Sunday, June 3, 2012
In the immortal words of Charlotte Bronte ...
"Reader, I married him. A quiet wedding we had: he and I, the parson and clerk, were alone present. When we got back from church, I went into the kitchen of the manor-house where Mary was cooking the dinner and John cleaning the knives, and I said - "Mary I have been married to Mr Rochester this morning"
Not Mr Rochester, in my case, but Mr Green. And like Jane and Mr R, a quiet wedding we had, far from the madding crowd in the peaceful gardens of Cataract Gorge in Launceston. The parson was unable to make it, nor was the clerk, however we had a most pleasant lady celebrant and two witnesses she had arranged. No objections were raised to this man taking his wife and indeed the only other observer, a local peacock, not only held his peace, but looked entirely satisfied with the proceedings.
Following the formalities, we repaired not to the kitchen of the manor-house but to the Cataract Gorge Restaurant for a delightful lunch and some welcome libations in good old Aussie fashion.
Later in the day we went on our way, driving to Ross - to begin our two week Tasmanian sojourn. And a wonderful holiday it was, which I will write more about later.
In taking this step, we were hoping our friends and family would understand and not feel they were being excluded because we didn't want them to share our happiness. Having both been married before, we decided that this time, rather than making a public statement through a traditional wedding ceremony, with all the complicated logistical arrangements that accompany such things, we preferred to make it a private and personal commitment between the two most important people in this marriage - ourselves. That didn't mean that we didn't think of our dear friends and family members on this very special day; they were very much in our thoughts, especially our children - David's son Ryan and daughter Sarah and my son, Simon. We made mention of them in our ceremony, as well as our parents - David's wonderful mother Edna, now an amazing 95 and still with us and David's father and my parents, who sadly are not. I was not fantasising too much I don't think in having the distinct feeling they were looking down approvingly at their once wayward daughter, considerably relieved that she'd at last found herself a good man.
And good man he most definitely is. Wonderful man in fact and I count my blessings every day that after many meanderings, a number of dead-ends and more detours than I care to think about, I have found David, my "Mr Right". Here he is below - looking handsome on our wedding day, as he always does.
More pictures will follow in coming weeks ... of us and Tasmania ...so stay tuned!
Friday, May 11, 2012
Revolutionary Hair Treatment
There is something uncomfortably intrusive in being eye witness to the last humiliations of a senile old woman as she lives out her remaining days, but the fascination of the story is such that you can’t look away. Even as she is exhorted to “fais pipi ma Duchesse” while having a pan unceremoniously shoved beneath her no longer elegant derriere.
Whether or not the reader would be just as intrigued if the character was entirely fictional is an interesting question and probably depends on the skill of the writer. In this case the skill is such that the reader is drawn completely into the story and the fact that this is a woman from history, whose contemporaries were real people is almost peripheral.
Admittedly the depictions of such people seen through the foggy mind of this fictional Wallis Simpson, are diverting. For example there’s an exaggeratedly campy Cecil Beaton, who in a visit to the sick bed, remarks, “I was about to say ‘dying’s a bugger’ but ah, if only it were.” Then there’s the photo at Wallis’s bedside of someone she can’t quite make out... a pale, dull little man, looking woebegone. Now who could that be? Or “Cookie”, another blast from the past with eyes too small, breasts too big, a big ridiculous hat and a fluffy veil. Could that be …yes …even in her dotage a girl can always recognise the Enemy.
The story of course is fictional, but the circumstances and the characters align closely to the history, as we are told it.
History however is shaped by who tells it, how, from what perspective and on whose authority. It is, one could say, a fashioning of the facts, where truth and fiction mingle in a (hopefully) mutually complimentary relationship. Truth in any case is, as politicians consistently teach us, subject to interpretation.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
She's Baaaaaaaaaaack!!!
Whether the world agrees or not, it will be good practice for the writing mind and fingers of Annabelle, who since her last victorious post two years ago about having a short story published, has had zilch, zero, nuffink and sweet fanny adams published. This has been largely through her own dismal failure to actually complete any work to publishable standard, despite hours of toil. We can in all fairness though heap some of the blame on her place of employment, in fact we can dump a whole slag heap of blame on that esteemed establishment which has been extracting blood in return for a paltry pittance and soaking up the little intellectual glimmer that still remains after all this time.
However that is all to change in the near future, as the usual work/life balance of 5 days drudgery and 2 days off will in my case be reversed. In expectation of filling this gaping hole of "unpaid time" with productive writing, I am flexing my fingers by inflicting my ramblings on you - poor hapless reader. Or in the event there are no readers, it will be an interesting exercise in navel gazing, talking to myself, self-absorption and various other ill advised solitary activities.
I hope you stay with me, as I update you on my journeyings and my final leap towards the goal of attaining my Masters in Creative Writing - they are holding the cap and gown in readiness I am assured, but their hands are getting bloody tired, so I must shake a leg. And indeed must hasten before Old Mother Time slings any more bows and arrows of ageing at me and renders me incapable of doddering up to shake the hand of the hander out of hard won academic glory. There will be updates on this, as well as life in all its panoramic unpredictability and hopefully a few laughs along the way.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
A First!

Saturday, June 5, 2010
Happy Birthday David!

Yesterday was David's birthday, which means he's a Gemini.
So what about David? Well they say a lot of nice things about him, and I can vouch for them being true. Mythologically, according to one website, “Gemini’s ruler was Mercury, the light footed messenger of the Gods who darted back and forth across the heavens delivering news!!!”
This must explain why David is a newsagent! Geminis are also “terminally curious and sometimes even mischievous” – mischievous in a nice way I have to add. They are also “multi-faceted souls who enjoy knowing a little bit of everything” – this is true and harmonises well with Annabel, the eternal seeker of truth, knowledge, etc. (see above)!
Now here’s a typical David characteristic – “Geminis have also gained the reputation of being the incessant talkers of the zodiac. They are gifted with the “gift of the gab”. As anyone who knows David can attest, he loves a chat!
Whatever the astrologers say, I have to say, David is my Mr Right and I think he’s pretty fantastic. After a long time scanning the horizon in vain waiting for him to make an appearance, and a few distractions by impersonators along the way (it was their white horses that tricked me!), he’s finally showed up.
And was he worth waiting for!
Happy birthday dear David and I look forward to helping you celebrate many more.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Dog Friends

Sunday, February 7, 2010
Together we can make it

This week saw the release of the much heralded Federal Treasurer's Intergenerational report 2010. One of the themes of the report is the challenges posed to this nation, as to many others, of an ageing population. Given the media reaction, one could be forgiven for thinking the older generation is dragging the country to its knees. At the well worn feet of our senior citizens has been laid the blame for the most pressing problems facing this country today. According to the report, Australia is facing escalating pressures on its social, economic, and health systems. Commentaries on the report suggest the country is reeling under the escalating burden of those among us who have the temerity to keep on keeping on, despite their wrinkles and grey hair.
One can't help but think, being so unjustly targeted as the prime cause of their country's woes, our ageing citizens may well react with escalating pressures of their own. Perhaps this is the aim. As we all know, raised blood pressure leads to cardiac crises, sudden strokes and other such nasties, which with a bit of luck may take a few more oldies out of the game and give poor old Oz a bit of breathing space.
Falling just within the demographic that could be statistically (if unkindly) defined as ageing, I am beginning to take exception to this. Philosophically speaking, we are all ageing, indeed from the very moment we spring from the womb. Some of us are however getting a lot closer to the bottoming-out end of the slippery dip, and that's the point. The tide of life is going out for us, whether we like it or not. Despite grasping at bits of driftwood here and there, otherwise known variously as Viagra, HRT, Botox, dermal fillers and the like, we will inevitably wash up at the final shore.
Articles about the societal ills this country will face over the next 40 years leave me cold I have to say, as cold as I'll doubtless be by the time 40 years have elapsed. It is only the young who can realistically see themselves dealing with the next 40 or 50 years and it's all very well for them to write about it in tones of dire foreboding. What they tend to forget is that by then they will have joined the ranks of the dreaded ageing themselves.
This I think is where the problem lies with all this blathering on about the imminent geriatric takeover of the world. Just because the baby boomers caused a demographic blip back when our parents thought the war to end all wars actually had, doesn't mean the world will grind to a halt under the weight of an unprecedented mass of oldies. Subsequent generations are, after all, continuing to have babies, even if the Gen X'ers and Y'ers wait a bit longer. Even the Gen Z'ers are probably already thinking about it. In fact the very Intergenerational report that so castigates the grey haired brigade states that Australia's population is, if not booming, definitely on the increase thanks to a higher than expected rate of childbirth. This can hardly be attributed to the euphoria of post-war celebrations this time, so one can only guess it must have been our late un-lamented Treasurer's exhortation to the nation's families to have "one for your husband, one for your wife and one for the country".
Rather than so fixedly delineating the generations, as government reports and human resource managers tend to do, perhaps it would be more fruitful to adopt a more holistic approach. Generations are comprised of individuals, who while they may share birth dates within a certain range, are equally as multi-skilled, talented and diverse one from the other as grandparents are from their grandchildren. This is not to deny the existence of generational traits which clearly manifest themselves and can be glaringly obvious in such things as choices in clothes, hairstyles, music, attitudes to sex and in a multitude of other ways. What I'm saying though is that these characteristics are not the whole person.
Like sexism, ageism sadly focuses on casting people beyond the pale, based on a small component of their identity, over which they have no control, about which a huge fuss is often made, and on the basis of which it is totally unjust to judge their worth in any context whatsoever.
I would like to suggest that rather than shuffling people into generational compartments and correlating their capacity to make a contribution or not to their span of years, we build bridges between the generations. How do we do that? Although the phrase "celebrate diversity" has become trite with over-use, that is what is needed in the fullest sense of its meaning. And as well as celebrating we need to sanction and honour that diversity.
Older people have much to learn from the young exuberance, enthusiasm, idealism, adventurousness and a hunger to question and learn. There is much to be gained by appreciating the brashness of youth, their courage to forge ahead despite setbacks, unencumbered by bitterness, cynicism or regrets. Sure, they have a lot to learn and because they never listen to our advice or warnings, we know they'll come a cropper eventually. But, that is just how you do learn and hang on just a sec, how many of us turned a deaf ear to parental remonstrations, thinking what could those old fogies know about life?
Well actually they do know something and it is precisely that richness of knowledge that older people bring to the mix, whether it's within the family or the workplace. We might not look as good as the young, but we have wisdom, often gained at a price, and too often only in hindsight. There are those wholly undervalued skills honed at the university of life, where no-one gives you a degree at the end, but you know they are there to be called upon when needed. OK, so we're getting a bit droopy here and there and we may not bound from bed in the mornings with the same zest as a Gen Y, X or Z'er, but we can be relied upon in the long haul. We have that innate knowledge that even though things can look totally black today, the sun will still come up again, eventually. None of us are saints, but mostly the edges have been rubbed away, we've calmed down, learnt patience, acceptance and compassion.
We, both old and young, would benefit from recognising that we have unique and valuable ingredients to add to the recipe. More can be achieved by working together in mutual respect and collaboration, than by pointing fingers. The aged already comprise a major component of most workplaces. Although the government has raised the retirement age and the message on the wall is clearly that we who are still working will have to keep on keeping on for longer than ever before, ageism continues to prevail. Bias against older workers manifests itself in various forms, from the none too subtle implication that they are past it, not worth spending money on to train or develop, to the refusal to pay any more than lip service to the concept of flexible working hours and transition to retirement arrangements. Apart from seriously devaluing the worth of an organisation's most loyal and committed employees, this is short sighted in the extreme.
Benefits to the organisation of respecting and accommodating the needs of its older workers should be glaringly obvious. The up and comers rely upon the wisdom, support and mentorship of older employees. Often the intellectual property of an organisation depends upon the wealth of knowledge, skill and experience, usually unacknowledged, of a handful of its older employees. If there is a mass exodus of grey power, many work places will be, not just impoverished, but crippled. There are younger workers with qualifications, that isn't the problem, although there are some who would do well to polish up their spelling and writing skills. Talented though they are, what they don't have though is experience, either in their chosen career or in life. This is the stuff that can't be measured or rated, but leaves a huge gaping hole when it isn't there. A recent report commissioned by the National Seniors Productive Ageing Centre found that the loss to the nation's economy by not using the skills and experience of older Australians can be measured, and amounts to some $10 billion a year.
That's serious bickies, and when measured across the nation's work places, would be enough you would think to make a few decision makers sit up and take notice. It's no use bureaucrats sending down recommendations from on high. Unless they have the weight of law, they can be too easily ignored. Those who deal in human resources, which, let's face it, are our most precious and indispensable resources, must sit up and take notice.
Let's get real. Let's drop the stereotypes of all the generations. Let's address the needs rather than the differences of all our citizens and learn ways of adapting to them. If we don't, we risk confronting not only an economic, social or health care crisis, but a crisis of humanity, where our young are left floundering, and our older people are disempowered, devalued and cast out on the scrap heap.





