburb, as she had initially thought, when she read the name. Notting Hill, shortened NHill,  though a pleasant enough suburb of Melbourne is a long way from Nhill in the NW of Victoria some 400km away...