The Kitchen Table

We're still getting rid of things post the renovation. Some of the delay has been caused by a lack of access. In packing up to commence demolition, large items were placed, Tetris-style, into the shed.  with smaller crates packed into the gaps. It's taken months to get our two large mirrors back on the wall as they were trapped behind an enormous mahogany writing desk and blocked from the side by an antique blackwood pew.

The desk has since found a happy home in Canberra, the pew has been reinstated inside and the mirrors, finally, have been hung. At last, I could get to the kitchen table so I could take a few snaps and get it on eBay. (You might recall the win I had with our new dining table).

We've had the table for over 25 years. We had it made from recycled Oregon and over the years, changed the colour of the stain, had it widened, a drawer added, as well as changed the legs from turned to tapered. It had served us well, but it was time to go.

Pricing on eBay is tricky and you need to take care not to confuse emotional connection with commercial reality. The table was solid timber and we'd had many happy times around it - kids' birthdays, dinner parties, Christmases - but no-one on eBay cares about that - they want a bargain! Nor is there a short supply - so it had to be priced to sell.

I popped it on for a seven-day auction starting at $100, which on expiring, I was offered $50 from a woman in a nearby suburb who could collect it - immediately - SOLD! And here's where the hilarity began...

The buyer arrived with roof racks to which was attached a bike fitting.  She had some vague idea that the table could just sit next to bike rack.... yeah, no. This is a very large, heavy, solid timber table - that hasn't got removable legs.

She eventually managed to get the bike attachment off and it took her, the girls and me to get it onto the rack. I asked if she had ropes and she assured me she did, pulling out three occy straps!! (Occy straps, short for octopus straps, are those lengths of cloth-covered of elastic with a hook on each end - notorious for flinging off or snapping at inopportune moments.) She wrapped one around a leg and hooked it to the roof rack, after which we left her to do the other two. She did assure me she was going to drive slowly, but I could just picture her braking at a red light and the table sliding forward, down her windscreen and onto her bonnet. The whole thing seemed highly precarious and frankly, dangerous!

Anyway, I had my $50 and the table was out of the shed, so frankly, not my problem!!! (Although of course, I do hope no-one was hurt!)

An inconvenient call

I don't know why it popped into my head, but this morning I recalled one of the most bizarre phone calls I've ever had.

It was late on the morning of Monday, January 4th, 1999.

How do I recall that so specifically? Because I was in the birthing suite at the hospital!!!

I would have taken the call on my very corporate Nokia - remember these??

I'd arrived at the hospital earlier that morning for what Geoff would later describe as 'the most boring day of my life'. My contractions, like the action in the cricket on the TV, were intermittent and separated by long periods of tedium. It's probably why I took the call.

For many workers, it was the first day back after the Christmas/New Year break - luckier ones had an additional week. I'd finished up work when the office had closed - about two weeks prior - and was planning to return in April, so I assumed it was family or a friend. In those days, your phone didn't tell you who was calling - you either recognised the number or took your chances by picking up.

It turned out to be the Executive Assistant to the Managing Director of a financial services client I looked after, and I was, needless to say, surprised she was calling. She'd previously struck me as a bit vague, but this time she excelled herself. Here's how the conversation went:

MMW: MWW speaking...
EA: Hi MWW and happy new year. Did you have a nice Christmas?
(Bit of small talk)
EA: The MD has asked me to ring you as he's hoping you'll be able to attend a workshop he's having on Thursday
MWW: Yeah, probably not - I actually started maternity leave before Christmas...
EA: Oh, really? I didn't realise it was so soon... I thought you still had a while to go (Said in a way that suggested maybe I'd got that wrong and she was, in fact, correct...)
MMW: Yes. I'm actually at the hospital now.
EA: Oh... right. So.... you won't be able to do the workshop on Thursday? (In a tone that suggested perhaps I could and should)

Seriously.

And when I did clearly state that no, I wasn't available, she sounded rather put out.

Oh, well.

Generational time keeping

When I was a kid, getting your first watch in late primary school was a rite of passage. I got mine in grade 4 or 5 when my parents had been somewhere in Asia and bought me a pale pink and white one. I was so proud.

Later, in high school, Mum gave me a watch with a slim black leather strap, a gold rim, and a white face with the numbers written in French in a black script font. It's really quite classic and I still have that one somewhere. I don't wear it as it needs to be wound and ain't no one got brain-space to remember to do that!!

These days, fewer kids wear a watch at all. George had quite the collection but in truth, they were more of an 'accessory' to a look than serving a function. I don't recall the girls ever wearing a watch. I could be wrong, but if they did, it was brief.

Even today, they just use their phone or laptop and insist there's no need for one.

Gone too, is the thrill of changing your analogue clock or watch for the start or end daylight saving, trying to remember if it's forwards or backwards and the inevitable colleagues who fronted up to work at the wrong time because they forgot or got it wrong. Now it just happens automatically - even if you move time zones.

Cleaning out a drawer the other day, I stumbled across the watch my grandmother left me. Probably from around the 1920s, it's sweet but so impractical. There'd be no 'quick glance' to see the time on this! It's elegant but tiny!! Maybe people were smaller back then?

Compare that to my watch! I've had two of these. The first for probably five years before the gold wore off and some of the 'diamonds' had fallen out. I also took a big chip out of the glass when I fell off my bike. So I waited for the January sales and just bought another one.

Other than being about 10 times bigger than my grandmother's watch, it also has a much shorter life span. I know some people invest in a proper, 'for life' watch, but I tend to just go with fashion. I can't even guess at how many I've owned.

Anyway, the next generation will be making up for my disposable extravagance by owning no watch at all!

Cleo & Rob

I was thrilled when my friend and renowned author, Helen Brown asked me to launch her new book, Cleo & Rob. This is the children's version of her book Cleo, which tells the true story of the small black cat that rescued Helen's family after her oldest son, Sam, died in a tragic accident.

Cleo has been translated into over 16 languages and has sold more than two million copies, clearly touching many people around the world - and the children's version is equally as powerful.

Helen and I met when she and her family moved into the house across the street about twenty years ago - after Sam and before Jaz and George had died. Here's what I had to say on why this seemingly regular children's book is in fact, so important.

Helen and I share a special bond – we’re part of the club that no family wants to belong to – those that have lost children. There isn't a name for this status – for the mothers, the fathers, the sibling, grandparents, cousins.

People are uncomfortable with death. And the more we avoid talking about it, the longer it stays shrouded, buried and feared. It’s not just our fear of death itself, but the fear of making other people uncomfortable, that prevents us from sharing our stories.

Most people know someone who’s lost a loved one, and yet social norms force us to quickly skate over the surface with impersonal platitudes like ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ or ‘Terrible news about John.’ While these acknowledgments are well-intended and often appreciated, they don’t really help

Put another way, we have a group of people who’ve experienced the death of someone close, fearful of upsetting those around them by talking about it. And the people around them are fearful of bringing the topic up because they don’t want to upset the person who’s grieving. And that’s just not helpful.

We need to find a way to bridge this gap.

If you were building a house, organising a party or even having a baby - you’d have a bank of other people’s experiences that had been shared over the years to draw on. And you probably wouldn’t hesitate to phone a friend to better prepare yourself for what’s ahead.

It’s through these shared experiences, of all facets of life, that we learn to cope and accept and feel connected.

*******

Death might be the penultimate unmentionable, but the death of a child is the ultimate. There’s no conciliatory ‘At least they had a great innings’ – because they didn’t. It just doesn’t follow the expected rules of nature – the Lion King’s circle of life, if you will.

But like Helen, I do tell people about my children. Not all the time and not every time, but if asked how many children I have and the mood takes me, I’ll spill the beans. I’ve had people shocked into silence, a heart-felt acknowledgment and even been thanked for sharing.

And if adults have trouble talking about death, imagine how that mystery is translated by children.

Death is a fact of life, and it can happen at any age. But we don’t tell children that. Of course, we hope it doesn’t happen that way, but it might.

If the concept of death is introduced at an early age, discussed in a matter-of-fact tone on regular, relevant occasions, understanding and familiarity replace fear and mystery. As part of this conversation, it’s important to convey that if and when a death occurs, that life goes on. It’s not the same life, it is irrevocably changed – but in time, there will be joy and happiness, laughter…  and even cats!

It’s exactly this important story that Helen has tenderly captured in her new book, Cleo & Rob. She hasn’t shied away from the depths of sadness surrounding Sam’s death but thoughtfully stepped through the process we go through when someone dies. The disbelieve, anxiety, isolation and withdrawal, before the re-emergence and reconnection, all seen through the eyes of her younger son, Rob. Beautifully illustrated by Phoebe, it’s a very important story to tell.

My hope is that this book will not only introduce children to the concept of death, grief and recovery but that it will spark the conversation in families and among friends. We need to be able to tell our stories without the fear of upsetting someone, to learn to listen and come to terms with death – even that of a child.

Author Helen Brown (right) with illustrator, Phoebe Morris

Helen told me that some media interviewers were clearly very uncomfortable with the theme of her new book. I said it reminded me of when I didn't eat olives (yes, really!). My mother suggested I eat six in a row and she was right - I now really like them. So I suggest that people uncomfortable with reading this book, should sit themselves down and read it - six times in a row!!

Cleo & Rob is available at many bookstores, on and offline, including Amazon

Shanequa

I've bought myself a robot vacuum cleaner and I'm frankly, breathless with excitement!! Not only does it vacuum - it mops - seriously!!

For you young 'uns, this is what happens in middle age. In youth, your heart races at the sight of someone you're crushing on or a pair of ridiculously extravagant shoes - but come middle age, it's all about the time-saving appliance.

I wanted to name my new baby Bob. Elle has insisted on Shanequa - so Shanequa it is.

I'd been hankering for one of these for a while and had done my online homework. The good ones are about a grand so how excited was I when Aldi advertised one for $299. And it has excellent product reviews. Elle spotted it on Facebook and tagged me, so I diarised the day it was available and ensured I was at the Aldi entrance a bit before opening time - along with a handful of others.

Now, while this door-buster definitely didn't rival the infamous Aldi Ski Gear Sale Penny and I battled, there were a couple of die-hards who broke into a trot when the doors opened. Given there were only a few people, I continued at a leisurely walk - then fear struck me - what if some people were filling trolleys with them? I quickened my pace. There was some grabbing - which was actually quite ridiculous because it was quickly clear we were all purchasing for 'personal use only' - i.e. one each. I threw one in my trolley and went on with my shopping, noting at least six left when I checked out.

Anyway, she's now home and getting settled. It's like a new puppy that cleans instead of making a mess! And she sleeps quietly.

But the poor thing has been here less than a week and she's already totally confused. I've moved her dock three times and I'm still not convinced it's the permanent spot.

I've had several attempts to connect the app but no luck so far. I'll persist. That aside, she's doing a great job. Here she is, sweeping at the front and mopping straight after. Look at her go!

Does she do as good a job as me? Probably not, but I'd describe it as utterly acceptable.

Go Shanequa!!!

The Pet Warmer

As you know, Gary the cat is getting on in years. He's about 15 with a thyroid issue that means he's mostly skin and bone, and I suspect that's why he feels the cold.

In the morning, he'll head straight for the bathroom where we have underfloor heating and as that cools after the morning rush, he'll settle himself into our doona or on a couch.

We lock Gary in the laundry at night and, like Barnaby Joyce, turn the central heating off when we go to bed. He has a thick bed with plenty of blankets, but I was worried he was cold.

There's a reputable pet shop around the corner from us, so I jumped on their website to look for an electric blanket for him. They didn't have any. It seemed odd and they have every other way to extract a dollar from pet owners - but no electric blankets. I've now worked out why and suspect you have too! 

I then got online and found a swag of them. I chose this $15.99 one (incl free postage), as they all looked about the same but this one was cheap and less aesthetically hideous than most

And here it is.

It had the wrong plug, but I grabbed a travel adaptor and plugged it in.

Happiness for a few weeks.

Then, it just stopped working. The light was on but it was stone cold. I emailed the supplier and asked if there was any way to reboot it? He said to get it fixed locally and they'd refund half the price 'for your trouble'. Now I don't know how much they pay for repairs in China, but I'm pretty sure $8 won't go far around these parts.

As I contemplated my options, I took it off Gary's bed and noticed this... yep, a burn mark.

I emailed old mate in China and pointed out that I'd discovered the issue - that thing had shorted! And miraculously hadn't started a fire. He said he'd refund 100% of my money as they don't have any replacement stock. I'm assuming because lawsuits are both in progress and pending.

I was then reviewing Gary's bedding situation and found this... yes, that is a highly flammable, polar-fleece blanket and a scorch mark around a melted hole.

How the heck that thing didn't start a fire - or electrocute Gary - I don't know.

I was relaying this to a friend last night, who reminded me of the cautionary tale a fellow dinner-party guest relayed to me at her house a couple of years back. Their son had turned on his electric blanket and gone for a shower, only to come back and find his bed engulfed in flames. They called the fire brigade. Another guest was a buyer at one of the large supermarkets and confirmed that she had put an end to them selling electric blankets because the quality wasn't up to scratch.

I'd forgotten that.

Meanwhile, Gary is safe, if a little chilly, and I still have my super cosy supermarket electric blanket on my bed. I just don't leave the house when it's on.

You idiots!

You may recall that when we built the shed about three years ago, I suspected the concrete slabs it was constructed from would be a prime target for graffiti. Having investigated a few options like outdoor wallpaper and vinyl wraps, I decided an original artwork was the go.

Relying on my best friend, Google, I tracked down a company here in Melbourne and commissioned the amazing Awes, who collaborated with his mate Mayonnaize to produce the art below.

(It's not actually curved - I nicked this pic off Mayonnaize's Instagram and not sure how he took it, but it does manage to get the whole wall in. It also wraps around the left-hand side to cover the wall facing that laneway as well. It's hard to get a shot, as it's big and in a confined space - I think this is from our neighbour's garage roof!)

The process was a bit of a leap of faith, as there were no designs, pre-drawing or agreement of what it was going to be, just an exchange of emails containing images to determine what we did and didn't like and then they just turned up as appointed and did it over a few days. 

As it turned out, I LOVE it.

Here's what it looked like beforehand. A vast improvement, I'm sure you'll agree!

And for the past three years, people have occasionally headed over from the 'hip' side of town to check it out or take a pic.

That was until about four weeks ago...

We were having dinner with family friends, and at precisely 12.14am, two IDIOTS came out of the laneway gloom and signed their tags on our art!!

How do I know this?

Not just because of the orange tags we discovered in permanent marker, but because we have security cameras that aren't hiding!! Look - here's one of them in action. Seriously, how stupid could you be? She even looks directly into the camera at one point as if to say, 'oh... there's a security camera....'

I can't even recall when I was last so incensed. How dare they draw on artwork - how disrespectful.

Contacting the company that organised the original commission, it took them just a day or two to reach out to their community and have the tags identified.  They apparently had words with the culprits, before assuring me that they won't be back. They're also arranging for the repair (at my expense, but it's not their fault, and more importantly, I don't want others to think that desecrating artwork is okay, and add more tags - so am keen to have it fixed.)

And no, tempting as it was, I haven't asked for names. I have no idea of the protocol among street art peeps - but they didn't offer, so I didn't ask. However, I did say that if they are speaking to them again, they might want to let them know the police are also looking for them and similarly, are using the tags to work out who they are - along with very clear security footage.

I mean really, what kind of idiot commits an act of vandalism under lights, with security cameras - and leaves an identifiable name?