150 years ago

 A 17 year-old came out on assisted passage - Alfred Benjamin Martin - alone amongst 350 on the "Isles of the South" (check out this trove article by the captain on the voyage - the man should take a masterclass in understatement - would go nicely with a decent port!)

Six years hence he married a 20 year old German girl who had lived half her life in Queensland. Wilhelmina - or Minnie - Schultz.

Over the next 10 years , four children had been born and the wife had died when the youngest was not yet three years old. I saw a very old photograph of them - Bennie,  Rosie, Lennie and Lillie.

He brought his father (Alfred) and 3 siblings out to Australia from a changing England - an older sister (Esther) and two much younger brothers (William and George).

The sister looked after these four motherless children until a business discussion led to a new wife nearly half his age. Phoebe Emma (or Anne - it appears interchangeable) Edwards.

I have several matrons in the family tree who had a dowry. Both have stories attached.

One great great grandfather - no relation to the above for another generation - was a total scoundrel but did not touch the 1,000 pounds that his wife Hannah brought with him.

But this great grandfather was a great bloke and friend to all, had well-taxed deep pockets and Phoebe's 10,000 but 5 years later Phoebe had four well-married stepchildren, a 19 year old son (another Alfred - James Alfred),  a sadness (Hector died at 1 day old and there is a family story told many years later that there were up to 10 pregnancies) and two late surprises with an 8 year old girl (Jean) and a 4 year old boy (Ian - my grandfather) - widow's weeds and a line of business associates of her late husband requesting that she waive the IOUs that were due - and less than 400 with no money coming in.

He was many more things than the above in his amazing life - he was a scholar, an engineer, a mill manager and spokesperson for all things sugar in the region - first Mackay and then Maryborough, both serving pivotal roles in his life journey.

But back to the trove story - unfortunately this post - I was about to make up a word - anniverses - does it work? This post doesn't anniverse the story with hailstones

 A very heavy N.W. gale was experienced on the 27th, in latitude 33° S. and longitude 155°* E., with much thunder, lightning, and large hailstones. A sudden shift to S.W. (for which we had prepared ourselves) took place, and a new inner jib paid the penalty and was

blown almost to rags, the sheet of which was flogged into quite a "Gordian knot," which took some pains to unravel.

but instead, it would have been the month prior 

On August 24 (62 days out) we passed the meridian of Cape Aguthas, in lat. 44° south, and then a fair run of 233½ miles a day for 27 days was made. On August 29 Flog Island, one of the Crozet Group, was sighted ; and on this parallel of 45° south we continued to run down our easting, during which mostly favorable weather was experienced with an occasional gale and a high sea to break the monotony of the day's routine. 

But that is Captain J. D. B. le Conteur for you - understated!

Sour doh

 As you know I like to cook.

My approach to cooking is somewhat akin to my approach to gardening. It's science and some experiments prove things - and some don't.

While over here, my MILs next door neighbour has gifted me some starter as I do have some at home that I play with and for whatever anyone says about the sourdough community, generosity is built into the whole equation.

On the downside, MIL is not a baker and thus the whole scientific approach that I normally pay lips service to has had to hit the kerb as no scales, strange bowls and ah hoc cooking vessels have made it a slightly more -  esoteric? - experience than that undertaken in my own kitchen.

The rolls that I made first up were acceptable but not my best work - flour isn't always the flour that you are used to so what I thought was wholemeal is a whole different taste journey here.

The bao buns failed miserably but I think that I know what went wrong (as well as that whole "how tf and I going to steam them" hanging over my head that I ended up not needing to solve).

The discard English muffins that are a favourite at home worked okay although the lack of a pizza stone and following recipe instructions instead proved to be the pizza stone is a superior method.

I had made a dough for a loaf but screwed up my maths and ran out of things to hold it in so pivoted to "let's do something with all of these apples" and what I made was not what I envisioned. It's edible but disappointing.

On the upside, in the non bread domain I have managed to create enough for me to keep the visiting chef hat atop my head so phew!

The other fun available

 There are apparently other things that you can do on holidays besides relax or shop or get beautiful or just let go of all care.

You can fight with a teenager about the school work that should only take about an hour a day to keep on top of.

In fact, if you get a teenager in the right phase, you can argue about 20 minutes of school work for nearly the whole day.

The arguments varied from I have done everything through its all stupid to its all your fault that I will fail everything by taking this holiday now.

To add interest, the first baulk at doing what was required resulted in no phone availability until at least 20 minutes was achieved, and it proved to me that time travel is possible because I saw a modern version of my own teenage strops.

Mum was right then too.

Once we were over that hump, had food in our stomachs and equilibrium reached, we were playing pool and Paris noted how, with the white ball in one hand and cue in the other, she was like Elsa (in Frozen) when she was coronated.

Coronated didn't sound right, so we went to the internet to see what we could find.

Amongst things found was proof in the adage that you should never trust the internet.

Is it Thursday?

 

That is the problem with a holiday, isn't it?

we enter the swimming pool of days, shallow and warm and mesmerisingly relaxing.

Our "real time" is akilter.

And now we have entered that deep water of where in the week are we?

In the month? Which month?

In the spin of earth attuned with Sun?

But every day is Sunday for us here.

Thursday so we went to the foot spa and manicure place today and my nails are now varying shades of orange 🧡 .  Paris chose a very neutral gel, and I discovered that I am ticklish - extremely ticklish - when my feet are scrubbed by someone else.

I could be wrong but I think that this is Elizabeth Rankin and Herbert Arnold Burgess, parents of my father's mother. Grandma was born in 1912.

I wonder if that was a Thursday? And what shape their feet were in.

Although, another of my forbears was a shoemaker and a daughter who is a podiatrist so perhaps better than we could expect today.

San Francisco Love Stories

 I have never been in San Francisco but it is a city where the heroine of one of my stories met the love of her life.

He was an older man, but she was an incredibly successful woman in her own right when they met in an official capacity.

They swept each other off their respective feet and he followed her into her life and, from one perspective, they formed their own perfect reality exclusive of all others until death did them part.

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Back in the day - over 40 years ago now can you believe - I did a presentation. I must admit my poster art always let me down.

I think that is why I went into public speaking quite assiduously at that juncture.  

Other people think that they are terrified of public speaking. It's definitely not so cool to be scared of an A3 piece of purple cardboard, some maps, photos cut from magazines, markers and clag (don't even mention sticky tape or worse still, stickers).

Words I can play with and you can hardly tell when I colour outside the lines.

My presentation on San Francisco had interesting facts like the Golden Gate bridge and the Chinatown and their zigzaggiest street in the world. 

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This is not the zigzaggiest street of SF but rather the view towards SD I snapped yesterday. Usual phone disclaimer.

I cannot remember if I mentioned the Giants and, funny thing, I married into a Padres family who are being visited this week by the San Francisco Giants. 

My lucky number is 23 - which happens to be that of one Dominican player called Fernando Tatis Jnr

OMG 😱 I just read his Wikipedia and that of his father and it was meant to be:

• Fernando was a favourite ABBA song;
• Ferdinand was the name of my favourite book about a bull that didn't want to fight (& there was a cork tree in it)
• Wasn't it?
• Snr holds a record for RBI as he hit 2 grand slams in one innings 
• ON MY BIRTHDAY 
• in 1999!
• Which was also the year that not only 'Salina was born -
• But his own son Fernando Tatis Jnr was born in that year 
• On the 2nd of January, which is a date etched in my mind as my great aunt is the first name etched in the family bible as being born over 125 years ago 
• Which is also the day after Fernando Tatis (thereafter known as Snr) turned 24
• Snr was born the year that I started primary school.
• Jnr played an absolute BLINDER today and helped to smash the Giants tonight.

So not every love story has a happy ending for all involved. The Padres fans loved it. Should I get a number 23 Padres shirt, there would definitely be a happy ending.

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In other non-SF related news - today I got a haircut and we had enchiladas and tomorrow we may get pedicures and manicures and go to a bookstore.

Yours truly sporting the latest style from my MILs salon.

What is not to love about a holiday?