Friday, November 14, 2025

My Gorgeous Godmother, Auntie Glen

 My Mum's best friend had her as a bridesmaid when she and Don married in April 196? - 3 I suppose?  She joked with Mum that Mum grow for the job - and Mum stretched another 2 inches to 5'2".

When my parents got married, Glen was to be her matron of honour - but as she was also 8 months pregnant with her son at the time, contingencies were made.

Mum and Glen studied pharmacy together, and we heard through letters of Mum's high-flying friend from her heyday - moving whole states away living a very different lifestyle: he an industrial chemist and eventually executive of a multi-national nation-building conglomerate; she a very skilled executive's wife, poster-book PTA mother who, like Mum, kept her hand in the trade doing a day or two here and there behind the high counter at the chemist shops.

And she was MY godmother.

I obviously met her when very young - the November prior my April birth my parents and sister went to see the Melbourne Cup (Rain Lover won - of course my Dad had money on him, with a name like that!) and also Glen and her family - husband Don and son and daughter - so she probably knew of my being before I was, indeed, on this earth.

I cannot remember in which order it went - we to visit them in Sydney or they to come and visit us.

When they came to visit us (which may have been before) my older godbrother and I put together a project - we built a frog farm where they lived in complete masonite apartment luxury with a flyscreen net roof and doors and windows and water-wallowing troughs and grass beds.  We valiantly attempted to gather flies for our inmates, but it didn't take long for us to realise that it was a fools game so we liberated the frogs and looks at the ruined castle and reminisced.  

At the end of that holiday, my first remembered interaction with a real ambulance came when my godbrother parted company with Linda, a beautiful chestnut - only he didn't part company fully, with his shoe catching in his stirrup and his flailing causing Linda to bolt.  My godbrother lived, but the end of the "holiday", looking back through this lens, may not have been very restful to my godmother.

The Sydney trip involved driving both ways in the brand new (to us) Chrysler - a brave move on my Dad's part because he thought that we could fit into a sedan.  On the upside, it had electric windows - on the down, it had floating suspension.

The windows died less than half a day into our trip.  The suspension floated for both days going down, and the day and a half going back.  Three country kids who generally fought over who got the window seats fought over who got the middle seat with the view of the road, while either side of him (or her on occasion) were ordering Dad and Mum to pull over more often than not.  Sometimes not in time.

My reintroduction to my oh-so-sophisticated godmother at then end of this marathon was presenting my doll Sandra and all of her clothes to be put through the washing machine in the valiant hope she (Sandra, not my godmother) would survive the ride.  I watched.  

The highlight that I really remember was going to Taronga Zoo and learning that you could possibly take pictures through the wire diamonds and maybe get better views of the animals - I received a small camera for my birthday (maybe my 8th or 9th?) and didn't realise that I was short-sighted.  After I got my photos back (a month later), I realised that while there was no wire in the way, I still couldn't make out the animals in the distance!  

Oh, and my godsister and my godbrother - both older than I, like chalk and cheese from each other but whole different species to us.  These were verifiable big city kids who knew all about the world around them and I was in awe.

I did "a fortnight's" work experience when I was at University, and I stayed at my godparents house in Sydney.  My godbrother still lived at home, and my godsister was studying in New Zealand - and for six weeks I shared their roof and their meals and their lives and it was wonderful.

At the end of that year, the company that I did work experience for invited me back, and they were my family base for the next 5 years, enjoying Sunday dinners and being their surrogate daughter, sister (my godsister had returned to Australia soon after) and granddaughter (my godmother's mother was an absolute hoot).

It wasn't all beer and skittles - especially if you didn't have a coaster.  You don't get an immaculate house or system going unless you are quite particular about how you stacked the dishwasher or played a record or sat in the parlour - I was very country mouse at times, plus a teensy bit bolshie so there were times I found the soft spots at the edges of their tolerance levels, but we all enjoyed the sport!

Then I went on to live other lives and no doubt as did they.  We kept in touch the sporadic way that we did then and we do now - but each birthday, anniversary and festivity included a card or a call to the family or they to me.

My godfather passed a few years ago now, and my godmother lived alone for a long time, then in an apartment in a retirement village.  Of late her health had deteriorated causing her to moving closer to her children (who had both chosen semi-rural lives in the end).  She passed away this afternoon with my godsister and my godbrother beside her and I am sure that she is now with her darling Don and wonderful Mum up there looking down on us.

Love you, Glen. 

Friday, November 07, 2025

Instant Idiot - just add

 water.

We heard him first 

The scream of the engine 

The spin of the wheels 


We had rain a week ago 

Enough to soak and and to sit and to funk

The lush parkland right across


there is a dream that this driver has

Festered upon 

For four nights.


and tonight it has peaked.


His wheels squeal right by 

Biting bitumen - this boy

Shrieking each turn.


Ripping across this calm Friday night 

Clear is the sky round Beaver Moon 


It Rends our peace.


But he's driving his dreams round all roads of this town 

Screech-shriek-spin-thrum-grunt-farkenwhathe-ever-lovin' hell.

The cars screams recurrent t'ards South

and I pray

Not today 

Not today 

Not today.

Saturday, November 01, 2025

The BOM tribulations

(Apologies that I have confused people with the below.  BOM is the Bureau of Meteorology - a very integral government service in this very weather dependant land.)

Poor old BOM.

So out of touch with people, a year or so ago had a very middle-child response. A name change was launched without warning but much fanfare by some bureaucratic marketing department. They had decided that they didn't want to be called such a destructive homophone - does that make them homophoneophobic? - and preferred the more grown up version of The Bureau.

Nonsense, said the general public, we like your old stuff better than your new stuff.

Thus they reverted to BOM.

So came time for their website security upgrade, as burglars of today think nothing of mining your search history for when you are to be absent and your locale being more identifiable.

*Why not " the faceless them if the Bureau thought "change the curtains while the opportunity presents" but then chose to the most (metaphorically speaking) godawful mustard frill and misspelled Chinese cheap shit curtains for the Reno and the mother-in-law (aka ABC the public broadcaster - and then all other media outlets and their listeners and viewers) complained.

I totally get it. Lives may well be lost if they stuff up because of seemingly minor irritating merde as this.

But as all of my ancestors came by boat to this land 150-260 years ago, and they placed their lives into the hands of cavaliers harnessing the wind and a great deal of hope towards the goal of getting over to the other side of the planet, is complaining about this a little modern and soft-underbellied of us?

And they would have dreamt of a time that they could have known what tomorrow would bring, let along the lottery of crossing oceans in an uncharted future.

But poor old BOM needs our attention and the knowledge that they fit into our landscape without these petulant outbreaks.

So that is a longabout way of saying that it is stormy again here tonight and we hope to goodness that common sense and BOM work together on an upcoming sailing trip for a member of the family.

(Translation for those not inside my head - one daughter is off on a science under sail excursion for the next five days and I am hoping for calm conditions weather-wise)

Oh, and my (house hunting) shortlist went to two on Monday when one contender just seemed a little pokey on inspection. 

(The house hunting shortlist reduced again) To one by Friday lunch when I (finally) got the guts to enquire about the expensive but ve-ry nice one within spitting distance of work and discovered another "under offer" straight arm defence.


Which makes it (house hunting shortlist) basically Zero as my very first enquiry remains disengaged so I am doomed to never be an internet acquaintance from early this century's next door neighbour.

I had a brief love affair with one house near the end of a cul-de-sac but alas it too had been promised within three days of offer.


The market is what is known as hot.

(Lesson taken from above) Task one - sell and step into the unknown.

At that profundity the thunder rolled across the heavens and I will have to bid adieu.

I am to be away before 6 tomorrow so now must sleep.

Good night.