Tuesday, 30 June 2015

Poems my Father would quote....3

This poem featured in our childhood a lot. Dad would quote it often.
He was a shearer when he was younger and would tell us tales of shearing all over Western Australia.
This was in the ten years before he and Mum were married in 1958.

The story of how he travelled to the east with a shearing team and discovered when he got there that the "wide comb dispute" was in full swing. Not wanting to be a 'scab' he moved on from shearing to working on the Victorian side of the 'Snowy Hydro electric scheme" as a 'raceline skier'. My parents were married in Mount Beauty and then travelled back to WA.

Any way, here is the poem he would quote...

The Lay of Civility Green

by Jack Sorensen

Now ‘Billy the Pinker’ and ‘Quality Jack’
With ‘Jimmy the Moulder’ were shearing outback
When quite unannounced, there arrived on the scene
A man by the name of ‘Civility Green.’

Civility Green asked the boss for a stand
And the boss placed a Moffatt machine in his hand
And ne’er on that board was such swift action seen
As displayed by the stranger, ‘Civility Green.’

Then ‘Billy the Pinker’ toiled hard in his wake,
While ‘Quality Jack’ found defeat hard to take,
And ‘Jimmy the Moulder’ said things rather mean
About the descent of ‘Civility Green’

Said ‘Jimmy the Moulder’ to ‘Quality jack’,
And ‘Billy the Pinker’, it’s us for the track
Unless by deep thought, we some method convene
To steady the pace of ‘Civility Green’

To ‘Billy the Pinker’, a brilliant scheme came
By throwing his voice, he had once courted fame
He communed with the rest, and a loophole was seen
Where a shot could be aimed at ‘Civility green’

Next day when the ringer rushed into his pen
A timid young ewe cried “He’s coming again”
While a woolly old ram shouted out angrily
“Stand back, my good fellow, Dot dare to shear me.”

The ringer sprang backward and pallid of cheek
He asked of the others “Did you hear them speak?”
They all answered “No, we don’t get what you mean”
“I tell you, they spoke” said ‘Civility Green’

In quavering tones he said “Oh deary me!
By Jove and by Jingo, by Crikey, by Gee!”
He reached for his jewellery, gave back his machine
And off on the track went ‘Civility Green’

Away to the Nullagine country he flew
He swam in his panic, the wide Fortescue
When in russet and pourple, the night changed to day
The pale star of morn saw him still on his way


By Nullagine River, an old shearer dwells
Remarkably strange are the stories he tells
When bushmen are speaking of wonders they’ve seen
“I once heard sheep talk”, says ‘Civility Green


Tom Roberts - "Shearing the Rams"

Letting go...

In this year I have been deciding to let some things go that I had been both chasing and clinging to for a number of years.
I hadn’t realised how much these things had been directing my day to day and colouring my interactions with others, until I decided to let them go.

The ideas I had in the beginning and the reasons for much of my direction has changed.
It is freeing in a mental sense and also, hey more time to do other things!

There were also other things that I was through circumstance, made let go, losing an immediate family member to cancer is hard and I am still coming to terms with the loss.

My nest will be also empty this year, that is something I thought would not be as hard as it has proven to be. However it is a joy to see them both blossom into young adults. It is just far away.

So this is me, letting go…on the last day of #blogjune2015, I can’t wait to see where it leads.

“in the end only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.”

Still out here trying to be graceful.

Image from  http://theflowcentre.com/letting-go-flow/

Monday, 22 June 2015

Monday Meme - the 6 word story

Grieving in stages. It does happen. 

thanks to 'Bun Toting Librarian" for the meme

Sunday, 21 June 2015

Poems my Father would quote...2


I was a Pirate once, 
A blustering fellow with scarlet sash, 
A ready cutlass and language rash; 
From a ship with a rum-filled water-tank 
I made the enemy walk the plank; 
I marooned a man on an island bare, 
And seized his wife by her long, dark hair; 
Took treasure, such heaps of it!—wealth untold— 
Bright bars of silver and chunks of gold! 
Till my ship was choked to the decks with pelf, 
And no one dare touch it except myself 
And my black flag waved to the tearing breeze, 
And I was the terror of all the seas! 


I am still researching poems my Father would quote, anywhere, anytime.. When the mood or occasion warranted.
This was the first verse of 'Boy Dreams' by Mabel Forrest
Mabel Forrest (6 March 1872 – 18 March 1935) was an Australian writer and journalist. 

I was surprised to learn it was an Australian poem, but not when it was written. Mabel Forrest was interesting and I will be learning a bit more about her and reading more of her poetry soon. (Thanks Dad:) What follows is the rest of the poem, he only ever got to the end of the first verse so the remaining were new to me. 
Happy reading.... I too was a pirate once... Arrrrhh 


I was a Fairy once. 
I swung in the bows of the silky oak, 
And the harebells rang to the words I spoke, 
And my wings were fashioned of silver gauze, 
And I knew no grief and no human laws. 
And I lived where the laces of green leaves sway. 
And my life was one long, long holiday. 
No tasks to learn, and no bothering rules, 
No hectoring grown-ups, and no—more—schools; 
But a dance each eve, ’neath the moon’s cold light, 
To sit up as late as I liked at night. . . . 
For a lance I carried a grass-blade green, 
And my shield was cut from an olivine; 
I sipped cool dews from the cups of flowers, 
My days were threaded of happy hours! 

I was a Merman once. 
In the gloom of the amber-tinted seas, 
With the brown tang clinging about my knees, 
With a coral house, and a crab to ride, 
Who pranced, and who ambled from side to side; 
I wooed a Mermaid with emerald hair, 
Dragged the fierce sea-serpent from out his lair, 
With his flaming tongue and his awful might, 
And I slew him—easy—in open fight! 
I had strings of pearls, white as frozen milk, 
That were strung for me on sea-spider’s silk; 
And I never pined for the upper skies, 
Whose blue came down in the dead men’s eyes, 
Drowned men with the salt on their blackened lips, 
Who slid, drifting in, from the wrecks of ships; 
But I took the gold from the belts of all, 
To pave the road to my coral hall. 

I was a Hunter once, 
And I trapped and stalked in a pathless wood, 
And the talk of the wild things understood. 
With my leather leggings and hat of brown. 
I tracked the elk and the redskin down; 
Slew a grizzly bear in a mountain cave, 
And tweaked the nose of an Indian brave. 
Ere I shot the rapids in birch canoe— 
For there was nothing I could not do. 
There was naught I did not dare or enjoy, 
In the magic world of a dreaming boy! 

Friday, 19 June 2015

Doctor knows his Apple...

For throwback Thursday...
I went to the doctor again on Tuesday, can't seem to shake this flu.
Anyway on his shelf above his very impressive large Apple screen he had three earlier versions of the Mac. Like the image below and two others. 
We had a short conversation about them and he said they caused a lot of comments and reminiscence from patients and visitors. 
Throwback Thursday. I like this.

Wordless Wednesday @mpow

Monday, 15 June 2015

Layers, I like layers.. Parfait has layers

Thanks to 'Bun toting librarian' for this meme. (And Donkey from Shrek for the title)
Today, let’s get to know the blogger. Let’s peel back the layers of the onion.


What’s your preferred name? 
My name is Teresa, I prefer that but don't object to TB or Reese.
Do you wear glasses? 
Yes. I have worn glasses since I started high school.
How would you describe your fashion style? Comfortable 


What do you fear? 
Failing health 
What is your guilty pleasure? 
Hand made chocolates from 'cocoa desert' 
Buying something nice online 


What was your first thought when you woke up today?
How to get though the day as my head hurts - sinus is acting up
What you think about most?


To be loved or respected? 
Love & respect go hand in hand. If pushed I would go for respect.

Dogs or cats? Dogs. at the moment we have an older kelpie and he is a sweetie.


Believe in yourself? 
Still have doubts about my abilities 
Believe in love? 


Do you play a musical instrument? 
Yep, my iPod 
Do you enjoy cooking? 
I enjoy baking, which is not quite the same thing, but my area... I love the chemistry of it.
Are you any good at gardening? 
I am rubbish at gardening, but giving it a go...


Favourite animal? 
Favourite movie? 
Blade Runner 
Favourite book? 
To kill a Mocking Bird. Mum bought me a hardcover commemorative version for the 50th year a few years ago. She knows me.


Does age matter? 
Only to others. It's a number. You are this age and are therefore predictable.. Bollocks to that. 

Guilty pleasure this month :))

Sunday, 14 June 2015

Poems my Father would quote ..1

My Father was a great one for quoting little snippets of poems, often leaving me wondering about its origins and why he knew it. I can only guess that this was popular in the 30's and 40's when he was at school. Written in 1899 and published as Antigonish in 1922. Enjoy.


Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today,
I wish, I wish he'd go away...

When I came home last night at three,
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall,
I couldn't see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don't you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door...

Last night I saw upon the stair,
A little man who wasn't there,
He wasn't there again today
Oh, how I wish he'd go away...

William Hughes Mearns (1875–1965)


Saturday, 13 June 2015


I like Shorts... By this I mean 'well crafted short versions of performance art, writing, films etc.'

Recently we hosted the Flicker Fest, a wonderful set of the best short films of last year. 
Best of international, Flickerkids, etc.

I am reading a set of short stories by Ron Elliott, entitled 'Now Showing' - so good.

And directing a short play, finding props helping actors and juggling roles. It's only for a 'short time', but intense and busy.

The only thing I don't like short is my energy, its not lasting. I'm also short on sleep. So after this spurt of activity I'll be on a short break, getting healthy. This flu is a nasty one. My recommend - avoid.

Short post ... :D


Friday, 5 June 2015

Whats happening, meme

Following Kate and Con...

So what’s happening?

I’m reading – not a very good book, giving it the flick today and going through the a-z on the Kobo backwards. I usually always start at the front and I am 'mixing it up'. Forgot about 1/2 the things I have loaded over the past couple of years, and I badly need to weed (deselect). The kindle is gathering dust while I am on a 'read the pile you have, kick'.

I’m watching – Masterchef, Elementary, Outlander... 
Over ms18s shoulder ...'Orange is the new black' and last eps of 'How I met your mother'

I’m cooking – not much, lemon curd and pickling olives

I’m drinking – Tea, orange pekoe, hot

I’m thinking – about work

I’m taking – telfast

I’m missing – my Son (living in Perth) and my Father 

I’m enjoying – producing a play

I’m planning – holiday (or at least JB is, I'm just saying yes:)

I’m listening – rediscovering "the essential Michael Jackson" on my UEBoom (Bluetooth speaker... Mother's Day gift)

Happy #Blogjune

oh and we have library ants

Lost amongst the props

Searching in the theatre props for bits and pieces. Loving that we had a dedicated prop manager for the past couple of years and everything is labelled. 

Finding out what we don't have is easy.

Loving that the box above the 'pistols...' Is labelled 'poodles'... *opens box*

We do have a lot of pompoms... Says something about amateur acting I believe 😉

*plays with props*

Happy Friday

Thursday, 4 June 2015

One persons boring book is another's...

Seated at tea break struggling to read a book on the kobo and it's hard going. I was at page 74 and the story was moving at snails pace. 5 mins in, I was grateful to be interrupted twice, once by tourists from Mandurah looking for entertainment (I'm still not sure why they thought I was a tour guide, with the answers to what's on where? Pointed them to the museum. 'Be polite'.) and once by a student who was desperate to print again but couldn't figure out how 'not to pay' twice. Sad tale of woe and things awry, he proffered paper and everything. 

Gave up the book and tea was cold. The book wasn't getting anywhere fast, excruciating detail and not much story yet. However if you can get past the first 50 odd pages of 'the girl with the dragon tattoo' you can read anything. (Don't worry, after that it races along...)

Still it got me thinking about how one style, type, genre would appeal to someone and her neighbour could hate it. How one sort of museum could be ones cup of tea, and simply boring to another. The Mandurah tourists had already been round the rock museum fast, whereas I can spend ages studying the shapes and colours.

What makes something appealing, and how much of our own story do we use to set a perspective. 
I have read something and compared notes with others and found they simply 'read a different story', or so it seemed.

Setting the scene is a bit of a thing for me at the moment as I work through building a ww1 trench onstage and work out how to make fake rifles and uniforms. Will I set a scene that will suspend disbelief for the audience and transport them to that trench to share the story of the men within? 
That remains to be seen. (Lol, sorry) My perspective may appeal to some and not to others, as with this book.

I think I'll give it the flick, even if it is set in Venice, (next dream holiday) there's 100 odd more on the Kobo, life and tea breaks are too short to... 

...but wait, the main character just visited a library that still has a card catalogue, how quaint... And complete bs... Maybe she will... *turns page*


Wednesday, 3 June 2015

Makers and Fakers - on directing and casting for an amateur play production

  1. An actor is a person portraying a character -someone who interprets or fakes being someone else.
    "Actors are an illusion, amateur male actors doubly so" TB (2015)
    (to borrow from the lunchtime joke... and puns away) 
    Casting for an amateur production is hard and as any one will tell you doubly hard if you want men!  Amateur theatre has a lot of female support and it's not so hard to cast a play with women. (This is a whole other area of scary as too many can lead to friend loss... but that is for another post.) 
    So I decided to make some art and direct a play with only male characters ... What was I thinking... It's a good play, it's topical  and two intense well written acts that should go over well with audiences. 
    Casting is the problem .. small town (30,000) and two active theatre groups.
    Auditions brought me three and I was grateful. I worked the problem, gained one ... Lost him to work commitments, got another and all seemed ok. 
    First rehearsal - text message  from the new actor - he had to pull out as too committed, back to three. 
    At rehearsal one said, "oh this is on in July?" I might be overseas... I will check and let you know tomorrow. 
    [update - he texted his inability this morning]
    1. (In my defense of being slightly annoyed at this, the performance dates were in BOLD RED on the audition sheet - oh well, maybe his part was too small, as the Actress said to the Bishop)
    This leaves two. I have to say that the two left have the major roles and are, right from the start, reliably getting into the characters already. There are guns, man love and drama, its hard to beat.
    #newtask re-audition for the smaller roles, maybe double up a couple and cross my fingers.
  2. *wanders off* to *beg and plead* 
  3. #blogjune
  4. blog for 2nd and 3rd 
  5. @kalgrl

Monday, 1 June 2015

Blogs away...

It's #blogjune day one 2015.

A poem to start the winter blogging...

Early rise on public holiday
Mood snarly at the start
Day happens
Work happens
Students in suits looking sharp
Reference requests, last minute prep
Groups gathering
Presentations are set
Midday hush
Town still quiet (still in bed I bet...)
Saw a photocopier lolling in the sun
Found my smile 
Read some #blogjune
Nice 'day one'