The music festival has been and gone, and from all accounts was a success. We went to a couple of concerts - one was yesterday afternoon, which is why there was no blog post - and had a performer staying with us, a lovely bloke whose songs we really enjoyed and with whom we share mutual friends; but we didn't (as we have done in previous years) hang around town to listen to buskers and to check out market stalls. There were a lot of visitors from all over bringing who knows what germs with them, and while we aren't living our lives in fear of catching the plague bug we are going away next week and didn't want to get sick before we go.
Consequently not much was achieved. Songs were plinked and practised for the concert next weekend, stitches were knitted. Some stitches were sewn on the flower basket quilt.....not long to go now, yay!....and some diamonds were cut. As a result no pics were taken, so we'll dig into the vault today.
These were all taken at the Japanese Garden in Cowra on an autumn afternoon, some years ago.
Cowra is a pleasant town with a sad war history, which you read about in the link.It's a very peaceful garden......
......a fitting memorial.
It seems appropriate to show these pics today as it's ANZAC Day. This is a re-post of my words from several years ago:
'Today Australia and New Zealand are celebrating, if that is the right word, ANZAC Day. It's the day when we remember the sacrifices of those who fought in wars for our country. My father was stationed in New Guinea in WWII (as we found out a few years ago, he was in the War Graves unit) and never, never, ever spoke of his experiences - he was only 25YO when the war ended and it affected him profoundly. Consequently it affected all of us; my mother, my brothers, and me. He was not a happy man, he was a distant, sometimes abusive, father who walked out one day and never contacted any of us ever again; we found out he had died many years after it happened. War doesn't only take people's lives....it takes away their souls too.'
He never marched on ANZAC Day. It was not a good day in our house because he would go out and get drunk, my mother would get annoyed and bad-tempered, and we children would just do our best to keep out of the way.
We do have a happier celebration though because, 48 years ago today, I moved in with Kevin - a minor scandal at the time, but inconsequential all these years later when so many couples live together without benefit of a ceremony. Nearly half a century - my goodness!
Last week the courage was plucked up and a visit to the hairdresser took place. I do not like sitting in the chair staring at myself for however long it takes. I just do not. However as it had been six months since the last trim and I want to look a bit spiffy for the concert next Saturday evening, it was time to have a few inches lopped off. On the way home I called into the French café for a coffee (and a small treat) (because their treats are really nice) and asked if the hot cross buns were, indeed, flavoured by cardamom. They were.
"Duties of an escort.
A lady's escort should call for her and accompany her to the place of entertainment; go with her as far as the dressing-room, return to meet her there when she is prepared to go to the ball-room; enter the latter room with her and lead her to the hostess; dance the first dance with her; conduct her to the supper-room, and be ready to accompany her home whenever she wishes to go. He should watch during the evening to see that she is supplied with dancing partners. When he escorts her home she should not invite him to enter the house, and even if she does so, he should by all means decline the invitation. He should call upon her within the next two days."
He sounds like the ideal escort, doesn't he? Almost too good to be true.
Enjoy your days!
Jennifer


