writecreations.com.au

The Quiche That Time Forgot

admin — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 22:32:01 +0000

I’ve always prided myself on my cooking abilities and am inclined to toss away the recipe book and add my own creative touches to whatever I’m making. I suppose this could have a lot to do with living in shared flats in London back in the 70s, when it was “mince, sausages or tuna pie” for dinner most nights. Back then, it was a case of trying to dress up the cheap meat so that we didn’t get too sick of eating it.

For some reason, and I’ve heard others say this, I generally find that my guests like to hover around the kitchen while I’m cooking (you will gather that I’m not the sort who has the dinner table beautifully set and guides the guests in to their places when it’s time for the entree to be served). And whilst I appreciate the conviviality, I have to admit that I sometimes get so absorbed in the conversation that I actually forget to add even the most vital ingredients. Like the time I put baking soda in a recipe for Chinese meatballs, instead of cornflour, and absent mindedly left the wrapping on the filo pastry when I cooked a ricotta and spinach pie. Not to mention the holiday with my parents. We’d been for a long walk along the beach, and the only shop was shut, so we just had to make do with what was available at the beach house. As it happened, we had sausages in the fridge, so I cooked up a hearty sausage and onion stir fry. Dad was absolutely ravenous, but after the first mouthful, he looked disgusted and said he was sorry, he couldn’t eat any more. That was when I realised I’d used dishwashing detergent instead of cooking oil to make the meal! (I must admit I did wonder why the supposed oil was bubbling so much in the frying pan!)

Thankfully these sorts of things don’t happen very often, except that the other day, again absorbed in conversation, I omitted to put the spinach in a feta cheese quiche, and somehow managed to create what seemed like the toughest, most tooth-shattering pastry shell ever made. Surprisingly, it tasted alright though.

For me, it’s all about being with friends and enjoying interesting stimulating conversation – and I guess that if the food is delicious as well, it’s a bonus.

Dinner, anyone?

The Tail of Humphrey Dumpster

admin — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 01:07:58 +0000

Last weekend I met an old cat called Humphrey. Humphrey lives in Kilmore with my friend, who rescued him from a life of living in factory dumpsters, surviving on rats and mice.

Humphrey is extremely old for a cat. His bones stretch taut against his white fur, and he has somewhat raggedy ears, speckled with suspiciously cancerous-looking spots.

Due to his early years in the rough and tough dumpster environment, Humphrey is not enamoured of the male human species, but he does love the ladies, who tickle and pat his furrowed fur. Unused to being treated fondly or eating tinned catfood however, he is inclined to be a fussy eater, but despite his advancing years, the spirit of adventure still looms large.

Although considerably wizened, Humphrey occasionally strides outside to indulge in some sun. He strikes a majestic pose, seemingly oblivious to the noisy magpies parked right beside him, before he disappears under his favourite tree to recline and rest.

Observing Humphrey, I am reminded of his ‘namesake’ – a 17 year old with long red hair whom I met on a boat sailing to England. The name seemed incongruous then; perhaps more suited to an old man. In some ways though, there are parallels. The young Humphrey was going from New Zealand to the UK to strike out on his own. Just like Humphrey the cat, he was a bit of a tough nut who’d had a hard life, but he was popular and fun, with a maturity well beyond his years.

If Humphrey the cat could talk, imagine the stories he could tell. Illicit gatherings behind the dumpsters, romantic liaisons between factory workers at lunchtime, wild weekend escapades … the mind boggles. All that knowledge, all those memories, locked behind those wise green eyes.

And the tail, flicking from side to side, just marking time.

Love Kindness and Compassion

admin — Tue, 06 Sep 2011 22:49:45 +0000

I had a very humbling experience recently. A friend of mine invited me along to a homeless shelter, where she cooks lunch once a month. I sat with a young couple who told me they were currently living in their station wagon and since the young woman was pregnant, I was immediately concerned for her wellbeing. I asked myself how this could happen in a country like Australia. How could such pleasant, well mannered, friendly young people be forced to live on the perimeter of our society and still retain a semblance of dignity and hope? No doubt there are countless similar stories in cities and towns all around Australia, and I see this as further evidence of the breakdown of society as we once knew it. Once, families were like patchwork quilts; a myriad of patterns woven together into a community, backed by the strong fabric of the church. The breakdown of the traditional family unit in today’s society has resulted in isolation and loneliness for many people, who often have no one to support or guide them when times are tough. No longer is the church viewed as a strong anchor, holding communities together. Where do they turn to?

Listening to these young people tell their story, I found myself wondering how I could help, but I realised that just by being there and actually hearing what they had to say was probably more important than anything else. It’s a fact that in the busy-ness of today’s fast paced world, people often don’t make time for each other.

How fantastic it is to know that in one small corner of Melbourne (and I suspect there are many others) there are volunteers donating their time and creating a space for people on the perimeter to come together and enjoy a convivial meal, some love, kindness and compassion.

Promote like a Squeaky Wheel

admin — Mon, 01 Aug 2011 12:06:52 +0000

Today I started the process of writing another life story. It’s been about three years since I first met my client at a business meeting. Since then, she has talked about writing her father’s memoirs; something she was keen to do because he hasn’t been well in recent years. There were various hold ups along the way, with her father becoming very ill and having to spend a long time in hospital, as well as numerous other hiccups that caused delays.

There can be other reasons why a project doesn’t go ahead immediately, which aren’t always obvious at first. Whilst the client is keen to have their loved one’s story told, the subject may feel their story is not important enough, and so decide against it. They might also fear an adverse reaction from their friends, and not want to appear as if they are ‘big noting’ themselves. This is a real pity, because these stories are usually just for families anyway, and as I always maintain, everyone’s story is unique, just as we all are.

Sadly, though, people often leave it too late and their loved ones pass away, along with all their wonderful stories.

I’ve been told by friends and business associates that I’m good at keeping in touch with people, and I believe this to be true. I find it to be an essential ingredient for promoting my business, whether it’s by email, telephone or face to face contact.

For me, the process of writing a family memoir is similar to that of building a house. You have the vision, you lay the foundations and build on them to create your safe and secure environment. Then there’s the maintenance; a new splash of paint every so often, new plants in the garden, lawns mowed etc. It’s ongoing and can take a lot of effort, but the end result is something to be extremely proud of.

Every Quilt Tells a Story

admin — Mon, 11 Jul 2011 01:43:31 +0000

Last week I mentioned how sewing a quilt might be an innovative way of ‘writing’ or ‘recording’ family memoirs, and I remembered an amusing incident from my youth. My father loved flamenco and I grew up surrounded by the music of Jose Greco and Manitas de Plata (complete with Dad clicking the castanets.) My sisters and I were encouraged to learn Spanish dancing, which we loved, from a rather fiery Columban teacher named Elena. I used to sew our dance dresses, and when Elena found out how keen I was on sewing, she asked me if I would make her a suit. To this day I remember the bright turquoise linen, and how my scissors accidently cut a hole right in the front of the jacket. Undeterred however, I sewed a neat little pocket over the hole which Elena thought was wonderful.

Now if I was sewing a family heirloom quilt I reckon a turquoise patch of that material would be a brilliant addition. Just think of the memories that it would evoke, and the stories that I could tell! Unfortunately though, I don’t have any of the material left, but I do have a Spanish dancing dress, so a patch of that might just have to do …

Treasure Buried Without a Map

admin — Mon, 04 Jul 2011 01:52:38 +0000

Last week I attended a dear friend’s father’s funeral. I had never met my friend’s Dad, yet through the beautiful service I got a wonderful snapshot of the person he was. In his eulogy, his son referred to his father’s great kindness, and spoke of his compassion and his love of humanity. He also talked about the very private but wonderful man behind the rather solemn persona that he presented to the public. Here was a hardworking Australian who was dedicated to his family, his church and his life – who loved to tell stories and who had lived a long and fulfilling life.

As I viewed his ‘life in pictures’ through photographs projected onto a large screen in the church, I found myself reflecting once again on the value of remembering and retaining life long stories for future generations to cherish and enjoy. If we don’t record these stories, each time a loved one passes away, we lose a chunk of our family history forever – like a treasure buried without a map.

Creating the map of course, is often the stumbling block. It’s easy to make excuses like “there’s not enough time”, “I’m too busy”, “I don’t know where to start” or “I don’t know what questions to ask”. However, once you’ve decided to write or record yours or a loved one’s story, the important thing is just to start – anywhere. You don’t necessarily have to start at the beginning. Just think of a significant “happening” in your life, and you will have begun creating the “map” that you can add to each time you think of another story.

For more information on how to start writing your family memoir, go to http://writecreations.com.au/wordpress/?page_id=258

Don’t Wait Until it’s Too Late

admin — Tue, 28 Jun 2011 08:07:15 +0000

I have been visiting friends in Sydney and on the Central Coast over the holiday weekend, and it has really brought to mind how important it is to write our parent’s stories down while we have the opportunity. One friend’s mother recently suffered a severe stroke which has devastated the family, who were completely unprepared for this traumatic turn of events, whilst my other friend’s mother died several years ago, again quite suddenly. In both instances, my friends have expressed the wish that they had recorded the wonderful stories that they had heard while they were growing up.

Years ago, the old family photo albums used to be filled with black and white photographs, whereas nowadays digital photo frames are becoming more and more popular, and create an on the spot record of people’s lives. They’re a great idea, however it could be an even better idea to accompany the photographs with a recording and thereby create an interesting family history. Not that you would want the audio to be continually blasting forth from the photo frame – it could be a tad annoying!

Treadmill of Life

admin — Mon, 09 May 2011 11:37:44 +0000

As a ‘baby boomer’ who grew up pre the computer and internet explosion, I feel thankful that I have had the opportunity to experience a more leisurely pace of life.

I’ve noticed that as I grow older (and these days, it seems, busier) life seems to go faster.

More and more, I see and hear evidence that people’s lives are becoming so busy that they don’t have (or make) time to do the things that they want to do, or enjoy doing. This very often includes spending time with family and friends. As a result, there is often a sense of unfulfilment, of isolation and unhappiness. There is also the desire to ‘run away’ when the pressure of life all gets too much.

In this age of busy-ness, I’ve also observed how this has affected friendships, or is it just part of the process of ‘natural selection’, that as we grow and develop and our interests change, so too do the people we want to associate with.

I certainly value the ‘well worn and comfortable slippers’ in my life, even though they are scattered all around the world. They’re the best mates, borne of friendships forged years ago, the ones I know will always be there, no matter what.

I often wonder though, how much people do value each other in this fast-paced, ‘want it now’ world. Is the social media community a convenient place for ‘friends’ to gather, enjoy fleeting contact and confidences and then walk away, without the need for further commitment?

As society changes, perhaps people’s values are also changing. Could it be that having hundreds of on line ‘friends’ satisfies that desire for instant gratification, and is a relatively easy and effortless way to sustain a level of friendship that suits today’s hectic lifestyle?

All I know, from the conversations I have with many people, is that there is a general sense of dissatisfaction, an awareness of pressure, a growing sense of isolation and an inability, in many cases, to enjoy life’s simple pleasures, which are, in my opinion, the time-honoured relationships with family and friends.

Exotic Stylish and a Real Temptress

admin — Tue, 19 Apr 2011 00:02:58 +0000

Ah … Palm Cove, Northern Queensland.

If Palm Cove was a woman, I’d say she was exotic, stylish and a real temptress … as well as hot and steamy.

Seriously, what a gem of a place. There’s plenty to do if you’re so inclined and we enjoyed kayaking on the river at Babinda (once I’d made sure there were no crocs!) swimming in the lovely pool at the Melaleuca Resort (see www.melaleucaresort.com.au), experiencing favourite tourist attractions like the Kuranda Skyrail, Mossman Gorge and the spectacular Golden Cascade Falls.

Pool at Melaleuca Resort Palm Cove

Fabulous Melaleuca Resort

Not to mention the best ever barramundi dish at Skase’s Bar in Port Douglas. Oh yes, then there’s the shopping!

And if you adore avocadoes like I do, you can buy five for $2 at the Cairns market. Yum!

Being surrounded by exotic flora and fauna, feeling the warm air on your skin, eating tropical fruits – it’s about as good as it gets in this little hideaway paradise.

I can thoroughly recommend it.

Climb your own Mount Everest

admin — Mon, 21 Mar 2011 23:36:10 +0000

Many years ago I spent some time in Kathmandu in Nepal. I was keen to get a glimpse of Mt Everest, so spent a day climbing up to Nagarkot, a small village in the foothills of the Himalayas. About ten of us climbed up the mountain, and fortunately we didn’t have to carry our packs, because we had agile Nepalese porters to do that. Having succumbed to eating a delicious pastry from the infamous “Freak Street” the night before, I battled with a horrible stomach upset during the climb, so it was a bit of an endurance test for me. It was late afternoon when we made it to the log cabin where we were staying, and a group of us sat around and talked for hours, by candlelight. One of the women there was from New York, and I will never forget her. She was in her sixties then, and had made the climb with us, no problem at all. In fact, she had been all around the world, trekking and travelling by herself. She had so many interesting stories to tell. I was in my twenties back then, and so to me she seemed quite ancient to be living that sort of life. However, she kept us all enthralled with stories about her travels, and she was living proof that it doesn’t matter how old you are, if you’re healthy and have the desire to succeed at something, you can certainly do it. You just have to have the motivation, determination and belief in yourself.

As it happened, we were all up at sunrise the next morning hoping to get a glimpse of Mount Everest, but it was too cloudy. It didn’t matter though. As the old saying goes ‘Every cloud has a silver lining’ and that trip up the mountain was a motivational experience that I never ever forgot.