Thursday, May 7, 2009

Men Don't Dance Anymore

There is a great Beccy Cole song called Men Don't Dance Anymore.... I can't find a video clip of it unfortunately but I found this poster and liked the humour



Well bless my soul what's wrong with you all crowded round the bar
The girls are on the dance floor while you brag about your cars
You don't have to move like Elvis to get out on the floor
'Cause men Don't Dance Anymore

Well you shake my nerves and rattle my brain but you just don't docey doe
You're all standing still while the play every song I know
Don't you know what those RM Williams boots are really for
Men Don't Dance Anymore

Let me show you something that will drive the girls insane
Every woman in this place will want to know your name
Clap your hands, shake your hips, turn around like this
But Men Don't Dance Anymore

Bop Bop A Lula a wap bam boo I think you're almost there
The girls are going crazy but you ain't no Fred Astaire
And now the boys are in a conga line and heading for the door
Men Don't Dance Anymore

Couples on the dance floor that's how it's supposed to be
If you don't know what to do..boys just follow me
Step right, step left, pelvic thrust, shake your head
But Men Don't Dance Anymore
Oh No Men Don't Dance Anymore
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Saturday, May 2, 2009

Faces of a French Market

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Monday, March 23, 2009

WALLS, WINDOWS and DETAILS

I have put together a series of photos depicting the interesting and quirky details of village buildings in south west France. Ranging from windows only as wide as a hand, to beautiful street signs and from wooden beams to door knockers. Coming from a modern country like Australia with no buildings dating back further than the 18oo's, I found it fascinating to wander the ancient streets of France and imagine the lives lived during the history of these buildings, most dating from the 1300's.

These are streets and buildings still functioning today as towns, homes and businesses. Despite the ancient exterior appearance, inside is modern, clean and functional. Rooves are often fitted with TV aerials and satellite dishes but advertising of any sort is rare and finding a particular shop or business can be extraordinarily difficult as addresses are vague and signage almost non-existent.

Market days bring crowds and the streets are bustling but the rest of the week is quiet and perfect for photography. Everything closes for lunch and siesta between 12 and 2 or 3 or even 4 and the villages become ghost-like, with only the restaurants showing any signs of life at all. Pots of plants are everywhere and indicate that people do actually live inside. During winter there was not a lot of colourful plantings but come spring, doorsteps will be edged in pots of geraniums and window boxes will overflow with colour.

Luckily for the visitor, French people have kept their beautiful, old buildings and not demolished them in the name of progress. To their way of thinking it does not matter what a building looks like on the outside, it is what is inside that counts. Renovations are only carried out to stop complete collapse of the walls. So they remain living history; a rare and wonderful thing in this era of cheap and nasty architecture.

Long live the French village.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

A STORY OF THE WIND

It was time to start reading a new book. I have finished and enjoyed "The Private Patient" by P.D.James and also a wonderful book that I found in a second hand shop in Moonta, called "Spice Travels" by Ian Hemphill. He is a spice merchant from Sydney whose passion for spices has led him all over the world in pursuit of knowledge about the growing and processing of every spice on earth. So, I had 2 choices left, both recommendations from son Alex. First "The Ancestor's Tale", nearly 700 pages of Richard Dawkin's fascinating and beautifully written book on evolution. Second, "A Short History of Myth" by Karen Armstrong.

I have read about half of the introduction of each....and here I am thinking about humans being meaning-seeking creatures who conversely also have an imagination that allows us to think of things that have no existence. It is going to take me a long time to digest both of these books at this rate! As I gaze out of the shack window, while my mind considers facts and myths, the fact that is most noticeable is that the wind is coming up yet again while Roger imagines the feats he could achieve windsurfing, now that Langmuire has arrived.

The wind wriggles into life in some most interesting ways. Some of them are universal, some local. Some are obvious, some only observed by crazy people like me who seek both the real and the myth. Some beneficial, some not, but all a very real part of existence for every living thing on earth. So, who is Langmuire?

DSC_0001-4 As the wind strengthens, it has various universally understood effects on the water beginning with ripples and waves and progressing to what we call white-caps (or white horses) from about 10 knots and then white foam forming in lines directly downwind at about 15 knots. I cannot explain the scientific reason for these white lines but I do know they are called Langmuire's Circulations, after a Mr. Langmuire. In my photo at left the white line cuts across the sea just below the writing.image

 

In the photo at right you can see that the lines extend downwind of the reef.

This is the point at which Roger goes windsurfing as he knows there is enough wind and he can see the direction, without even going outside.....thanks Mr Langmuire! 

 

Before Mr Langmuire visits, though, other things happen..... the horizon turns from a soft blue, blending perfectly with the sky, to a sharp, dark line heralding the arrival of the afternoon sea breeze. If I am walking on this beach on a still day, before the sea breeze arrives, it is totally silent, as where I walk is very shallow and there is not even a ripple on the shore sometimes. There are no roads for many miles and rarely any people.... just the pure, pristine sea, and me. As the wind begins to rise, I can hear it far out at sea. It is quite beautiful and unreal to hear the wind in the distance but it be completely still where I am standing. As the first tiny flutters of breeze erratically approach the shore, the movement of the surface of the crystal clear water reflects on the sand below and makes delicate patterns, like light glistening through thousands of pieces of glass. It is quite breath-taking.

These first breaths bring pockets of air from who knows how far away. Some are hot, some cool and eventually they mix to form a  breeze uniformly cooled by its drifting across the sea. Even on a hot day, the air doesn't need to travel far across the sea to cool down or far across the land to heat up. Just sitting in the shallows instead of further up the beach makes a hell of a hot day into a pleasant one.

Just before Mr Langmuire arrives though, sand and seaweed start to blow along the beach, the windows start whistling, it becomes a challenge to sit outside and read without losing your hat and the local gulls start playing in the wind.They flap upwind for a while then turn like an acrobatic plane and shoot down the beach at break neck speed, without so much as one flap of their wings. They do this over and over on windy days, especially the larger, darker gulls, who also use the wind to hover as if in a windless cage, just outside our window, even in what seems like a gale, showing us just what nature can do, unaided.

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Nature does very well when left alone..... here are a couple of recent examples.

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Saturday, December 6, 2008

THE GAME OF 6 BILLION PEGS

What chance is there of ever finding the right peg for the right hole? Sometimes it seems like a perfect fit but after a bit of of travelling, the edges rub and gaps enlarge and by part way through the journey it is obvious the two just are not compatible after all. 

Some say never mind, better the devil you know than one you don't.

Some argue about which is the wrong piece.

Some try to smooth corners and fill gaps to help ease the wounds.

Some find that the wounds begin to fester and so cover themselves in armour for protection.

Some blame themselves and try to change to better fit the other.

Some hide behind a cheery face.

Some fail to see the train heading straight towards them.

Some spend half a lifetime doing all of the above and then, just when all seems lost, the right peg arrives, quite unexpectedly.

They both know it is right instictively.

They share a common thread but need no strings.

They laugh and love and look and talk in harmony.

They jump hurdles, climb mountains and swim through floods to stay in touch.

They dream of being together.... some day some how.

They know and understand about the pain it will cause the other pegs in their lives.

But they only get one turn around the park..... one chance at life.

Take a leap and always trust your cape.











Thursday, July 24, 2008

Old Friends

There is nothing like old friends. You can be separated by thousands of miles, not see each other for years and have lots of new friends but, when you get together again with an old friend, it is like you only saw each other yesterday.

I have such a friend who lives in Tasmania. We met in the Adelaide Uni Mountain Club and have kept in touch ever since. She came to stay recently and it was fabulous. She came to Wednesday gardening, we stayed up late talking, we laughed and reminisced and talked about everything but most of all we were just at ease with other. In my post on the blog about her stay, I likened her to an old gardening boot - comfortable and warm - and she sent me an email when she read it saying thanks, that was a compliment and she felt the same way.

Yesterday I got a birthday card from her. It is all hand made and full of drawings and cuttings of vegetables and birds and flowers and says everything a friend would want to hear on their 50th birthday ..... including the bit about me always being hungry for good food! Along with another hand-made card I have received, this will be cherished and not hidden away in a drawer when the birthday is over.

People do change a bit over time but old friends know you from the inside out so there is nothing that can be hidden from them! I am very lucky to have a few old friends and a few is all I need.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

ALWAYS TRUST YOUR CAPE


I heard this song for the first time yesterday and I thought how it is like my philosophy of taking a leap and seeing where you land, all put into words and made into a song. (I liked the Australian version I heard but it is not available online). If you never move outside your your comfort zone you are not really living, it seems to me. I always encouraged my boys to be the ones to say yes, I will give it a go, even when they didn't know if they could do it....always trust your cape.

Eight years old with flour sack cape
Tied all around his neck
He climbed up on the garage
Figurin’ what the heck
He screwed his courage up so tight
The whole thing come unwound
He got a runnin’ start and bless his heart
He headed for the ground

Chorus :
He’s one of those who knows that life
Is just a leap of faith
Spread your arms and hold you breath
Always trust your cape
.
All grown up with a flour sack cape
Tied all around his dream
He’s full of piss and vinegar
He’s bustin’ at the seams
He licked his finger and checked the wind
It’s gonna be do or die
He wasn’t scared of nothin’, boys
He was pretty sure he could fly

Chorus

Old and grey with a flour sack cape
Tied all around his head
He’s still jumpin’ off the garage
And will be till he’s dead
All these years the people said
He’s actin’ like a kid
He did not know he could not fly
......So he did

Chorus