TO DREAM THE IMPOSSIBLE DREAM…

                                                                                             

                                                                                            

Call me a dreamer…I don’t care. The truth doesn’t hurt.  I’m packing my bags. Off to Dreamland I’m headed….to Dreamland, not the Gold Coast’s Dreamworld Theme Park.  My Dreamland is a land filled with peace, harmony, love, happiness, kindness, respect, understanding, and goodwill.  With all that going on one might think it’s over-crowded, but it’s not.  Everything blends together evenly and smoothly; riding the crest of an endless wave.

When I was a little girl, and then a not so little girl, my mind was often in the clouds as I travelled off to Dreamland.  It soon became a favourite place of mine to visit.  Sometimes Tony Curtis came along with me.  Other times I was riding pillion on a Vespa motor scooter, holding on tightly to Gregory Peck as we scooted around the streets and laneways of Rome with me pretending I was the exquisite Audrey Hepburn in “Roman Holiday”.  Three coins were thrown into the Trevi Fountain at each passing, and wishes made.

Oh! How I wanted to be prima ballerina like Victoria Page, the character played by Moira Shearer in the movie “The Red Shoes”.  I adored that movie, and still do to this day.  My mother was a very good dancer. She mastered the graceful arts of ballet, tap, and ballroom.  Mum tried to teach me how to tap dance.  She didn’t force it when it soon became obvious I wasn’t going to become a Ginger Rogers or Ann Miller reincarnate.

In my Dreamland I was a famous artist with my paintings exhibited in galleries worldwide. I was also a poet of note.  A few times fame came when the then kid’s magazine, “Chucklers’ Weekly” published some of my drawings and poems. That’s as far as my renown spread.

 I loved the stories my Nana told me of her younger days, about the horses that shared her life; of how she loved to ride.  My imagination galloped wildly. In my dreamland I was a courageous, cowgirl like Annie Oakley or Calamity Jane. As I didn’t have a horse, let alone know how to ride one, broomsticks became my useful substitutes.   They were worth their salt in wood and straw. I’m eyeing off mine at present. It’s almost time for me to fly off to the supermarket!

Circus movies I also loved.  Live circuses toured annually when I was a kid. Both the movies and the real things transported me off to a wonder world; off into Dreamland.  Three circuses…Wirth’s, Ashton’s, and Bullen’s visited Gympie each year.  I wanted to join the circus, not as a clown, but as a flying trapeze artist, flying through the air with the greatest of ease; no safety net required.  These days, circuses would eagerly accept me as a clown. No expenditure would be necessary for make-up, either.  So that would be a big saving, both on their count, and mine!

To find myself within the world of the March sisters of “Little Women” became one of my favourite places to be. Depending on my mood of the day, I could be Meg, Amy, Beth or, more often than not, free-spirited, strong-willed, loyal, sensitive Jo. Disguising her kind heart and gentle soul, Jo called a spade a spade. She looked at the world, and those in it, directly in the eye.

Dreamland, a place where happiness and goodwill abound; where love is all around, turning every day into St. Valentine’s Day. A joy-filled world, one where the hills are alive with melodious music, laughter and peaceful harmony. A magical land, one where you can, to your heart’s and stomach’s content, without guilt, devour old-time favourites like Chocolate Crackles and Lemon Meringue Tarts, not caring if chocolate and meringue gets all over your face.

Reality is too often cruel and heartlessly harsh, jarring one’s senses. Hence, it doesn’t hurt to dream. To have an escape hatch is always handy.

Lemon Meringue Pie: Pre-heat oven 180C.  Put 225g plain flour and 175g butter into food processor; blend until it resembles fine breadcrumbs. Add 45g icing sugar, 1 large, beaten egg and 1tbs water; whizz until combined to a ball. Tip pastry onto work surface; roll out to 3mm thickness. Use rolling pin to lift pastry up; transfer it to lined 23cm/9in loose-bottomed flan tin. Don’t stretch pastry as you tuck it into the corners. Cover in cling-wrap; place in fridge; chill 30mins.  Remove from fridge; trim excess pastry.  Press top of pastry so it stands slightly higher than top of tin. Line case with paper; fill with baking beans; bake about 15mins; remove beans and paper; return to oven for 5mins. Remove from oven; lower temp to 170C. Filling: Mix zest and juice of 6 lemons with 65g cornflour to smooth paste. In pan, bring to boil 450ml water; add lemon/cornflour mix to the hot water; stir over heat until mixture has thickened; remove from heat. In bowl mix together 250g caster sugar and 6 egg yolks; carefully whisk into lemon mixture in the pan. Stir over med-heat until thickened. Set aside for a few minutes; pour into baked pastry case. Meringue; whisk 4 egg whites until soft peaks form when whisk is removed. Add 225g caster sugar a little at a time, still whisking until meringue is stiff and glossy. Add 2tsp cornflour; whisk again. Spoon on top of filled pastry; spread meringue to completely cover lemon filling. Then create a swirl on top of meringue. Bake in oven for about 15mins until filling is completely set and meringue is lightly golden and crisp. Allow to cool completely before cutting or serve very slightly warm. 

 

THERE MUST BE SOME HERE SOMEWHERE!

I'll get around to finish this drawing one day!

Clint Lindt

Yoo-hoo! Hey there!  Over here!  I’m over here behind the bushes; to the left.  My left, silly; not your right…that’s right!  I’m digging around, scrounging about in search of Easter eggs.  There must be some here somewhere. If I keep searching I might also find my lost appetite. Spotting a hare isn’t rare, but they don’t care about carting around basketfuls of Easter eggs.  Rabbits are far too busy hopping around carrying out their bunny habits.  If you know what I mean!

After a horrific beginning to 2024, Easter snuck up on me.  Before I knew it, Easter was here, and then, in a flash, gone.  Half asleep, or half awake throughout the whole event, I missed out on the eggs…a calamity of the highest degree!  Forever hopeful, I reckon if I keep searching I’ll find a left-over egg or two, or, if I’m lucky, maybe three.

I might be ancient, but that doesn’t stop me from acting like a kid.  If I want to be a female Peter Pan, I will be…so the hunt continues without embarrassment.

My many bird mates told me they intended to don their Easter bird costumes, and grab their baskets loaded with chocolate eggs for me come the time. Having faith in them, I feel sure they wouldn’t lie to me. Would they?  My relentless search continues.

In the meantime, while taking a break and enjoying a mug of coffee here’s an update for you. Clint Lindt once again displayed stoic resilience. In the aftermath of Christmas night’s disastrous event, the power outage, and no refrigeration for a lengthy period, Clint Lindt, clad in his gold outfit, stood coolly firm, unruffled, with his ears standing at high alert while all else around him suffered dire consequences. Alone he stood, not shedding an ounce of sweat; not melting in the heat.  And, there he remains, as he has for ages, smiling at me every time I open the fridge.  His welcoming wink proves he has faith in me, knowing I’ll never eat him.

Easter came and went, but I didn’t do without. I found some hot cross buns hiding in the freezer for a rainy or non-rainy day. Magically, a couple of Cherry Ripes appeared on the top shelf. I wonder how that happened!  All was not lost even if the eggs were, and remain so.

What an exciting life I lead, you must be thinking.  It may not be to everyone’s taste or desire, but I’ve had enough excitement through the years to last me. A quiet, peaceful existence is what I seek. 

My goodness!  St. Patrick’s Day crept up on me before I realised Paddy was about to pat me on the back to announce his arrival, inviting me to join him in Riverdance. I should be ashamed, seeing my paternal heritage is Northern Irish.  To add to the confusion, I’m of Scottish heritage on my maternal side, and I missed the Scottish New Year.  The Celtic New Year originally was celebrated on November 1^st.  Then, until 1600, the Gregorian calendar, which was used in Scotland at the time, declared New Year was 25^th March.   

Wait!  If that’s not enough to bamboozle you, there’s more. 1^st April was Hunt the Gowk Day.  It was a day folk played tricks and told fibs to trick each other.  The jokes had to cease at mid-day.  Does that sound familiar?  1^st April is now called “April Fool’s Day”, if you hadn’t already caught on.  Further still, Preen-tail Day or Tailie Day is the 2^nd April…the day following April Fool’s Day; a day when paper tails were attached to the backs of unsuspecting people.  So, as a head’s up, watch your back on 2^nd April!  It’s all a bit of harmless fun with no maliciousness intended.

Recently I was thrilled to bits.  I succeeded to achieve something I’ve never managed to make a fellow human do. One of my cheeky little butcher bird buddies ate out of my hand a couple of times.  Topping that off, a day or so later, he strolled right up to the entrance of my abode.  For a moment I thought he was going to wander inside, but he stopped, Staring up at me…straight in my eyes…he absorbed in every word I uttered, seemingly understanding what I was saying to him.

Now, it’s back to my search.  Guess what!!!!!  Whoo-hoo!!! My lucky day!

Yummy Chocolate Puddings: Preheat oven 200C. Grease 6x4.5cm-deep, 8cm (base), 1/2-cup-capacity ovenproof ramekins with melted butter. Line bases with baking paper. Place on baking tray. Combine 200g 70% cocoa dark chocolate, 150g chopped butter and 1/3^rd cup brown sugar in heatproof bowl; set over a saucepan of simmering water, making sure base of bowl doesn’t touch the water. Heat, stirring constantly, 3mins, or until melted and smooth. Remove from heat; set aside to cool 2mins. Add 4 lightly beaten eggs to mixture, whisking until combined.  Sift over 1/4c plain flour; whisk until combined. Divide mixture evenly between prepared ramekins.  Bake 12mins, or until a crust has formed on top, but puddings are still wobbly to touch in centre. Remove from oven; stand to cool 2mins. Run a small knife around edge of puddings to loosen. Gently turn onto serving plates. Serve immediately with ice-cream, fresh strawberries or raspberries and grated chocolate.    Enjoy! 

UNIVERSE SWALLOWED ME

                                 

Author Trent Dalton

 

 

Have we finally said, “Bye, bye, to Tay-Tay?” here in the Land of Oz?   Last year we had the Matildas shoved down our throats every which, and loose. And then, for weeks on end, with no swift relief we were inundated with Tay-Tay left, right, and centre.  I tried to shake it off, but it became more than I could bear after a cruel summer.   I kept telling myself, “you need to keep calm”, but it became more difficult day by day. With a few problems tossed in to upset my normally quiet existence, it felt like the universe had swallowed me. I needed to come up for air; for a glimpse of daylight.

I’m sounding like an old grouch, aren’t I?  I do have the perfect excuse.  I can’t deny it.  The wrinkles and grey hair give me away. Because the years don’t lie, I won’t attempt to do so. Every line has its own story to tell.  Half the time they won’t even share them with me.

On the other hand, Tay-Tay, despite the repetitive hype we were hit with, brought much joy to many.  In these bleak times filled with so much gloom and bad news, that is a good thing.

At present, I’m at a bit of a loss because I’ve lost some friends. They’ve gone their separate ways.  For the past few months, each day I watched one or two episodes of the series, “Friends”.  After watching the final episode it truly was like losing good mates.  Such a fun series it is/was.  One would think with all the streaming services available these days there would be more good shows worth watching.  Again, I guess I’m showing my cranky old age, but, to me, there appears to be so much rubbish around I won’t waste my time watching it. I’m sick of seeing characters in the different series with their heads buried in their various devices, sending and reading text that I certainly can’t read.  Talk, for goodness sake.  Give us dialogue, not words on a damn mobile/ cell phone screen!!

Over the past couple of months or so I’ve been doing a lot of reading.  I’ve lost my heart to Trent Dalton.  It’s his to keep. My admiration for Dalton, for his courage, for his bravery in disclosing much about his own troubled, disheveled childhood, troubles not of his choosing, in his semi-biographical; “Boy Swallows Universe” grew with each passing word I read.  When I thought my admiration for Trent Dalton had reached its limits, I read, “Lola in the Mirror”.  Dalton, in both stories, proved when the chips are down, you look life squarely in the eye, and even though it’s difficult, and in far too many instances life can be, one has to pick up the chips/pieces, and continue forth with determination in a valiant attempt not to be defeated.  In both books I laughed, and I cried, and I cried some more. 

Obviously being a glutton for punishment, yesterday I finished reading “Love Stories”, written by…yes, you guessed it…Trent Dalton.  Setting himself up on a street corner in Brisbane’s CBD in front of a fold-up table, a couple of chairs and a blue Olivetti typewriter, Dalton asked people as they passed by, and paused at his table, their stories of love, and what it meant to them.  It’s no Mills & Boon soppy sop, but the book is full of wonderful, emotion-filled, inspiring stories,

Trent truly is a writer of worth. His belief in himself is something we should all strive for…belief in our own self, knowing we can pick up those damned fallen chips if we don’t give up, but just keep trying. Dalton’s “Lola in the Mirror” highlights in vivid black and white the terrible, heartbreaking reality of the current plight suffered by many…far too many. A plight suffered by those who are living in tent communities and in cars throughout Brisbane, and elsewhere.  This is a disgraceful blight on our present day society. Sadly, nothing appears to be being done to rectify this extremely distressing situation.  It’s far from satisfactory….this is 2024…not the Dark Ages!

One’s own history and the history of every country in this world are real. History cannot, and should not be destroyed, erased, by anyone, or any group.  No one has the right to do so, even if they, in their own muddled confused brains think they have such right.  One day I will be history, but that won’t mean I wasn’t here!

I’ve been trying hard to maintain my sense of humour, even though the universe is trying its best to swallow me.  Eureka!  I can see a dim light at the end of the tunnel. Bit by bit I’m coming out ahead, albeit slowly.  

 And, slowly, bit by bit....I am going to catch up with all your blogs.  My apologies for being so tardy of late.

Vegie Chips: Combine 2tsp salt and 2tsp chopped fresh rosemary in bowl. Peel 1 med (approx 350g) kumara; cut into 2mm-thick slices. Do similar with 2 large carrots, 2 large beetroot, and 2 large parsnips. Pat all dry on paper towel; line baking dish with paper towel. Add enough light olive oil to large heavy-based saucepan to depth of 3cm. Heat oil to 180C. Add 1/8^th of vegetables; cook, turning occasionally, 2-3mins, or until golden.  Using slotted spoon transfer to lined tray in heated oven. Repeat other 7 batches, adding to remaining vegetables, and reheating the oil between batches.  Place the chips on a serving platter; sprinkle with the rosemary salt; serve immediately.

Apple Chips: For oven: Preheat oven 200C. In large bowl, toss 2 thinly sliced apples with 2tsp sugar and 1/2tsp cinnamon. Place metal rack inside rimmed baking sheet. Lay slices on top of rack, not overlapping. Bake 2-3hrs, flipping apples halfway through until they are dried out, but still pliable (sounds a bit like me). They will continue to crisp while cooling. Air Dryer: In bowl toss apples as above. Working in batches, place slices in single layer in basket of air dryer (some overlap is okay). Bake at 350C about 12mins, flipping every 4mins. 

 

WHERE DO I BEGIN?

 

My apologies to you all…to my blogging mates for me being missing in non-action of late. I’ve not been spending much time on my computer.  To be honest, I’ve not been feeling 100%, but I’ll start picking up soon.  It’s just been shitty couple of months, one way and another.

 

First, I need to get something off my chest. I thought, or at least hoped, as I got older I would cease being surprised by the attitude and behaviour of some humans, but apparently it’s not to be.

A couple weeks ago I was talking with a fellow who doesn’t live up here on our mountain. He lives in a nearby area, and had come to do a job for me.  His blasé comments annoyed and angered the “you-know-what” out of me! He discounted the seriousness of the destruction, the devastation this area suffered on Christmas night, and the resultant distressing aftermath.  With a smirk, he pooh-hoohed the whole thing!  Why are some people cynical, seemingly heartless and smug?  His indifference to the hardships suffered by many, towards the ferocity of what we were hit with on Christmas night was inconsiderate, unfeeling, and wrong.  Biting my tongue, and as difficult as it was to do, I contained my anger caused by his ignorance; fuming alone and in silence. As if it wasn’t already more than hot enough without me boiling and adding more steam.

There’s always at least one idiot in a crowd.  It seems they are multiplying more rapidly than rabbits these days…no offense intended to rabbits. Some folk are adept at walking around with their head stuck up their jumper. No thongs necessary!  I’m not embarrassed to admit in some areas I’m old-fashioned.  I believe thongs should be worn on the feet, if worn at all. Having someone’s bum on full display in the public arena thrills me not.   (To non Aussie readers “thongs” are what some other countries call “flip-flops”.  Also the G-string bikini briefs…and I mean “briefs’ with just a string up their “you-know-what” is also called a “thong”).  Have some decency and dignity for God’s sake!

When I was much younger I wore bikinis…having purchased my first hot pink bikini when I was 16 year old.  As I said…”when I was much younger”.  Every weekend was spent at the beach, but my friends and I kept our dignity intact…and our bums!

On the flipside of human behavior, there are those who do care; those who do understand, even if they live many kilometres away.  For instance, a cousin, who is the same age as me, and I are in regular contact. We chat on the phone often, and we exchange emails.  Now retired, my cousin spent his working life as a highly-respected cop in north Queensland. He is a decent, caring, empathetic person, and one I’m proud to know. Even when going through the threat and aftermath of Cyclone Kirrily, he took the time to check on my welfare. 

And there I was, for more than a month after Christmas night, blushing, not flushing.  I built up muscles even Arnie would have been jealous of; there was no need for me to visit a gym.  Regularly throughout the days and nights I was lifting bucketfuls of water to flush my toilet as my cistern had gone on strike. Thanks to the Angels, who once again lived up to their name, I’m now flushing, not blushing.  My muscles have rapidly diminished in size. Arnie can relax.

Just right when I needed him, Just Rite Video Service’s Bruce came to my aid.  My old television was a victim of Christmas night’s chaos. My new Smart TV insisted on showing me it was far smarter than me.  How rude! Gradually, much to my delight and surprise, I was becoming familiar with its tricks, proving I’m not as dumb as I look. It thought I was getting too big for my boots, and therefore got its nose out of joint. The smartie pants Samsung decided to make things difficult for me. Luckily, Bruce came to my rescue, saving the day, and my sanity.

Previously, at times I’ve written that I’d “given myself kick up the butt (without falling over)”. Well, that’s not entirely true.  A couple of weeks ago, I didn’t give myself a kick up the butt, but my walking stick did slide out of control on the damp kitchen floor. Before I could steady the situation, down I went, face first, flat out, on my belly and chest, bum in the air. I admit my fall from grace was not gracefully executed.  I’m not sure who received the biggest shock, me or a friend who was visiting at the time.  Fortunately, the only thing that was bruised was my pride.  The fun things one does to amuse one’s self.  I don’t want it to become a habit, though.  Surprises like that one I really do not need. From now on, instead of trying to emulate Torvill and Dean, I choose to be a spectator from afar as I watch the Winter Olympic skating events. To be fair, my style and ability are unmatchable, which would make me impossible to beat.  However, I’ve retired now, and other skaters have nothing to worry about.  My skating, slip-sliding days are over…I hope….

 

Watermelon-Kiwifruit Ice Blocks: Peel and chop 400g watermelon; blitz in processor. Add 2tbls icing sugar; blitz again until combined. Divide watermelon mixture amongst 6 popsicle moulds; fill each to 2/3^rd of the way up, leaving room for next layer; freeze for 2hrs. Once firm, peel and chop 3 kiwifruit; blitz in processor, along with 2tbs icing sugar. Pour kiwifruit mixture on top of partially frozen watermelon; put the popsicle sticks in. Freeze 6hrs or overnight. 

Strawberry-Banana Blocks:  Place 2c strawberry yoghurt, 1 mashed ripe banana and 1tbs honey in bowl; stir to combine. Pour into ice block mould and freeze. 

Fruity Ice Blocks: Place 410g can sliced peaches in light syrup and 425g can Golden Circle Crushed Pineapple, with juice, into processor, or blender; add zest of 1 orange; process until smooth.  Pour into ice block moulds. Freeze 6-8hrs.

Lemonade Ice Blocks: Add 3c hot water, 1c sugar and zest of 1 lemon to small pot. Bring to boil, stirring; simmer 5mins. Remove from heat; add 1/2c lemon juice; strain to remove zest and pips. Pour into moulds; freeze until solid.