tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87199566170768220152024-02-20T00:13:54.142+11:00the writing hiveWriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.comBlogger203125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-90444076317289643302016-01-15T19:41:00.002+11:002016-02-06T10:34:03.704+11:00Moving Week
Monday was D Day, the day my father would be moving into a nursing home. In the morning I left home early and drove into the city to pick him up. Sue, the lovely woman who had cared for him overnight, had him dressed and ready for me, his bags packed and his flat orderly and neat.
He came along happily, with no idea where we were going, though I’d spoken about it with him several times. I WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-31025931683369348632016-01-06T20:10:00.000+11:002016-01-06T20:23:51.882+11:00Baggage We Pack, Baggage We Carry
I bring up Dad’s small case from the garage, a piece of carry-on luggage, still with its Qantas tag
attached.
In their day my parents crisscrossed the
globe for business and pleasure. They made friends all over the world. In the
80s Dad was a director of Qantas. One year he and Mum flew on behalf of Qantas
to the Boeing factory in Seattle to pick up a new 747-400 plane, ‘The City of
Perth’.
WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-23747441556322957032015-09-11T15:20:00.000+10:002015-09-11T15:20:23.088+10:00Things my father taught me
I look for the good in any situation – the upside,
the silver lining. It's a characteristic I inherited from my father. He has
always greeted good news with enthusiasm, bad as an opportunity.
The day before yesterday I hugged him and told
him I thought things were difficult for him. I was referring in particular to a
long and involved toilet session we'd just had, and in general to his WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-49064100599047085052015-07-08T19:42:00.000+10:002015-07-08T20:02:29.539+10:00Greed Comes Before a Fall
The second time Farmdoc and I walked Tasmania's World Heritage Overland Track, we decided
to start at Lake St Clair, so that watching Cradle Mountain loom larger would be the
culmination of our journey. Most through-walkers begin at Cradle Mountain, and in fact in-season
these days it’s mandatory, but we’d walked it in that direction the first time, and
we thought it’d be fun to do it in WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-31494998341835004792015-05-05T17:16:00.001+10:002015-05-05T18:41:16.948+10:00 Medication Zero, Dad Three
First, sleeping tablets failed. Then, desperate to find something to calm my father’s nighttime agitation, his psychogeriatrician prescribed an antipsychotic. That failed too. Next came an antidepressant, Avanza.
Avanza didn’t work. It didn’t help Dad sleep but made him so agitated and confused that several times he said he
wished he were dead. All of that on only one small dose. WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-56101681323450388002015-03-31T15:08:00.000+11:002015-03-31T15:08:19.845+11:00One Step Forward Two Steps Back
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WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-82431432959316340742015-03-21T21:12:00.002+11:002015-03-21T21:12:57.522+11:00Apple. Table. Flag.I've been here before - sitting in a psychogeriatrician's consulting room with a parent. The last time was with my mother while my father rode shotgun. This time it's my father who is in the hot seat while I have taken on his role as protector/interpreter.
I remember so clearly that day with my mother. 'Do you know what this is?' the doctor asked her, showing her his watch. She shook her headWriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-69999673474933188612015-02-02T16:32:00.001+11:002015-02-02T16:40:48.026+11:00Shut up and Write
It felt like the first day of school for me
this morning. Dressed in my Pilates clothes, I was off to my Shut up and Write
group, then to Pilates, then to meet Farmdoc for coffee at our regular coffee
place. This was my routine last year but I’ve had a long break over the summer
holidays. Like my youngest granddaughters today was my first day back.
Have you heard of Shut up and WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-38943308872709016752014-03-18T21:57:00.001+11:002014-03-18T21:59:18.384+11:00This Time Last Year
Here are some photos from a year ago, of a dinner our friends Annie and Janet made for us on the bridge at Onemilebridge:
Last Thursday twelve months ago was our last day in our Tasmanian house. We spent the day cleaning as the movers hauled our numbered and catalogued boxes into their truck.
Farmdoc concentrated on the shed while inside the house I moved from room to room, WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-53166758403604949502014-01-29T16:03:00.003+11:002014-01-29T16:05:16.715+11:00Vale Pete SeegerPete Seeger has died. He was 94, a great age in anyone's language, but I am so sad.
Today I am listening to that oh so familiar voice singing 'To everything there is a season...a time to be born and a time to die...' Of course I know that, but my foolish aching heart doesn't know it, so I listen and I cry into the lemon meringue icing I am making, and I think back to the first time I heard him WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-22436739984822782242013-08-12T14:21:00.000+10:002013-08-12T14:31:54.577+10:00Welcome Bee and RaI know, I know. Long time no blog. I’ve
left you in suspense all these months. The last time I wrote we were
weeping outside the locked gates of Eden. Did they cross Bass Strait alive? you wondered.
Did they realise that they'd made a huge mistake, and do they now wish to return to
the south island?
Well, yes and no. Yes, we made the move
safely, all our possessions and ourselves intactWriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-25430867369111181082013-04-05T19:05:00.000+11:002013-04-06T07:38:51.513+11:00Recipe For Moving House<!--[if gte mso 9]>
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WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-56085253952893617662012-12-15T12:14:00.000+11:002012-12-15T12:23:31.601+11:00Alzheimer's and Me<!--[if gte mso 9]>
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WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-15913991293081831352012-12-12T22:20:00.000+11:002012-12-12T22:26:10.082+11:00The Sad Tale of Wombat Bindi (with Happy Ending) Wombat Bindi was sentenced to death. Not just once, but twice.
The first time was when a car ran her mother down and left the baby wombat for dead in her mother's pouch. That time Bindi was rescued by the people who found her and brought her to Iris and James at Albion Wombat Rescue.
Then Bindi developed severe and debilitating colic. She was sickly and in pain all the time. WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-24669267566442330282012-12-09T14:58:00.000+11:002012-12-09T17:47:48.319+11:00The Best Crumpets Ever (Really)One of the joys of cooking with a wood stove is being able to cook directly on the hob.
We do this whenever we can. Toast of course. Pikelets and pancakes (not crepes, though I suppose you could) and any kind of fritter. And vegieburgers. Maybe not hamburgers in case the mince is a bit fatty (though we mince our own meat and cut as much fat off as we can, so we probably could).
One of WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-52523761042091952422012-11-01T18:36:00.000+11:002012-11-01T18:42:00.585+11:00The Story of Rumble and Tumble
The current residents of the Wombat Hilton arrived as a pair about two and a half months ago.
Rumble and Tumble are not brother and sister but they have been reared together since they were rescued in similar situations. Both their mothers were killed by cars.
Apparently wombats raised together like this don't mate with each other but it's apparent that Rumble and Tumble find WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-64417414380853012132012-08-30T15:56:00.001+10:002012-08-30T15:56:45.166+10:00Condensed
I was thrilled when I heard that the lovely people at Readers Digest wanted to condense Alzheimer's: A Love Story for their Encounters series. I'd heard of Readers Digest, of course, and of their condensed books, but I'd never heard of the Encounters series. The first thing I did was head across to wise old Mrs Google.
This is what she told me:
Encounters are series WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-84744251605696343802012-06-26T20:55:00.002+10:002012-06-26T20:55:28.845+10:00Autumn at Onemilebridge
Stig Cooper, a Mole Creek-based landscape and nature photographer, has always loved Onemilebridge in autumn. One day last May he came by to take some photos of her in all her golden glory.
I've been meaning to post some of the pictures here ever since but I haven't managed to get around to it.
Until now.
We've put a bigger selection of them up on onemilebridge's own WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-29396120678681677252012-04-27T18:39:00.000+10:002012-04-30T10:58:08.236+10:00Best Yoghurt Ever
We've got a thing about yoghurt in this family. It's delicious, it's healthy, and it's versatile because it can be served sweet or savoury. Plus it's a useful replacement for ice cream in a household that's trying to cut down on sugar but still enjoys desserts.
Farmdoc is our yoghurt chef and he's made several batches so far. They've all been pretty good - except perhaps for the one that WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-41309046197463933712012-03-13T16:48:00.000+11:002012-03-13T16:48:09.844+11:00Bye Bye Wombat Ben
There was a farewell here at Onemilebridge yesterday. One we approached happily and, might I say, with relief.
Wombat Ben has been released into the bush. His stay in the Wombat Hilton was a short one — possibly a record.
When he arrived he was already a good size — about 15 kg — so the only tasks he had to achieve were to separate from his human carers and to allow his natural tendencies WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-58807337579532012692012-03-10T13:46:00.000+11:002012-03-10T18:46:00.856+11:00Noah and the Dove in the Year of Reading
Did you know that this year is the Year of the Farmer and The Year of Reading? Got us here at Onemilebridge covered, coming and going.
In the midst of all the excitement about Wombat Ben I just found out that my short story, 'By Night I Swim', took out second prize in the Fellowship of Australian Writers National Short Story Award. How great is that!
Am I allowed to say that I really WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-34967841326361350642012-03-09T12:03:00.002+11:002012-03-10T13:54:06.755+11:00Wombat Ben The Builder
Personally, I reckon Ben is going to be out of the Wombat Hilton and into the wild in record time.
His renovations would put Grand Designs to shame! Though at least he can afford to complete his - and without a crippling mortgage too!
He's moved all the logs from one side of the top of the burrow to the other. It's hard to know if he's dug any new chambers down below, though I WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-32971821613812145292012-03-07T13:01:00.001+11:002012-03-07T13:01:10.994+11:00What Wombat Ben Did Next
It's interesting to watch Wombat Ben adjust to his new circumstances and to see his natural instincts come to the fore. While he lived with his previous carers he regarded them as members of his family. Even when they transferred him to an outdoor enclosure he used to perch on a log each morning, waiting for them to arrive with his food. When they turned up he'd follow them around, WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-76352214459996962682012-03-02T20:10:00.003+11:002012-03-02T20:15:21.900+11:00Wombat Ben Settles In
Sleeping by day, emerging late afternoon.
Serious renovations by night.
Shy of these new humans.
Not eating much yet, very little poo on show. Early days yet. Just settling in.WriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8719956617076822015.post-29060329761942367932012-03-01T11:17:00.000+11:002012-03-01T11:17:32.766+11:00Wombat Ben's First DayBen was not to be seen this morning, but there was plenty of evidence of his presence:
Some loose poo, though that's to be expected from the stress of the move.
Some serious renovation of the main burrow. The Poa that was there yesterday looks like it's been demolished. And the hay has disappeared too.
Some evidence of digging beneath the hollow log.
This is a huge moveWriterBeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14628264091204856514noreply@blogger.com2