Homage to the scone

Scone making is an art!

I now have my other half baking them, better than I ever could.

Scones being in demand for functions in our semi rural community of Willunga.

The scones were plentiful at the recent Willunga Christmas Tree festival.

The devonshire teas with homemade jam and cream are one of life's small pleasures.

Praise to the scone makers and Laucke for donating the scone mixture.

Christmas with guts

Christmas is a season when the majority of us are pressed to make some effort to participate.

As Tory Shepherd relates we are not 'only' christian, but free to choose what we like, or as is common, total apathy.

However way you slice it however most people have some little bit of christmas in them(!)

There is the time of giving, cards, presents and copious decorations everywhere.

Underneath the glitz the message of advent is about peace, hope, joy and love.

These are not things that come to us that naturally - as an atheist might profess.

Humans fight, attack and pull each other down, history shames us.

To think of and love others as yourselves takes guts.

It's radical.

And so to this time of Christmas hymns, carols and songs.

There is indeed something incredibly celebratory about hearing these ancient hymns to the birth of the christ child.

It is a spirit of joy - pure joy.

It is a message that lives on, as the verse resounds 'begin and never cease'.

Merry Christmas to you & yours.

Monolith Buses

South Australia is fortunate to have a well connected public transport system.

However as I live in an outer suburb, which is metro for some things and not others, we have a system of huge buses trundling through our streets.

My question to the transport authorities is why do we need buses that are massively oversized for the job they do.

The most I have seen on a connecting bus was while the Noarlunga train line was being upgraded.

Other than that a mini bus 20 seater would be quite adequate for our needs.

Why do we persist in supplying these huge monoliths that have difficulty getting around the small streets and corners.

Environmentally and passenger friendly journeys could be a reality.

We just need to step outside an outmoded way of planning and delivering services.

Show us what you are made of S.A.

Have just caught my breath after the Christmas rampage.

Another year of scandals, trivia and the occasional standout moments.

The score card reads, art on the improve, theatre always high calibre.

The book trade in need of support.

Cinema in need of a dose of imagination.

In food outings we are spoilt for choice (especially in the Fleurieu).

Politics with new blood out to impress.

Sport is big business for the fickle audiences of S.A.

So now to a new year of opportunities.

Show us what you are made of S.A.

The joys of trash reading and other issues

Resolutions and reflections of a year just gone.

A right of passage as the year ticks over.

Shirley Stott Despoja muses on the joys of comfort reading and 'bad' fiction.

Yes, I do indulge in a bit of mindless trash reading from time to time, quick hide the New Idea!

So I can understand Shirley stott Despoja's fascination.

It's time to let go a bit in January.

But the assertion that older drivers are hard done by in having an annual check is a furphy.

I know the perils of many an older driver who long ago should have relinquished their licence, including my own dad.

Even with the regulations it is very hard to 'encourage' someone that they need to consider other options for transport.

The reality is after 80 there is a lot more that can go wrong physically.

As a society it is not acceptable to bury our heads in the sand and say it will never happen to me.

It may be you will happily motor on into your 90's and beyond, all power to you.

But lets have the courage to be really honest.

The only shame is to go on pretending that age is not an issue.

Zombie humanity?

Stephen Orr paints a gloomy picture on human decency (Wednesday 28th of December, 2011).

Why is it always easier to see the wrongs in others as opposed to the tremendous positives.

We are one of the most regulated societies on the planet.

Yet is more regulation and 'consequences' really effective?

When discussing common courtesies and consideration we work at this as a collective.

There are basic givens.

It is also worth noting that rates of accidents and deaths in young drivers is actually decreasing.

Health and safety campaigns do have an effect.

As do a robust education system and caring communities.

There will always be those on the out skirts of humanity.

Our common humanity say 'Don't give up'.

We're with you.

Art is glass - Exquisite

Computer rage!

It is an age since I last posted.
Waiting for a printer to give me my copies.
It's not cooperating so am going to give up!
Will just have to have the computer page open while I am talking to someone tomorrow.
Life and computers.

We just don't know how to say goodbye.

We just don't know how to say goodbye.

Agnostic's deathbed

LORRAINE MCGUIGAN NOVEMBER 07, 2011

Late Afternoon

To please me, my son tries on this coat
out of the wardrobe dark after five long
years. It rests awkwardly on unfamiliar
shoulders and I imagine he's feeling the
weight, deciding if this is gift or burden.

Adopting the body builder's stance he
tests length of sleeve, strength of seam.
The stitches hold. He grins. Something
of dad's. As he strides to his car from

a distance it could well be you, absurdly
alive, always with so much to do, places
to be. Energy is still in the winter air as I
lean on my gate until the light has gone.


What you tried to tell me

Your breath fogging up the mask,
skin stretched over cheek bones,

what you tried to say I did not know.
I could only play games, run through

the alphabet, guess words as we did
in the car with small children, those

ridiculous pleasures of long ago.
But this was quite different. You

wanted, needed something and I
couldn't crack the code. Grabbing

my hand you drew a line on your
chest, moving on to make the sign

of the cross. Or so it seemed.
Priest! You want a priest? I said,

puzzled yet pleased to read your mind.
You rolled your eyes, looked up to

the ceiling, slowly shook your head.
I never learned what you tried to say

as we reached out to each other,
and words deserted us.


One day

Not tired, not lazy
wanting no more

than the warmth
of familiar flesh

a closeness nobody
else can give.

A sign on their door
siesta: do not disturb.

All that's needed
is in this room.

Late afternoon
a struggle to remain

awake; they cling
one to the other

as if to stay
the moment


Reflections

For forty years I saw myself through John's eyes ...
Joan Didion, 'The Year of Magical Thinking'

I too saw myself through a lover's eyes.
To him I was the girl of fifty summers ago

although he, my mirror, at times reflected
a woman I did not want to recognize or

even be. This December morning I bend
to a mirror to face what five years exactly

have written on my skin. As I speak
to him of grief, its persistence,

my breath on glass blurs my image
and that appears to be as it will be.


Thoughts of death in a bookshop

So many titles bearing this word
and I recall that we seldom spoke

of death, passing on, ceasing to be.
Believers no more we kept God

at arm's length. You were in ICU
when a poet offered to pray for us,

speak in tongues. Then a cascade
of syllables falling over each other

like excited children wanting to be
heard, if not understood.

Your colleague brought a rosary
blessed by Pope John Paul only

months before he died. Closing
my palms on crystal beads,

chains of silver, Brian pressed
marks into my skin.

His gift I put away in a drawer.
The top one.

This the best
I could do.

Lorraine McGuigan has been published in Quadrant, Island, Southerly, Cimarron Review, North American Review, Antipodes and Psychopoetica. Since 1995 she has been managing editor of Monash University's Poetry Monash. Her first poetry collection What the Body Remembers was runner-up in the Anne Elder Award.

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UNCLE PAT08 NOV 2011

On Sunday my sister died.
"A merciful release!"
Is all I could say.
On Monday her son rang
To fill me in on
The funebrial arrangememnts:
Thursday evening, the Vigil Service;
Friday morning, Requiem Mass
Followed by the Funeral.
Today, Tuesday, I was alone
Until I read:
"Thoughts of death in a bookshop"
Which led me to Seamus Heaney's words:
"And we all knew one thing by being there,
The space we stood around had been emptied
Into us to keep, it penetrated
Clearances that suddenly stood open."
There I heard my sister
Talking to her mother
And her grandmother.
"It's good to see you both
After all this time."
And I knew she was at peace.
It was indeed
A merciful release.

JOE CASTLEY08 NOV 2011

Deeply moving verse. Thank you.

JENNY ESOTS10 NOV 2011

I'm saving these poems.
They are worth keeping and savouring.
The paradox of saying good bye to a loved one.
We just don't know how.

Ahhh Vienna! The Hare with Amber Eyes.

Am in the midst of Vienna and the aftermath of world war one. The Hare with Amber Eyes by Edmund de Waal.

Saw my first Tuesday book club for the year this week - as we rescheduled.

They did A Visit from the Goon Squad - got great reviews, of course.

Had a lovely lunch today @ 3 monkey's after my Co-op shift.

As usual there are too many books and not enough time.

Going for a walk now - halls dairy.

Did the shiraz trail again yesterday.

Hope you are all healthy or trying to be?

The Tall Man

I appreciate the update emails on the latest books.

But there is something so tragic about the story of 'The Tall Man'.

I know I could not watch this movie.

Have the book, but found it too confronting.

Was particularly disturbed by the scene documented of a horse and petrol left in a bucket. Couldn't read on after that.

Surrounded by Taste

Am having a remembrance of the most delectable seafood in your November issue.

Adelaide Magazine.

Have never seen scallops look so good(!)

Am also fortunate that they venture to the Willunga Farmers Market.

Surrounded by taste.

A standout issue, Gillian Mears, Fleurieu artists and rights for dogs.

So many things to discover in this weekends magazine. (Nov 5 & 6th)

Firstly was enthralled by the Gillian Mear's story.

The most poignant profile by Susan Johnson.

As I had recently been given her book, Foal's Bread, I now have a new perspective on her writing.

Writers like many in the creative field give an awful lot to be able to do what they have to do i.e. write.

For example, Living hand to mouth in an old ambulance called Ant and Bee. Quirky by name and nature?

Also lapped up the profile on the fleurieu artists. Port Willunga being my mecca.

It is this landscape and the spirit of the place that I have been called to live in.

But I was perhaps most affected by the plight of many dogs and their owners.

A dog needs a loving home, to know they are loved.

Without that any breed will have some form of behavioural difficulties.

Is that something that can be legislated for?

Getting a dog licence is now simply a rubber stamp, maybe owners need to step up and validate that they really care for their 'best friend'.

A doggie check up.

We have taken them for granted for too long.

The final curtain

Re: The Final Curtain, Nov 5th.

On reflection the final curtain brings us all to a rude awakening.

Is anyone ever ready for this time?

I have been to loads of funerals.

Having worked in palliative care with all ages and mental health fields.

Plus my own family and friends.

There are some transcendent moments, some hopelessness, some anger.

People come out of the wood work who never showed their face in life.

As a stranger in a church connections are frail.

Public relations is not the churches forte.

Perhaps it just goes against the grain.

It is not really about profits and margins.

Personal faith does not come with a hard sell and price tag.

It's not a consumer 'product'.

I have noted it is the people who never set foot in a church/faith community that get the most upset when the traditions of what they expect don't occur.

Things are different, modern worship is vibrant and inclusive.

It does take a bit of mettle to look inside yourself.

Asking questions is a great place to start, so thanks for your sharp honesty, as always.

Willunga Christmas Tree Festival 2011 - the 10th annual festival!

Willunga Christmas Tree Festival 2011

Lifestyles of the tired and frazzled woman.

There are many frustrations in life.
Computer rage, printers on strike, nothing to wear?
Health struggles and extra kilos.
Children in transition or is it launch phase.
Plus the pressure of not having ecstatic, audacious, mind blowing sex.
My ‘to do’ list is never ending.
Could this be why women find themselves just too tired to be bothered in the boudoir?
It isn’t the technique, it’s the damn lifestyle that demands a high price.

Live in the now.

Readers, writers, researchers, thinkers and everyone in between begin planning for attending the next writers festival in Adelaide straight after they begin pulling up their tent pegs. New authors to discover, new forums, and that wonderful book tent.I was eager to read of the new directors plans in the article 'Pioneer Spirit'.After filling out a survey at the last writers festival, my anxiety was that it would be formatted into a slick marketing venue with a hefty price tag.Thankfully sanity has prevailed.I look forward to an eclectic program, plus the addition of new sessions ie after work and lunch box sessions.The vibe is always somewhat mellow, even when we cohabited the parkalnds with the AC/DC soundcheck. But the technology apps and twitter don't move me. Live in the now. Try to talking to the people around you.

I love Adelaide in the Springtime

I love Adelaide in springtime.

It is a charming city.

Filled with weddings and thinkers, new studios, cinema and art galore.

Thanks for your reviews and exposes in the latest edition.

Plus I can't thank you enough for first, printing my letter, and then giving me a funky new ring.

My candy coloured ring is gorgeous and Andrew at Mazzone Design Jewellers most generous and helpful.

Well done to all.

Giving up meat

Have often wondered why we are always asked to give up things we really love - never the icky things.

Have rationalised my way to keep having that glass of wine, cup of coffee, fix of chocolate.

However have recently like many other (see Michael Kirby's recent article in the Australian) given up meat.

I feel lighter and better generally.

I know this is about another sacrifice that you won't want to hear.

But whatever works.

Pass the bolly darling

Many thanks for unleashing the inner Patsy in your recent article, Cheers sweetie (Saturday 8th).

Joanna Lumley is that rare actress who doesn't take herself too seriously.

The merging of comedic minds in Absolutely Fabulous was gloriously played.

And being the voyeurs we all are, we love to watch.

Pass the bolly darling and bring on the new episodes.

Preaching to the Unconverted

Adelaide seems to be in the midst of public conflicts of faith. 'Preaching to the Unconverted' - October edition.

We have the fervent, quite angry believers, quite confident in what God hates.

The people of faith who prefer to show their faith by actions in their own lives, however small.

And the totally apathetic and/or bemused mall shoppers.

Rev David Buxton a Frontier services leader related his experience in the mall at a recent worship service is Willunga.

He spoke about the contrasts of krishna's dancing and loud preachers who attempt to scare people into finding faith.

It seems there has been hurt in the community caused by the dogmatic style of christianity.

But look further Adelaide and be rewarded by multi-faith gatherings, Taize meditative music services, open mic sessions, mystic poets & retreats, creative workshops and inclusive options for all.

As always it is the squeaky wheel that gets the most attention.

The sacred and the profane, the heart and mind. There is always plenty to explore if you look around our Adelaide.

Not enough art

High and mighty art tour at the Art gallery.
A wander around different works that I would not have engaged with to that degree, without a guide. Nice coffee and biscuits before this. Met someone who was also on 6 months leave and taking the time to do more of this sort of thing. In the state library now. 10 more mintues on this computer. Contemplating another talk by the gallery director and books in his life. Might need another coffee first.
A misty rain around today.
I find there are too many books, but not enough art(!)
The art that spoke to me the most today was probably the portrait of Mary Solomon, who was sent to Australia as a convict and rose to the upper middle classes - hence a portrait. There was her connection to fagin of Oliver Twist notoriety - did not know fagin (Ikey Solomon) was a real person. (Will have to do some more research on this).
The portrait was well done with intricate lace patterns and a display of lace and jewellry in the case in front of the portrait. The line between convict and citizen blurs as our country clawed its way into its own. It feels often like we are on our own, despite the technology the distance in miles is not so easy to overcome.

History closing over on you.

My favourite book of the year along with Stasiland, was 'All that I Am' which I read for the first time. Thank you Anna for a year of literary riches. Found many things I wanted to come back to in the book, but all by markers fell out at the last moment, NO! Will have to read it again sometime, no doubt different things will come to me.

From the review in the Spectator-: 'It is a novel about confronting grievous loss, and the horror of realising, as history closes over you, that you will never be understood.' This is what resonated to me and I highlighted in my journal. We will all be consigned to history's vault, who will ever really know how much small objects and words and letters meant to us? It is so poignantly put as Ruth departs from this story.

One of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life was finalise moving all the items out of my parents home after my dad needed to go into high care. It was like trying to dismantle someones life. What to keep and what to send on. So heartbreaking, someones life laid out. But what I thought was meaningless was precious to dad.