On a lazy Sunday afternoon

It's been a busy week, so some lazy time at the end of it is very welcome!

Last night we saw the local dramatic society's production of "Midsummer Night's Dream", a play which I studied in my second year of high school - a thousand years ago, at least - and it was an excellent production.  A very good cast made sense of most of Master Shakespeare's words, not always an easy thing!  The humans wore modern dress, the mechanicals wore fun steampunk costumes, and the fairies were.....well, fairies, I suppose.  They didn't wear tutus or wave sparkly wands, but we still knew they were fairies.

That was preceded by a performance early in the afternoon by the uke group in the garden of the local music school, people said nice things to us and about us but I don't think we played as well as we have on other occasions.  Never mind, there's always next time......

On our recent trip home from the Big Smoke we stopped off at a memorial to a miner killed on 16th December, 1929, in the bush between two towns which are rapidly encroaching on this peaceful spot.

You can even tell that I was wearing blue denim capri pants and a red top, can't you?  Here is more information about the event which led to the memorial - the so-called "Rothbury Riot".  Many words have been written about this in newspapers, books, and song; here's one (interestingly on an Italian site) written by a local man a year afterwards, a musician who played violin in a dance band.  It was played and sung for many years afterwards. Another song written many years later was sung by my choir in Sydney who learnt it at my request because Norman Brown, the miner shot and killed by a police bullet that day, was my mother's cousin.  His death certificate states that he died from the " effects of a gunshot wound in the abdomen accidentally received at Rothbury during the quelling by police officers of a riot".  Accidentally - who knows?  There's no one alive today to dispute that; police apparently had orders to fire into the air to dispel the miners, although some eye-witnesses said they fired directly into the crowd.  Norman was sitting to one side with a few mates and was hit by a ricocheting bullet, dying almost instantly.  The information contained on his death certificate was written after the inquest into his death which took place nearly two months afterwards.

Norman was born when his mother Laura was 17.....interestingly my grandmother Edith, her sister, also had a child out of wedlock at 18.......and now the mystery deepens, as Laura later had (so my mother told me) a daughter named Dorothy Grace.  Gracey, as she was known in the family, died of appendicitis as a teenager, but on looking online for her birth record the only Dorothy Grace born in possible years has Ethel given as her mother - and Ethel was a sister of Laura and Edith!  Note to self:  must investigate further.....I have no memories of Laura as she died when I was barely a toddler so have to rely on memories of what my mother told me, and she died 15 years ago so I can't ask her.  Matters like illegitimacy used to be hushed up and not spoken about in earlier days so my mother probably wouldn't have known who gave birth to Gracey, she herself was only two years old when Gracey died.  Laura is named on Gracey's grave marker as her mother, and Albert, the man Laura married in 1910 (two years after the only baby I could find named Dorothy Grace was born) is named as her father.

Family mysteries are quite intriguing, aren't they?  A distant cousin and I both have Grace as our middle names as a tribute to Gracey......Jennifer Dorothy would be a bit of a mouthful.  Jennifer Grace isn't too bad.

"Sunday hospitalities.
In this country it is not expected that persons will call after informal hospitalities extended on Sunday.  All gatherings on that day ought to be informal.  No dinner parties are given on Sunday, or at least, they are not considered as good form in good society."

Thank goodness for that, because I am feeling too lazy to prepare for a dinner party.

Enjoy your days!

Gone gone gone

Last weekend the big tree in our front garden was broken in a storm.

 Some of it fell against our caravan.

 Fortunately the van wasn't damaged, despite one branch nearly spearing through the top.

A week ago it was a tall Eucalyptus nicolii, and now it's gone.

No more shade on a hot summer afternoon......the plants which were selected to live under its shelter a year ago are still there but now they won't have the benefit of its protection from hot sun or winter frost, the reason they were chosen for that garden.  Its shady branches provided board and lodging for many species of birds, and protection from the glare of morning sun for our neighbours' upstairs balcony - they told us they will miss it too.

The whole district felt the effects of the storm:  the wind was very strong, the driving rain was fearsome, many areas had no power and our tree wasn't the only one to be lost; many were completely uprooted while some, like ours, were snapped off part way up the trunk.  Trees fell on house and shed roofs and on cars, so we were fortunate we didn't suffer more damage.  The following day a tree surgeon told us it could not be saved so it was removed, cut up, and taken away.

Losing a majestic shady tree is sad.

On a happier note, our financial bloke told us we can afford to continue living.......just as well, because tree removal is not cheap.  The Big Smoke was big and smoky, as usual.

This weekend the quilt group is holding a UFO weekend but my machine will be staying home, because sewing on a machine which is sitting too high on its table is painful.  My Sew-Ezi table could be taken along for more comfortable sewing, but that means more to carry.......so it will be a handwork weekend, for me.  Fabrics and templates will be taken, and the remaining seven Flower Basket blocks will be traced and cut out. Who knows, all 225 blocks may be finished one day - only eleven still need to be made!  It was started nigh on eight years ago and will probably be the only quilt I ever make by hand.  At that rate I may not live long enough to make another......

"Manner an index of character.
A rude person, though well meaning, is avoided by all.  Manners, in fact, are minor morals ; and a rude person is often assumed to be a bad person.  The manner in which a person says or does a thing, furnishes a better index of his character that what he does or says, for it is by the incidental expression given to his thoughts and feelings, by his looks, tones and gestures, rather than by his words and deeds, that we prefer to judge him, for the reason that the former are involuntary."

It's true - we do try to avoid rude people, don't we?  Being with them is not pleasant.

Enjoy your days!

A finished project to report

Finally - something is completed, and I now have a new purse!

Several years ago I made my first purse using this pattern, and it has been used and loved nearly to death.  Its main fabric is an all over Laurel Burch cat print in blue, green, turquoise, line and purple and the trim is a celtic design in blue, purple and green on black.  As greens and blues feature in my summer wardrobe I looked for a fabric in similar colours and found this Jinny Beyer 'Coraline' print for the main fabric; the smoky teal trim is from the "I Believe in Santa" range by Nancy Halvorsen......so I can have Christmas all year round, should I wish!

Lots of inside pockets, and the base will flatten with use.  When I went fabric shopping I was a little disappointed in local choices and would have liked something brighter, but have to admit these fabrics are growing on me.  My purses generally aren't made from two fabrics from a co-ordinating range because an element of surprise is much more fun......and much less predictable.  And who wants to be predictable?

After the response to last week's block I promise there will be a tutorial, but it will have to wait for a week or two.  First, the instructions need to be written and printed out for quilt group on Monday - I can already hear the comments about triangles.

Finally, progress seems to be happening with the shoulder - it's not hurting so much, and the range of movement is increasing.  My hair can now be put up which is a boon on hot days, and the daily exercises (which have yet to be done today) are getting easier.  However, last Friday Anna The Nice Young Physiotherapist said no driving the car just yet so I am still being chauffeur driven, or catching the bus.  Hopefully the day will soon come when it doesn't get mentioned any more; I'm sure the world, like me, will be very relieved when that finally happens.

Next week we are off to the Big Smoke for the annual visit to our financial bloke, to see if we can afford to live past next Christmas.  Ah well, there always busking on a street corner if the money is running out, isn't there?

Oh dear, the sights one sees......an attractive young chickybabe in the main street this morning wearing under her loosely fitted slightly sheer top a low-cut bra which was a few sizes too small, there was more of her out than there was contained, if you get my meaning.......bounce jiggle bounce jiggle as she made her merry way along......just because one can do something doesn't mean to say that one should, you know........our town isn't huge, but we do have at least one shop where one can be properly fitted for undies.

Of late the unpleasant heat we had for so long seems to be finally easing, and it is so much more pleasant.  Perhaps autumn is just around the corner!

"In every class of life, in all professions and occupations, good manners are necessary to success.  The business man has no stock-in-trade that pays him better than a good address.  If the retail dealer wears his hat on his head in the presence of ladies who come to buy of him, if he does not see that the heavy door of his shop is opened and closed for them, if he seats himself in their presence, if he smokes a pipe or cigar, or has a chew of tobacco in his mouth, while talking with them, or is guilty of any of the small incivilities of life, they will not be apt to make his shop a rendezvous, no matter how attractive the goods he displays."

I don't think I have ever been served by a retail dealer who had a chew of tobacco in his mouth, and indeed I hope I never am.

Enjoy your days!