On Wednesday evening, about 5ish, Aaron took the dogs for a walk. He discovered Stanley wandering around outside the shed. He tried to encourage him down the drive but then Phyllis, Joy and Arthur heard Aaron’s voice and came running up to the fence. Stanley ran over to say hello and decided he wanted to stay. Even with cheese bribes it took nearly an hour to persuade Stanley back to his old paddock. Aaron found the escape route along the fenceline. Stanley had obviously been digging near a board propped up to cover a hole and it had fallen over, revealing a Stanley sized doorway. Thank god he walked up the drive. He could just have easily headed into the bush or out under the front gate.
RIP Bill
Early this week mum rang to tell me her uncle Bill in the UK had died. While he wasn’t old he was not well. I spent a fair amount of time living with Bill and Jenny when I did my O.E. and I remember clearly my first Christmas there in the Green Man pub in Widford.
I rang aunty Jean to wish her a merry Christmas and then told a slightly inebriated aunt Jenny that she had a phone call. Jenny then spoke to Jean for the first time in years.
I cried because it was my first Christmas away from home. Jenny cried because she had finally spoken to her estranged sister. Bill cried because he had suddenly started to fear that he would lose his mind just as his mother had done.
That was the beginning of the end for Bill. He continued to obsess about his mental state and suffered a nervous breakdown. Eventually his obsession became a reality. I felt a certain sense of sadness in Bill’s passing but at the same time I think it is better this way. He was no longer himself.
I am glad I got to know the Bill who was.
Belle Discovers Pastures Anew
This week was the week for Alec the slaughterman to visit. I didn’t want to know what day so I didn’t ask. Thursday morning I got up as per usual and fed out the animals. I hugged Belle and told her I loved her and that she was a good girl.
Thursday evening I came home and there was blood all over the drive and no Belle. (Of all the days for it not to rain!) It was like a punch to the stomach. My body was wracked with sobs before I got to the top of the drive.
The guilt was overwhelming. I wasn’t missing Belle, I was questioning our decision. This wasn’t how it was meant to be. She had been bought as a pet, with no consideration that she would end up as sausages. In the end she’d died because of her personality. It wasn’t her fault. I just wished we’d never bought her in the first place.
It was a tough evening. I struggled to deal with the decision we’d made. I don’t know how Aaron coped, especially knowing that she was so fond of him. When he arrived home Belle’s remains were sitting on the edge of the driveway ready to be disposed of. Her head alone weighed a tonne so he had to dig a hole next to the remains and bury her there.
I was sick with the thought that Spotty and Stanley witnessed her being shot and carved up, not to mention the smell of blood. We’d asked Alec to try prevent this from happening but in the end, he’d been there alone and Belle had refused to walk to the far corner of the paddock. He had no choice.
I tried to think about the bacon and sausages but my stomach merely churned.
Friday morning I fed out and I felt fine until I walked past Belle’s trough. I did not want to go to work. It was a long day and I sat at my desk with a heavy heart.
I was dreading Saturday, when we would have to clean her house and troughs, but Saturday came and I coped just fine. Even when it came to pouring buckets and buckets of water on the congealed pools of blood. I couldn’t believe there was still no rain to wash it away. And yet the ground was still so sodden that it became covered in deep pools of bright red blood that wouldn’t soak away. Each time I walked past on Saturday those pools of blood just sat there accusingly. In the end I felt I was being sufficiently punished for my role in her death.
Chooks Are Nasty
When I went in to clean the chicken coop I took in some greens for the chooks. Marty automatically started attacking the 2 balding hens, stopping them from eating. I split the greens and spread them around. Marty and the non balding hen again attacked the 2 hens when they tried to eat. On closer inspection it appeared that one of the hens had been losing weight. It seemed entirely feasible that this situation had been going on for a few days.
I asked Aaron to come in and help me figure out a solution. We had to separate the 2 balding chooks from the 2 healthy ones. In the end we shooed the 2 balding hens to one end of the coop and created a windnetting barrier across the middle.
Marty and the other hen were not happy. They squawked and clucked and basically ranted on for about an hour.
Aaron was not happy. He wanted to ring their necks there and then and put them all in the freezer. Despite the lovely eggs the chickens are costing us time and money. Keeping chooks is a labour of love and quite frankly, we’ve never loved our chooks.
Their ability to turn nasty so quickly does not sit well with us. We do not like aggressive animals. Aggressive animals end up in the freezer. The only reason the chickens didn’t end up in the freezer is because we’re still getting eggs, although it’s been sporadic this week. We also have half a bag of chook pellets to get through. They’ve got until the end of the bag before we make a definite decision on their fate.
On Being Blake
Midday mum, Jo and Blake arrived for the weekend. The dogs were of course fascinated with Blake. Poor Coppa, his tongue and tail were both waggling furiously in anticipation of being able to lick the small creature. I don’t know what it is with Coppa but he just has this licking obsession.
As seems to be the norm when we have guests, we struggle with the motivation to continue our daily tasks.
We sat inside as the weather started to turn crappy. We ate lunch, started drinking and well, the rest of the day disappeared.
At 3 months of age Blake is more responsive now to his environment. Not that he’s actually capable of much at this stage. In fact I found myself wondering why women actually get clucky over babies. Sure, he’s cute if he’s yours but seriously, what do they do??
What was more interesting to me was to observe my sister. It was my first chance to witness Jo’s maternal side. Jo has never been one to publicly display a soft side so I guess a part of me wondered how she’d cope with being a mum. Quite frankly she’s doing far better than I imagined. I’m not sure what I was worried about, perhaps her ability to adapt to her loss of independence?
On Being a Parent
I observed my sister and Blake and the routine they have and it struck me that for the last 3 months their lives have been an endless cycle of feeding and changing with the odd sleep thrown in. My sister was smiling and happy but the more I thought about it the more panicked and claustrophobic I felt myself becoming. A couple of times the enormity of it hit me and it occurred to me that if my sister and I swapped places I’d be having panic attacks. I knew the responsibility of being a mum was huge, but to suddenly see it for the ‘24/7 give your entire life up for someone else’ reality that it is, well, that was disturbing to say the least.
How did Jo suddenly switch into that mode of complete selflessness? How does anyone?
The thought of being a parent suddenly went from a feeling of dislike and distaste to one of horror. There is absolutely no way in hell I could ever take on that kind of commitment and be genuinely happy.
On Living Life Dangerously
One of the topics of conversation for the evening was my sister Sarah. Sarah is currently touring Europe by herself. Presently she is in Russia. At times she dosses down with people she makes contact with via the new global phenomenon ‘Couch Surfing’. Other times she just pitches a tent or accepts lodgings from strangers she meets on her daily travels. Mum tells me she’s been traveling in areas that have been highlighted as tourist no-go areas and I wonder if Sarah is actually aware of the political situation over there at the moment.
This form of traveling achieves two things – a wealth of fabulous life experiences for my sister and a shit load of worry for my mother.
Quite frankly it worries more than just my mother but those of us who aren’t Sarah’s mother choose not to think about it. My mother in theory carries the weight of that worry.
And so we debated what was right and what was wrong about what Sarah is doing.
The fact is, at 21 Sarah has every right to make her own choices about what she does with her life. She is incredibly brave to be doing what she’s doing and that bravery is a wonderful thing. Her life is full of fantastic experiences she has had while doing exactly what most of us would never dream of. Her life so far has been rich and rewarding and at this stage she would have few regrets.
The problem is that in being such a free spirit and in completely indulging in her dreams and desires she is putting herself at risk. A tiny, pretty and vivacious young girl by herself is bound to attract attention, good and bad.
While mum and Jo worry they also feel that Sarah must be allowed to do as she wishes and that it is unfair to put restrictions on her based on our own fears. After all, who’s to say anything bad will happen.
Aaron and I differ in our opinion. From a male’s perspective Aaron see’s Sarah as easy prey in a country that has grappled with years of turmoil. He finds Sarah’s travels to be completely irresponsible. As he pointed out, in theory New Zealand could be considered a safer tourist destination than many European countries and yet would any parent let their daughter camp alone in South Auckland?
He has a point. I am constantly amazed that young female tourists happily tour New Zealand and Australia by themselves. Such wonderful, friendly countries, they both have dubious records as far as attacks on tourists go. And yet here is my sister doing the exact same thing in countries I would consider it far more risky to travel in.
I myself am torn. I well remember my feelings about such things when I was in my 20’s. As far as I was concerned, as a female I had the right to do what I wanted, when I wanted just the same as any man. If that meant walking home from the bus stop or train station in the wee hours of the morning in an intoxicated state then that was my right. I had the right to live my life without fear. And so I chose to do a lot of irresponsible things.
I had many close calls. On a number of occasions, both here and overseas, I was followed by men.
I look back now and wonder how the hell I got away with such stupidity. While I still believe that I should have the right to walk alone at night without fear, I now also understand that that just isn’t going to happen in today’s society. My ‘bravery’ achieved nothing except to put me at risk.
Not that Sarah does what she does out of any sense of arrogance or perceived feelings of bravery. Instead Sarah believes that the majority of the people she meets are genuine and that those people have her best interests at heart.
Sarah views life through a completely different set of eyes to mine. While I regard all strangers as untrustworthy until they prove otherwise, Sarah chooses to believe the complete opposite.
I don’t necessarily think my view is right, I would love to be more trusting of strangers, but I find myself wondering whether my sister is naïve or just blessed.
She treats her life as an extreme sportsperson treats their sport. She pushes the boundaries to get the best experiences in life but in doing so I believe she puts her life at risk.
My biggest fear is obviously that something might happen to her. With no real planned itinerary and a spontaneous approach to traveling, if something does happen where does that leave the family? Where do you look for someone if they go missing in a foreign land and you only have a vague idea of where they’ve been and where they’re going?
Do you give up your life to search for that person, knowing that your efforts are probably futile, but if you don’t you effectively kill that small amount of hope there might be?
I can only hope this never happens to us.
Whoever Sarah’s guardian angel is s/he’s a bloody good one
The Spring Cleaning Starts
It was a very chilly start to Sunday morning. The sky was a clear, pale blue and I was looking forward to a good day.
After feeding out and having breakfast I got stuck into waterblasting the verandah. The verandah has been an absolute mess for months. Up until Wednesday we had been preparing all the pig’s food on the picnic table and month’s worth of food scraps, cheese spills and the shit of opportunistic sparrows had made the verandah unpleasant and unsightly. I blasted it all clean. It took a while but what a difference.
While I sprayed water here there and everywhere Aaron took his chainsaw down to the stream near the bridge and chopped down a couple of willow trees. Although he finished long before me, by the time he’d finished he was knackered from heaving logs out of the stream. Probably not good for his back but we won’t go there…
When I finished blasting the verandah I decided to have a go at blasting my car. It’s so filthy that my white car has actually started turning green with mildew. I blasted the green off but a lot of the dirt is stuck fast. Damn, that means I’ll have to use elbow grease to clean the rest! If I can be bothered that is.
Late morning the weather turned bad. Not only was it still cold but it became overcast and windy too. I lost all enthusiasm for being outside. And so we sat inside watching tv and chatting.
Matt Arrives For lunch
Matt C and his new girlfriend arrived for lunch. They’d brought fresh rolls, roast beef and avocado. I’d boiled some fresh eggs and mum had brought up fresh bread and a cake. Needless to say, lunch was both plentiful and satisfying.
Matt’s girlfriend is just lovely. Sarah would approve.
As the weather was crappy we stayed indoors. It was a shame as it would have been nice to go for a walk around the property. Having said that, Matt was on crutches and our property is hardly crutches-friendly.
So we sat and chatted and somehow we got onto the subject of dysfunctional families. While it’s always an interesting subject it’s also somewhat disheartening, especially when it’s my family we’re talking about. I don’t know why but ever since I was a kid I had this idea in my head that families should be perfect, in fact I believed mine was.
Of course now that I’m older and all growed up I can see that some family relationships that once appeared faultless to me, actually never were and have now evolved and changed so much that they have in several cases, cracked apart never to be repaired.
Matt and his girlfriend said little as we talked. I guess it’s not the best of subjects to discuss with someone you’ve just met. She must have wondered what the hell she’d walked into.
When lunch had settled and thirsts were adequately quenched everyone packed up and left.
By the time we’d fed out and prepared food for breakfast that was pretty much our day over
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