One Lovely Blog Award

Posted on October 6, 2012 by brissiemaz

                                                                                A big heartfelt Thank you to Clanmother for nominating my blog for the One Lovely Blog Award on Sept 16th. I enjoy her blog immensely and feel honoured to be ‘mentioned in despatches’ in this way. If you haven’t visited her site yet then you have an interesting journey ahead of you.               Use the link below to begin your exploration of her 4 fascinating blogs.    (Yes, 4.  I know, but I think R’s been at it longer than some of us have!?!)                          http://chasingart.com/

I understand there are three rules to accepting a One Lovely Blog Award:

1) Give credit to the person who nominated you. (See above)

2) Describe 7 things about you.

3) Nominate 15 bloggers.

About me:                                                                                                                                           I am a private person (would you believe) so here goes with a bit of info about me.                I have been a musician all my life….. I sing, play piano and guitar. I have painted in the past (not just the house, you understand) and hope to start again soon. I enjoy travel as long as it’s not too rugged (too old for that) and take my camera everywhere. I am a Science graduate and taught Maths way back when but am glad those days are behind me. I would dearly love to have my book published….I’m posting it gradually on my blog and it follows my wanderings in England on my last visit. I hope you have time for a peek while you’re in the vicinity!

My nominations:                                                                                                                                     I am truly amazed by the number and quality of fascinating blogs I have come across and would like to nominate the following blogs, in no particular order, for the One Lovely Blog Award. I’m sure you’ll enjoy delving into them as much as I did and I’d be delighted to hear what you think of them. Either leave a comment or contact brissiemaz@gmail.com

http://suellewellyn2011.wordpress.com/author/skinnywench/                                         Quite a story-teller and handy with a camera.  Sue tackles a variety of subjects with skill and humour.                                                                                      http://emilyluxton.co.uk/tag/blog/                                                                                            Emily shares wonderful local London info as well as tales from her  travels. She covers a lot of ground and showcases her marvellous photos in slide-show format.             http://vicki-h.travellerspoint.com/                                                                                               The sky’s the limit travel-wise and the photos are to die for!  ‘Come with me’  Vicki calls it……so….. what are you waiting for??                                         http://crazytraintotinkytown.com/                                                                                          Exploits of a 30-something single woman. Check out the Top Posts section for photos and captions to keep you chuckling for a week.                      http://plantwhateverbringsyoujoy.com/                                                                                    Kathryn is over-loaded with prestigious awards so pay her a visit asap. The name says it all!                                                                                    http://letsgoforavacation.blogspot.com.au/                                                                                 After visiting many blogs I have come to realize that I am seduced by gorgeous photos. Sometimes I don’t pause to read the narrative…just scroll down, down, down to greedily devour the photos. This site is no exception!  http://wheresmytbackandotherstories.wordpress.com/                                                              Eva deals with the subject of Alzheimer’s disease in a non-confronting manner and includes wonderful travel photos on her blog. Check out, especially, Amber Fort at Jaipur. You won’t be disappointed.                                                               http://thekitchensgarden.com/                                                                                                           Cecilia says ‘Relax and life can be simple’. She puts this into practice by                     ‘growing, cooking and eating, using sustainable and organic methods’. Good stuff!         http://thewanderlustgene.wordpress.com/                                                                                            Apart from wonderful photos of the pet dogs and cat this blog is all about travelling and photographing  in a way that gives us a unique view of our fascinating world.  http://virginiaplantation.wordpress.com/                                                                                           Michelle and Brett have taken on a massive task restoring a wonderful historic home to achieve their dream of running a world-class B&B. It seems they’re off to a flying start with Belle Grove Plantation in Virginia. Well  worth a visit!http://soulsbyfarm.org/2012/08/19/pumpkin-patch-pictorial/                                                   If you don’t mind getting your hands dirty check out the informative articles ALL of which are accompanied by numerous, fabulous photos.  http://jumpforjoyphotoproject.wordpress.com/                                                                        It’s amazing how one simple idea can lead to so many photos that put a smile on  your face.  Eyoälha (pron. Ee-YO-lah) captures moments of sheer delight with her lens.   http://serenassecretgardens.blogspot.com.au/p/gallery.html                                                      A budding (pardon the pun) gardening blog also with some recipes. Check out Serena’s gallery photos (single click on photo to view full-screen).  http://littleexpeditions.wordpress.com/                                                                                          I enjoyed scrolling through Joanne’s posts getting a feel for her  work. It’s well  worth the effort  (how hard can it be – a few seconds of scrolling?) as her photoblog  gives us a genuinely unique view of Melbourne and  places visited around the world. http://thelanternroom.wordpress.com/                                                                                             This is a delightful site – I like the style of it and the photography is excellent.  I think it’s my need for immediate gratification that makes me want easier access to the photos full-screen.  I’d be interested to see how you fare. Enjoy!

I’d like to say a final Thank you to all of the sites I’ve mentioned as every one of them has given me a great deal of pleasure.                                                                                            Brissiemaz.

Posted in England, gardening, London, One Lovely Blog Award, Travel, Uncategorized, veggies | Tagged , , , , | 13 Comments

21. Wonderful Church, Wonderful B&B, Wonderful People!

Posted on October 6, 2012 by brissiemaz

St Edmund’s, Southwold

Anyway, where was I?                                                                                                                         Oh yes – the large beer glass – in  Southwold. The Lord Nelson had a wonderful log fire burning and it was a great relief to be able to feel my fingers again. We’d have stayed longer except we wanted to check out the local church – St Edmund’s –  and it was getting to that time of day when travellers who haven’t booked ahead need to take serious steps towards finding somewhere to stay for the night. Jason had been insistent that phoning at the last minute would be sufficient to find a presentable B&B.

After phoning all the places they knew of – remember they had lived in the area for many years – and finding no vacancy I wanted to say “I told you so!” to Jason but, fortunately, thought better of it. After all, we’d had a wonderful afternoon and I could sleep on the floor of the camper van if necessary.    Finally, contacting a friend of a friend led to his calling a B&B in Halesworth and I felt like dying on the spot when I heard myself described by Jason as a ‘young lady’ in need of a room for the night. Imagine how I felt when the B&B owners opened the door and came face to face with me – an ‘old biddy’. Embarrassing is not the word!

However, I felt more relaxed now that my accommodation was sorted and was looking forward to visiting the church which surprised me by being delightful both inside and out.

St Edmund’s

It began life in 1202, was upgraded in 1413 and partially damaged by fire in 1659. Although a lot of the town landmarks were destroyed or badly damaged by this fire the church managed to survive the flames to a large extent. As a result, the church we see today dates mostly from the 1400’s.

Ceiling, St Edmund’s

I love the place and could hardly tear myself away from it. It’s at times like these that I realize I’d need 2 or 3 lifetimes to learn all there is to know about Britain and it’s fascinating history. However, on this occasion I have to make do with an hour or two of sight-seeing and taking lots of photos.

Screen and Altar, St. Edmund’s

I found the story of St Edmund himself to be very moving. At the tender age of 15, in AD852, he became King of East Anglia and was known to be a devout Christian. While he was king the Danes carried out numerous raids on the Suffolk coast and for a time Edmund and his men were able to hold them at bay.   Unfortunately he was defeated in AD870 when he was 29.   Having been given the opportunity to either renounce his faith or be put to death he bravely chose the latter. Some say the Danes tied him to a tree and shot him full of arrows. Consequently, he became known as St Edmund, King and Martyr.

You often come across his statue in various churches in the area and whenever I saw him I couldn’t help but pause and spend a few minutes reflecting on his admirable behaviour in the face of such adversity.

Baptismal Font

The splendidly ornate top of the font is drawn up by a pulley and it looks seriously heavy. It also seems to have been built for the baptisms of a race of giants – but it is wonderful to behold.

After much prompting from Jason I reluctantly left St Edmund in peace and headed off for my bed & breakfast place to drop off my luggage and freshen up before heading out for dinner. The B&B was a delightful spot immaculately presented and I was looked after extremely well by Elizabeth & Peter who’ve been B&B-ing since 1973.

Elizabeth and Peter looking after ‘the young lady’

That night we went to Rumburgh for tea to a charming local pub with a low ceiling and big log fire and ate generous helpings of the local seafood – what more could you ask for?

*   *    *    *

Next morning, after a comfy sleep at my B&B, I ate my breakfast overlooking the splendid garden – a full English breakfast of cereal, bacon and eggs etc followed by tea, toast and jam! After the big meal last night I was hard-pressed to fit it all in…but I gave it a damned good try. Here’s a contact link for Peter and Elizabeth

The garden really was spectacular which is why I have 30 or so photos of it. Here are a few of them.

My view while enjoying brekkie

A gorgeous geranium just inside the front door.

Posted in England, Southwold, Suffolk, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

20. Anyone for a sherry?

Posted on October 6, 2012 by brissiemaz

We couldn’t leave Southwold without a stroll through the town and, thankfully, once we were away from the sea front and sheltered from the howling wind by a few buildings we could resume communications although it was still VERY cold. I wondered if it was being a Queenslander that made me want to buy a big pair of woolly gloves but when we ducked into the Lord Nelson Inn for a drink and some respite from the weather it was obvious from the banter that the locals thought it was a bit nippy as well.

Southwold

What a lovely spot! Warm, cosy and welcoming with an easy-going air. Jason was keen to try the beer made by the brewery in town.  Adnams Brewery is at the centre of the action in Southwold, not far from the lighthouse and its steaming chimney is a notable structure on the skyline.  Sue and I sipped soft-stuff while Jason downed what appeared to be a gallon of local brew.  He could hardly get his fingers round the glass and he is a strapping fellow. What do the people with smaller hands do? Use both hands?

Oh well it’s not my problem as I don’t drink the stuff.

True, I don’t drink these days but when I used to live in England, in the days way back when, I was always partial to a drop or two of the hard stuff. I acquired the English habit of drinking sherry and enjoyed it enormously. And speaking of large glasses – I remember when my sister and her husband moved to Oxford from Toronto. We helped them settle in and visited some firm about a job for my brother-in-law, Mark. It was early November and England had been experiencing a real Indian summer and in my letters and phone calls I’d been telling them how wonderfully warm it was.

And it was – until the morning we picked them up from Heathrow. We awoke to find it had snowed heavily overnight and was exceptionally cold.

Oh well, I thought, that’s life.

Anyway, in Oxford, after Mark’s interview the job fellow was very cordial and asked us to join him for a drink at the nearby pub. As we divested ourselves of heavy coats and gloves and scraped chairs to get ourselves seated he suggested we might need some sherry to warm us up.

Great !

Yes, please.

We sat down, enjoying the view over a  much-snowed-upon lawn and the gorgeous bare branches of trees covered in a pure white icing of snow. These are the very same branches of course, which drive you round the twist especially as the joy and good will of the festive season wears off ……… cause you to be depressed for most of the year ……… the dry, grey wood with nary a leaf in sight. Combined with the ubiquitous drizzle it’s enough to send the sanest of us rushing off to the nearest travel agent to find a cheap trip to a sunny part of the world. Ibiza here I come!

Ahhh, he’s back with the sherries.

As we each receive our glassful we exchange furtive glances. Surely someone has made a mistake. These aren’t sherry glasses.

They’re schooners.

Schooners of sherry.

Mr Jobman looks very pleased with himself and we dubiously raise our glasses to toast something or other. We look at each other doubtfully. God, how will we get all this down?

Three schooners each later we had no such concerns. We wouldn’t have recognized a concern if it came up and bit us.

Finding someone sober enough to drive was the only difficulty and not one that bothered us much – and boy had we warmed up! And….isn’t it amazing how everything seems so funny when you’re tipsy………Ok……drunk.

‘So… who’s going to drive ?’

Gales of laughter and much falling about on the chairs.

‘Mark, have you had much?’

Gales of laughter and much falling about on the chairs.

‘When do we have to get back?’

Gales of laughter and much falling about on the chairs.  People are starting to look and the faces with indulgent smiles are beginning to turn  a little sour.

Who can blame them?     They haven’t just imbibed numerous schooners of potent sherry on empty stomachs.

And, of course, we’re colonials.

And they think it shows.

Whenever one of us mentions one of these facts it’s followed by gales of laughter and much falling about on chairs.

Maybe we’d better get out of here before we wear out our welcome.

BIT LATE FOR THAT!

Gales of laughter and much falling about on the chairs.

Or maybe jeopardise my brother-in-law’s job!!

Oops!

This thought sobers us up a little and we start to leave, only to find that the message to move has not yet reached our legs.

‘Shit’….

Gales of laughter and much tripping and lurching.

‘Ssshh’….’ssshh’

Whispering now…  ‘let’s get out of here, quick’.

Bumping and scraping of chairs and much ssshh-ing followed by laughter that we actually seem to believe no-one else can hear.

Finally we burst out into the freezing cold and the extraordinary difference in temperature momentarily leaves us speechless. Gasping in vast lungfuls of cold air is an unpleasant experience and acts as a natural dampener on the gales of laughter. We come over all dignified like as we walk away but begin to feel a little uncertain and somewhat chastened as none of us can remember where the car is.

Needless to say we eventually found the car and my brother-in-law secured the job so no harm done. But……let this be a warning to unwary Aussies about the English and their wicked ways with sherry!

Posted in England, Oxford, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Veggie patch update

Posted on August 18, 2012 by brissiemaz

Amazing! I have 2 red tomatoes! AND…. I am eating my own lettuce! This is today’s photo hot off the press. The others are from a couple of days ago.

My very own tomatoes!

There are quite a few small green tomatoes on the bush – I thought the frost might have finished off those flowers…but, no…. plenty more to come.

Lettuce not fully formed but have been breaking off leaves for a while now

Cabbages are doing well

Cabbages not ready yet but chives and young kale leaves have found their way to my table.

Veggies out of their cage

Must grow more stuff now that spring is only 3 weeks away. Also have some partially formed strawberries – would have planted more if I’d known how successful the venture would be.

The wire cover has been essential. The possums nibble off any leaves that are foolish enough to stray through the wire – there’d be nothing left growing without the cage. I might have to refine the design for the next one. It’ll need to be bigger for a start.

Must be off to have a very late lunch which includes my very own tomatoes, lettuce and chives. Toodle-oo!

Posted in gardening, Uncategorized, veggies | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

19. Beach huts and blustery breezes….Southwold, England

Posted on August 17, 2012 by brissiemaz

I began to notice the countryside through the fine misty rain and started to enjoy being on the open road.

What with leaving home at a sensible hour AND all the speeding I’d made good time so far but I knew it couldn’t last.

Sure enough just a few miles from Darsham I came upon roadworks on a very small road and was held up for 20 minutes. After initially being very impatient with the delay I realised that I had time to spare anyway so what was I worrying about? Force of habit I guess. Traffic holdup = become stressed.

I kept telling myself that there was absolutely no need to get upset but still it was hard to actually enjoy this part of the journey as the road was very narrow and enclosed on both sides by high, thick hedge so there was no view to admire – just the back of the car in front – and that wears thin after just a few seconds, never mind 20 minutes! I was due to meet Jason and Sue at lunch time in the car park of the Little Chef at Darsham and after eventually being allowed to continue my trip my spirits rose when I caught sight of their big camper van – a very welcome sight indeed. I pulled into the car park and after hugs and greetings all round we decided to drive out to the coast and have lunch at Southwold – which one of the guide books said was known as ‘Kensington-on-Sea’  – very grand.

Southwold is a very attractive town on the coast and our first port of call was the functioning lighthouse. Now, when you get to Southwold don’t waste your time and energy looking for this lighthouse on some lonely, windswept outcrop in the harbour…….because it’s more or less in the main street! Honestly! I have photos to prove it. In fact this is where I started my photography in earnest and I’ll include lots of snaps from now on.

Southwold lighthouse

Anyway… the lighthouse is smack in the middle of some terraced houses and the photos of it look a bit suss – as though someone had a few too many drinks then decided to have a bit of fun grafting the top half of a lighthouse to the bottom half of a suburban street scene. The resulting hybrid really does make you look twice.

Bizarre but delightful……..and the bonus is that it still works after beginning operation in 1890.

When I started my adventure in London that morning I realised this was my first day of bad weather since I arrived in England. Mind you, it wasn’t too bad on the drive. The day was cold and windy but when I reached the North Atlantic coast things were considerably worse. We parked next to the beach and had a very tasty lunch in the camper van as Jason and Sue had plenty of supplies in the fridge and we chewed and chatted happily as the force 9 gale buffeted the van giving us a feeling somewhat akin to lunching on a lurching train. It was amazingly cozy but we had to yell at one another occasionally for our conversation to be heard above the roaring of the wind.

After a yummy lunch and a nice hot cuppa I simply HAD to brave the weather and get out and have a close look at the beach huts along the front. Wonderful little buildings, each separately owned and painted all colours of the rainbow they looked splendid lined up in a row beside the sea. The sight would have been even better on a sunny day, no doubt, but the beach huts stood bravely to attention in the face of the cold wind blowing in from the North Sea and the wild, choppy grey water they were overlooking on that particular day. I loved them!

It’s always easy to tell how much I like something by checking out my photos.

Beach huts, Southwold

Er….this is a photo of the beach huts…er..Sue and the beach huts.. .er…Jason and the beach huts… er…Sue and Jason pointing at the beach huts…er..Mary and the beach huts… er…Sue, Jason and Mary and the beach huts…what! (there was obviously someone else brave enough to venture outside for their constitutional in this crazy weather).. er…beach huts from a distance..er…beach huts close up… er…oooo!… a lovely blue beach hut…and a pink one ….and a STRIPED one. Well I never!

As I said – a stripey one!

Thank God for modern technology because I’d never be able to afford the photo developing fees we used to pay in the old days.

Although there are still a couple of ancient beach huts left mostly they were built in the 1960’s and you could land one for under £100. The situation is decidedly different today as a Southwold beach hut can set you back by as much as £120,000 – if, indeed, you’re lucky enough to find someone to sell to you. They seem to be handed down through generations of families and so it can be almost impossible to find one for sale.

Now, assuming you have just spent an enormous amount of money buying such a hut what on earth do you use it for? They must be useful for something other than changing into your togs (ie swimsuit) I ask myself as I gaze at the brightly coloured cheerful-looking row of small buildings in front of me on the foreshore. The icy blast that arrived on cue and almost knocked me over reminded me that maybe nobody swims here much; it is, after all, a trifle different from Mooloolaba where I swim back home where, in winter, the temperature is hard-pressed to fall below 18˚ in the day. So, what do they use them for?

A rather small, slightly scruffy looking beach hut that obviously needs some TLC went on the market recently for a staggering £60,000. It’s main claim to fame was that it’s thought to have been on the beach  (well, they’re not actually on the beach – more accurately they’re on the seafront) at Southwold for over 100 years and perhaps is the only original one left.

Still it seems a lot of money to pay for a small, maintenance-challenged room which is 7 feet square (ie 2.1 metres square) and has no electricity, gas or mains water.

To add insult to injury is the local by-law which stipulates that you can’t spend the night in it.                                                                                                                                                        Again, I ask, what do you do in it then?                                                                                      Have a cuppa protected from the wind….but only if you close the door so that you then  can’t see the view?                                                                                                                                    Argue about who gets to sit down comfortably because the hut’s so small it won’t fit enough chairs?

Maybe it’s one of those questions that can only be answered once you’re in the situation yourself. I shall drop the subject lest anyone begins to harbour the notion that I have a rather lack-lustre imagination.

Perhaps the average sale price of £100,000 is due to the close proximity of                            firstly,   the North Atlantic Ocean                                                                                              secondly,  a sandy beach,        and                                                                                           thirdly,  the ‘award-winning’ pier.

The ocean was  certainly a dramatic sight the day we visited with the water an ominous browny-grey and spray drifting onto us a lot even though the waves didn’t seem very big. I think it more an indication of just how fierce the blasted wind was that particular day.

A sandy beach is rather special in this neck of the woods but, try as I might, I couldn’t help comparing it to Mooloolaba Beach. There’s no doubt though that a sandy beach beats a pebble beach any day. This is the same beach, presumably, onto which many bodies were washed after the Battle of Sole Bay in 1672 – an indecisive but bloody naval encounter memorable for the fact that the English and French fought together against the Dutch.

Southwold Pier

The pier is privately owned and kept in great shape by the family who runs it. There are some beautiful photos of the area on the internet all of which have been taken on spectacularly sunny days and they show the blue of the ocean, the gold of the sand, the brightly coloured huts and the spick-and-span pier to perfection. In fact, seeing the huts like that, made me wish I had the odd £100,000 to spare to buy one!

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

18. Speed limit? ……..What speed limit?

Posted on August 13, 2012 by brissiemaz

A couple of times over the past few days I have contacted my friends, Jason and Sue, about meeting them somewhere in Suffolk. They are a marvellous Aussie couple who spend a lot of their time travelling the world and have, until last year, owned a house in Bramfield, Suffolk. While I was in London they were touring the south-east of England in their motor-home so via email we’d teed up spending some time together before they set off on their next big adventure – Canada I think.

Anyway, I was anxious to set up our joint venture in advance so I could organise some accommodation for myself ahead of time rather than having to worry each day about where I might stay overnight. Jason, however, saw things differently and would never commit to anything in advance. As a result, after our last phone call I was getting a bit anxious about the accommodation side of things in spite of Jason’s insistence that ‘there’s no need to book’. Hope he’s right.

*  *  *  *  *

I got up at 6 the next morning – and it was very cold and grey with some light rain. I was thankful that I’d be spending the morning in the warm, dry car. I packed for my adventure into the wilds of East Anglia making sure I had my new camera which takes smashing photos.

There was the usual London traffic scrum (casual term for ‘nightmare’) getting on to the A12 to Lowestoft and it was good to be out in the country for the first time since I arrived. I had asked a few locals about the speed limit and on each occasion had been totally confused by the reply. At home in Australia it seems simple enough: 100 kph on motorways, 60 kph on connecting roads, 50 kph on smaller suburban streets.

In the UK the limit seemed to depend to a large extent on the colour of the line on the side of the road, plus was it an ‘A’ road or a motorway…… oh …. and  was it a dual carriageway…. and….. um….if it’s a  – by which time I’ve lost track of the first part of the answer.

I simply COULDN’T get anyone to give me some figures – and I did try, many times. No doubt the sensible thing to do was go to a police station, not that I remember seeing any. The other point though was that each time I asked the question I felt sure that this time I would get a clear and concise answer. I’m obviously a pretty slow learner as I now found myself let loose on the highway without any ideas of the speed limit.

Still….how hard can it be?

Just keep an eye on the other drivers, right?

Forget it!!

I’m tootling up the A 12, in the middle lane, glad to have escaped the motoring hell of London, leaving the other lanes to the slowcoaches and speedsters – and there seem to be plenty of the latter. It slowly dawns on me that there is a build up of traffic behind me and from time to time a furious driver swerves out from behind me and roars past wearing an angry yet determined expression. Gosh, I’m doing 50 miles an hour – what’s the problem?

I then hit upon a fool-proof plan to discover the speed limit for myself.

I decide to crank up my speed by 5 miles per hour every 10 minutes or so until I detect that I’m no longer annoying my fellow drivers.

I’m a little surprised some time later to notice that while I’m now doing 65 mph cars are whizzing past me as if I’m still a nuisance on the road. Surely I must be close to the limit, musn’t I ?

By the time I reach 75 mph I am starting to feel stressed  – cars are still racing past me and I worry that I might be pushing the little grey car to its limit. All the while I’m doing my sums and converting to the kilometres per hour we use at home. 75 mph is the equivalent of 120 kmp. Good heavens! This can’t be right! On an ‘A’ road?!?  I summoned up all my courage and gave 80 mph a go – just in case – but still they flew past me. And then I realised – they’re all crazy – or rather speed crazy.

What a relief to realise that in fact the speed limit was something probably considerably less than 80 so I no longer felt any pressure to flog the poor old car (or myself). With a great whoosh of air I began to breathe normally again and returned to tootling along at about 60 and left them to their crazy speeding.

My trusty grey car on a typically narrow road in East Anglia

Posted in 'A' road, driving, England, motorway, speed limit, Suffolk | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

17. I’m not really a morning person!

Posted on August 13, 2012 by brissiemaz

In Australia, when I lived at the farm being woken up by noises in the night was compounded by being woken up by the early morning sun. I remember one morning having been up a lot during the night sorting out the dogs and the assorted wildlife that they had fun interacting with in the dead of night. After such a disrupted sleep I was feeling rather groggy the next morning.

‘Oh no’ I thought ‘not another day’ and groaned as I groped for the snooze button.

I tried to keep my eyes tightly shut and at the same time check that it was in fact daylight. The resulting squint twisted my face grotesquely but with good reason – I was staring straight into the early morning sun as, unobstructed by curtain or blind, it poured into my bedroom.

This had gone on for 5 years now and I marvelled at my acquired ability to stay asleep in the full glare of the morning sun as it rose above the hills and shone obliquely onto my bed at an angle that ensured total whiteout at 6 a.m. if I so much as thought about opening my eyes. There was a time, many moons ago, when I couldn’t sleep without heavy curtains across the window – I would check before going to bed that not the slightest chink of light would enter the room come sunup. Otherwise I’d be up at the crack of dawn leaning chairs against the curtains to make sure they stayed exactly where I wanted them to keep out every particle of light.

Well, things sure were different after my son was born. I learnt to sleep sitting upright rocking the bassinet – although I’d never have believed anyone who told me they had done it. It’s one of those things that seem impossible till it happens to you. I can sleep lying across 3 moulded plastic chairs – those with a seat that’s shaped like a shallow bowl – despite the fact that there were sharp upright bits of plastic digging into my side at regular intervals. Yes, you probably guessed it, at an airport.

I thought I’d mastered the art of staring straight into someone’s face and appearing to be listening to their conversation while dropping off to sleep but ……. more practice is obviously needed with that one as a number of times lately I’ve heard the phrase

‘Am I boring you?’   (duh…YES!!)

‘You were asleep for a minute just then’.    (Oops!)

At least I had remained upright and could claim to have been ‘thinking about something else’ as a somewhat lame excuse for my apparent rudeness.

ANYWAYS……gosh that was a diversion and a half.  Back to looking for the ‘budget sheets’ in England.

I did buy the cheap sheets and fashioned curtains out of them for the doors to the back garden in London.

Now, to finish, here’s a couple of shots from the Chelsea Flower Show to cheer your day. More about my English trip soon.

Roses, Chelsea Flower Show

Foxglove, Chelsea Flower Show

Posted in Chelsea Flower Show, England, London, sun | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

16. What was it? (Night Terror continued)

Posted on August 5, 2012 by brissiemaz

Anyway there was nothing for it now but to get up, arm myself with the torch I had bought especially for just such an occasion and strike out into the unknown. When I bought the torch I’d spent a great deal of time trying to find one that had plenty of weight but also had a long body that was easy to grasp – and wield. I knew at some level that it was highly unlikely that a torch would save me from an intruder and I felt a little silly and quite vulnerable setting out to meet the enemy dressed in my nightie. I ventured out of the bedroom.

As I reached each room I quickly stuck my hand round the corner and turned on the light.

Having found nothing untoward downstairs I stood for a second at the bottom of the stairs catching my breath and building up courage – it would be tricky, to say the least, if someone rushed at me from above and down the steps. I’d   have to be silent – no breathing even to give away my position.

One step at a time, staying near the edges to avoid creaking noises, I made my way up the steps and was nearing the top almost exploding from lack of air when I heard it again.

I froze.

My heart felt as though it might jump out of my chest. It was pounding so fast – I had to snatch a breath. There it was again but fainter now – a wail combined with a gurgle – I’d never heard such a sound before and was not used to being baffled by noises – I had a great ear for sounds, voices etc. But this had me stumped.

Sheer terror made me leap up the last few steps, duck into the kitchen and turn on all the switches near the door. The whole top floor was ablaze with light now and I bravely poked my head out of the kitchen to face whoever or whatever was there.

Nothing.

Was this good news or bad news?

It was hard to tell at first as I could still hear the noise though it faded and died as I listened.

The good news was that the noise really did exist and I wasn’t mad after all (something I often feel compelled to check on). This led to an unfortunate conclusion which then became the bad news – there was someone or something in the house with me making that eerie noise – what the hell was it?

There was a dark corner near the front door and I fancied that the noise had come from that direction. There was nothing for it but to venture over there to see what I could see.

I shone the torch into the corner and inched my way across the room, hardly daring to breathe, all the while feeling more and more ridiculous as there appeared to be nothing in the corner apart from a pair of my son’s sneakers. What could have made the noise then? I was starting to feel a bit spooked by the whole affair. Am I nutty? – I thought – surely I couldn’t imagine all that, could I? ….. and just as the doubts came crowding into my mind there was a piercing wail in my right ear. I screamed and leapt to my left turning to face my attacker as I brought the torch up in preparation for a strike ………

Nothing.

My mind took a couple of seconds to process this information as my breath was coming fast and my heart was pounding so much I thought my chest might burst.

I was looking at an empty space – no attacker of any sort in sight; so what made that god awful noise less than a foot from my head? As my eyes made a slow sweep of the corner I heard an eerie low moan – I was very close now.

I focused on the handset attached to the wall beside me. I’d only just bought the house and thought it was a redundant phone extension. I stood there with my eyes glued to it and waited with bated breath. There it was again – this time a ghostly, far-off wail. I stared in disbelief at the cause of it all. That bloody old phone …making all that racket…why?  I decided to sort that out in the morning and with a great sense of relief went back to bed to get a bit of sleep while there was still some night left.

Next day, after many phone calls, I learned that the old cobweb-encrusted thingy on the front fence was, in fact, an intercom and I had been listening to its death-throes in the middle of the night. It was connected via underground cable to the handset in my lounge room.

Flannery

After that night I simply left it disconnected to avoid any further scares until the time came when we had a gorgeous Tenterfield Terrier called Flannery (after Tim Flannery) in the house and the front gate had to be closed all the time. It cost a small fortune to get the intercom up to scratch but at least now it doesn’t frighten the bejeesus out of me at night!

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15. Night Terror?

Posted on July 29, 2012 by brissiemaz

A sound awakened me and  I sat bolt upright in bed.

What was that ghastly noise?!

As I sat, frozen, not breathing, I listened, willing my ears to pick up even the slightest sound that might indicate I should flee – anywhere – out of my second floor window, if necessary, to avoid the dreadful menace that I now felt must surely lurk nearby. Had it come from upstairs?

Silence.

It helps to picture the scene if I tell you that my house is built on a steep slope and the entry level is the top floor with 2 floors below that.  All the bedrooms and bathrooms are on the middle floor with the entry and living area on the top floor and my music /art room on the lowest level.

Top level of my house

So…. I’m quaking in my bed trying to figure out where the frightful noise had come from.

As yet, I wasn’t sure – maybe the downstairs bathroom window had been left open a little, as it sometimes was, to let out the condensation.  I desperately tried to recall if I’d shut it – but my mind was too hazy – I had woken with such a start and hadn’t taken a breath since. That thought reminded me to very quickly take in some air, worrying as I did so that it would be the exact moment when the sound recurred – and I’d miss it because I had to bloody breathe!

Still, nothing.

The oxygen input had helped; now, instead of sitting there in abject fear I was able to process a few thoughts – not many – but it was better than sitting there helplessly waiting for the imagined axe-murderer to appear at my bedroom door and ply his trade.

Yes!  I remembered! I had closed the bathroom window.

Now I felt able to take another breath – a half-way decent one this time – and could quickly run through in my mind all the checking and closings I had performed before going to bed a few hours earlier (yes, I’m a little obsessive sometimes about safety).

Now, I thought, no one can be in the house unless they broke in – and surely I’d have heard that.  I tried to recall the sound that woke me – was it the sound of someone breaking in? I didn’t think so – but what sort of sound was it? For some reason, it had not been recognizable.

Sometimes possums jumped on the roof but I was pretty sure it wasn’t that – the sound of a battalion of soldiers marching across the roof was all it took to know that the possums were up and about. No, this had been a one-off so far – just the noise that woke me and nothing to follow it up.

This in itself was worrying as it could indicate that an intruder was silently crouching, in the passageway perhaps, waiting for me to be fooled by his silence and sink back onto the sheets only to be cruelly hacked to death as a result of my lack of perseverance.

So – I persevered  – not moving a muscle except for taking the occasional breath – and listened intently.

Hang on, I thought, I’ve just decided it didn’t sound like breaking-in, so maybe it came from outside. But try as I might I couldn’t quite convince myself that someone hadn’t broken in quietly and even now was stealthily making his way through the house having first tripped over something on the way.

Tripped? As this last twist, the tripping, came into my mind I remembered something about the noise. It hadn’t been a loud crash or falling noise at all. It had been more of a wail, a loud cry – think! think! I urged myself – try to remember the noise in detail!

At least I was beginning to breathe normally now and felt that if danger did present itself I’d be out of the window like a shot, making sure that I leapt far enough out to catch hold of the skinny tree branch not far from  the side of the house.  I hoped it would break my fall as I plummeted 15 feet to the ground below – thank God it’s leaf litter I’ll land on, not concrete, I noticed myself thinking.

View from my bedroom window

A cry?  He could have stubbed his toe on something – or bumped his shin – or walked into a doorpost.

Wait a minute, I thought, as I desperately sought to re-capture the sound – it wasn’t really a human sound; maybe it was a cat? A cat being strangled more like it, I thought, remembering the ghastly sounds that used to terrify me at night when I was just a kid, in Rocky. I was too young to know what the cats were up to, which was probably just as well, but I’d be woken by the terrible wailing and caterwauling that appeared to be coming from just under my bed; I’d lie frozen, in sheer terror, unable to shut out the terrifying noise, convinced that the demons from hell were just about to come for me. (A Catholic upbringing did have some advantages but the stories about hell were not for the faint-hearted.)

My habit of pulling the bed-clothes up over my head and holding my breath in the hope of convincing the demons that I wasn’t really there gave some comfort but often there was no sleep to be had till the damned cats had finished what they were up to.

It was only years later that I realized that the racket was coming from directly under my bed as the cats would go under the high-blocked Queensland house – they preferred to congregate at my parents’ house presumably because we didn’t have a dog – or our own cat for that matter. My father was not fond of pets.

Still – that sound – what was it?

There had been no repeat that I’d heard – but its un-earthliness sent a shiver through me and made it impossible to ignore.

A wail? Could it have been a bird? One of those nocturnal ones; I quickly ran through in my mind the only nocturnal bird calls I was familiar with; owl, frogmouth, bloody plovers (even though they weren’t nocturnal they managed to make a hell of a racket some nights), curlew (now there’s a possibility, I thought – but on second thoughts I realized that the bush stone curlews were usually up near the reservoir and this sound had been very immediate – in the house no less) and decided against a bird call.

I began to realize that I could not identify what had woken me; I also knew I could never go back to sleep until I knew what had caused it and there was only one way to find out. For the umpteenth time in my life I faced the fact that no one else was going to check out the noise – after all I was alone in the house tonight – but I had always been the one who heard the noise and checked it out – ever since I left home to live with Warren from whom I was now divorced.

When I was young my Dad used to be the one to get up in the night, grab a bit of 4×2 and venture into the darkness to see what was up. Warren on the other hand, almost never heard the noise (or so he said) and was not remotely interested in finding out what had made it even after hearing a vivid description. So I was used to braving the unknown, and the non-existent as often turned out, in the middle of the night.

Will finish this SOON…promise!

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A working title and veggie patch

Posted on July 28, 2012 by brissiemaz

I haven’t settled on a book title yet. My latest idea is Just My Luck! as I do seem to be prone to finding myself in scrapes of various types no matter what country I’m in.

Another possibility is Nowhere to Pull Over….Ever!  as the driving in England was such a noteworthy part of the trip. If you have any thoughts on the subject feel free to let me know.

I can’t resist adding photos to each post and hope you’re liking the shots from the Chelsea Flower Show. I don’t always have photos relevant to the subject matter so I’ll fill the gaps with those lovely floral images.

I have a few recent photos of the veggie patch too!

Grow pots working well!

Not long now!

Flowers on the strawberries

Posted in Book Title, gardening, Uncategorized, veggies | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments