Friday Afternoon

Before I blogged I was a teacher of primary aged children, aged from 5 to 12 years.  It was a job that I really enjoyed, obviously some days more than others! But one of the times I loved most was Friday afternoons.

The bell would ring at half past 3 and the children would be out the door. Somebody once described it ‘like a cork out of a champagne bottle’ and it is such an apt simile. Then the peace would descend. The energy generated by those 25 busy bodies would gradually dissipate, and I would be there in the stillness.

It was a time to potter around the room, tidying up after an active week, cleaning the tables, vaguely reflecting on the day’s happenings and mentally organising the things that needed deeper reflection. One of the tasks I loved to do was to sharpen the pencils, ready for Monday’s diary writing.

I would think about tidying my desk. That was always an impossible task, as there was a never ending supply of paper that needed to be dealt with. But it was Friday Afternoon and the This Should Have Been Done Yesterday pile could wait a while longer. Then I would look at my planning for the following week, pack a few things to take home, turn off the lights and lock the door. Friday Afternoon. Time to wander down to the pub for a few Friday Afternoon Drinks with friends.

I was thinking of that this afternoon. I was folding the washing, looking out the front window at the school over the road and I knew that the teachers over there would be glad that it’s Friday. The day has been sunny and still, peaceful, just right for a Friday Afternoon. So let me tidy up a few things here before I wander into the lounge room for Friday Afternoon Drinks. I might even sit outside with my glass of wine.

My last post was about Dads, and it seemed to resonate with you, stirring up some memories. Thank you for your comments, including those on Facebook. I thought I would copy the poem that the Snail of Happiness shared. It summed up so well what I was stumbling around to say.

A man lives for as long as we carry him inside us,
For as long as we carry the harvest of his dreams,
For as long as we ourselves live,
Holding memories in common, a man lives.
(Brian Patten)

I love that idea of ‘the harvest of his dreams’. I want to believe that I am still harvesting some of my Dad’s dreams.

And the second thing to tidy up is to tell you, very proudly, that I sold the rose painting that I painted in a recent workshop. I showed you its creation, and now it has flown off to the States! Let me boast a little more and say that it was the 90th painting that I have sold in my Etsy shop.

Now, let’s all raise a glass to Friday Afternoons. May they always be peaceful! Cheers!

An Award, Part 2

My last post was about the Liebster Award that I received from Meeks at Meekas Mind. I answered her questions. Now I have the second part to to do — to nominate other bloggers for the award and give them 10 questions for them to answer.

I would like to award the Award to the following excellent blogs. Check them out!

Reading Kills — Fiona focuses on Australian crime fiction — and even has a map showing the locations of many fictional crimes in Australia! How cool is that?

Poppy Goes Happy — Poppy is a Hungarian living in Denmark, blogging about her life. When you visit, read her very moving page PPD.

Beth’s Sketch Journal — Beth loves to sketch in outdoors and I love to look at the works she posts.

Gaynor’s Flora — If you like to look at stunning botanical art, this is the blog for you. Her work is glorious.

Ilene on Words — Ilene celebrates the influence that many people have had, not only politicians, but also musicians, civil rights activists, feminists and so on. She has some great clips of musicians and songs that take me right back.

Carol’s Originals — Carol is a talented printmaker, and has been blogging about the joys of setting up her own work space. As well, she is raising money to help fund education in Zimbabwe.

Alberta Ross — Alberta writes, reads and gardens, living a positive life while dealing with the things that life throws at her.

10 questions, but answer as laterally as you like:

1. Why do you blog?

2. Has your blogging changed over the time you have been doing it? For example, but not limited to, are you blogging about different things?

3. Your favourite time of the day.

4. What is your favourite season?

5. Can you name an author or a musician (or both) who has had a major impact on your life?

6. What was it about his/her work that affected you so profoundly?

7. What is your favourite handmade possession?

8.  What food would you never want to eat again?

9. If you could be a bird which would you choose?

10. Where is the most interesting place you have been?

Okay, now I am off to notify them. I really hope they have the time to answer the questions, because I would love to know their answers!

What would your answers be? Choose a question that takes your fancy and answer it in the comments. 🙂

Tour de France and Bedoin

Last post I confessed declared that I was a Tour Tragic. I get engrossed in it. But, because  time differences means the coverage in Australia doesn’t start until 10 PM, I have to ration the number of nights I stay up for the whole thing.

Last Sunday was going to be a special night. It was Bastille Day, 14th July, and the Tour was ending up on Mt. Ventoux. And it was going to go through the lovely little village of Bedoin. I was so excited. Let’s go on a quick detour to explain why.

In 2010 I was lucky enough to spend 4 weeks in France, and 2 of them were in Bedoin. It is a little town at the foot of the giant Mt Ventoux, loved by cyclists. There are towns in the area that are more beautiful, but Bedoin has charm. There is the weekly market that starts in the square and spills out into the main street. There are the cafes, where of course you sit outside and soak up the sun and the atmosphere. There is a boulangerie. Every morning someone would walk there, try out their halting French (or in my case point and hold up fingers!) and return with our delicious fresh breakfast. 

It was the season of cherries, sunflowers and lavender. It was just as ‘living’ in a French village should have been.

So, when I heard that the Tour was going through Bedoin I was excited. I wanted to glimpse the places that became so familiar. And yes, I wanted to be able to brag “That’s where….and off that road….and look there is…”

Sunday night was also the last night of the Ashes cricket test, Australia versus England. My Fella and I negotiated over the remote control — Tour/Ashes/Tour/Ashes. All went well until the race was a couple of kilometres from Bedoin. “No, we can’t change now!” I said. “We are almost there. Just a few more ks!” (Australia had around 20 runs to win, and one wicket in hand.) The race came up to the round-a-bout into the village, my expectation levels were high…….when SBS WENT TO AN AD BREAK!!!!!!

I missed Bedoin and we missed the last, controversial wicket in the Ashes (Australia lost by 14 runs).

So I am going to post my own pictures of Bedoin. I am going to take the chance to point out the sights to you, because I couldn’t point them out to the Fella on Sunday night! Let me brag just a little. (To be honest, I am not sure how much I would have seen any way, as apparently there were thousands of people thronging the road in Bedoin.)

(Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2010)

The little village of Bedoin as we would see it walking to get the fresh bread each morning.

(Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2010)

This little street winds from the main street up to the church on the hill.

(Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2010)

Here’s the church, taken from across the square. And look, there’s the boulangerie under the pollarded plane trees. And the newsagent, which had the only internet access. (I didn’t realise ’till then that a French keyboard was different. So many typos in every email!)

(Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2010)

(Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2010)

There were two cafes opposite each other. We could never decide which one we preferred, so we alternated. Imagine how busy they would have been on Sunday! Just around the corner is the ATM. 

(Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2010)

(Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2010)

The peleton would have raced up this road, and wheeled around the round-a-bout, heading out and up onto the mountain.

(Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2010)

Bedoin in the twilight.

Thanks for indulging me! Cheers.

Meeka’s Music Challenge

Colin threw down the gauntlet to Meeka, who threw it out to us. Metan picked it up. Now here are my offerings. The challenge was to blog about the music from your favourite decade. I don’t really have a favourite decade. Music comes to me from different times and styles, from classical to country, and from a range of sources too.

However, to be reasonably true to the challenge, I have interpreted it as music that reminds me of a period in my life. It’s around the mid 70s. I was involved with a chap who loved music, collected it, listened to it, remembered it and spoke about it. Never have I  been so immersed in music. We went to hear bands in pubs, including Skyhooks, and we listened to tapes in the car as we travelled the long distance to our Queensland holidays. Countdown was new and exciting. Everyone in the shared house would gather round the (new) colour TV to watch. I remember the stir Abba created with their Mama Mia video clip. Those lips! Was it the first we had seen?

So here are some songs that take me back to that time. (It was an interesting experience going down the wormhole of Youtube to find these. Links to forgotten bands and singers made it difficult to choose just these. There may be a Part 2.)

The first I thought of was Al Stewart’s The Year of the Cat, 1976. We owned the album and I loved looking at the album cover to see how many cat references I could find. I thought he was a one hit wonder, but it turns out he has produced 15 albums! Enjoy the flairs and hair in this clip. Good sax solo too.

I remember the first time I heard Joan Armitrading. We went to the Sunbury concert — Santana, Fleetwood Mac. It was great, but my standout moment was hearing Down to Zero playing as we arrived. I asked a friend who it was, and I thought they said “John Armitrading”. This one, Love and Affection, has stayed with me through the years, and stopped me wallowing in tears and self-pity many times. Again, a fabulous sax solo, and I just love the deep voice in the chorus.

Boulder to Birmingham has also stayed as one of my favourite songs, and Emmylou Harris one of my favourite artists. This clip is from a later period. There is no sax, just Emmylou’s clear and beautiful voice, supported by guitars, mandolin and harmonies.

Then Bruce Springsteen burst onto our turntable. This clip of Born to Run captures the energy and the power of the band. And yep, there is a saxaphone! Not the solo of Jungle Road, but still pretty damn good.

Now, to calm us all down…Gordon Lightfoot was another who provided the soundtrack to my life then. If you Could Read My Mind Love takes me back there.

I couldn’t leave this journey without a Bob Seger. He always reminds me of a housemate who had a crush on a friend of a friend because the friend looked like Bob Segar! She did keep a pet duck in her room, so maybe her view on life was a bit skewed. Anyway, here is a much older Bob, with a surprise guest. And yes, by chance, there is a saxophone solo in it!

Thanks for following me on my indulgent nostalgia. I would love to hear of your favourites. Leave me a comment  🙂

 

Women’s Peace Garden, Newmarket Saleyards and the Maribyrnong River

The Women’s Peace Garden, (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2015)

We have had some glorious Autumn weather in Melbourne the last couple of days. I decided my walk would be also be an exploration.Two or three times a week, perhaps even more, I travel down Epsom Road, through Kensington. For a long time I have seen a sign pointing to the Women’s Peace Garden, but have never seen any real indication of where it is. Now a larger sign has been erected on the road. This was the day to find out more.

This is the view that I now see from the car.

The Women’s Peace Garden, (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2015)

So I went through the entrance, under the Morten Bay figs and down the steps,

past the mosaic,

The mosaic, in the Women’s Movement colours of green, purple and white

to see the garden spread out below you. It has been designed with the peace symbol and the woman symbol in mind. You can see the peace symbol easily on the grass. The other is more difficult. The bluestone colonnades at the bottom form the cross. Unfortunately I couldn’t get a photo of that.

The Women’s Peace Garden, (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2015)

The Women’s Peace Garden, (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2015)

The Women’s Peace Garden, (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2015)

The Women’s Peace Garden, (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2015)

 

The garden was built in 1986 to commemorate the International Year of Peace. It was designed by a team of women and is now maintained by the community and local schools. The plants were chosen to fit with the colours of the Women’s Movement — green, purple and white — and to symbolise remembrance — the peace rose, rosemary and olive trees.

The Women’s Peace Garden, (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2015)

The Women’s Peace Garden, (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2015)

The Women’s Peace Garden, (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2015)

The Women’s Peace Garden, (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2015)

The Women’s Peace Garden, (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2015)

The Women’s Peace Garden, (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson 2015)

I sat for a while and did a very poor sketch of the garden. As well I thought about war and peace, soldiers and civilians. Australia has recently celebrated ANZAC Day (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps), our day of remembrance. I have a very ambivalent attitude to ANZAC Day, as so I was grateful to find a place where peace was celebrated and the innocents of war cherished.

This garden has been built on the old Newmarket Saleyards. They were built in the 1850’s and by the twentieth century they were amongst the biggest saleyards and abattoirs in the world. They closed in the 1980’s. When I first lived in the local area I remember hearing the bellowing of the cattle, and if the wind was blowing from the south the smell was not pleasant either.

After they were sold the yards were developed into medium density housing, the first in the area. As I wandered through the other day I was impressed with how the development had been done. There is a lovely tangle of streets, lanes and mews. The houses seem to open to walking lanes and many of the old peppercorns have been kept. The heritage of the area has been remembered with the bluestone paths and post and rail fences. I wandered along the old stock route to the Maribyrnong River. These photos might give you a little feel for the place.

Bluestone paths, post and rail fences, peppercorn trees.(Photo copyright: Anne Lawson)

The road narrows so that cars have to give way to pedestrians and on-coming cars. (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson)

And finally, some images of the Maribyrnong River from the bridge the cattle used to cross on.

The city from the bridge. The water was so smooth. (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson)

The bridge (Photo copyright: Anne Lawson)

Thank you for joining me on my meander on a beautiful Melbourne day.

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