Sunday, July 13, 2014

HMMMMM…..WHAT DO I WANT TO BE WHEN I GROW UP?



Marilyn Jones & Garth Welch...Australian Ballet Company Circa Early 60s.
The legendary Margo Fonteyn







Even after decades pondering this difficult, massive, life-altering decision I still haven’t a clue what I want to be when I grow up. Like a grasshopper, I jump from idea to idea. Do I really have to make my mind up today? 

Once upon a time long ago, inspired by many visits to circuses, to be a trapeze artist flew high on my list; but after a few practice sessions, that idea came crashing down with a thud.

After reading articles and watching newsreels about prima ballerina Margot Fonteyn, and following the graceful en pointe techniques of Australian ballet dancer, Marilyn Jones, a prima ballerina I would be. In reality, what was the point?  There was little chance of that particular dream coming into fruition because my ballet lessons lasted for about a year only – not enough time to fulfill my dream. I was devastated when I discovered I’d need more than 12 months’ worth of lessons to reach the dizzy heights of Fonteyn or Jones.

Pirate movies stirred the urges to become a cutlass-brandishing pirate-girl while wearing knee-high boots and a flouncy pirate’s blouse, minus eye patch. Thoughts of running away to be a pirate still linger.

Being a cowgirl was considered; a desire heightened regularly by the westerns shown at Saturday matinees. If given a choice I’d have chosen to be an alluring, glamorous Hollywood-version of Annie Oakley or Calamity Jane, rather than one of the dance hall girls; although I did love their captivating gowns; so to be a dance hall girl did have its attractions, too.  I could have been tempted if a handsome, gun-twirling, whip-cracking cowboy strolled into the bar....

Any thoughts of being a pirate pillaging and plundering on the high seas, or a cowgirl riding the ranges soon changed when I saw “Elephant Walk” starring Elizabeth Taylor and Peter Finch.

Liz met Finch in a bookstore. It was a case of love at first sight when they set eyes on each other.  Oh! The romance of it all! It was then I decided I wanted a job in a bookshop or library when I grew up; or become a movie star. For a while my head floated aloft amongst the ethereal clouds when dreaming about either plan. 

Perhaps I should’ve frequented more milk bars. At only 16 years old, Lana Turner, one afternoon after high school, was discovered while sipping soda in a milk bar/drugstore; but, as mentioned in a previous post, I wasn’t fond of milkshakes, or of hanging around milk bars, thereby limiting my chances of being “discovered”.  Also, I didn’t like wearing skin-tight sweaters or twinsets. In particular, I was never a member of the “twinset” set; skintight or otherwise; and, I wasn’t a pearl sort of girl.

At the age of 17 I had a “light bulb moment, but it soon dimmed.  A nurse! That’s what I’d be – a nurse!  I’d go to Brisbane; to the Princess Alexandra Hospital, where I’d do my training. Brimmed with excitement at the thought, I raced home from work during my lunch hour to inform my mother of my momentous decision. Time was of the essence; and I didn’t want to waste it. Mum was sitting before the mirror on her duchess, applying make-up in readiness to go to town or to work.  She listened, showing great interest as I breathlessly prattled on at high speed. When I finally gasped for air, without hesitation and not missing a beat, my mother agreed it would be a wonderful idea.  Her acceptance without argument of my plan immediately deflated me.  Her agreement to my plan burst my bubble; my balloon.  I never did become a nurse.  Reverse psychology worked at its best!

Similar happened when I came up with another new, even brighter idea. I’d join the Air Force; but that meant I’d have to live even further away from home; and although the idea of leaving hearth and home was a thrilling prospect in my daydreams, the reality of doing so was an entirely different scenario, particular when I was, seemingly, being pushed out of the nest so eagerly by my mother without her even ruffling a feather!

After reading the romantic, sentimental novels written by Aussie novelist F.J. Thwaites I fell under the spell of his brooding, mysterious heroes. In all his books, the handsome, rugged protagonist always had a stray, wayward lock of hair falling wantonly and carelessly upon his broad brow. He’d suffered emotional damage in his past whether through his own fault or that of others. He of the wayward, errant lock was in need of redemption. His tortured soul desperately required healing; his broken, battered cold heart screamed out in silence wanting to be mended and warmed.  Who better to up the heat, than the innocent, young governess from the city to cure all his ills; or the new teacher at the local country school? 

The author took the reader to exotic places, not just to Australian outback cattle stations, but to the mystic East; to tropical islands; to the sands of the Sahara;across to the Alps in Switzerland and beyond.  No matter where the locale, the hero was always a wounded, tormented soul; and the brave heroine, not one to ever give up, fought to the end to mend and win his heart.  She always succeeded in her endeavours; and they lived happily ever after.  F. J. Thwaites most certainly was the precursor to Mills and Boon.

It was Thwaites' fault I toyed with the idea of becoming a governess way out west. For all I knew, there in the hot, dusty outback my knight in shining armour could very well have been waiting for me to rescue him.  I never became a governess, so the poor fellow is probably still waiting, but as I've taken so long to venture out beyond the Great Divide his once shining armour is now rusty.

Of course, distance was also why I didn’t follow up being a movie star.  Hollywood, with all its glitz and glamour beckoned, but it was too far away! 

Call me a chicken, I don’t mind.  I was a spring chicken then; now I’m just an old chook!

I often dreamed of being a singer - without the twerking, of course - wowing audiences far and wide. A dampener promptly put paid to that brilliant idea. When I sing in the shower the water runs, screaming, back up the shower head quick smart; a fair indication there is no future on the stage for me. I’m no “Singing Budgie”; I’m more an “Off-Key Galah”.

What to be when I grow up is an important decision to make; one not to be taken lightly.  Until I know definitely what I want to do when I grow up, I shall remain in pondering mode. There is no hurry….

Moroccan Chicken Soup: Heat a little oil in large pan; add 1 chopped onion and 2 chopped carrots; cook 5mins; add 1 chopped garlic clove and 3tsp harissa spices; cook 1min. Stir in 125g barley, 800g canned chopped tomatoes, a sprinkling of chilli and oregano and 1.3ltrs cold water. Bring to boil; then simmer 15mins. To pan add 50g chopped dried apricots, 410g can chickpeas, drained and rinsed, 140g cooked roast chicken, cut into bite-size pieces and chopped parsley. Cook 10mins.  

Chicken-Filled Potatoes: Preheat oven 180C. Prick 4 large, unpeeled baking potatoes; bake whole, 45mins. Heat 1tbs olive oil in fry-pan; cook 160g roughly-chopped bacon, 5mins; add 140g cooked roast chicken, cut into small pieces; toss 1min to warm through; stir in 100g small-leaf spinach and 50g grated cheddar.  Make a cross in each potato; ease open. Fill with mixture; top with more grated cheddar. Heat under hot grill until cheese is melted. 

Chicken-Potato Pie: Preheat oven 200C.  Thinly slice 4-6 medium, unpeeled potatoes. Dice 1 onion, 1 capsicum, halve and slice 1 zucchini. In pan fry onion in a little oil; add the capsicum and 3 chicken breasts, cut into small chunks; cook until chicken is lightly browning; add 2 crushed garlic cloves, zucchini, 1tbs smoked paprika and 1tsp dried thyme; cook 2-3mins; stir in 600g passata, a squirt of tomato sauce and seasonings. Simmer 2mins; transfer to ovenproof dish. Top with sliced potatoes, working round and layering as you go. Bake 25-30mins. If desired, sprinkle with a little grated cheese; melt in oven before serving.

24 comments:

  1. I hear you. And there is a huge problem for me (and I think for you). I don't want to grow up. And might have left it a bit late anyway.

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  2. Yep! I have no desire to grow up, EC! Who wants the responsibility...not I? :)

    Thanks for popping in. Take care. :)

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  3. What's this? We have to grow up? But I was having so much fun being a kid!
    oh well, if I must. I could be a drummer or piano player for a rock band. Not that I know how, but have you heard the music of today? It wouldn't matter, surely.
    or I could own and run a secondhand bookstore with a coffee'n'cake section. I'd make the cakes.

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  4. We can be anyone we want to be, River...in our minds. :)

    And who says we can't be Peter Pan while doing so?

    Thanks for coming by. :)

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  5. Can I not grow up and still get a chicken-potato pie?

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  6. I was anxious to see how you were going to work Sweater Girls into this. At one point as a kid, I wanted to work on a garbage truck. Thought it would be fun to ride on the back of the truck all day. Glad that one didn't work out.

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  7. I was going to me a missionary but had no thought of what I would take to the people I visited. Guess I thought sharing my delightful presence with them would cheer the downtrodden.

    I want to try the Chicken potato pie but have no idea what some of your ingredients are. I do have potatoes,zucchini, cheese and tomato sauce.

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  8. You can still remain as Peter Pan, Cosmo and have as much potato-chicken pie as you like.

    Thanks for coming by. :)

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  9. Riding on the back of a garbage truck would be a much easier job these days, Dexter...because now they're all automatic/hydraulic-operated or whatever...the garbage men of today have it easy...they don't have to lift a finger, let alone a garbage bin.

    So your dream could still come true...just think of all the streets you'd visit that you didn't know existed! ;)

    Nice to see you. By the way, our garbage collection here is tomorrow morning...every Tuesday morning. ;)

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  10. Hiya Granny Annie...I'm not sure what ingredients you're unsure of...perhaps it's the capsicum you're referring to....capsicums are known in the US as bell peppers, or red peppers/green peppers. Passata is tomato puree. Other than those you have/know the rest.

    Thanks for popping in...enjoy your chicken-potato pie. :)

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  11. Years ago, when I asked an older man, who was already 6' 10'', what he wanted to be when he grew up, he answered with, "A giant!"

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  12. I wanted to be a doctor but my science teacher put paid to that by declaring I drew horrible bunsen burners! So I became a linguist but I haven't grown up yet!

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  13. To grow up would be rather disappointing don't yawl think? I just screamed with laughter as I read the shower scene. To grow up means you are boxed and cannot get out and your imagination goes as stale as twenty year old bread. Peace

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  14. I love that fellow's reply, Jerry. I wonder if he achieved his goal! ;)

    Nice to see you. :)

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  15. I'm glad to hear that you, too, have yet to grow up, Pat. With all us kids running around we could form a gang! ;)

    Thanks for coming by...cuddles for Simi. :)

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  16. I'm with you, Lady Di...it would be be very disappointing and oh, so boring to grow up! I refuse to do so! I'm stamping my foot!

    Thanks for coming by. :)

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  17. I love the pirate idea, but who says you have to grow up? :)

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  18. Not me, RK...I don't say it and as I rarely do as I'm told, I won't be growing up anytime soon.

    Thanks for popping in. :)

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  19. What do I want to be when I grow up? Hmmm ... I shall let you know when I grow up! Which, I suspect, will be never. And that's just fine with me:)

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  20. Same here, Wendy...I'm quite happy to remain ungrown-up!

    Thanks for coming by. :)

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  21. Have you thought of being a cook.....?

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  22. Ummmmm...Adullamite...you do jest, do you not? I cooked professionally in a number of restaurants etc.. over the years.

    Thanks for dropping by...I hope you're feeling lots better. :)

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  23. I wanted to be Maureen O'Hara, pirate queen. Then Cyd Charisse, her of the gorgeous legs and beautiful gowns. When I was about 7, I wanted to be George from the Famous Five...oh the list goes on. As I haven't grown up yet, these days a female version of Dr Who appeals, purely because I could then have a Tardis!

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  24. Hiya Robyn...yes, Cyd Charisse certainly was beautiful...and those legs of hers...they were stunning. I used to love her. She was so classy, too.

    I wanted to be Audrey Hepburn, too...after first seeing her in "Roman Holiday". Oh! How wonderful she was!

    After every Saturday matinee I became anyone I wanted to be for the following week! lol

    Thanks for coming by. :)

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