Sunday, 31 January 2016

Fiz: 65

Well, I’ve made it to 65!

I had been practising saying it in my mind—‘I’m 65 years old’—and so prematurely said I was two weeks ago. Dementia?!

The dreaded dementia: I am tired of myself worrying about dementia. It has to stop. What will be will be.  Oh, I’m into all the preventative stuff because I enjoy keeping my brain and body active but I don’t want to mar my life now by worrying about what might befall me. Besides, it is just as well that we wear out: I imagine it makes us far more accepting of death.

On the bright side, being 65 is a licence to being a tad reckless. ‘If I don’t do it now, I might never do it’ is a neat justification that I am already employing.

Tuesday, 26 January 2016

There is something special about a 50-year friendship—that is after I get over the shock of it being 50 years since Jenny and I both started at Commercial College, Kangaroo Point, Brisbane. With someone who has known you for half a century, you can’t really bullshit or gloss over those bits that I would now rather forget. They know. They knew you then.

But this is also a comfort; because when I talk about my mum or dad, they are people she knew too. 

Last night I sat on Jenny’s deck in Auckland and we reminisced about old times. We started nursing at Princess Alexandra Hospital, South Brisbane at around the same time. In those days, student nurses lived in the ‘nurses quarters’ and for me and many others it was the first taste of independence. Jenny always seemed to have an extra bloke or two and dating was our major past time (mmmm I probably would need to explain the concept to today’s young people.) I bailed from nursing in second year but Jenny stuck to nursing, married a Kiwi and has been living over here ever since. Perhaps our friendship has endured because of the distance. Who knows? I do know that it is precious.
A toast to friendship—old, new or middling!

Cheers Fiz

Monday, 18 January 2016

Fiz: Taking stock

My grandson turned 12 years old on Thursday. He is good-looking like his dad—the same lanky frame and a smile worth waiting for. I love him fiercely. My mind goes back to the day he was born. I was attending a writing and editing course at the MacGregor Summer School at Toowoomba’s university, and so it is no wonder that I wrote a poem about his birth (see Fizlings).

It was a year of new beginnings in so many ways…

Thursday, 14 January 2016

Naz: Communication malfunction

Communication fascinates me and the more I think about it the more I am amazed that we communicate as well as we do.  
I was asked this week

Monday, 11 January 2016

Fiz: How to juggle

I was nosing around in the Buderim Rare Bookstore. There were lots of worthwhile classics and important looking books but I was content to leave them there and just browse. Then as I was leaving, I noticed it: Juggling for the complete klutz.

How could I resist?