how do you feel?

I went to the gallery at the top of our old street with my Mum a couple of weeks back.. just before the wedding.  .. Once the Morwell Town hall- for a period it doubled as the town library - it is now owned  by  Arts Victoria who run it as the Latrobe Regional Gallery ..  Funny how the room where I used to wander around wooden shelves looking for Enid Blyton books is now the place I go to with my 93 year old Mum.

The gallery's one of her favourite spots.

We have a coffee in the cafe and just as we're leaving, the woman in charge  points us in the direction of the room opposite.. You might like that she says.. In we go, Mum holding onto my arm and me conscious of how unsteady she is on her feet.. I notice how thin her ankles are  ..  Just inside the door an installation's been set up.. There are tiny post-it style notes covering much of a sidewall that's designed as a work-in-progress..  How do you feel?  is the title the artist has given the project... We're encouraged to pick a rubber stamp, press it on an ink pad,  print it on a white note and then write about how we feel  ..Mum's sight is poor but she manages to sign her name in the corner and while i'm stamping my slip I can see she's also written something in the tiny space above the butterfly stamp

                                   fine

I pin our notes on the wall - making sure hers is above the rest and wrap her arm inside mine.  We go on our way.

you will come back (you know you will!)
life ebbs and flows
you float
you swim
you find your feet
again..

night thoughts..

Life gets better
Never give up
Green is the best colour in the world
Blue comes second
Be kind
Learn as much as you can about everything
People teach you in the way that they live
You can always say sorry
Keep going
Life is a daily prayer
A mother's love is so important all through your life
Things happen
Listening is a gift
Love is a lot of things
When you're calm you're in control
Good friends never leave you
The tide comes in and the tide goes out
Little children are precious companions
You are stronger than you think
A cold apple tastes delicious
A cow's udder is a lovely place to tuck your head into
Irish music is the sound of green
Thoughts come and go
Fear passes through you if you keep calm
Love gives you energy
Lovely is one of  my favourite words
God is everywhere
Skin on skin is the most comforting way to go to sleep
Grief is never really over
Curious things happen that connect this world to the next
I will always remember my sister
Writing is a way through
Balance is so important
Jesus was a God-send
Reading takes you everywhere
Daisies are divine
Love-making is lovely
Touch is wonderful
Smiling is a gift
Humour is very good for you
A Jack Russell is a marvellous breed of dog
I like the sound of a train at night
Mary Mckillop was a strong woman
Hope springs eternal is one of my favourite mottoes
You can never have enough love
Old friends are your treasures
My dad loved me and I'm glad he told me when I was young
I could be a lot better at a lot of things
Every day is a miracle
Life is a lot of mystery
Things work out
Hearts are always trumps!

red tee..

Late last year we took Long Service Leave and had six weeks on the road. England, France.  I was keen for Ireland but my husband thought differently. "Too many narrow roads, not enough live music in the pubs" we were there in 2007and this is how he remembers it.    I've written elsewhere about the 2010 trip and this is a nothing piece but earlier today a woman in a shop told me she liked the red tee-shirt I was wearing. ( I bought it in an alleyway in Amboise, a riverside town south of Paris.)  Another woman standing nearby looked up and said  "I bet you don't know what it says."
 I came home and found a French-English translation website.  I'm walking around with this across my chest.

A style, Mado, some, the Others, Instructions:

It was once Mado, a style, a history of some for the Others. A thought, clothes, words for a history of mode... For some, style is Mado, for the Others Mado a style is.. Life taste of some, style of Others... Fashion passes, style Mado stays... Mado is a way of life for some and instructions for the Others. Style is the clothes of thought. For some rest white for the Others it is black!!

Code Mado: Get dressed in the cloakroom of the one and carry it as the Other one. Mado, one day, clothes form a colour, a style... Mado conjures in all time all persons, all styles.. The back it is the place, the place it is the back and vice versa...


Yes, well..

gift..

She gives me two bars of Fry's Chocolate Cream and a packet of unsalted cashews.  I bring her a bowl of pumpkin soup and a pink rose.  In the last couple of years we've become good friends.
I'll miss her company when she's no longer living at home.
I use her full name to say goodbye.  She looks across the table and smiles. We get into a discusssion about names, particularly voguish ones that some children have nowadays then I run down the ladder of my own brothers and sisters..  Desmond, Michele, Paul, Michael, Joan, Patrick, Elizabeth and Gabriel.
She listens with all her might.
"You couldn't do better than that" she says.  "You couldn't do better than that.."

She's that kind of friend.

actress of a childhood..

Liz Taylor died overnight. I heard the headlines on the news when I woke this morning.. she was 79..  the first memory that came was the image of her as a young girl with a pale face and blue-black hair riding a horse by the sea in National Velvet ..  when we were kids during the school holidays we watched movies that featured her and Mickey Rooney.  my brother Paul used to remind me of Mickey.. he had bold ideas about what we could do..
when I looked at the Guardian online today the link to the old film was there.. here it is..

http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/filmblog/2011/mar/23/elizabeth-taylor-career-in-clips?intcmp=122

After the tsunami comes the grief .. guardian.co.uk, Sunday 13 March 2011 22.11 GMT

The reporter from the Guardian is walking along a muddy road surrounded by debris .. He's in the coastal town of Shintona in the prefecture of Miyagi, an area devastated by the earthquake and tsunami last Friday.. Those two words flotsam and jetsam are never more real than when I look at the screen.. A stretch of railway track has been lifted up and plonked sideways by the road and looks like a picket fence..  The reporter stands near the track then reaches into the rubble and picks up something he's found.. A dinner plate ringed in mud.. He turns it in his hands while the camera zooms in on a decorative blue and white plate.. Around the edges are the words Tonight is the Star Festival

A blue body bag lies not far away, tied at the top with  thin blue cord..

Tonight is the star festival
Tonight is the star festival

That line sits with me all day long.. Around 9 I'm standing out the back with the dog, rubbing his head ..There are crickets in the grass and a light, cool breeze and  tonight can I  tell you the sky above is  starless?

Pat..

My sister Liz’s 50th birthday. We sit outside in her back yard and eat the roast lamb dinner my brother Pat has prepared.  Pat's down from Queensland for a week to help celebrate with the rest of us here in Victoria. My youngest brother doesn’t say much but he insists I sit next to Liz while he takes a place on the other side of the table, squeezing up amongst the kids and though he's hungry, I notice he serves himself last of all.



For about 15 years he works for a doctor and her husband on a property they own on the outskirts of Bundaberg. Pat's a carpenter and does maintenance work on their house and land, renovates bathrooms and kitchens, builds sheds and puts new fences around the paddocks. Over time he builds a boat for the couple which they go sailing in, all around the top end from Airlie Beach to Darwin. Pat tells me that while most builders have other tradesmen working alongside them on a site, he learns to study the clouds for company. He watches the way they form and discovers what each one means as he goes about his work. Clouds give you feelings of peace he says.



My sisters are also there for the birthday and it's relaxing just sitting outside together. Liz tells stories of the people she comes across in her work with the Salvation Army. One woman she sees each week hasn't got any friends or family and so never has visitors. "I haven't got any infrastructure" is how she puts it. When we start the meal, Liz looks as if she's about to cry. We're just so lucky she says.



As the night goes on, the sky grows dark and then lights up with flashes of storm activity coming from the north of the city. The kids are racing around the yard on roller blades, the dog- a docile springer spaniel wanders in amongst the candles placed around the paved area in a bid to deter the mossies and finds space under the table nudging at our legs. Behind us a great fat spider is spinning a web underneath a girder connecting the old stables. The kids bring out a torch from a science kit and take turns shining a spindly light on the old web-master fastening thread to thread in the warm air. Music rolls out through the back door of the house while we sit talking then the far-off rumbling of thunder begins to get louder and we think about going inside. Pat points to the sky and says the storm will pass us by.  He can see blue above the fence next door. I look over and all I see is darkness then gradually this gives way to a paler colour, an inky blue that sits above the chook shed like a brushswirl on a child's painting.



Feel the breeze he says. The wind has shifted. It's cooling right down.



.