The Three Bens

Over the last three weeks I have been fortunate to have been in the same room as three amazing men with the name of Ben! Each spoke about their passions. There's always something uplifting about being inspired by those who love what they do to the point that listening to their stories is rather humbling. So let's start at the Queenscliffe Literary Festival. 

But first a little background into this new 'event' which was held each weekend through the Merry Month of May and after the success of this first 4 weekends I do hope that it will be the beginning of more to come. It was initiated by the owner of The Bookshop at Queenscliff  - MaryLou Gilbert and her merry band of assistants and volunteers. Geraldine Doogue who seems to have been part of the Australian psyche (on ABC Radio and Television) for longer than most of us can remember, opened the Festival (followed by local cheeses and wines!) Just as an aside I was reading the local RIP News (the Rip being the waters between Queenscliff and Portsea at the Heads of Port Phillip Bay) I was stunned to read that the locals were looking forward to the festival being opened by Gerldine Doofgue (sic) (yes really - we got slightly hysterical reading it!) - so much for good editing! Anyway enough of that. 

We continued a few weekends ago with a wonderful session in which author (recent book Shy), reviewer, soprano, interviewer etc etc etc Sian Prior (known to many as an ABC reviewer) welcomed us with two wonderful baroque songs of love (I can't remember the titles - sorry!) 

And then it was onto the two Bens. We began with Ben Shaw who spoke with passion about finding his 'tribe' on the Bellarine Peninsula through permaculture. He has recently set up the garden at the divine Kiltynane Winery. We were so inspired that we rushed to see it the following day and were blown away by the location and beauty of the winery and the restaurant.

What a view - rolling lawns, past the vegetable gardens, past the vineyard, across Swan Bay to Queenscliff

Fabulous vegetable garden, looking back towards the old house - now a restaurant

We visited on a 'perfect' day but you can always sit inside and enjoy French food, Kiltynane Wines and eclectic art

And then it was onto Ben Shewry, the famed head chef/owner of the acclaimed Attica Restaurant (voted 2nd in Australia a week later and currently 32/50 in The Top 50 Restaurants in the World). He spoke about his journey at the restaurant and how he had also found his 'tribe' living on the Bellarine Peninsula - a 2 hour drive to work and 1.5 hours home - one he says is worth the journey. In fact it seems that since his move to Ocean Grove with his family (now 3 children) his restaurant has gone from strength to strength. He felt so welcomed and had 'come home' (he is a New Zealander but we are happy to claim him)

Ben Shewry (goodfood.com.au)

It was another uplifting talk about his restaurant journey (and his family journey - you can't have one without the other) and in conclusion he advised that he had made us each a gift to take with us (that's the type of person he is!). Now I might get this a little wrong (no notebook at the ready) He had made each of us an egg. He told the story of the fun he likes to have with his clients at the restaurant. At the conclusion of the meal the diners were presented with a nest of eggs. They were told that they were from an almost extinct bird in New Zealand. The diners were asked not to tell anyone that they were offered to them to eat. And then the waiters would leave the table and watch the diners hesitate - should they eat an egg of an almost extinct bird, should they leave them - oh why not - and so they colluded to eat the eggs - which turned out to be stunning white chocolate with a burst of delicious runny caramel inside. And there was one for each of us (150 people)! It is probably the closest I will get to eating at Attica! Heaven!

A nest of eggs - one for each of us

And they were 'lifesize'!

And finally there was the third Ben. I went to hear the Booker Prize winning author and poet, Nigerian-born, Ben Okri speak at the Malthouse Theatre. It was a humbling experience to be in the presence of such an articulate, thoughtful, intelligent man. I must say that I found his 1991 Booker Prize winning book The Famished Road not an easy read. The power of story telling began with his parents who wove story and mystery into their daily life. It was extraordinary. He was here to talk about his new book The Age of Magic but in the course of the conversation he mentioned that he had been asked to write a foreward to some of his earlier works. It entailed him re-reading them (something he wouldn't normally do) and along the way all the books he had written he felt could improve with some re-writing. That is except for one. It was Astonishing the Gods written in 1991.  So of course that is on my-to-read-list and it might now be on yours. 

Ben Okri (thesundaytimes.co.uk)

Melbournites may be interested to know that he felt he needed to take a few minutes to weave his magic for us - saying that in the 19 years since his last visit to Melbourne the city has changed - for the better. It is now sophisticated, stylish, literary (well after all we are the UNESCO City of Literature) confident, artistic - and well a joy to visit. Of course we all clapped him for this nod! 

To be in the presence of three such articulate and passionate Bens was an inspiration. What  synchronicity there was in their name.

The miracle of flight

Just recently I received an email about the development of technology including a link to 'jetman'. I was 'blown away' (not literally!) There seem to be no limits to what humans will do with technology. Just think the Wright Brothers launched their first powered flight in 1903 ... and now we have 'jetman' only 112 years later. Man has always wanted to fly. And now they can.

Jetman in action

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Czy0pXRRZcs

Even though I could think of nothing worse than to 'fly through the air with the greatest of ease' (or parachute out of a plane which seems to be the new fashion for oldies celebrating a milestone) - I found it fascinating. I recalled the film Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines - Or, How I Flew from London to Paris in 25 Hours 11 Minutes a 1965 British comedy film based on a fictional account of an air race. It is set in 1910. Did you see it - hilarious - in its day - but oh so dated now. 

As with so much these days things have changed even in the writing of the catchy theme song - the first two lines were written by Lorraine Williams (no relation!) the wife of Elmo Williams, who was then the European Managing Director of 20th Century Fox. In those days Mrs Williams was not credited on the sheet music which was written by the English composer Ron Goodwin. Just to take you back here are the words (thankyou Mrs Williams!)

Those magnificent men in their flying machines,
they go up tiddly up up,
they go down tiddly down down.

They enchant all the ladies and steal all the scenes,
with their up tiddly up up
and their down tiddly down down.

Up, down, flying around,
looping the loop and defying the ground.

They're all frightfully keen,
those magnificent men in their flying machines.

They can fly upside with their feet in the air,
They don"t think of danger, they really don"t care.
Newton would think he had made a mistake,
To see those young men and the chances they take.

Those magnificent men in their flying machines,
they go up tiddly up up,
they go down tiddly down down.

They enchant all the ladies and steal all the scenes,
with their up tiddly up up
and their down tiddly down down.

Up, down, flying around,
looping the loop and defying the ground.

They're all frightfully keen,
Those magnificent men in their flying machines.

You can listen to the song here if you want - it's fun!:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UPgS26ZhqZs

Well 'jetman' Yves Rossy has taken that song and made it his own. As he goes up, down, flying around, looping the loop and defying the ground. I loved his explanation of how it feels, how he 'drives' it, and more. Do take time to watch history being made. As he says "I am the fuselage". And do watch those lucky wide-eyed children listening to him (including one with a black jetman on his back - Batman is so passe!)

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HZRp6iRjnhQ

It won't be long before we are all flying around - they'll need traffic lights in the sky (now there's an idea!) Instead of bikie clubs there will be jetman clubs. The mind boggles. Just as it would have when the Wright Bros first flew - never would man have imagined that flying is available to much of the world's population or that we would land on the moon.

Superman here we come!

But until then I will leave you with this photo of 2 aircraft - the A380 and a Boeing 737 landing at Los Angeles airport (bet it takes you a while to see the smaller plane - hint - it is red and blue!). We've certainly come a long way since the Wright Brothers. 

The A380 is actually half a mile from the 737 (thank goodness!)

Now you see it - now you don't!

When I was re-organising my office recently I had an 'excess' old filing cabinet which a friend was happy to take off my hands. They really are the ugliest things. But oh so useful. She popped it in her study which is filled with treasures, fabrics for stitching, wool for knitting and the like. She has busy fingers! But oh the filing cabinet stood out like a sore thumb amongst all the paraphenalia. 

Sooo unattractive

So at my suggestion she shuffled through her enormous supply of fabric 'ends' and within the blink of an eye, the filing cabinet had 'disappeared'. 

Now that ugly thing is gone

If you have a cabinet that is in need of hiding then this might be the answer. The other alternative is to put a top on it (preferrably a round table top) and cover it with a 'frock' - and by that I mean a long tablecloth as I have suggested another friend do. Voila! It's gone!

Let's add a bit more colour!!

Of course all my special readers would already know these tricks - but just in case!

A rose by any other name

Wandering through my favourite Fitzroy Gardens recently we cut across the lawn (glad we don't live in France where there always seem to be 'don't walk on the grass' signs!) I spotted a number of gorgeous rosettes on the ground under an enormous pine tree.  

My small collection of rosettes

Now I distinctly remember my mother gathering these and putting them in a bowl or adding a wire stem and adding them to an 'arrangement'. They always looked rather charming in an old fashioned way even if they were competing with her wonderful arrangements of roses picked freshly - and often - from our rose gardens. The house was always in full bloom and yet she still managed to collect the odd rosettes. I think she called them cedar wood roses. 

A 'spray' of cedar roses

I went to my friend Mr Google to discover more about them and up they popped. They're called cedar wood rose flowers and they come from the Deodar or Himalayan Cedar which is an ever-green tree, growing to 50 m tall and 5 m to 10 m in circumference. (not in my backyard thanks!)

The magnificent Deodar Cedar

A detail of the cedar cone - you can see the cedar rose forming

Whilst gathering my 'small collection' I was surprised to find that my friend hadn't seen them before. The internet is awash with websites selling them - mainly in the States. I must get back to the Deodar and see if I can make a small fortune on line as well!

I'll need to get gathering to make a posy!

Have you seen them before? Have you collected them? Do you want to buy some!!! Of course you can beat me to it by scrounging around under the cedar tree in Melbourne's Fitzroy Gardens.

 

Lest we forget - and yet we do

I don't know if it is only me but we have been bombarded (probably not a good word to use!) with scenes of The Great War, TV and movies of The Great War, in fact everything to do with The Great War (including some tasteless advertisements) in order to 'cash in' on the 100th Anniversary of the Anzacs. And we haven't even arrived at Anzac Day on the 25th of this month! 

What is reality?

To be honest - I am 'over it'. And yet here I am writing about it. So I am also 'getting in on The Great War act'. Sorry. What a pity. The last few years there has been enormous interest that has seen us remember those young men who fought and died for freedom, with so many not coming home and decimating our young population in this still young country. Many died at the hands of those who ruled the Empire - who used our soldiers as fodder for the enemy. I find it all sickening. Yes, I think it is important that we remember them but not in the way they are now presented. It's a bit like a Hollywood movie.

The Avenue of Remembrance tapestry - an extraordinary work in progress

Last week I popped in to see the most recent commemorative tapestry to be created at the marvellous Tapestry Workshop (see the link here). The 3.3m by 2.8m tapestry took over 2380 hours to complete. It was to have been 'available' to see on the day I visited but the weavers were still busy completing it and there was little to show (most of it was rolled up as they reached the end). So I went on line to try and see it in its finished glory (another war word!) Unfortunately I just couldn't find the finished work anywhere on line. It was designed by the artist Imants Tillers and the Avenue of Rememberence is a wonderful piece which will find a home at the Australian War Memorial in Canberra (see the link here). 

Imants Tillers, Avenue of Remembrance, 2014, oil on board, 3.27 x 2.83m, photo courtesy of the artist

I was interested to read that Tillers' was inspired by The Gallipoli letter (read it here), an 8000 word document written by war correspondent and later media baron, Keith Murdoch (father of Rupert) to Prime Minister Andrew Fisher in 1915 during the early part of World War 1. It is considered to be one of the National Library’s most important objects and the content of the letter is regarded as having helped bring an end to the Gallipoli campaign. In this letter Murdoch laments, “how young Australians, knowing that they would probably die were flocking to fight on Gallipoli’s “sacred soil’”.

As the Tapestry Workshop statement reads "Tillers' poetic landscape painting is reminiscent of the wartime roads on the Western Front and the many ‘avenues of remembrance’ planted in memorial to the First World War around Australia.  Layered over the top are words from the Gallipoli letter and a selection of names of the many places where Australians fought and were buried during the war.

My ‘Avenue of Remembrance’ is, I hope, a way or means to remember not only those young men who died but also the profound loss and grief experienced by their mothers, their fathers, their brothers and sisters. By their friends, by their communities. By our nation.’

The "Ode of Remembrance" was written by Laurence Binyon (I never knew that) and was taken from his poem, "For the Fallen" and first published in September 1914.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

It seems that nothing has changed and we haven't learnt a thing. All the time we are glorifying our own soldiers we are puzzled by the pull of young men to join up with our current ISIS enemy. As the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Susan Falidi reminds us:

When the enemy has no face, society will invent one.

The Hottie - winter's a'comin!

I have a friend who always travels with her 'hottie (hot water bottle). I think it's a comfort to her and I have begun to follow her 'habit'. Neither of us have a 'hubby' to 'use' instead - and we call them our rubber hubbies! It got me thinking about the ubiquitous hottie versus the electric blanket. Except for the odd 'leak' from an old hottie (as happened recently when a friend lent me her long departed mothers hottie!), they are probably safer than an electric blanket - and won't burn the house down if they malfunction. They are transportable and they take me back to my childhood. I guess it's a bit like cuddling a dolly or a teddy bear!

And then there are the usual hottie covers that one can knit, or as my friend does - she makes them out of the sleeve of an old cashmere jumper (a new cover/sleeve every year!!).  Years ago in Aspen I picked up one that is a sheep. I think it's rather fun. 

The Aspen Sheep cover! Baa!

One of my guests took my last hottie and I needed to buy another. It was on my supermarket shopping list so I headed to where I thought a hottie would be located. I searched the toothpaste, body creams, baby formula, makeup area to no avail. Then I searched the bedroom linen, coathanger, shoe insert and other oddes and ends area - again to no avail. So off I went to the checkout chick to ascertain where they were located. "Yes, we do sell them, try the" toothpaste, body cream, baby formula area (well not those words but..). I replied "No, not there". On she went "Well then try the" bedroom linen, coathanger, shoe insert area (well not those words but...) So off I went again and spent another inordinate amount of time searching for a hottie. Again to no avail. So off I went to the 'store manager' (time is getting away from me now!) "Yes" she said "Follow me" and with that we headed down the aisle marked coffee. By this time I was frantic. Why on earth would she take me down that aisle. And there opposite the coffee were the freezer bottles and an array of smart metal water bottles. "No" I wept "I'm looking for a hot water bottle" and 'cuddled' myself (!) "It's to keep me warm at night". "Yes" she said looking at me as if I was mad (!) and pointed to the very bottom shelf. And there they were. In the water bottle 'department'. Now I ask you - why on earth would you put them there - opposite the coffee! It would appear that the store-shelf-allocator had no idea what they were for. (Perhaps drinking hot water from them?!) "My apologies" I grovelled with my tail between my legs. Then it was back to the checkout (by this stage I had overstayed my free hour of parking!) to report to my checkout chick where she could find them. "That's ridiculous" she replied. "I'll report it and have them moved" (now this was a pro-active chick)

A polo-necked fair isle cover - very smart but not cashmere!

So if you think you need comforting, then why not head to the supermarket aisle near the coffee - or the local chemist! You can then cuddle your way through a Melbourne winter. Happy cuddling!

The Shack

I was telling a friend recently that I was heading off to South Australia to stay at 'The Shack' for Easter. Now my friend likes all the very best comforts of life and I know she was horrified to think that I was off to a hovel!

2 captains of industry - my father (with large fish in hand), my mother, and 'shack owner' in front of The 'original' Shack

So I thought I would give you a little background into 'The Shack'. Located on the beautiful Fleurieu Peninsula about 1.5 hours south of Adelaide it was the holiday 'home' we went to when I was growing up. Well we didn't 'own' it - but our little family of 3 were invited often to stay with my parents best friends - a family of 6! (not counting the dogs in both families). To say that it was rough and ready would be an understatement. It was basically a single garage that after a number of years had a 'dream home' extension added - another garage room behind it! Our parents slept in the living room in wire bunks - which were used during the day as 'couches'. That room contained the kitchen which comprised a table and chairs to seat either the adults or the children (but not both!) a 2 burner kerosine stove, a kerosine fridge and the piece-de-resistance were the kerosine 'Tilley' lamps we needed to pump up to light our way at night. (there was a lot of pumping required to keep us going!) The backroom comprised 4 bunks - and a sort of 'roll-out' when I was staying - a wash basin (with a bucket below to catch the water) an outside tank and that was it! Oh did I forget to mention the 'dunny' up in the sand-dunes which needed to be emptied - often. (It seemed to be one of my fathers' less enchanting tasks when we were staying!)

Lined up for a swim - my father, aunt, me (!) my mother and at the front the current Shack owner and custodian!!

A real-estate description would have been interesting but if one was geared to location, location, location then this had it all. It was built right on the beach. When a storm came 'The Shack' was surrounded by crashing waves as we peered out the louvred windows. After the storm had abated we would step outside gingerley. Often the sand had been swept away and 'The Shack' would be swinging and teetering on its high-heels. Additional posts would need to be anchored to extend the 'high-heels' so that the entire building (?!) wouldn't collapse.

Did we have fun or did we have fun! Children - and the adults (the laughter after we had gone to bed - would reverberate through the connecting door to us) lived in paradise. Can you imagine children these days putting up with no en-suite, no running water and all sharing the bedroom. Let alone the parents sharing - in the kitchen/living room! We spent our days out on the reef searching for cowries, starfish and all manner of other weird and wonderful treasures. We swam in the clear blue water made safe by the surrounding reef. We went fishing in the dinghy and ate the freshest fish imaginable. We used the squid for bait (now we eat it as calamari!) and we romped and played hidey in the huge mounds of seaweed which came and went each year. We walked across the paddocks to collect a pitcher of fresh milk from the farmer nearby. We climbed Mt NeverRest (no idea of its real name) and we found the best mulberry trees to raid. The day always concluded with us tucked up in bed and my father coming through the wire door with its noisy hinge to tell us terrifying stories (he told me later that he scared himself too - so much for a vivid imagination!) And they were supposed to put us to sleep! Eyes wide open and agog! It was paradise. And it still is. 

Inside - all light and airy - ne'er a lean-to in sight

'The Shack' has been replaced by one of the most beautiful homes imaginable. There are bathrooms aplenty, 15 huge water tanks to supply our needs, french linen adorns the beds and the kitchen has hot and cold running everything (including water!) It is style personified. Choose to eat on the covered verandah out the front or, if it's too windy in the enclosed sandy courtyard, or choose to eat at the dining table. So much choice! Go trawling for squid over the reef out the front while getting some exercise paddling one of the kayaks, tow the boat by tractor down to the water and head out fishing, take a stiff walk to Normie (Normanville) and back before breakfast, watch the sun set over Rapid Bay. Put your feet up and have an espresso - or a wine! Enjoy a fire at night if it's cold. Go exploring the reef or, go shelling all along the beach (those cowries are like gold to find), or take a walk up the nearby creek. Barbeque the freshly caught calamari, whiting, snapper and flathead to name just a few. So let me take you on a journey of  'The Shack' as it is today and you will see why I call it Paradise.

Watch the world go by on the front verandah

An uninterupted view of the sun going down

The Shack 'sitting in the sand' with Mt NeverRest behind and a kayak awaiting out front

Too breezy on the front verandah - then try the inner courtyard

The main bedroom - including a framed photo of the original 'line up' for a swim

Read or sunbake on the deck

Hide in the seaweed mounds, or drive to the far point - Rapid Bay - and take the ferry to Kangaroo Island

The reef exposed - what's hiding under that rock ledge?

Mr Seagull showing you the safe swimming area surrounded by the reef

Let's go fishin

On my visit this time I took over a 'shell' mirror that I had made with shells I had gathered over the years at The Shack.

There's a chinamans hat and a fan shell

The shell frame reflecting some quirky artwork in the 3rd bedroom

The youngest of the 4 children of my 'claytons' family (the family you have when you don't have a family!) is now the custodian with her family (her daughter is one of my God-daughters) of this extraordinary piece of real estate. But I feel it is a part of me as well. I even took my parents ashes from the Cemetery and we scattered them in a 'garden of eden' on the reef and in the nearby sandhills. It's where I'll go when my journey ends. 

At the going down of my sun I'll be in Paradise