Sometimes, as I'm sure you all know too well, life throws us some 'curly ones'; things that are unexpected or that test our creativity or resilience or courage. Those things don't need to be earth-shattering or even, in fact, of any note or meaning to someone else. Nonetheless, we can feel shaken and unsure of ourselves when those 'curly ones' come our way.
Just recently life threw me a 'curly one' in the shape of me feeling a strong need to move out of a living situation that had somehow led me to feel deeply unhappy. Now you can tell me that happiness is all in the mind, and that I create my own happiness, and that happiness is not the only human emotion worthy of experience. I know all that, but I also know that my default position in life...my default emotion if you like...is to be basically happy. I don't need a lot to be experiencing happiness, or at least a deep sense of contentment. When I am struggling to feel that level of peace and contentment with life, I process it as a need to change something. I can embrace discomfort or 'unhappiness' as a fleeting situation, but if it's hanging about then I figure it's up to me to do something about it. The trouble is that no one is an island and there is that inevitability that someone else may be saddened by the choices I make in order to care for myself.
All that taken into account, I did make a move and stayed in the home of generous and gracious friends for a few weeks while I sorted my head out. During that time I visited my children in Victoria and enjoyed a week with them. On my return a couple of days ago I moved into a new place that became available for me to live in. Although I've only spent two nights here, I have to say that the decision to move was a good one. I realise that I need to have my life arranged so that I can have my 'stuff' around me. I don't collect just for the sake of having things, but I do love to read and write...so there are books and pens and of course, my computer. I also like to craft so there is a sewing machine, a small amount of fabric, a couple of sewing boxes and some patterns. There is a basket of wool and needles for knitting and crochet. There are cookbooks and candles and various other bits and pieces, and I like to see them all around the place. I'm not one to put everything away all the time. Part of my joy in life is to have those things beckoning me...hey, come read a few pages...or knit a few rows...or write a few lines. I like those reminders that I am creative...and I like those times when I can indulge myself and spend a few hours on a project and lose track of time. This stuff is part of my identity somehow.
I'm still not completely organised, but I have promised myself that I will go through all the paperwork and discard what is no longer necessary. It's such a task, isn't it, to go through paperwork. I still have most of my final assignments from uni...I completed my degree in 2010. I have a friend who recently let go of her 'stuff from uni' and she graduated almost 30 years ago...so you can imagine that these things are not easy to let go of. I think I still believe that I can get something out of going back over some of those essays. But if I'm being realistic, I can Google anything these days and track down all the whatever that I could ever need. I wonder if it's some sort of attachment still to what was an incredibly important phase of life for me. I have to say that some of the memories of that time would be better let go of...but still there is the temptation to hold on. Anyway, I will get to it. Perhaps I can set myself a goal to halve the amount of stuff this time. That might be a way to begin. I can say that having to keep moving that great load of paper from one location to another (paper being so darned weighty!!) means that I am becoming less attached to moving it. I can't imagine staying in one place for the rest of my life...moving is for me some sort of inevitability...so I guess I'll have to reduce the load a bit if I want it to be easier next time I get itchy feet...
Still, as I look at the view, the bush surrounding this cosy little home, and my various projects beckoning...and as I realise that it's only days until I'm back into full time work mode...I think perhaps it would do me well to sit tight and stay put for a while. Moving house can be exciting but it's also very tiring and expensive. I wonder if my unsettled nature is something to do with being a 'Scanner' (see Refuse to Choose by Barbara Sher)? Perhaps I'm driven to keep moving too. That's something for me to think about. Perhaps I could arrange my life so that I can nourish my urge to keep moving by planning trips to see new sights (this is such a strong need for me)...sounds like fun. Perhaps it would be kind of good to stay in one place (at least have one place as a base) long term. I'll have to think about that.
Today has been another day of moving bits and pieces of furniture and testing to find out if the internet connection was going to be satisfactory or not. To my great joy it is better than I've had for the last several addresses...at least it is today so I'll make the most of it! I also indulged myself this morning in a little pamper session...a home-grown facial, a manicure...popped on some of my favourite perfume and just enjoyed being me. Mum called in for a couple of hours' mother and daughter time and it was just...nice! Relaxing!
I'm planning to enjoy the remainder if this Aussie long weekend just hanging close to home and reflecting on how darned quickly holiday times seem to disappear. I'll remember some precious times with my gorgeous kids and how very lucky I am to have them in my life. How big is a mother's love for her kids? I forget sometimes that my mum feels the same love for me (and my brother too, of course!). It's pretty special...to know that you are so well loved.
I'll also be allowing those thoughts back into my head...the ones I've been fighting off valiantly for the past weeks...the ones that are the start of planning a school year with a new class, a new job, new parents, new colleagues and new challenges. They kept sneaking up on me every time I let my guard down and I'd tell them firmly (after taking down a few notes on occasion) that it's holiday time and that I'd get back to them closer to the end of the summer break. Well, work looms large...back I go on February 3, so it's time to start some serious thinking and note-taking, study and planning...and prepping the classroom so it's all ready for things to run smoothly when the children start back. Holidays can't last forever...and really I'm looking forward to getting back into seeing life through the eyes of the children I work with.
You can never really know how things will work out. We all do the best we can, I think....the best we can with what we know and what we have to work with. I don't know how life will work out this year. When I was young I used to think that there was some magic point in life where you knew who you were and what you wanted to do and how to do it; that life would become 'smooth' somehow. Now I'm older I know that the bumps are a big part of the adventure of being alive, and I'll just have to go on riding them for as long as I'm here. It's kind of comforting in an odd way. It would be so unsatisfying to know what the future held. Here's to surprises and serendipity! A toast to new experiences, new challenges and new knowings. It's lovely to be back and I'm looking forward to seeing what piques my interest to write about for you over the coming weeks. Hoping your adventures are all good ones!
Saturday, 25 January 2014
Friday, 10 January 2014
What size are your clothes??? If you're worried about it you need to read this!
I am writing this because I overheard a conversation in an opportunity shop while I was browsing the other day and it really made me think...especially my reaction to the conversation. I didn't contribute to the discussion, but listened and observed with some shock the silent contribution I made in my own head. It's made me think about how often many of us probably do that without questioning where our thoughts came from or whether they deserve to be checked out a bit more thoroughly before accepting them as okay to think! The conversation went something like this...not verbatim, but close enough for the purpose of this writing.
Well I surprised myself by thinking smugly to myself...(yes, smugly...eek)
"Autograph sizes are bigger than normal sizes. They make them bigger and put the sizes smaller so that people feel better about being big...silly woman.You're kidding yourself."
Oh dear. Yes, I thought pretty much what I've written there. You might have thought similar when you read the conversation, especially if you're familiar with Autograph. I am. I buy clothes there sometimes and in some items their 14s are a good fit for me. In others not so much.
What struck me about this whole conversation and my silent appraisal and judgement of the woman who spoke about Autograph's sizing was just how ridiculously silly it all is. Yes, absolutely crazy silly. What do all these 'sizes' mean and what do we take them to mean? In my experience it seems that much of the sizing is almost arbitrary and often seems to be unique to a particular brand. Some clothing manufacturers seem to work to certain body types and thus a certain size seems to be just right. Then to try and wear the same size in some other brand is a total misfit and I know that this can send women (and men? I don't know...) into such a spin. They think they need to lose weight or squeeze themselves into a smaller size to be valued as a human being.
We have been thoroughly conned people. We have been brainwashed. How often have you read in a magazine that someone lost so many kilos and 'dropped three dress sizes'. What the hell does that mean? It's time to question this stuff. Was it three Just Jeans dress sizes or three Target dress sizes or three Ishka dress sizes or three Collette Dinnegan dress sizes or three Autograph dress sizes...and who cares anyway really?? Celebrate that the person has created a healthier life for themselves. Celebrate that they've had to buy some new clothes and they are happy to be doing that and feel more confident and energetic but stop telling us about the dress sizes.
This is what sizes are about. Listen carefully. Read carefully.
Sizes on clothing and footwear are a GUIDE to choosing something that will fit you. They are not absolutes. As the women talking in the opportunity shop discussed, sizes are not consistent from one manufacturer (or even one style) to another. The numbers are on the clothes to give you a rough idea where to start trying things on. That's it. It stops you from starting at the front of the rack and trying on every dress/jeans/shirt/skirt until you find one that fits!
It's time to take our power back and know that when we look for clothing to buy we are looking for something THAT FITS US not something with a particular number on the label. Does that make sense to you? Cut the labels off when you get them home and FORGET what size you bought because it doesn't matter a bit. What matters is that the clothes FIT YOU. It matters that you think they LOOK RIGHT for you and convey YOUR PARTICULAR STYLE. It doesn't matter a hoot if you've got pants that had size 20 on the label and a shirt that had size 16 on the label and a jacket that had size 12 on the label. Cut the rotten labels off and be happy that you have found clothes that fit you, that are comfortable and that look good on you. That's all you need right? If the 'sizes' are so inconsistent across brands and styles then I contend that they are not 'sizes' at all and are in fact just numbers. That's how I'd like you to think if you've struggled with this in the past. Let's get rid of this stupid notion that our worth is defined somehow by the number on our clothes!
Okay, next time you are out shopping I want you to take this mantra with you...
THE NUMBER IS JUST A GUIDE...THE NUMBER IS JUST A GUIDE...THE NUMBER IS JUST A GUIDE...
...and don't worry about what number is on the label of what you find that fits you well. Buy the thing, cut the label off and get rid of it. Let go of the idea that the number matters or judges you or shames you or demands something of you. It's all in your head...put there by social conditioning and marketers. It's time to let it go people! Let go of all that 'size' rubbish that's in your head and be free to smile again. And next time someone proudly announces that they fitted into a 12 you will know they haven't figured this stuff out yet (so you're way ahead) and you can tell them that 12 is not a size...it's a number. Then you'll probably have something to talk about. Cheers and hugs and happy shopping!!
PS Keep in mind that the numbering systems vary not just from brand to brand but also from country to country...no wonder it has us all floundering and in a flap. But now that won't have to happen to you any more. Oh, and if someone asks you what size your label-free jacket is...you can say size? Well, it's me-sized. It fits me!
"I wear a size 14 usually but now when you buy a 14 they are so small."
"It's those Asians. It's alright for them. They make them to fit them and they're all so small.They look at our clothes when they make them and think they're HUGE."
"The only place that gets the sizing right now is Autograph. They have good sizing. They're the only ones that do it right now. With them a 14 is a 14."
"What I'm wearing here is a 16!! I never wear a 16 but that's what I had to buy for it to fit me."...and so on.
Well I surprised myself by thinking smugly to myself...(yes, smugly...eek)
"Autograph sizes are bigger than normal sizes. They make them bigger and put the sizes smaller so that people feel better about being big...silly woman.You're kidding yourself."
Oh dear. Yes, I thought pretty much what I've written there. You might have thought similar when you read the conversation, especially if you're familiar with Autograph. I am. I buy clothes there sometimes and in some items their 14s are a good fit for me. In others not so much.
What struck me about this whole conversation and my silent appraisal and judgement of the woman who spoke about Autograph's sizing was just how ridiculously silly it all is. Yes, absolutely crazy silly. What do all these 'sizes' mean and what do we take them to mean? In my experience it seems that much of the sizing is almost arbitrary and often seems to be unique to a particular brand. Some clothing manufacturers seem to work to certain body types and thus a certain size seems to be just right. Then to try and wear the same size in some other brand is a total misfit and I know that this can send women (and men? I don't know...) into such a spin. They think they need to lose weight or squeeze themselves into a smaller size to be valued as a human being.
We have been thoroughly conned people. We have been brainwashed. How often have you read in a magazine that someone lost so many kilos and 'dropped three dress sizes'. What the hell does that mean? It's time to question this stuff. Was it three Just Jeans dress sizes or three Target dress sizes or three Ishka dress sizes or three Collette Dinnegan dress sizes or three Autograph dress sizes...and who cares anyway really?? Celebrate that the person has created a healthier life for themselves. Celebrate that they've had to buy some new clothes and they are happy to be doing that and feel more confident and energetic but stop telling us about the dress sizes.
This is what sizes are about. Listen carefully. Read carefully.
Sizes on clothing and footwear are a GUIDE to choosing something that will fit you. They are not absolutes. As the women talking in the opportunity shop discussed, sizes are not consistent from one manufacturer (or even one style) to another. The numbers are on the clothes to give you a rough idea where to start trying things on. That's it. It stops you from starting at the front of the rack and trying on every dress/jeans/shirt/skirt until you find one that fits!
It's time to take our power back and know that when we look for clothing to buy we are looking for something THAT FITS US not something with a particular number on the label. Does that make sense to you? Cut the labels off when you get them home and FORGET what size you bought because it doesn't matter a bit. What matters is that the clothes FIT YOU. It matters that you think they LOOK RIGHT for you and convey YOUR PARTICULAR STYLE. It doesn't matter a hoot if you've got pants that had size 20 on the label and a shirt that had size 16 on the label and a jacket that had size 12 on the label. Cut the rotten labels off and be happy that you have found clothes that fit you, that are comfortable and that look good on you. That's all you need right? If the 'sizes' are so inconsistent across brands and styles then I contend that they are not 'sizes' at all and are in fact just numbers. That's how I'd like you to think if you've struggled with this in the past. Let's get rid of this stupid notion that our worth is defined somehow by the number on our clothes!
Okay, next time you are out shopping I want you to take this mantra with you...
THE NUMBER IS JUST A GUIDE...THE NUMBER IS JUST A GUIDE...THE NUMBER IS JUST A GUIDE...
...and don't worry about what number is on the label of what you find that fits you well. Buy the thing, cut the label off and get rid of it. Let go of the idea that the number matters or judges you or shames you or demands something of you. It's all in your head...put there by social conditioning and marketers. It's time to let it go people! Let go of all that 'size' rubbish that's in your head and be free to smile again. And next time someone proudly announces that they fitted into a 12 you will know they haven't figured this stuff out yet (so you're way ahead) and you can tell them that 12 is not a size...it's a number. Then you'll probably have something to talk about. Cheers and hugs and happy shopping!!
PS Keep in mind that the numbering systems vary not just from brand to brand but also from country to country...no wonder it has us all floundering and in a flap. But now that won't have to happen to you any more. Oh, and if someone asks you what size your label-free jacket is...you can say size? Well, it's me-sized. It fits me!
Mawson's Huts Hobart
This is an extension on yesterday's post about my wee holiday in Hobart and surrounds. I left New Norfolk mid-afternoon, if you remember, in order to visit the Mawson's Huts replica on my way home. I'm so glad I made the time because it was just brilliant. Talk about wake up the sleeping adventurer in me, haha, and bring back memories of being hunkered down in stormy seas and howling winds back in my sailing days.
After paying for my ticket...$12 AUD (I was given a VIP pass so that if I bring someone else next time I won't have to pay...make sure to ask about that if you think you'd like to come back for another look)...and getting a brief run down from the charming fellow at the ticket desk, I started the 'tour'. Reading and watching film footage of the men struggling with sleds and dogs and building materials, raising radio masts and sailing in those treacherous southern waters was enhanced by the continuous sounds of howling, screaming wind. Mawson's Huts were built in the windiest sea level place on earth...not by design I'm sure...and so it would have been incredibly noisy for most of the time I suppose. I won't say much about what I saw...I asked if I could take photographs and was given sound approval, so I'll let my pictures do most of the talking. What I will say is that it was a fantastic experience for me and I hope you'll go and take a look when you can.
I was entranced by the photographs of the men (I've not included any here). They were young, handsome, robust adventurers; scientists and explorers. They reminded me of young men I know now, or see around town...so very real...so very human. I thought about the bravery and the madness of doing what they did. Yet I know what a mistress adventure can be...she draws you forward sometimes against your sensibilities and thus great things are achieved, though sometimes at great cost.
Later on inside the living quarters, I was to be touched by the poignancy of family photographs on the walls near each man's bunk. They were such a long way from home and loved ones. It seems the loved ones were never far from their minds...they kept them close the best way they could.
I enjoyed the cosiness of the living space, and photos showing the men chatting and laughing...sharing the adventure. The warm glow of the beautiful timber brought all the way from Finland was comforting and reassuring, although there must have been times they were afraid the place would blow off the face of the earth! I'm sure it must have been so tough down there in Antarctica, but the sharing of an adventure makes the hardships easier to bear. It wasn't a jolly little adventure; lives were lost, there was illness and heartbreaking 'bad luck'...but what an example they are to the rest of us. Life is for living. This planet is a wonderful and fascinating place. Those men have been part of sharing the inaccessible with the rest of us.
The ticket man suggested to some late visitors that they allow themselves a good half hour to spend and they were coming back the next day. I spent 55 minutes...had to go as I only had an hour parking voucher and from experience I know the fine for being late makes it worth rushing back in time! I could happily have spent longer as there was more to read and enjoy. I bought a couple of items from the store; a book, a puzzle and a couple of commemorative coins. Funds help with the restoration and maintenance of the original huts down in Antarctica. All items appeared to be of excellent quality and I was happy to purchase to support the cause.
We need adventurers in our midst...in some way they give us the courage to embark on the smaller adventures in our own lives. Taking calculated risks and moving outside our 'comfort' zone is when we really start to feel alive, I think. I know a few adventurers...and I've been one myself in a small way. I'm pretty sure we all have an adventurous spirit deep inside us...hope you'll find the inspiration and courage to let yours out to play one day soon.
Now I have a new puzzle to do and a book to read..they're going to have to line up behind my new tome from Book Group...The Street Sweeper by Elliot Perlman. For now though, I'm heading out to enjoy the remainder of this warm, sunny day. Tomorrow...something completely different! Cheers, Kerry
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| Mawson Place next to Constitution Dock, Hobart, Tasmania |
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| The Radio - times have changed! There was a radio station manned at Macquarie Island and messages were relayed through there. |
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| One of Mawson's sleds, reputedly found on a dump and rescued for posterity...good find! |
After paying for my ticket...$12 AUD (I was given a VIP pass so that if I bring someone else next time I won't have to pay...make sure to ask about that if you think you'd like to come back for another look)...and getting a brief run down from the charming fellow at the ticket desk, I started the 'tour'. Reading and watching film footage of the men struggling with sleds and dogs and building materials, raising radio masts and sailing in those treacherous southern waters was enhanced by the continuous sounds of howling, screaming wind. Mawson's Huts were built in the windiest sea level place on earth...not by design I'm sure...and so it would have been incredibly noisy for most of the time I suppose. I won't say much about what I saw...I asked if I could take photographs and was given sound approval, so I'll let my pictures do most of the talking. What I will say is that it was a fantastic experience for me and I hope you'll go and take a look when you can.
I was entranced by the photographs of the men (I've not included any here). They were young, handsome, robust adventurers; scientists and explorers. They reminded me of young men I know now, or see around town...so very real...so very human. I thought about the bravery and the madness of doing what they did. Yet I know what a mistress adventure can be...she draws you forward sometimes against your sensibilities and thus great things are achieved, though sometimes at great cost.
Later on inside the living quarters, I was to be touched by the poignancy of family photographs on the walls near each man's bunk. They were such a long way from home and loved ones. It seems the loved ones were never far from their minds...they kept them close the best way they could.
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| Douglas Mawson's room |
I enjoyed the cosiness of the living space, and photos showing the men chatting and laughing...sharing the adventure. The warm glow of the beautiful timber brought all the way from Finland was comforting and reassuring, although there must have been times they were afraid the place would blow off the face of the earth! I'm sure it must have been so tough down there in Antarctica, but the sharing of an adventure makes the hardships easier to bear. It wasn't a jolly little adventure; lives were lost, there was illness and heartbreaking 'bad luck'...but what an example they are to the rest of us. Life is for living. This planet is a wonderful and fascinating place. Those men have been part of sharing the inaccessible with the rest of us.
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| Mum used to make us blanc mange when we were kids in England...so I was tickled to see this on the shelf. |
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| Realistically, they didn't have a lot to choose from I suppose. |
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| The kitchen - heart of the home. |
We need adventurers in our midst...in some way they give us the courage to embark on the smaller adventures in our own lives. Taking calculated risks and moving outside our 'comfort' zone is when we really start to feel alive, I think. I know a few adventurers...and I've been one myself in a small way. I'm pretty sure we all have an adventurous spirit deep inside us...hope you'll find the inspiration and courage to let yours out to play one day soon.
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| Sky lights and mezzanine for storage |
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| Patriotism |
Thursday, 9 January 2014
The Two-Day Break...Day 2
So, you know I had a day in town and treated myself to a night there so it wasn't all a rush. Well, what a good idea that was. It's great to know I have new specs on the way and I have comfy boots for the winter. I went to the State Cinema to see the fabulous Judi Dench in Philomena. What a sad, sad story. So much is hidden from us really. The film industry has such a powerful way to share with us the things that we might not otherwise know. How many thousands of young women have had their babies taken from them over the decades...the centuries...see it if you get the chance.
Anyway, after a lazy start to day two of my mini-holiday (11am checkout woohoo!) I wandered down to the restaurant for a breakfast of poached eggs and tomato on toast and good rich coffee. Had a lovely conversation with the lady who took my order. She was tired because her ten month old bub had been restless all night. I thought about how hard it must to be work when you have small children. I was lucky enough to be at home when my children were small. I'm sure I'd never have coped with going out to work. I suggested that it might be tough for this woman to come to work but she smiled and said she had a very supportive husband who would dress the children and take them to where they needed to be dropped off. I don't want to judge but I couldn't have stood the idea of dropping my babies off anywhere when they were small. I just wanted to be with them...and for them to be with me. I was in my early thirties by the time I had my first child. Perhaps that is why...or perhaps I was just lucky to have the opportunity to stay at home with my little ones. I'm glad the lady has a supportive husband, and I'm glad she finishes work in the early afternoon. I hope she gets to spend lots of time with her little ones. They grow up so fast.
After a delicious breakfast designed to keep me going all day, I took a short drive to New Norfolk. I'd heard that there were loads of antique stores there and with my appetite whetted by my venture into the Franklin shop a few weekends back, I decided I'd like to go and take a look. It was a bright, sunny, breezy day...just right for taking a little drive and wandering around a new town with new sights and sounds. That's what I was after most of all...something new...something fresh...something to delight my always busy mind. And that is what I got. I left the car near a lovely park and headed towards what looked like the place to find the shops I was looking for. Two steps around the corner I was accosted by a young man with glasses, an accent and a trolley full of trays of strawberries. He had a spiel designed to sell and sell he did...to me! Seven dollars later I was the proud owner of a half kilo box of strawberries that were half the size of my head and smelled like heaven must. Lunch sorted, I popped them in my bag and kept walking. Now I wish I'd asked for a photo but I was so astonished by the way this man appeared out of nowhere, that I didn't have the presence of mind. Bemused, I continued my stroll down the main street. Three buskers I counted and two I contributed to. The guitar and harmonica man was the best. Again...no photos. I must gain the courage to ask people so I can share with you here. I must overcome the shyness...and be bolder! For now you will have to use your imagination a bit. What a lovely day it was, wandering into this shop and that, chatting with people along the way. Lots of newness...just what I needed.
I took a walk in the park when it was time to eat those delicious strawberries; they were every bit as good as their aroma promised. I found a screwdriver on the grass and popped it in my pocket. Serendipity. I noticed some 'twigs' from a corkscrew willow and collected an armful for school. They are sure to inspire some sort of creative project. Free from nature. Thank you. Lovely. On the way back to the car to deposit the twigs in the boot, I noticed a fallen bird's nest. On closer inspection I discovered that the whitish fluffy stuff woven in among the grass and fine twigs was cigarette filters, stripped of their brown paper coating and carefully fluffed to make a cosy home for baby birds. How sad really. Those filters are in the cigarettes to draw the toxic chemicals out of the smoke before the smoker inhales. Poor wee birds starting life nestled in a bed of toxic chemical soaked fluff. I wonder how it affects them...especially when they are wee things with bare skin, just out of the eggs. Food for thought. I have the nest in the boot of the car too. It will be good to talk with the children about how our thoughtlessness can affect the creatures that live in our world. It's a good illustration of a big concept. It is also a wonderful thing to see what a bird can do with just a beak. How lucky we are to have hands and fingers to manipulate things with...but are we too clever for our own good?
At one point in my wanderings I was given a map and directions to Willow Court. I decided it might be worth a look and was just blown away by the volume of the place and the incredible contents thereof. I was taken on a thousand journeys as I browsed all manner of things...some of which it is embarrassing to find in an antiques store as I remember many of them from childhood and my teenage years and twenties...am I really that old??? Yes, it would appear so. The photos below were all taken as I wandered through this amazing place. It was originally a hospital and as I walked the halls and rooms of the old nurses quarters, I was struck by how cold it was compared to the cheery warmth outside. I suspect it is a happier place now as a tourist venture than it was back in the 1800s when it was an asylum for the insane. I'd like to go back again some time for another look, when I know more about the place. I'm planning to do a little research.
I headed back to Hobart mid-afternoon to ensure I had time to visit Mawson's Huts replica before I drove home. I'll write about that in my next post. Hope you're inspired to get out and about to see somewhere new near you!! If you are I'd love to hear about it. Remember you can add comments easily at the bottom of each post. Cheers for now, Kerry
Anyway, after a lazy start to day two of my mini-holiday (11am checkout woohoo!) I wandered down to the restaurant for a breakfast of poached eggs and tomato on toast and good rich coffee. Had a lovely conversation with the lady who took my order. She was tired because her ten month old bub had been restless all night. I thought about how hard it must to be work when you have small children. I was lucky enough to be at home when my children were small. I'm sure I'd never have coped with going out to work. I suggested that it might be tough for this woman to come to work but she smiled and said she had a very supportive husband who would dress the children and take them to where they needed to be dropped off. I don't want to judge but I couldn't have stood the idea of dropping my babies off anywhere when they were small. I just wanted to be with them...and for them to be with me. I was in my early thirties by the time I had my first child. Perhaps that is why...or perhaps I was just lucky to have the opportunity to stay at home with my little ones. I'm glad the lady has a supportive husband, and I'm glad she finishes work in the early afternoon. I hope she gets to spend lots of time with her little ones. They grow up so fast.
After a delicious breakfast designed to keep me going all day, I took a short drive to New Norfolk. I'd heard that there were loads of antique stores there and with my appetite whetted by my venture into the Franklin shop a few weekends back, I decided I'd like to go and take a look. It was a bright, sunny, breezy day...just right for taking a little drive and wandering around a new town with new sights and sounds. That's what I was after most of all...something new...something fresh...something to delight my always busy mind. And that is what I got. I left the car near a lovely park and headed towards what looked like the place to find the shops I was looking for. Two steps around the corner I was accosted by a young man with glasses, an accent and a trolley full of trays of strawberries. He had a spiel designed to sell and sell he did...to me! Seven dollars later I was the proud owner of a half kilo box of strawberries that were half the size of my head and smelled like heaven must. Lunch sorted, I popped them in my bag and kept walking. Now I wish I'd asked for a photo but I was so astonished by the way this man appeared out of nowhere, that I didn't have the presence of mind. Bemused, I continued my stroll down the main street. Three buskers I counted and two I contributed to. The guitar and harmonica man was the best. Again...no photos. I must gain the courage to ask people so I can share with you here. I must overcome the shyness...and be bolder! For now you will have to use your imagination a bit. What a lovely day it was, wandering into this shop and that, chatting with people along the way. Lots of newness...just what I needed.
I took a walk in the park when it was time to eat those delicious strawberries; they were every bit as good as their aroma promised. I found a screwdriver on the grass and popped it in my pocket. Serendipity. I noticed some 'twigs' from a corkscrew willow and collected an armful for school. They are sure to inspire some sort of creative project. Free from nature. Thank you. Lovely. On the way back to the car to deposit the twigs in the boot, I noticed a fallen bird's nest. On closer inspection I discovered that the whitish fluffy stuff woven in among the grass and fine twigs was cigarette filters, stripped of their brown paper coating and carefully fluffed to make a cosy home for baby birds. How sad really. Those filters are in the cigarettes to draw the toxic chemicals out of the smoke before the smoker inhales. Poor wee birds starting life nestled in a bed of toxic chemical soaked fluff. I wonder how it affects them...especially when they are wee things with bare skin, just out of the eggs. Food for thought. I have the nest in the boot of the car too. It will be good to talk with the children about how our thoughtlessness can affect the creatures that live in our world. It's a good illustration of a big concept. It is also a wonderful thing to see what a bird can do with just a beak. How lucky we are to have hands and fingers to manipulate things with...but are we too clever for our own good?
At one point in my wanderings I was given a map and directions to Willow Court. I decided it might be worth a look and was just blown away by the volume of the place and the incredible contents thereof. I was taken on a thousand journeys as I browsed all manner of things...some of which it is embarrassing to find in an antiques store as I remember many of them from childhood and my teenage years and twenties...am I really that old??? Yes, it would appear so. The photos below were all taken as I wandered through this amazing place. It was originally a hospital and as I walked the halls and rooms of the old nurses quarters, I was struck by how cold it was compared to the cheery warmth outside. I suspect it is a happier place now as a tourist venture than it was back in the 1800s when it was an asylum for the insane. I'd like to go back again some time for another look, when I know more about the place. I'm planning to do a little research.
I headed back to Hobart mid-afternoon to ensure I had time to visit Mawson's Huts replica before I drove home. I'll write about that in my next post. Hope you're inspired to get out and about to see somewhere new near you!! If you are I'd love to hear about it. Remember you can add comments easily at the bottom of each post. Cheers for now, Kerry
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| Loved the way this old car is 'displayed' on the road! |
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| Slowly returning to nature...and needing a little TLC like the old buildings at Willow Court. This was just outside the Patchwork Cafe. |
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| Such a beautiful succulent. Two loves of mine...succulents and mosaics. |
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| There's something about wheels. |
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| Old motorbikes...for my Dad. |
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| Look Dad, a Triumph! |
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| A stack of hats...there were collections of all sorts of things. |
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| Lovely lavender at the Patchwork Cafe. |
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| Welcome to the Nurses Quarters. It was so cold inside!! |
Tuesday, 7 January 2014
A Day In Town
It's a bit lavish of me, but I decided that I'd come to town today and stay overnight...in a hotel...in the city. It's exciting and wonderful. I bet you think I'm mad! The fact is that when you live a mammoth hour and a half drive from town...I know, some people actually commute from down home to the city for work, but that seems so close to impossible I really don't know how they do it...you can run out of energy to do all the things on the list. I usually have such a list. I have things I've been meaning to do in town for two years!! Hence the big decision to pay out for accommodation and give myself time to browse and make up my mind about things like new glasses.
I last had my eyes tested four years ago. I know, it's too long...but somehow it just didn't get done again. I had made the appointment to have them checked and then went to 'check in' at the hotel. The man at reception needed me to give my car registration number. I could remember the Queensland one but not the new Tasmanian one which I've had for the past two years. Hmmm. Short term memory loss. Long term...pretty good. Anyway, I said to him I'll just pop my head out the door to have a look. The car was only about 20 or 30 metres away tops. I could see the car but not the number plate...well I could see it, but not what was written on it. I'll just go a bit closer I thought. I walked towards the car squinting to see what it said. Eventually I had to bend down as well...oh, boy. I will say that the sun was at a particular angle but I really don't think that was the only problem. I was very pleased that my next job was to see the optometrist.
My poor old eyes are losing some of their mojo and for the first time in almost a lifetime of eye examinations seem to be on the downwards slide. I'm a bit distressed because every time they say no, not much difference. This time he said yes, they've gone down one step. What is one step? I should have asked. How many steps are there? But I just nodded sagely and accepted this new bit of un-knowledge. Knowing what questions to ask is very important isn't it. Perhaps I'll get the chance to ask when I go to collect my new glasses. Spec Savers do a two for one deal and so I have ordered a pair of bi-focals which I hope will be effective for work, and a pair of long distance glasses for driving and walking about in. I have worn glasses full time since I was seven years old, so they really are not a luxury but a necessity. All the same I count myself privileged to have the choices I have for types of frames and lenses...and even the opportunity to wear glasses. My life would be less rich without them. I appreciate all the amazing things I get to see just by getting outdoors and opening my eyes. How beautiful everything is and how sad I'd be if I couldn't see it all.
Some years ago a lovely man from a church in Bowen blessed me with the gift of a banjo. Our family had visited his after church and he had plucked a banjo from the wall and started playing and I was transfixed. I'd never heard anything so full of joy and fun. I love the sound...the bubbling, bouncing sound of the banjo. It is sheer delight. To my great surprise he offered me his old banjo to learn. Wow. No one had ever given me such a gift before. Along with it came a book by the banjo playing superstar Earl Scruggs. He's the king of bluegrass banjo I'm pretty sure. I bought an electronic tuner to go along with it and started to practice rolls, trying to get that finger memory you need to be able to play well. Over time I did get a few rolls going really well and even had a go at a tune or two...but then circumstances led me to hand my banjo to someone else and when all interest was gone, it eventually had to be sold. Sometimes life can put you in a tight corner and you have to let go of things you'd rather keep.
I cried when it went, but I know that the fellow who bought it was so keen and excited and I know that banjo will be out there somewhere in Central Queensland bubbling out a tune for happy listeners. I've dreamed many times of getting another banjo and getting back to learning. You don't have to not learn because it didn't work the first time. Like giving up smoking...you just keep trying; giving it another go. But of course, now I don't have a banjo to play around with. Hobart has a magical little music shop called MacFie's and inside is a clever man who happily played a little tune on all the different banjos in the shop so I could hear the difference. The tone mellowed a little as the price got higher but they all made a joyful sound. I'm thinking seriously about buying one. I'm sure I could lay-by it and now I know there is a banjo teacher not too terribly far from home, that could be just the prompting I need. Anyway, I really enjoyed those few magic minutes listening to what must be my very favourite instrument. It makes me feel happy to even think about learning again. Stay tuned...haha.
Living in southern Tasmania does really mean that one needs boots. Good boots. Warm boots. Durable, smart, wearable, comfortable boots. Today I bought some. The smart thing about buying boots in the summer we're not really having (still lots of wet and cool days...but it's going to turn it on when we all go back to school, for sure!) is that the winter stock is all ON SALE. I bought a pair of perfect for me boots for a very good price and I know they'll be worn and worn until they wear out in about ten years' time and then I might get some more. It was such a happy thing to buy some boots too. It feels like I've gone a bit mad really...but most of my trips up here are looking trips...and thinking trips. This time it's the doing and shopping trip.
I have to say that as much as I love and adore my friends and family, it's kind of nice to be up here on my lonesome and just going here and there as it suits me. I'm planning on heading out shortly to catch a movie and by then I reckon I'll be tuckered out and ready for a sleep. A change is as good as a holiday. You don't have to go far from home, but just get into a different mode of thinking for a day or two and it can be refreshing and renewing. I'm planning to go a bit touriste tomorrow and to visit a few places and perhaps take a few photos of things that catch my eye. I wonder what I'll have to write about tomorrow...Talk to you again soon!
I last had my eyes tested four years ago. I know, it's too long...but somehow it just didn't get done again. I had made the appointment to have them checked and then went to 'check in' at the hotel. The man at reception needed me to give my car registration number. I could remember the Queensland one but not the new Tasmanian one which I've had for the past two years. Hmmm. Short term memory loss. Long term...pretty good. Anyway, I said to him I'll just pop my head out the door to have a look. The car was only about 20 or 30 metres away tops. I could see the car but not the number plate...well I could see it, but not what was written on it. I'll just go a bit closer I thought. I walked towards the car squinting to see what it said. Eventually I had to bend down as well...oh, boy. I will say that the sun was at a particular angle but I really don't think that was the only problem. I was very pleased that my next job was to see the optometrist.
My poor old eyes are losing some of their mojo and for the first time in almost a lifetime of eye examinations seem to be on the downwards slide. I'm a bit distressed because every time they say no, not much difference. This time he said yes, they've gone down one step. What is one step? I should have asked. How many steps are there? But I just nodded sagely and accepted this new bit of un-knowledge. Knowing what questions to ask is very important isn't it. Perhaps I'll get the chance to ask when I go to collect my new glasses. Spec Savers do a two for one deal and so I have ordered a pair of bi-focals which I hope will be effective for work, and a pair of long distance glasses for driving and walking about in. I have worn glasses full time since I was seven years old, so they really are not a luxury but a necessity. All the same I count myself privileged to have the choices I have for types of frames and lenses...and even the opportunity to wear glasses. My life would be less rich without them. I appreciate all the amazing things I get to see just by getting outdoors and opening my eyes. How beautiful everything is and how sad I'd be if I couldn't see it all.
Some years ago a lovely man from a church in Bowen blessed me with the gift of a banjo. Our family had visited his after church and he had plucked a banjo from the wall and started playing and I was transfixed. I'd never heard anything so full of joy and fun. I love the sound...the bubbling, bouncing sound of the banjo. It is sheer delight. To my great surprise he offered me his old banjo to learn. Wow. No one had ever given me such a gift before. Along with it came a book by the banjo playing superstar Earl Scruggs. He's the king of bluegrass banjo I'm pretty sure. I bought an electronic tuner to go along with it and started to practice rolls, trying to get that finger memory you need to be able to play well. Over time I did get a few rolls going really well and even had a go at a tune or two...but then circumstances led me to hand my banjo to someone else and when all interest was gone, it eventually had to be sold. Sometimes life can put you in a tight corner and you have to let go of things you'd rather keep.
I cried when it went, but I know that the fellow who bought it was so keen and excited and I know that banjo will be out there somewhere in Central Queensland bubbling out a tune for happy listeners. I've dreamed many times of getting another banjo and getting back to learning. You don't have to not learn because it didn't work the first time. Like giving up smoking...you just keep trying; giving it another go. But of course, now I don't have a banjo to play around with. Hobart has a magical little music shop called MacFie's and inside is a clever man who happily played a little tune on all the different banjos in the shop so I could hear the difference. The tone mellowed a little as the price got higher but they all made a joyful sound. I'm thinking seriously about buying one. I'm sure I could lay-by it and now I know there is a banjo teacher not too terribly far from home, that could be just the prompting I need. Anyway, I really enjoyed those few magic minutes listening to what must be my very favourite instrument. It makes me feel happy to even think about learning again. Stay tuned...haha.
Living in southern Tasmania does really mean that one needs boots. Good boots. Warm boots. Durable, smart, wearable, comfortable boots. Today I bought some. The smart thing about buying boots in the summer we're not really having (still lots of wet and cool days...but it's going to turn it on when we all go back to school, for sure!) is that the winter stock is all ON SALE. I bought a pair of perfect for me boots for a very good price and I know they'll be worn and worn until they wear out in about ten years' time and then I might get some more. It was such a happy thing to buy some boots too. It feels like I've gone a bit mad really...but most of my trips up here are looking trips...and thinking trips. This time it's the doing and shopping trip.
I have to say that as much as I love and adore my friends and family, it's kind of nice to be up here on my lonesome and just going here and there as it suits me. I'm planning on heading out shortly to catch a movie and by then I reckon I'll be tuckered out and ready for a sleep. A change is as good as a holiday. You don't have to go far from home, but just get into a different mode of thinking for a day or two and it can be refreshing and renewing. I'm planning to go a bit touriste tomorrow and to visit a few places and perhaps take a few photos of things that catch my eye. I wonder what I'll have to write about tomorrow...Talk to you again soon!
Monday, 6 January 2014
Conversation
Those of you that read my post Closing the Lid on 2013 will know that I've made the move from the house on the hill to give myself a fresh start for 2014. Leaving a relationship, even a fledgling one, is never easy and one can be overwhelmed by thinking too much about the whys and wherefores. I have done much of this and find it exhausting and probably something of a waste of time and energy. By that I do not mean to demean or devalue the experience of a short relationship. There were heady and wonderful times and some not so great, but that is true of life is it not? I would not change a thing; life is to be lived...mistakes are to be made and learned from. There are usually two or more people involved and the dynamics of moving out create many difficult situations and emotions, even when those concerned are all doing their best to be caring and gentle human beings. Enough said about that for now. We all do the best we can. However, it has led to me staying with friends for now until I move into a place of my own again later this month...and that gives rise to my thoughts today about conversation and the importance it has in friendships and other relationships.
This morning I popped upstairs for a coffee before heading off to the mechanic so my poor wee Excel could have it's slightly overdue service, and ended up sitting and chatting with one of said friends over that morning cuppa. I have to say it was the first really refreshing conversation I've enjoyed for some time! We touched on many subjects in the short time including cancer management by natural means, the new John Pilger movie, Utopia (I hope to see it although I know it will make me feel angry and sad...) and the true meaning of words like original, aboriginal, indigenous and traditional. Lawyers and other academics with an interest in words and their meanings can strip them of their modern context and take them back to bare bones; Greek or Latin origins; and challenge our understandings of the things we say and take for granted as being 'okay' or politically correct. It was probably only about ten minutes...long enough to down the coffee and run, but the thing that struck home was that it was a respectful sharing of ideas and knowledge. One person spoke and the other listened...and responded in a way that indicated that they had heard and understood the first person. The second person then extended on the first persons idea, or asked a question to clarify understanding, or nodded in agreement. It continued in a gentle flow of taking turns to add further ideas or thoughtful comment; there sat an invitation to speak and be heard. It was brilliant. I mean really, it was so simple; I'm surprised it generated such excitement that I want to write for you about it...
Generally speaking, is it fair to say that we've almost lost the art of conversation? Do you find that you are speaking to someone and they can hardly wait for the last sound to emanate from your lips before they are taking off at some tangent or other and enthusiastically sharing some thought of their own. They can't wait to share something about their own experiences or ideas, and often it bears little relevance to the whole of what you've said. It might have been sparked by something you said in the first few words you spoke, but by the time you have finished the sentence or two, you were actually making a point of some sort. Alas, the 'listener' has missed the point because they have not been listening; they have been too busy holding their own thought...their own speech...champing at the bit so to speak (pardon the pun). They have completely missed the point of what you were saying and sometimes even assume you meant something else entirely and begin to tell you all the reasons that you're wrong. Gosh it's frustrating when it happens because...
Usually the people who do this are not interested in your ideas or thoughts in the first place. Not really. So they are not open to you going back to repeat or explain what you were trying to discuss or tell them about. They have not learned to be good listeners. Now I'm as guilty as anyone else of jumping in or interrupting with my own wonderfully exciting contributions to a chat. But I also know how to listen. I learned how to listen long ago when I trained to be a phone counselor for Lifeline. People calling Lifeline are usually in a bit of a state for one reason or another and they need someone to really hear what they are saying, so the training is very focused on that. It is something I am forever grateful for. It is a gift to be able to sit and listen to someone and really hear them. It is a gift to be able to ask questions to clarify understanding, to paraphrase to ensure I am hearing what I think I am, and then to summarise to really know that I've got it. There are times when that is vital and it reassures the speaker that you have both heard and understood their plight. Of course, there was much more to it than that, but those three skills are extremely important to use in a more gentle way in everyday conversation.
Perhaps it is that we are in too much of a hurry, or that we are not listened to often enough ourselves, that fuels our need to interject rather than hearing someone out. How long is it since you sat down with someone over a coffee, a cup of tea or some other beverage...and really listened to every word they said? How long is it since someone shared something with you and you didn't serve an experience of your own right back at them? How long is it since you allowed someone else to finish what they have to say before you jump in with your bit? Be aware of yourself next time you're having a conversation with someone. Value what they are saying. Be honoured that they are sharing with you. If you ask someone how they are, listen to what they say. You might be the only person they tell about how they're really feeling. Perhaps a few of us making a concerned effort to listen and hear others will slowly influence others to slow down a bit and listen too.
The benefits of a good conversation, where both parties have listened well and contributed thoughtfully to the confluence of information are many. Both people feel heard. So important. Both people feel valued. So important too. No one walks away feeling frustrated or annoyed. I'm not talking problem solving talks, although I'm sure the same principles apply. I just mean a sharing of thoughts and ideas. I walked away from the table feeling buoyed up and ready to face the day with a bounce in my step. That's what it can do for you. I had learned something new, had my curiosity nudged (I'm a lexophile...a lover of words...so new meanings for words is something that really gets me excited!!) and I'd shared a little information of my own. The beauty of a conversation like that is I now have some new knowledge that might just help someone else down the track. Don't you love it when you can make a suggestion or pass on a little snip of knowledge about something and it helps someone else? I love it!! It feels so good. If I don't listen well, I can miss out on all the juicy stuff...the snippets and wonders of other people's knowledge and understandings of things...new perspectives.
There are times when it's fun to have a fast paced chat with ideas running into and over each other with laughter and joking and stories. I'm not saying one should always be a seriously good listener. But there are times when it can be really satisfying to know that you have shared a good chat...and that it hasn't been gossip...it has been about concepts and ideas and bigger things than what Henrietta wore at the last garden party (apologies to all the Henriettas out there who have recently attended garden parties...I wasn't there...it's just an example). Both parties have learned something new. That my friends, is pretty cool.
Well, this here has been a bit of a monologue, as a blog by nature is, but I would be very happy if you would share your thoughts and ideas about conversation with me by leaving a comment below. Next time we're having a cuppa, give me a nudge if I'm distracted for some reason...and remind me to pay attention...I hope though, that I'll be on my best listener behaviour for you! I'm sure you'll have some gems of wisdom for me and I won't want to miss them!
This morning I popped upstairs for a coffee before heading off to the mechanic so my poor wee Excel could have it's slightly overdue service, and ended up sitting and chatting with one of said friends over that morning cuppa. I have to say it was the first really refreshing conversation I've enjoyed for some time! We touched on many subjects in the short time including cancer management by natural means, the new John Pilger movie, Utopia (I hope to see it although I know it will make me feel angry and sad...) and the true meaning of words like original, aboriginal, indigenous and traditional. Lawyers and other academics with an interest in words and their meanings can strip them of their modern context and take them back to bare bones; Greek or Latin origins; and challenge our understandings of the things we say and take for granted as being 'okay' or politically correct. It was probably only about ten minutes...long enough to down the coffee and run, but the thing that struck home was that it was a respectful sharing of ideas and knowledge. One person spoke and the other listened...and responded in a way that indicated that they had heard and understood the first person. The second person then extended on the first persons idea, or asked a question to clarify understanding, or nodded in agreement. It continued in a gentle flow of taking turns to add further ideas or thoughtful comment; there sat an invitation to speak and be heard. It was brilliant. I mean really, it was so simple; I'm surprised it generated such excitement that I want to write for you about it...
Generally speaking, is it fair to say that we've almost lost the art of conversation? Do you find that you are speaking to someone and they can hardly wait for the last sound to emanate from your lips before they are taking off at some tangent or other and enthusiastically sharing some thought of their own. They can't wait to share something about their own experiences or ideas, and often it bears little relevance to the whole of what you've said. It might have been sparked by something you said in the first few words you spoke, but by the time you have finished the sentence or two, you were actually making a point of some sort. Alas, the 'listener' has missed the point because they have not been listening; they have been too busy holding their own thought...their own speech...champing at the bit so to speak (pardon the pun). They have completely missed the point of what you were saying and sometimes even assume you meant something else entirely and begin to tell you all the reasons that you're wrong. Gosh it's frustrating when it happens because...
Usually the people who do this are not interested in your ideas or thoughts in the first place. Not really. So they are not open to you going back to repeat or explain what you were trying to discuss or tell them about. They have not learned to be good listeners. Now I'm as guilty as anyone else of jumping in or interrupting with my own wonderfully exciting contributions to a chat. But I also know how to listen. I learned how to listen long ago when I trained to be a phone counselor for Lifeline. People calling Lifeline are usually in a bit of a state for one reason or another and they need someone to really hear what they are saying, so the training is very focused on that. It is something I am forever grateful for. It is a gift to be able to sit and listen to someone and really hear them. It is a gift to be able to ask questions to clarify understanding, to paraphrase to ensure I am hearing what I think I am, and then to summarise to really know that I've got it. There are times when that is vital and it reassures the speaker that you have both heard and understood their plight. Of course, there was much more to it than that, but those three skills are extremely important to use in a more gentle way in everyday conversation.
Perhaps it is that we are in too much of a hurry, or that we are not listened to often enough ourselves, that fuels our need to interject rather than hearing someone out. How long is it since you sat down with someone over a coffee, a cup of tea or some other beverage...and really listened to every word they said? How long is it since someone shared something with you and you didn't serve an experience of your own right back at them? How long is it since you allowed someone else to finish what they have to say before you jump in with your bit? Be aware of yourself next time you're having a conversation with someone. Value what they are saying. Be honoured that they are sharing with you. If you ask someone how they are, listen to what they say. You might be the only person they tell about how they're really feeling. Perhaps a few of us making a concerned effort to listen and hear others will slowly influence others to slow down a bit and listen too.
The benefits of a good conversation, where both parties have listened well and contributed thoughtfully to the confluence of information are many. Both people feel heard. So important. Both people feel valued. So important too. No one walks away feeling frustrated or annoyed. I'm not talking problem solving talks, although I'm sure the same principles apply. I just mean a sharing of thoughts and ideas. I walked away from the table feeling buoyed up and ready to face the day with a bounce in my step. That's what it can do for you. I had learned something new, had my curiosity nudged (I'm a lexophile...a lover of words...so new meanings for words is something that really gets me excited!!) and I'd shared a little information of my own. The beauty of a conversation like that is I now have some new knowledge that might just help someone else down the track. Don't you love it when you can make a suggestion or pass on a little snip of knowledge about something and it helps someone else? I love it!! It feels so good. If I don't listen well, I can miss out on all the juicy stuff...the snippets and wonders of other people's knowledge and understandings of things...new perspectives.
There are times when it's fun to have a fast paced chat with ideas running into and over each other with laughter and joking and stories. I'm not saying one should always be a seriously good listener. But there are times when it can be really satisfying to know that you have shared a good chat...and that it hasn't been gossip...it has been about concepts and ideas and bigger things than what Henrietta wore at the last garden party (apologies to all the Henriettas out there who have recently attended garden parties...I wasn't there...it's just an example). Both parties have learned something new. That my friends, is pretty cool.
Well, this here has been a bit of a monologue, as a blog by nature is, but I would be very happy if you would share your thoughts and ideas about conversation with me by leaving a comment below. Next time we're having a cuppa, give me a nudge if I'm distracted for some reason...and remind me to pay attention...I hope though, that I'll be on my best listener behaviour for you! I'm sure you'll have some gems of wisdom for me and I won't want to miss them!
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