Category: Changes

Australia · Changes · happiness · nostalgia

Why is a Ship Called “She”?

Joanne3 Comments

Many years ago, in fact so many years ago that it now feels like it was a whole lifetime away, a new shopping centre sprang up in the most unlikely of places. For reasons which I have never been aware of, these shops were built right smack bang on the edge of Sydney Harbour.

Who would have thought?

The whole concept was very avante-guard, back in the day, even for Sydney.

Surrounded by a marina, the local rowing club and a beautiful parkland area along the water’s edge, these shops were an absolute delight to visit.

As a newly married couple, my husband and I enjoyed visiting Birkenhead Point every weekend. Our weekly fruit and vegetables were carefully chosen from the huge array of fresh produce on display, after which we would wander along the harbour side, pointing out which boats we liked the most and dreaming of a day when we would own our own.

Just this morning, I dragged out of my linen cupboard an old, faded and fraying tea-towel, a relic of our visits to the place where just the two of us would while away the hours, with not a care in the world.

Those were the days when we truly, although unintentionally, lived the lives of minimalists, without even realising how lucky we were. Where did those days go?

But back to the tea-towel…I remember finding it at one of the nautical shops down near the water side. We loved to admire the shop’s wares, although we had little money to purchase anything.

On the towel is printed a story ~ “Why Is A Ship Called She?” It goes like this ~

“A ship is called a “she” because there is always a great deal of bustle around her; there is usually a gang of men about, she has a waist and stays; it takes a lot of paint to keep her good looking; it is not the initial expense that breaks you, it is the upkeep; she can be all decked out; it takes an experienced man to handle her correctly; and without a man at the helm, she is absolutely uncontrollable. She shows her topsides, hides her bottom and, when coming into port, always heads for the buoys.”

Reading back over it all of these years later, it really is an extremely sexist tea-towel! However I still enjoy the play on words, and I remember why I liked it back then.

After finding the tea-towel, I Googled Birkenhead Point. Yes, the shopping centre is still there, however I do not recall it as ever having been the ritzy edifice it now appears to be!

Australia · challenges · Changes · gratitude · happiness · Mount Warning · spring

Embracing Change

Joanne2 Comments

Sitting at the table on my veranda I notice the first early morning rays of sunlight touching the summit of Mount Warning.

Oh, but I look up again after writing just one paragraph and the light on the mountain has already changed, while the folds in the surrounding hills have been further emphasised by the changing morning light.

Inside the house all is still, but that too will change within the next half hour, as my family begins rushing from room to room, preparing themselves for the last work and school day of the week.

Yesterday I became aware of other changes, positive changes in our nearest town, fifteen minutes drive away from our village.

Many years ago our cars were serviced by one particular mechanic. He knew his job well, so we continued to patronise his business, unquestioningly.

And then he retired. Resisting the change, for reasons I’m sure we had at the time, although I have now forgotten, we located another mechanic nearby. Yes, our new mechanic knew his job, although I always felt he lacked that “something special” of our previous man.

About a week ago my car began to complain that it had been neglected way too long, and it was loud about voicing its displeasure at the recent lack of attention.

Making contact with the new, although now not so new owners, of our previous favourite mechanics shop, I translated the problems as best I could, as told to me by my ailing vehicle.

A surprisingly low quote was given, and my car was feeling much better within an hour or two. Apparently, my car had every right to complain ~ a six cylinder car running on only five is not a happy-chappie!

As I have already mentioned, my car needed some T.L.C. so yesterday the “new” mechanics gave it the complete once-over it had been pleading for.

Driving my blue baby back home again I fully expected at any moment it may break out in song, as it glided along the road, purring as contented as a well fed kitten.

Behind the wheel of my car I also mentally rejoiced at having discovered such wonderful mechanics, who have that “special something” which I had missed for years.

I also chided myself at the memory of resisting the change of ownership in this business. Change can be good, just ask my car! 😉

The weather here is changing as well…another change I resist every year. I so enjoy the cooler months, we have so little cooler weather in this area.

The time has come for me to be more accepting of the many changes taking place around me, rather than resisting them. The weather will show no concern as to preferences of the earth’s inhabitants. It will change as it sees fit.

Two weeks ago I couldn’t have sat in comfort at this hour of the morning on my veranda, enjoying the early morning changes of the mountain. It was too cold.

The mountain is changing constantly as I write…the wonderful mechanics in town changed my car into a purring, gliding kitten and now my house has changed into a hive of activity.

Embrace the changes, savour the magical moments and move with them.

Have a fantastic day, in whatever your day brings!  I know I will. 🙂

Australia · challenges · Changes · freedom · gratitude · happiness · inspiration

A Leap of Faith ~ Immigrating to a New Country

Joanne2 Comments
My sister Annette (centre) at Balgownie migrant hostel, N.S.W. Australia, 1951.

“What the mind of man can conceive and believe, it can achieve.” ~ Napoleon Hill.

After World War II had finally ended in the mid 1940’s, England spent a number of years in recovery. Ration tickets to acquire certain food items were still being handed out, air raid shelters remained in residential back gardens and ex-soldiers struggled to find their place in society, during the post war years.

A virtual life line was extended to many of the walking wounded and their families, with promises of beginning a new and wonderful life in a land of sunshine.

Paying just ten pounds per adult and with children travelling for free, these English migrants were offered a ticket to board a ship, bound for Australia.

Those who accepted the offer became affectionately known as the “Ten Pound Poms”.

Even in this day and age, packing up your belongings and family, lock, stock and barrel, boarding an aeroplane and moving from one side of the world to the other would take a huge amount of courage.

Can you imagine the risks of making such a move some forty to sixty years ago, with little knowledge of what to expect, taking a voyage on a ship which would see you arriving at an unfamiliar destination around six to seven weeks after leaving England?

I’d call it nothing short of a leap of faith, and certainly not a move for the faint hearted.

And yet tens of thousands of so called “Ten Pound Poms” took up the offer, on nothing more than just a promise of a wonderful new life, which included work prospects, comfortable accommodation and a freer and more relaxed lifestyle in a warmer climate.

Upon arrival in Australia, many immigrants were to discover that the only guarantee they actually had was the warmer climate. Steady employment wasn’t as easy to acquire as they had been led to believe and the accommodation offered was in the form of a small hut, in what was known as a Migrant Hostel.

And yet most of the “Ten Pound Poms” rejoiced at the opportunity offered to them, a chance to start a brand new life in “The Lucky Country”.

Gone were the days of fear, struggle and uncertainty. In the eyes of these people, they had the world at their feet; anything was possible, opportunities abounded ~ they felt privileged and proud to call Australia “Home”.

In this day and age, I see the move these people made as a giant leap of faith; in those days, they saw it as a gilt-edged opportunity to begin a new life in a new country, away from the heartache they had experienced during the war years.

Numerous stories could be told of the families who risked everything, in search of a more prosperous life to share with those they loved, stories of the heartache and joy experienced during those early days of their new lives, in a new country, on the other side of the world.

One day I will tell my story. Am I a “Ten Pound Pom”? No, but my whole family were. My parents and three sisters made that giant leap of faith in 1951, many years before I was ever thought of.

There’s is a story of hope, inspiration, commitment, struggles, happiness, gratitude and simplicity, but most of all faith…faith in themselves and faith in the promises held in an unknown land. And when I share their story, it will be told with all of the pride and admiration I feel towards my courageous and unassuming family.

If you have the means to honour the actions of someone you know, who also took a leap of faith at some stage in their lives, why not share the story and give them the recognition they so well deserve? Why not write your own article of inspiration?

It will offer reassurance to anyone who reads your story that whatever they set their mind to doing, it can be achieved…because it can.

There’s no such word as “can’t”. 🙂

Photo credit : http://www.migrationheritage.nsw.gov.au

basics · Changes · freedom · gratitude · happiness · inspiration

Taking a Holiday, All Year ‘Round

Joanne5 Comments

Being the creature of habit that I am, when the thought of taking a holiday pops into my brain, I have one point of destination in mind.

But no, today I will not be sharing stories of the place that I refer to as my home away from home. Nor will I be relating to you tales of the sun, the beaches, walks along the river, or any other physical aspect of enjoyment, although I could write multiple articles on the subject.

The holiday unit at the resort where we spend a week, sometimes two, more often than not during the steaming summer month of January, has all the basics we need; three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, laundry, lounge and dining area.

The kitchen is kitted out with the basic pots and pans, cutlery, crockery, kettle and toaster. The laundry provides a washing machine, dryer, clothes airer, bucket, broom, mop iron and ironing board.

Basic bed linen, blankets and pillows are provided in the bedrooms, along with bath towels and bath mats in the bathrooms.

All we need to provide ourselves with is food, purchased from the supermarket just up the road from our holiday unit, in fact, its walking distance away.

Before leaving home, all we pack are our clothes, usually summer clothes at that, so we travel light in that regard, although by the time the kids have packed fishing rods, boogie boards, footballs, iPods, mobile phone, etc., we do actually end up with a loaded car.

For the sake of their outdoor enjoyment, however, I don’t mind their various water activity and sporting related bits and pieces. Holidays are for enjoyment, right?

And enjoy ourselves, we do!

Many times I have pondered the why’s and wherefore’s as to how it is that I seem to find more time when holidaying. Why do the days seem longer? There’s still twenty-four hours in every day wherever you are, so what gives?

After a meal, washing up the dishes is easier.

I hang my washing on the clothes line faster.

My ironing is finished in a jiffy (even in summer!)

The beds are made faster.

The floors are swept in next to no time (yes, we have to sweep the floors daily, after we have carted sand in on out feet, from the river or beach).

We end up with more time in every day. That doesn’t happen at home, so what have I been doing wrong at home?

Really, I simply cannot believe that it took me a number of years, multiple holidays and an overdose of brain-strain to realise what we were doing differently when we went away. The answer is so obvious….

When we go away on holidays, we are not bogged down with all of the material stuff we have at home. Our holiday unit is probably less than half the size of our home, and yet…

Some of the best days of our lives have been enjoyed whilst temporarily possessing only the bare necessities in life!

Once this realisation finally hit me, I wanted to re-create the holiday feeling all year through. Yes, even while I was at home.

And so began my task of discarding unwanted stuff around home, sorting through cupboards, purchasing only the essentials.

Minimising doesn’t happen overnight, but then again, the excess stuff around home didn’t accumulate overnight either. It took years, many years, of growing into our larger home. Our larger home came into being due to our growing family.

Funny how these things creep up on you, when you’re not looking, isn’t it?

When I’m holidaying, I enjoy the freedom and the lightweight feeling I carry with me every day. Life is easy, even if only for a week or two. Therefore, is it any wonder that taking a holiday is such a popular pastime?

We can, and should, treat ourselves all year round to this lightweight, heady freedom, when our souls can sour through the days with as much ease as a feather being carried along by the wind.

And so, with the memories of weightless, carefree days held close to my heart, I continue to discard the excess “bulk” from my life, thankful for the days spent in a holiday unit, where, unbeknownst to me, life’s lessons were being learned. 🙂

challenges · Changes · happiness · inspiration

The Funniest Thing Happened, Last Weekend…

Joanne6 Comments

During the weekend we adopted a very unlikely new family member.

I place the blame totally on the shoulders of my eldest daughter. Whenever we go shopping together we simply must visit ever pet shop within a two kilometre radius of our destination. Just to check out the cute baby kittens and pups, she tells me.

My daughter already shares her home with the most beautiful male cat in existence (he’s from the same litter as my Little Miss Cutie Cat), and a dog who I am sure isn’t really an animal, due to his natural ability to converse with his people, (have you ever seen a dog smile? My daughter’s dog does!)

Regular readers here may also recall that I often refer to my own family of pets, my black velvet Rottweiler, my eleven year old queen cat, as well as the afore mention little cutie cat, who likes to help me with the gardening.

One pet I have never owned, and one my family has constantly requested, is a bird.

Now let me set the records straight. As opposed to popular opinion, it’s not that I don’t like birds; when they come to visit me while I am gardening, which they often do, (much to my amazement!) I talk to them and we co-exist quite happily in amongst the foliage.

I’m just not fussed on little, fluttery, twitting birds; I find them smelly and boring. (No offense to anyone who owns such a bird…that’s just me).

Anyway, back to the shopping expedition with my daughter. Our shopping list wasn’t too extensive ~ some wool, a couple of stationary items and a new pair of ballet tights and leg-warmers for my daughter, a ballet dancer since age six.

Although neither of the pet shops had any kittens at all, nor any ‘goo and gar’ worthy puppies, we still had a wander around to admire the huge array of pet toys on display.

Our wandering may have been a huge mistake, or else a stroke of sheer luck, depending on how you look at it.

In a huge cage, smack bang in the middle of one of the pet shops, sat a large bird. Not the little flapping variety, nor one as big as an eagle…but a pastel coloured parrot. I bent down to say hello to the bird, perched all alone in a cage which would have no doubt been large enough to hold four birds his size.

When I bent down to say hello to the bird, he walked over to me, tilted his head, and listened…I talked some more. Continuing to tilt his head from side to side, he listened some more.

After I left the pet shop, I continued to think about this bird. It had a personality, something I had never noticed in any bird before.

Each day, throughout the week, I thought of him. I spoke to the family about him, who in turn gave me the strangest looks, asking “You actually liked a bird?”

On Saturday, I phoned the pet shop; I had some questions. On Sunday, after the delicate operation of having one wing clipped, he came home with us.

At the moment I am referring to him as “he”, although we won’t know for a while yet as to whether he is a boy. It doesn’t matter though. We have named him “Charlie”, a name suitable for either sex.

Charlie is apparently only one year old and once he has settled into his new home we will train him to be handled and to come out of his cage. Thanks to the World Wide Web, I am now in the midst of taking a crash course in owning and training a parrot!

The initial personality displayed by Charlie was only a glimmer of things to come. Having lived with us for less than two days, we already know he enjoys munching on pieces of apple and raisins, he prefers toast to bread sticks, and likes to lick the salt off Ritz cracker biscuits.

He favours gentle music over heavy rock and roll. He bops along his front perch, swaying from side to side and nodding his head up and down to songs he enjoys, moving to the back perch and sitting quietly when the song is over. (We have decided his favourite song is Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody).

Due to his age, which is apparently likened to being a teenager, he is prone to biting any finger which pokes itself into his cage! I have discovered that, by calmly pulling my finger back and saying “gentle”, he then licks my finger…gently.

It has been an interesting two days, to say the very least. Who would have thought…me, owning a bird!

Only time will tell how this new relationship will develop.

To be continued…. 🙂