Retail therapy

 This is a topic that the guys out there may have trouble with, but the women will understand. Feeling a bit on the seedy side on Saturday, I went and did some retail therapy. Unlike most women, though, I don’t go looking at clothes when I do retail therapy. To me that is just even more depressing. Things are either too big, too small, too expensive etc. Jewellery doesn’t do anything for me. Neither does perfume. Hats, bags, accessories, forget it. Must be something wrong with my feminine side.

 No, my retail therapy is quite different. I go to the hardware shop, the office supply shop or the craft shops. Saturday was the craft shops. Now as people know, I’m into anything tiny.  So I picked up a few bits and bobs, had a good look around to see what was available. Checked out what the latest crafts were – scrap booking, jewellery making and lots of other stuff, from cake decorating, to embroidery, to knitting, sewing, candle making and so on. I find it fascinating to see the sorts of crafts that interest people.

 At this time of the year, of course, there is everything in red, green, silver and gold. So if you want something other than those colours, you’ve gotta look at another time of the year.

 Watching people is also interesting, looking at what they buy, what they are making. One of the things I find interesting about crafts is how they go in and out. They are popular for a few years and then something else comes along. I remember candle making being the “in” thing for a while, and then chocolate making. Beer making was “in” for a while and everywhere you went you could find the materials for making your own beer. Now, they are few and far between.

 So pick your crafty hobbies carefully, they will be “out” soon and you won’t be able to keep doing it.

 Madeleine

Monday, 5 December 2005

Why are boys so important?

Why are boys so important? Why is it that so many girls have the problem of being “another bloody girl”? Does this happen to boys as well?

 I remember growing up and knowing that I was born wrong, simply because I was a girl. I know my father desperately wanted a boy and I suspect I was his last chance. I was the youngest of three girls. I also know that the pressure was also on my next older sister (three years older than me), to be a boy as well. I guess by the time they got to me, the pressure was even greater.

 I remember going to work in my dad’s factory at about age 16. All of us girls did at some stage and I have a vague recollection that for some reason I managed to get out of it for longer than the other two did. There was a woman there who had been there since the day dot, and had known my father all his working life. She said Hello to me. Then she said: “You’re one of Howard’s girls, aren’t you?” When I replied that I was, she said, “Oh, yes. He was bitterly disappointed when you were born”. What a thing to say to a 16 year old.

 I’ve met any number of women who’ve had the same feelings as I do. I guess the topic has come up for me tonight because in the group I ran today 3 of the women were in a similar position. They were not as important as a brother, or less than because they are the wrong sex.

 I remember looking at my Uncle Monte’s photos, knowing that I was meant to replace him. My father’s brother (Monte) died during the war. I suspect my father felt guilty. He was the older son. He was rejected by the army and didn’t go. Uncle Monte was killed during the war. If I had been a boy, I would have been called Montague (damn, I’m glad I’m not, what a handle to carry in this day and age).

 So why are boys more important than girls? Why are boys more wanted than girls? I know that in some countries, girl babies are killed. I know that in China, because of the one child policy, that female foetus’s are often aborted. Is the name so incredibly important that the child herself is not.

 I had one of each. Each time, I just wanted a healthy baby. I got one healthy baby, the second not so healthy. It was the health I wanted, not what sex they were. Why is gender more important than health?

 There’s another memory hiding in the background somewhere, but I can’t quite grab hold of it. Never mind, when it’s ready it will surface.

 
Madeleine

Tuesday, 29 November 2005

Memories: Old Diaries March 1972

 I was just browsing an old diary of my trip to Australia at the age of 25. I remember that my flight ended up being nothing like it was initially planned.

 March 2 1972: “Weather very bad. Freezing rain and snow. Taxi to airport only to find flight cancelled.”

 I remember looking at the trees in the very very early morning light – they had ice dripping from their bare branches. Incredibly beautiful, but at about 5:30 a.m. knowing you were supposed to be flying that morning, not particularly pleasant. I had also rung the airlines to make sure the flight had not been cancelled. I was informed that it hadn’t. I was not a virgin flyer, had flown many times and knew the routine.

 I apparently dozed in the airport for a couple of hours and then played around between BOAC and Air Canada as to who was going to sort out my trip. By this time it was lunch time.

 Obviously I was on the plane at this stage and trying to distract myself. Never been a good flyer.

“Weather still bad. Hope not too much turbulence. Here we go!!

Signs in Italian and English Vietato Fumare (No Smoking), Allacciare Le Cinture (Fasten Seat Belt), Uscita (Exit)”

Definitely trying to distract myself. By this stage it would have been 4:30 p.m. Montreal time. I’d been up for 12 hours already and just leaving Dorval Airport.

 “Arrive Chicago, absolutely beat. After customs (the SOB’s went through everything)…”

I ended up spending the night in Chicago. “It’s a bit ridiculous though. Woke up Montreal 4:30 a.m. and here it is 9:45 p.m. and I’m 2 hours from Montreal. Great way to travel”.

 At the same time was the worry that I was being met at the airport in Brisbane, but was due to arrive in Sydney, as all my travel plans had changed. This was before the days of email, so a telegram was sent to allay people’s fears when I didn’t arrive on time.

 “The plane had all sorts of mod cons, like stereo radio, and movies on screens that came down from where the light and oxygen are. The screens were not synchronised at all and not each seat with a screen”

 Well, things have really changed since then!! This flight was from Chicago to Hawaii. “Four hours is a long time to do nothing. Especially when you had previously done nothing for 9 hours”. Gotta giggle at that one. From Hawaii I flew to Nadi in Fiji. “It was a pretty rough trip. So rough it woke me up twice”.

 Obviously I was taking sleepers along the way “No more pills though. Must let last lot wear off.” I still take pills when I fly. Only nowadays, doctors are loathe to give them to you for fear of this deep vein thrombosis stuff. What do they know. I’ve been taking sleepers to help me fly for years!!

 “Boy Australia must have the nicest customs officers in the world. They were all very friendly and actually smiled at me. Guy was most apologetic cause he wanted to see my tape recorder”. Now this was a reel to reel tape recorder, nothing fancy and small like they have now.

 Arriving in Sydney, “Came out of customs and asked where the domestic flights were and was informed that they were waiting for me. Held the plan up for me no less. Was scurried (in a very relaxed sort of a way) to the domestic terminal and within minutes after I checked in we took off”. Now, would any airline hold a flight nowadays for a late arrival, even if it wasn’t their fault!!

 By the time I arrived in Brisbane I was a mess. Not only short on sleep, but I do hate flying.

 Interesting read. As I have said before. I’ve written for years. Now I’m really glad I did. So many memories locked up in old diaries.

 Madeleine

Thursday, 24 November 2005

I hate summer

 Summer is coming to Perth. I’ve got the air conditioner on this morning. First time for the summer. I hate summer. I hate the heat. I hate getting into my hot car. I don’t understand people who don’t like the rain, who revel in the sun on their body. I don’t understand people who like the constant, unrelenting sun. The sun that never stops and goes on and on and on. Perth people actually go to the beach in the summer. They sit in the hot sun, and they burn their skin. What a funny thing to do. If I wanted dark skin, I would have been born black. I hate sweating. I hate feeling hot all the time.

 People say to me “Think cold”. Huh?? Think cold. Do you really think that’s going to make me feel more comfortable. People say “You can get cool in the summer, but can’t get warm in the winter”. Huh?? To get warm in the winter, go to bed. Try some doona therapy. Ever tried doona therapy in the summer? Forget it!!

 Maybe I’m too attached to my doona and that’s why I hate summer. I have to put doona away in the summer. Poooor doona. Being locked in the cupboard for months on end. Does this mean years of therapy, to grieve for my doona, sitting in the darkness, all alone. Or does this mean years of therapy to challenge my enmeshment with my doona. Oh, dear. All this just because I hate summer!!

 Madeleine

Saturday, 19 November 2005

Nightmare
Nightmare 1
Awake. Heart’s pounding. Eyes open. Staring around the room. Looking for the danger. Out of bed. Check the house. Check the kids. I’m awake. Got a process to go through to make sure it doesn’t come back. Turn the lights on. Check every room. Check the kids. Everything is still the same. Still okay. Go to the loo. Have a drink. Maybe make a sandwich. Depends on the dream. If it’s too bad, make a sandwich and watch a bit of tv for a while. Can’t go back to sleep until the dream has gone. Write it down helps sometime. Don’t analyse nightmares. Just want to forget them. Dream’s going. Body’s relaxing. Feeling sleepy again. Is it safe to go to sleep yet. Little while longer. Curl up in bed again. Warm. Body relaxing. Sleep coming. It’s morning and I’m safe again.

Nightmare 2
Wake. Gotta wake up properly. So deep. I know that if I don’t get up, the dream will return with all it’s danger. Don’t want to wake up. Don’t want to get out of bed. Know I have to. Tired. Sooo tired. Gotta wake up. Pull yourself out of the dream, girl. Gotta get out of bed. Soo tired. Sleep so deep. Wake up. I’m awake. Foggy in the head. Don’t want to wake up, sooo tired. Gotta wake up, get rid of the dream. Finally I’m awake, but sleep still pulls and pushes. Sleep so nice and forgetful. Nightmares so disturbing. Again, get out of bed, turn on the lights, check the house, check the kids, do the process. You know that keeps you from the dream and makes it go away.

That was then. This is now.

Bad dream
I wake up. I know I’ve had a bad dream. There is a big difference between a bad dream and a nightmare. A bad dream is unpleasant. It doesn’t leave you feeling fearful, just knowing that if the dream had continued it would have become a nightmare. Now, I don’t have nightmares, I have the occasional bad dream.

Tonight came close to a nightmare, but only because of what my brain did with the dream after I woke up. Almost awake. Was I really awake when my brain took the dream that step further from bad dream to almost nightmare. The dream still hanging on. I know now that it won’t come back if I go to sleep, however, sleep isn’t there for some reason.

So I write. Writing has always helped with nightmares. Get them out of the system. I’ve got no idea what I’m writing tonight. Just know that I have to write. I used to have an old 286 laptop which sat beside my bed. You could turn it off in a Word Perfect document and turn it back on at the same place. I would switch it on and there would be the latest writing. Writing out the dream helps to let it go sometimes. Sometimes write out the fear. Sometimes write out the frustration of constant nightmares. Sometimes 2 or 3 a night. No wonder I was so tired during the day.

That doesn’t happen any more. No more nightmares. Just the occasional bad dream. I don’t know when they stopped. I don’t know why they stopped. I’m just really glad they did. Some nights my fingers wouldn’t type properly and would have to sort out the spelling the next day. But always writing helps. Like tonight. I can feel my body relaxing and wanting to go back to sleep. No more worries that the dream will come back. It is fading into the background at last. Always a good feelings.

Going back to bed is good. Warm. Cozy. Comfortable. Feel the warmth creeping up and sleep taking over. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Goodnight.

Saturday, 19 November 2005
3:24 AM