Our Great Southern Land

Trial By Jury rehersal

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Thu, 24 May 2012 00:49:00 +0000

Here is a brief film of the sitzprobe - seated rehersal - about an hour before the first performance.
Look carefully and you may spy yours truly.
The musicians were superb!

And a good job, too!

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Tue, 22 May 2012 10:23:00 +0000

The Trial By Jury was super fun!
The audiences were great, no prima donnas to be found in the cast, the weather was perfect (if a little on the -2 chilly side freezing our water pipes) and we cannot wait to start rehersals for the Gilbert & Sullivan Festival that is on in October.

You might notice the flyers over on the left sidebar there, apologies if the lower pic is skew-wiff, I've tried straightening it but the damn thing has a mind of it's own.

I got to be the "elderly, ugly daughter" ("She may very well pass for 43 in the dusk with the light behind her") yes, you may giggle and snort but I enjoyed it.

You have been duly warned - book your tickets, accom., and dance card for the fabulous inaugural Gilbert and Sullivan Festival.

I'll pop up a photo when I can borrow one off other cast members as the Feral Teen managed to flatten the battery of our camera the day before.

Pick where I'm hiding out this weekend!

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Thu, 17 May 2012 14:01:00 +0000

There will be an operetta performed 'somewhere' in Central Victoria with moi in the gallery (female chorus) corseted & crinolined into a vintage Victorian costume (aka frocked up) where there may or may not be umpteen Dignitaries (note the capital D) and Them What Have Letters After Their Names plus the oodles of public cheering us on.
Gurgle Trial By Jury and you may or may not have an idea of the warbling issuing forth from my throat.
You're welcome.

Thanks, again.

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Wed, 02 May 2012 03:20:00 +0000

Thanks to all for your lovely support and understanding, I appreciate the emails and phone calls from you all xxx.
We've lost two more members of the family, furry ones this time, right on top of Dad's anniversary, so we're having a roller coaster ride at the moment.

Weird-arse trivia for the house proud

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Thu, 19 Apr 2012 11:49:00 +0000

Did you know....
...that when you mistake bathroom tile spray for fabric stain remover and apply it with gay abandon all over your sons school polo shirts it'll still get the worst stains out?!
You can thank me later.
xxx

Tip tapping through the lists of the lunatics

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Tue, 27 Mar 2012 02:53:00 +0000

So, what does your average history nut do on a lovely Autumnal Tuesday?
Why, we stay indoors trawling through the digitalised records of the mentally ill patients admitted to the Bendigo Hospital!
Of course, as you do...

Digitalised or not, the spidery copperplate scrawl is still difficult to make out at times.
And, no, sticking your tongue out the side of your mouth whilst almost twisting your neck/head into a pretzel doesn't help, either.

Most were diagnosed as having "dementia", "mania", "acute mania", "epileptic mania" or "melancholia"...there was the odd one or 10 who suffered from "religious mania", another huge-ish bunch were in the grip of "del tremens" (aka good old reliable Delirium Tremens).
Imagine, a goldfield where they self-medicated with grog!
Of course, the poor diet mainly consisted of starchy things like damper (no minerals/vitamins) salted beef/bacon (again no vitamins/minerals) black tea and loads of sugar....and loads of alcohol which depleted the body of what little vitamins and minerals that may be lurking in some dim dark cranny of the nether regions.

This is where many Chinese market gardeners probably saved the lives of miners on the various goldfields, growing vegetables that weren't the dried, aged or tasteless muck many single men cooked/heated up at the end of a long tiring day of digging for (often) little return.
Or didn't bother cooking at all but dove straight into the bottle to hide from the crushing defeat of lack of gold...

Back to the lunatics...sorry, mentally ill.
Most were transferred to Kew, few had next of kin, most averaged in the age range of late 20s to mid-50s and there were about a third of women included in the revolving door of the hospital.
Maybe there were a few successes with the treatment of the day.

For more of a fun time, I shall trawl through the index of male prisoners next.

A few words to let you know I'm still pink and breathing

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Thu, 22 Mar 2012 12:43:00 +0000

“I was here but now I'm gone
I left my name to carry on
Those who liked me
Liked me well
Those who didn't can go to hell'"
-The bathroom wall”
― E.M. Crane, Skin Deep

Seriously, having a ball with life in 1st gear, smelling the roses, admiring the flowers and hedges and birdlife and clouds...oooo, pretty, pretty clouds.... as I potter about.

And there may or may not be some hectic warbling happening in the upcoming Gilbert & Sullivan production of Trial By Jury in the deliciously restored Dunolly Court House....

*ahem*

Historical tour to Betley

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Wed, 07 Mar 2012 11:40:00 +0000

Get your dance cards out, boys and girls, and mark down the date Monday April 16th at 10am for another wonderful history tour with the Goldfields Historical and Arts Society.
There will be a fab sight-seeing tour lead by the ever-knowledgable historian John Tully of in and around Betley - which was originally a farming area named Middlebridge and was named such as it was in the middle of crossing places to everywhere else.
Transport will be the usual combination of community bus and private cars meeting outside the Dunolly Museum, BYO picnic lunch (save time and pick up a scrumptious ham & salad roll from Dunolly Bakery!) and there may be a small charge for the day.
Contact John Tully for bookings & further details 0428178669

A couple of paintings I prepared earlier...

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Wed, 07 Mar 2012 00:06:00 +0000

Here's a sample of them, two that are finished and which I'm almost satisfied with, click on the images to embiggen em.

Actually, the scenery one isn't quite finished, the rocky cliffs need a touch and the billabong in the foreground needs a tweak..as do the trees...and the clouds need a dash of white...and....and....

I'll never threaten Picasso, Renoir, Tom Roberts or Drysdale but it makes me happy.

I wuvs you, too xxx

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Tue, 06 Mar 2012 02:29:00 +0000

Thank you for all your supportive words, emails and phone calls, I really appreciate it.
I'm still feeling blah but a chirpier blah than the previous week.
If that makes sense.

Am currently painting like a woman possessed - which could explain the pea soup and speaking in tongues thing after midnight but that's another tale - and am starting to get my happy on via acrylics, water colours and several different styles.

It's the little things that are poking holes in my heart... while I absolutley adore Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries it's with a bitter-sweet enjoyment as Dad enjoyed all of Kerry Greenwood's writings, particularly the Phryne Fisher and Corinna Chapman series', and I know he would have loved seeing Phryne brilliantly brought to life by the very talented Essie Davis.
The same with Tim Winton's cloudstreet - Dad read and re-read the book several times and would have been equally glued to the idiot box and impressed with the quality of the adaptation.
Crap - I've had to close the browser tab to cloudstreet as the narrator's voice has set me off into tears again.

Now, I hope to get around to all your blogs soon but I've got to get my arse into gear as I've neglected the Dunolly History blog by accident and need to post up some doings from days gone by, then running around like a chook with my head chopped off for doctors, referrals and jumping through hoops for the Feral Teen's mental health stuff.
Just to keep me busy and off the street!
Thank you again xxx

Dog of a life

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Wed, 29 Feb 2012 08:27:00 +0000

The bitch has me by throat a lot these days.
The Black Dog, who is a snarling, ravenous bitch.
So much has she wormed into my brain I'm now riddled with doubts; doubt if I gave my Dad the excellent care everyone says I did, doubt if I've made the right decisions for my children, doubt about friendships or acquaintences, self-doubt and panic attacks over the most bizarre things.

There are days when I just want to sleep forever, there are nights on end where I get no sleep at all, other days I cannot stop bawling my eyes out til I look like some red-eyed demon, Hell there are days I could open a vein.
Sometimes, it's all just too painful.

Poltical Footy Dream Team picks

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Sun, 26 Feb 2012 22:49:00 +0000

Ye gods, is anyone else as over this political bollocks rubbish as I am?

For overseas readers - our government is casting votes to again choose or retain a PM/leader of the governing party.
Kevin Rudd, who got shafted then voted out in 2010 as Prime Minister is challenging to take back the position, but it's become damn ugly politics.
Cos they are imploding as a party, the Australian Labo(u)r Party are devouring themselves in a hunger of individual self-interest rather than being a cohesive political party steering our country.

So, I thought I'd throw together a dream team of politicians, past and present, to hypothetically take over the ballsed up mess.
From Australia and the other side of the ditch, from a whole range of political parties.
Even if it means digging up a few graves....

Julie Bishop
Pig Iron Bob Menzies
Malcolm Fraser
John Curtin
Bob Brown
David Lange
Nick Xenaphon
Amanda Vanstone
Gough Whitlam
Frank Crean
Penny Wong
Malcolm Turnbull
Natasha Stott Despoja
Paul Keating
Sarah Hanson-Young
Joseph Lyons
Barnaby Joyce
Julius Vogel
Jack Lang
Don Chipp

On the interchange bench I'd sit -
Father Bob Maguire.
Cos he'd go in at intervals to keep the lot of them on track and to sort them out with commonsense.

I haz been galloping - no, really, I haz!

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 06:07:00 +0000

It's a lovely Tuesday here in sunny downtown south east 'burbs where the plebians have jogged/walked this morning then cycled to Cheltenham this arvo.
This jog/walk thing (which could easily dissolve into a stumble/crawl) is a beginners start to running.
Yes, that dreadful R word which I've resolutely refused to entertain in any form since my last PE class at school all those eons ago.
Hell may have just started to freeze over....

Fabbo blog post - and fab farming blog - HERE on a bit of history re the discovery of chloroform for anaesthesia and the connection to Australia.

Great article and conversation HERE on a new book outlining the racsim, history and difficulties faced by Aboriginal People in the early 1970s in WA as they set up the Aboriginal Legal Service.

It seems the band Not Quite Right, from Ballarat, are making strides in helping teens with Acquired Brain Injuries and neurological diseases with a sort of music therapy.

That famous sketchbook, rescued from the back of a cupboard in Canada, that contains all those early Colonial images is known as the Wallis Album, some of those precious pictures can be seen HERE.

The ever-lovely Kew Court House is about to receive an heritage award tomorrow for it's splendour.

Seems the Baillieu Govt has axed the First Farm Grans Scheme for young farmers.
So much for support and encouraging young people into the agricultural sector...

After I sold a kidney (again) the Feral Teen had some more bits of school uniform bought, then we hit the supermarket outlet for goodies but first we found a great art and craft clearance centre where paints started at 50 cents and canvas' started from $1 - woohooo, Mamma has got her happy on!
Have been getting back into my painting again, such a soothing hobby where one can ignore the massive eyesore developments being built all about and the lovely local old pre-WW1 church being demolished *sob* due to some tool not thinking to give it heritage listing before it got flogged off for housing development.
Although one does get the urge to go stabbity fark with ones sharpened paint brush....told you it was a soothing hobby!

A round up of babble, blather and a touch of BS...plus a song!

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 03:59:00 +0000

Look, wooohooo, I'm starting to kick the dreaded lurgy!
Missed out on all the fun on in Dunolly - the fair, the market, the dinner dance at the Town Hall.
But the lungs are beginning to stay down in the chest where they belong instead of being coughed up every other second.
Which is nice.

Have had a bajillion things I wanted to blog but they were wispy tendrils of thoughts as the next hot flush would wash away anything except the urgent need to park myself into the nearest freezer.
It's a combination of the changable weather (one minute it's boiling the next we're back in winter woollies), the lurgy and good old menopause - plus throw in an unexpected funeral for a friend and the random bashing of Feral Teen and I may have a case for feeling like I've been pulled through a hedge backwards.

Feral Teen is ok - the black eye, bruising and cuts are fading, he had a (we think) successful mediation with the basher at the school, and is now off being a social butterfly with a female friend.
*I'm almost rocking in the corner chanting, "Not a gf, not a gf, not a gf,"*

The Art of Elegance Fair in Dunolly was a HUGE success which you can read about HERE.
No, I didn't go so we'll have to hassle people for pics.

When is a national health survey not a national health survey?
When it excludes Indigenous children.
Go read it HERE.

Fabulous article on the late, great Margaret Olley HERE.

I've loved this song for years and finally found a page where you can not only listen to it but you can download it, too!
Along with some of their other fabbo songs.
HERE.
Quinalow is a real QLD town, map HERE.
"Quiet in Quinalow" describes Dunolly (and a million other bush towns) in so many ways but this last verse really does it,
"They say you can never go home again,
When the chapter is over the book's at an end.
Well, maybe they're right but hang on my friend!
They've never seen such a sight
As my town bathed in silver moonlight,"

I haz more, much more, from where the previous dribble came from

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Sun, 05 Feb 2012 03:22:00 +0000

Here I am again, tapping out the regurgitation from my cranium.
Have you seen today's entry for the Dunolly history blog?
The dredge hole is still there but I haven't shifted my carcass to get a photo of it yet, even though there are some who still swim there and the fishing is supposed to be ok.

Go and have a gander at the Art of Elegance Fair blog, there's been quite a few updates on the stall holders who will be bringing their lovely wares to the Fair.
And don't forget, this won't be the only Fair held; it will be held each season so there will be more on offer throughout the year - think birthday, Xmas, anniversary pressies - if you're unable to make it to the inaugural Art of Elegance Fair.
But try to get there on February 12 anyway cos you don't know what goodies you might miss out on!

There's a dinner dance on February 18th to aid the fundraising for restoring the heritage Dunolly Town Hall and Dunolly Court House.
Fun guaranteed for all!
Click on image for bigger view.

Just made some delicious lettuce cups - well, obviously I didn't make the lettuce itself - filled with homegrown chopped eggplant, tomato, cucumber, red onion, red and yellow capsicum, topped with a dollop of Kalamata olive paste, jalapeno stuffed olives, finely sliced gherkins and a TINY bit of finely shredded ham.
Super yummy, healthy and refreshing on this warm windy day.

Err, helloz, how are you?

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 05:43:00 +0000

Yes, I'm still alive.
Well, pinkish and breathing, at least.

Been doing the whole "let's get fit and lose weight" nonsense with The Spouse...and we were going quite well until I hit the brick wall today.
You know that brick wall - no energy, your get up and go got up and went in the night, strained muscles, crying fits out of the blue...
Oh, you mean that's just me?
Yes, this is actually called a depletion of potassium in my case.
Drinking lots of fluid in the heat? Throw a banana down your gob to keep the levels up.

Have been nomming on 'nanas for the past few hours.
Along with the random bits of sliced chicken, jalapeno stuffed olives, Ryvita bikkies and Kalamata olive paste that managed to leap into my gullet.
While it sounds like I dine on the expensive stuff it's actually very cheap from my fav NQR store, along with their delightful wine range.
*hic*

So, apart from cycling all over the place with The Spouse, draping myself not-so languidly across the loungesuit and trying to avoid the scrumptious goodies stocked in my fridge I managed to get myself a new bike seat (extra large for an extra large arse) which rides like a comfy armchair.

Great article HERE on the mixed relationship Dickens had with Australia.

Further details on the underwater archaeological search for the Royal Charlotte HERE.

And, finally, so many stall holders for the Art of Elegance Fair that St John's Anglican Church Hall is a second venue!

Art Of Elegance Fair February 12, 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 00:29:00 +0000

Get thee along to the Dunolly Town Hall for a spot of High Tea and to cast your baby blues across the miles of divine vintage wares on offer.
For further details on the lovely stall holders- and their gorgeous goods - click HERE.

Be careful where your brain takes you on dark nights.....

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 12:07:00 +0000

I've had a bodgy back of late so I blame the happy trippy pain meds for what I'm about to share with you.
I figure that if I have to have the images carved onto my brain then it's the least you can do to share the horror with me.

Picture this....

*wavy dream-like special effect to show this is a dream. This did not really occur although there's every possibility it very well could*

Apparently our neighbours invited us to accompany them on a tour around Europe.
With 2 days notice.
According to my dream Dad shouted us the whole trip.
My dreaming self woke up to find that we were in a dark wooden panelled room with lots of carving, a la Black Forest cuckoo clocks galore and bearskin rugs on the freaking freezing floorboards.
Yes, I had dream-worthy hyperthermia.

Anyway, as I barely recalled the flight or the packing or the whole applying for a passport thing, hubby tells me he managed to get things sorted.
Except for the Nat Geo mags, Readers Digests and no clothes which I insisted on packing in my stupor brought on by mixing cheap red wine with travel sickness meds and anxiety.
Do you think my subconscious is telling me something there...?

So, we go for a wander in this Germanic-type country and find ourselves in, guess what...?
A religious retreat.
With it's own attached museum.
And shop.
Please remember the shop.

Next, I'm on my knees amidst the old carved pews...no, not praying but unpacking that useless reading material I packed (cos a tour of Europe isn't complete unless you lug unneccessary kilos of toilet-paper-substitute around the continent) and donating them to the religious retreat.
For those who didn't really want to retreat from the "Laughter is the best medicine" or "Test your word power" or those who claim to read the Nat Geo letters to the editor but really look at the photos of topless native gals.

And then it happened.
Sorry, that should read...And then (drum roll) IT happened!!!!!111!!!
I look up and in waltzes hubby waving his hands about to show me the religious icons he'd bought at the shop and was donating them back to the museum (although I tried to point out they were actually reproductions but, being male, he didn't listen).
And I was kinda distracted.
By what he was wearing.
Cos he hadn't just bought cheap knock-off icons in the shop.
Oh, no, my subconscious played merry hell with me and frocked him out in a floor length terry towelling pastal pink surplice (with gold embroidery on the bib) that tied at the middle leaving the sides open.
Remember...the sides were open.
He was only wearing a pair of red Rio jocks underneath.

And he thought this was perfectly acceptable??!!!!
Der!
Everyone knows pastal pink souvenir surplices clash with red jocks.
I woke up, promptly dragged all the blankies off him and smacked his bum for halting my dream before I got to explore more of Europe.
I may need to invest in some cheap red wine....

Henry Jerrold - poet, performer, party boy and permanently pickled but a kind soul nonetheless

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 10:56:00 +0000

It seems the old habit of sending the black sheep of families out to 'the colonies' was alive and well in 1852 when the (some articles say older, others say younger) brother of famed author/playwrite Douglas Jerrold washed up in Sydney onboard the ship 'William' on May 13.

It appears their mother, acclaimed actress Mary Jerrold nee Reid, had passed away on the final day of 1851 which may have precipitated her son Henry to travel to the other side of the globe.
To try his luck in new climes or to give vent to his wanderlust, one cannot tell.
But he was already in the grip of the grappa.

I have been unable to track down many mentions of this chap, Henry Jerrold, prior to his unannounced arrival, which gave no indication of the future infamy he would soon acquire around this over-grown island of ours; in and out of the pubs, police courts, printers, prisons and the odd benevolent asylum.
Henry was very much over-shadowed by his celebrated brother and (I assume) his own activities in England may not have bourne much scrutiny or rated more than a brief mention of inebriated behaviour akin to his newspaper infamy in Australia as I have found mention of his propensity for agitating newspaper offices for hand outs from 1838 until 1852.

Henry Jerrold was a clever, cheerful soul who was heavily chained to the bottle but who could recite Shakespeare and various poetic quotes in any situation, as well as pen his own original compositions, probably due to his sometime performing profession.
He and his famous sibling Douglas were both put to the printing trade by their actor father, Samuel Jerrold, who had also started off his working life as a printer.
And he did attempt to gain employment on these shores as a printer as proved by this tale from the Kiwi newspaper Star in 1882.

I first found mention of this poet in my trawlings of newspaper archive Trove; an article from the Dunolly Express had been picked up by a number of other publications stating how, during his stay at the Dunolly Hospital in 1867, Henry Jerrold had penned several sacred poems for the Church of England Bazzaar.
Whether he was there to dry out, have a broken limb attended or just pinch the nurses' bottoms, this act struck me as being from a generous, talented soul.
Pity I cannot find any hint to what these poems may have been; he was forever referred to as "brother of the famed editor of Punch/writer/author, etc" and, quite possibly, while his original compositions may have been pleasing, they may not have had any great value attached to them at the time of creation.

I have been able to locate two of his original poems, the first dedicated to the poet Thomas Moore on his death , written only a few months after Henry Jerrold's arrival in Australia, while the second was composed ( or at least published) 16 years after he landed in Sydney being his thoughts on Australia in 1868.

In 1862 the Talbot Times reported how this poor 'Tramp' was "half-witted and evidently unable to take care of himself" as Henry was, yet again, before a police court on, yet again, another charge of drunkenness.
Given the heart-felt plea by the journalist who wrote about how this gentleman deserved to be cared for by the government in Yarra Bend (asylum) it is telling that the same 'half-witted' person was able to pen poems of note in the following years of 1867 and 1868.

Yet, this description is of one so hopelessly addicted to drink in 1852 as to leave one to wonder at how his wit and intellect survived to engage listeners let alone to keep body and soul together sufficiently to roam the distances he did across the country.

There are a multitude of entries of his appearances in the many police courts up and down the country - from QLD to NSW, South Oz and Victoria, each and every place it was the same tale : drunk and disorderly.
Although there were a few instances where he was able to convince the magistrate he had not been under the influence I wondered if Henry had knocked off enough grey cells by that stage as to seem 'punch drunk' to the passing policemen.

Henry was reported as having been lost in the Queensland bush when he missed a track, existing on water, grass and leaves for almost a month before he was found and taken in to be nursed back to health in 1865.
Possibly the best way to go cold turkey and give his liver a rest but it didn't last long.

He claimed Charles Dickens as a friend, he was not above breaking into pubs he was barred from (and being "soundly thrashed" for his troubles), and he was once discharged from the Warrnambool Gaol on the condition he left town immediately, with talk he would 'tramp it' to Melbourne in December 1868, age 60.

The final mention I was able to find of Henry was in 1869 when he was once more charged with being drunk and disorderly, this time in Prahran, but as it was only the 8th day of the new year his celebrations had obviously continued for some time past the fireworks stage.

I assume that, given his age and long years of alcohol abuse, Henry may not have survived that Summer in Melbourne; the long trek from Warrnambool, the heat, the continued drinking and the lack of any further mention in the press lets me think he found whatever rest he'd been searching for.

Almost organic free fruit foraging

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 11:21:00 +0000

I've turned into a forager (she says in a bad imitation of a colonial British colonel through a walrus-like moustache).
I've found blackberries!
FREE Blackberries!!
Woot!
Yes, this may involve a rampant blackberry bush that isn't so secret but the exact location will not be pried from my lips.
Oh, alright, you twisted my arm.
Huntingdale station.
Noticed big, juicy orbs hanging from the bush as we swept past on our way to Clayton via the treadly bikes, no signs of it being sprayed, no signs that it's been hampered in any way.

So, we wended our way back to the bush with snap lock bags, which we filled with as many as we could reach.
Unfortunately there was a shedload of the big, juicy orbs hanging just out of reach on the other side of the fence.
Yes, the obligatory fence blackberries seem to find themselves leaning on.
We walked and looked and found a way over this fence...in fact we walked right over the fence - no, we didn't perform the second coming, the fence was fallen down and we could literally walk right up and over, give or take a wiggle or 10 over the barbed wire.
*ouch*

Anyhoo....we worked our way through enough of the deadly blackberry bush to come to the conclusion the thorns are everywhere, they snap off in clothing to give double the bang for their buck and the bastard scratches sting like molten candle wax when the hubby accidentally sprays mozzie spray onto the gazillion tiny cuts.

But we managed to snaffle about 4 kilos which are now freezing in the freezer for future jams and desserts.
Sometimes....this kind of delectable goodie is worth the pricks.

Cycling adventures in urban forests sans hair

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 07:02:00 +0000

Good grief, haven't I been slack!
Nevermind, think of it as a holiday from the internal blatherings and bleatings of my brain.
We've been cycling almost every day - except when the temp gets to eleventy hundred degrees and then we hide in the cave.
The other day we dragged the poor Feral Aspie teen to Ashburton via part of the old Outer Circle Railway trail aka the Anniversary Trail - which is a lovely ride, must take camera next time.

Very happy to find that the new Solway Bridge over Gardiners Creek is finally open and able to be used, after taking torturous detours (well, torture to my unused cycling muscles).
We returned in a slightly different manner, taking him through the small patches of urban forest created from some of the sections of the old railway line, lovely tracts where you'd think you were in native bush far from the maddening traffic.
Well, we were s-l-o-w-l-y puttering through one such section (I told you, my non-cycling muscles) when something grey fluttered gracefully up from the forest floor at one point.
Beady eyed Feral Aspie teen followed it up to the low hanging tree branch with his eyes and identified it instantly as a Tawny Frogmouth.
Lovely thing, it sat there patiently while 3 stupid pink monkeys stared at it and it's partner in rapture, wondering if this showed the urban forest to be a healthy little pocket of bushland in amidst high-priced suburbia.
Well done to those friends of the Urban Forest on a great job.

And as we get quite hot in our helmets while cycling, we all clippered our hair to a # 3 cut.
Just to put you off your tea...

Those painting pics at long last.

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 03:45:00 +0000

Click on pics for larger image.
Please excuse the mess, I was still painting when I took the pics and I'd well and truly used up my spoons before the end of the week.
Hubby loved the surprise...thank goodness, it took almost 10 days to rest up from the 'holiday'!

Before....

After...

Before....

After...

Window removed and will be framed up to be a serving hatch while the wall of the caravan will be clad in plasterboard.
Cupboard just inside caravan door, the upper door missing in this pic is now blackboard-painted for shopping lists.

Before...

After...

Looking at annexe from front door...

Looking up other end of annexe

Ignore the mess...those are 2 seater couches, to give you an idea of width.

Before...

After...

Decking completely replaced.
By hubby, not me.

Flying Spag Bol for Windsmoke in 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 01:59:00 +0000

On the last day of 2011 there are gazillions of "this year in review" articles and blog posts so I shant add to them.
Instead, I'll just point you in the direction of an article which sums up a general review of the Aussie 2011 HERE.

Windsmoke asked about The Flying Spaghetti Monster deity...a Wikipedia description of just what this soaring pasta god is all about is HERE.
Please note we do not worship this one except once per week smothered in bolognese sauce.
And parmesen cheese.

Hope you're sitting down for the next bit...I've uploaded the pics and am currently transferring them to Photobucket to share the brush strokes with you.
So, we may have a wait on our hands - cos I had to take a bajillion shots for the insurance policy - but, fingers crossed, there'll be another post with pics to dazzle you before the bell tolls midnight.
*Edit - I've procrastinated and blathered about the house for so long the pics are uploaded and they shall be posted shortly.
My pressie to you...you don't have to thank me (tongue in cheek).

My brain soup shared with y'all

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 02:37:00 +0000

Dear Diary....
Today, on the penultimate day of 2011, I had THE most exciting time scrubbing the shower tiles prior to my ablutions.
In the midst of my fevered happiness with the scouring brush on the grout an itty bitty Daddy Not-So-Long-Legs needed rescuing from the Dreaded Drain of Doom and, although it did its best to evade capture by this silly pink monkey, I managed to snaffle it and pop it up on the hand basin.
Where it promptly vanished.
If it went down the Dreaded Handbasin Drain of Doom I refuse to be held accountable by Buddah, Mohammad, God, any Goddess in the alphabet or the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

I also learnt that Shaggy (from Scooby Doo) was originally christened Neville Rogers.
I feel like part of my childhood is now coloured somewhat....beige.

And.....who knew Velma had a clown allergy...??!

A new library will be thrown together at Lake Bolac - yippie!

I may or may not manage to upload and empty the camera of 2011 photos before the calendar ticks over to The Year of The Apocolypse.
Aka 2012.
If we're all gonna go in solar flares, is there any point to making toast now....?

And now I'm concerned that Shaggy's friend got his ball caught in the volcano and lost the triple bogey....

Tetchy Thursday off the agenda

noreply@blogger.com (Jayne) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 22:11:00 +0000

And after my sooky la la rant last night today is another glorious day!

Still haven't uploaded the before and after pics of the caravan - cos I'm slack, it's Chrissy hols, the Lizard Rock chardy has been particularly nice and cos I'm slack.
Still haven't got all of Feral Aspie's school books for next year - cos I'm slack, it's Chrissy hols, see above point for further excuses.
Apart from the fact his books will cost enough to run the economy of a small country.
Or fix the economy of one of those that are currently being bailed out by Germany and France.

Got nothing planned for New Years Eve except to gaze into the eyes of my beloved furbaby as we hold deep and meaningful conversations to solve the world problems while I try to ignore the chainsaw snoring of the beloved spouse.
And now the weather people say we are to have a 4 day heatwave over the New Year which could mean dabbling my toes in the blow up baby pool in the loungeroom again.