Thursday, 15 May 2014
All week I've driving down the
Bruce Highway, away from , to a small town to do some temp work
there. The trip down is a beaut. Yes, the road is crap and there are lots of
cowboys on it, but the scenery is so Far North Cairns with sugar cane fields and banana
plantations on either side of the road competing with mountains like Walsh's
Pyramid (pictured) , Bartle Frere and Bellenden Kerr. As I was drove along thinking
about lots of things, singing along to a Tim McGraw CD at the top of my lungs and
thinking about living in a shack, surrounded by an odd assortment of farm
animals, growing vegetables and generally being the 'old ratbag woman who lives
over there in that shack.' Yeah, I'm looking forward to that. Queensland
Monday, 12 May 2014
Saturday, 10 May 2014
So, I've been fighting a long, drawn out, tense battle all to do with honouring another's actions and words. It's never occurred to me to give up. You don't give up on honour let alone the rights and beliefs of another. Because someone dies it doesn't mean their words and wishes die. Those words are as real and as important as on the day they were spoken and written down. That person depended on you to follow through and make sure their wishes were heard. They needed them to be understood. Simple as that. Giving up a fight because it's hard? No fucking way will I let someone down. Ever.
Someone said to me "Don't you wish it was happening to someone else?" My answer was no and I explained that no one else could handle this as well as I am. Yeah, I'm full of myself but my mother always told everyone her duck (me) was a swan - calm on the outside but bite your damn hand off if you pushed her. I know there are no limits to what I will do when it comes to loyalty. I don't understand disloyal people or those who think a man's words can be overturned through selfishness and bullying.
Disloyalty? You reap what you sow.
Saturday, 3 May 2014
So, Norbert died yesterday. I was pretty surprised to find him dead. I looked at Cheryl, Neville and Louise. They were looking down at him. Then they looked at me. I said, "What's the go?" They didn't respond. Budgies are like that. Inscrutable. Stoic. Closed mouthed.
Just now I went outside to bring in the dried laundry. Ursula, my beauty challenged chook, was staring at something on the grass. I wandered over and found a dead budgie. Another one. Hmmm. This was grey and not mine. I suspected this one was an escapee. I wandered over to the budgie cage and looked at my three remaining budgies. They were tight lipped but exchanging furtive glances as if they knew too much. Hmmm.
I disposed of the runaway as I did Norbert, a weird side plot in the current story I'm writing coming to mind. Will there be a third budgie death to intrigue over? Hmmm...