Last week – on the 27th January – it was two years since Dad died. Which kind of does my head in because that whole time is still pretty vivid and feels very current. Not only the weeks leading up to his death but the year before it when we were dealing with hospitals and aged care homes and lots of arseholes in the medical profession that left me wondering why they actually picked it as a profession when they obviously don’t give a shit.

Last year Australia Day was pretty shitty – that’s the 26th – I felt a bit antsy and anxious the whole week leading up to it because it was such a shit time back then but this year it was okay. That’s what happens isn’t it – you live, you die and the world keeps turning and that’s just the way it is and he wouldn’t want it any other way. Obviously I’m sad about him dying but what bothers and upsets me the most is the undignified end you seem to end up coming to not matter how marvellous your life before that was.

It’s a shame he won’t be around for my 50th birthday because that would have been pretty cool – to see your baby turn 50. Actually I’m sure he would have found it much more of a laugh than I’m going to.

Here is a photo of him as a young man with two of his best friends – he’s in the middle. This was taken the night before he set sail from his island home of Guernsey to travel to the other side of the world (or the arse end of the world) Australia, to start a new life.

I’m glad he had that adventurous spirit and set sail that day. Lol, that’s kind of crazy how that’s my Dad, who ended up being a farmer in central NSW.



Sydney – Old and New

So these photos are pretty cool.

Here we have the traffic going over the Harbour Bridge, I don’t know when – you’d have to look at the cars and work it out but fifties maybe.

Sydney Harbour Bridge, Vintage Harbour Bridge Photos, Vintage Sydney

Harbour Bridge traffic, Vintage Harbour Bridge, Vintage Sydney photos

And here we have traffic going over this year.

Here we have the Opera House earlier tis year

Sydney, Sydney Opera House

And here we have the Opera House being built, hmmm, well I’d say early seventies because there’s a fair bit done. It took them about fifteen years to build the damn thing.

Vintage Sydney photos, Vintage Opera House, Building Opera House

And dancing up a storm the day it was finally opened

Sydney Opera House opening, Vintage Sydney photos, Vintage Opera House

Circular Quay and the ferry this year

And Circular Quay, well I don’t know when again which is why you should all write on your photos when they were taken because someday someone will want to know.

Vintage Sydney ferries, Vintage Sydney photos, Vintage Circular Quay

Here’s Circular Quay with the Botanic Gardens behind it

And this is the same strip, you can see Government house in both photos.

Vintage photos of Sydney, Vintage Circular Quay

And this one I took from the Harbour Bridge looking back towards The Rocks.

And this one is the same area but Papa must have been in a boat, a ferry. I was up in that Harbour Bridge pylon when I took mine – you just sort of need to turn mine a bit, line up the road over the bridge. They’ve knocked down that nice building on the end and put a great bloody Motel with the pool on the roof.

Vintage Sydney Rocks photos

Welcome to Queensland

1954 – Mum and Dad drove to Queensland for their Honeymoon.


Vintage France – 1957

Nice waterfront – as in the location Nice France, 1957, not nice – although it does look quite nice. Thats my Nan in the red jumper. Papa always liked to plonk someone in a red jumper in his photos.


follow the river

If you plan on releasing someone’s ashes into the wild I suggest you make sure you can get the lid off beforehand because the people who seal those boxes up don’t want whoever is inside to escape. However with the help of a hacksaw we sent my father off on his final adventure today.

Bon Voyage Dad.

Follow the river and you will find the sea.


Cheesy avo snacks

One of my favourite snacks – a vita-weat spread with cheesy mite, topped with avocado. I never liked vegemite, couldn’t stand the stuff but then they invented cheesymite and I took to it. Of course most Australians kicked up a bloody song and dance about the idea of cheesymite when the idea of it first hit the headlines, but you know what people are like, nothing better to do than bitch about nothing and I bet a lot of them are eating it now anyway.

I’m a happy little cheesymite. I like it with my eggs as well.

Damn, I forgot to put pepper on it.


A cat called Casey

One thing about people – they never fail to disappoint me. I know there are a lot of good ones out there but the bad ones really fuck it up for me.

Some of you may remember our neighbours cat Casey who came to live with us a few years ago. Casey had lived happily with her owners for about five years until they bought two dogs who basically ran her out of home. So she started hanging out at our place which is two doors up and of course I started feeding her because I’m a sucker for any animal in need and we’ve been doing so for about, oh I don’t know, maybe four years.

In the beginning her owners felt bad about it so they used to buy the food but that stopped pretty quickly and I didn’t really mind and she settled in living out the front of the house because Betty was out the back.

So then of course I moved away but my daughter Lizzie has still been living there and she kept up the feeding job with a few extra perks I think such as Casey sleeping inside on cold nights and expensive tinned food.

Now we’re ready to sell that house and one of my major worries has been what to do with Casey. I wasn’t just going to pack up and leave her but I didn’t really want to move her. She’s about 10 now and settled but my main concern is that our new place is on two very busy roads and there are already a lot of cats in the back alley. I wouldn’t want her to have to move here and have to fight for her spot or get run over.

Lizzie said she would take her with her but the two apartments she has looked at are both Strata title with no pets allowed. So I said to daz that he should go and talk to the previous owners and see if they would start feeding her again, I mean she doesn’t ask for much and she’s never been unwell.

Well, they said that she wasn’t their cat and they weren’t going to feed her. They said that she was old anyway and she’d probably just die if we left her and then it wouldn’t be a problem. They said to just leave her and someone else might look after her.

Seriously people I felt like going around there and punching their heads in. Maybe I’m a softie but I’d rather be like that than be a hard faced nasty mean bitch and they’ll get their payback one day (I hope).

So the next step is to talk to the neighbour next to us and see if they’ll take her on. They’re animal lovers and Casey even went and lived with them for three months a couple of years ago. It was after I put a flea treatment on her – she hissed at me and ran away and wouldn’t talk to me for three months. We used to look over the fence at her and say – hello little pussy cat – in sweet voices and she’d hiss and snarl at us then lick her paws.

Sigh – if that doesn’t work, well she’ll just have to come here, I’m not just leaving her. I spent today talking to Chicken Little about it and telling her how nice it would be for her to have a new little friend, a little ginger girl who was unloved just like she was. She looked dubious.

It seems ridiculous that my major worry about moving is the neighbours cat, lol but she’s such a sweet girl and a little survivor.

Stay tuned.


Learning to drive

So this is my brother. As you can see he looks to be about five years old and he’s driving the tractor while my father has a smoke and throws some feed out the back.

You really do have a different childhood when you grow up on a farm. My husband was showing me this little plastic toy yesterday and asked me if I played with one when I was a kid and I told him that I didn’t have time to play with stupid plastic toys when I was a kid because after looking at all these old photos I can see we were all obviously too busy working out on the farm.

We all learnt to drive at an early age but my father didn’t have a lot of patience or very good driver training skills. I don’t remember learning to drive a car so maybe it was particularly traumatising but the day he taught me how to drive a tractor I was on it with him and then he just jumped off and told me to drive it.

The day he taught me to ride a motorbike I was out with him doing some cattle work and they started running in the wrong drection and he yelled at me to run back and get the motorbike and I yelled at him that I didn’t know how to ride a motorbike and he yelled back at me that it was ABOUT FUCKING TIME I LEARNT HOW TO THEN.

So I ran back to the bike crying and managed to start it and ride it back to him and we sorted out the cattle and then rode home. When we got home I got off the back and he said that now he could give me a proper lesson and I yelled back at him that it was A BIT FUCKING LATE NOW and stormed off and he stood there chuckling.

He was a very difficult man sometimes.