We moved into our north facing ninth floor apartment on a chilly dreary Monday, two days ago.
This opaque view is taken from my sofa spot, gazing over Eagle Farm, beyond Morton Bay, towards the Pacific Ocean on the horizon.
The sun’s rise silhouettes the appendages of a dracaena gifted by Clarice in the year we arrived in Australia, 1998.
Time for change
Sunday serenity disrupted:
“Zee-earning” dirt bikes,
Mowers rattle ‘n’ roar,
Whipper snippers “Buzz-err-err-zeeping”,
Avian cacophony; “chit chat,” “caw,” “screech,” “tweet tweet tweeting,” and
Insane, incessant insects thrumming.
Planning. Packing. Downsizing.
Time waits for no one.
Calm restored-
This view’s days are numbered.
Midas’ late afternoon light
Gilds the garden,
Revealing lush, emerald vibrance.
Warmth wanes; wakening, Winter wins-
Heralding pastures new.
Observation by another
Finding whiskers wanting
Stones in glass houses!
Why am I bothered?
Widow tells tale of
Bride’s imbibe bribe
Forever begone the beard shed
Then wed; to an early grave led?
Rather than hark and heed
Is it not better to
Know and love thyself first?
I can’t remember how I came to the conclusion my paternal great grandmother’s surname was Walton. Maybe the assumption was due to COVID delirium and wishful thinking. After all living in Shropshire, there was a fair chance distant relatives may have been from neighbouring Wales. I was certainly pleased when I identified Martha’s mother had Welsh ancestry.
After receiving my DNA results, I excitedly used the above assumption to label mother and father influences.
Recent mixed emotions have negatively impacted my motivation for researching the family tree. I was pleased about unknowingly visiting places my ancestors had lived and disillusioned, I was making little progress in identifying potential Scottish, Dutch, and Danish heritage.
Then a few hints from other family trees suggested Martha’s surname was Adams with ancestors solidly from Shropshire not Wales. Hm, maybe I have my parentage confused, I thought.
Checking in on a second and third cousins’s DNA results, whom I’ve never met, revealed the maternal line is rich in family from. Welsh, Scottish, Dutch, and Danish regions. I switched the parental influences and explored a strong tie to Yorkshire and generations of Turpins. This surname has Danish heritage.
In the ‘80s, I was thrilled to visit the newly opened Jorvik Viking Center, depicting imagined tenth century scenes of York during the time of the Vikings.
Perhaps my granddad’s middle name of Havelock had been a clue all along. It has Scandinavian, Danish, and Old Norse origins.
Weary tears
Moisten lower lashes
Insufficient to fall free
Achy orbital cavities
Constrict the oculi
Head wrenching yawns
Cause sore jaw
Ear piercing pain
Drills drum deep
Bark parched throat clenches
Crunched up squashed in
Fifty minutes’ commute
Will soon be over
I find it amusing the path our lives take, in my case largely unconsciously. A benefit of aging is being able to review and share threads of the journey.
On this Thursday commute, I’m listening to the original 1979 Broadway cast recording of Stephen Sondheim’s musical adaptation of Christopher Bond’s play Sweeney Todd on Spotify. Len Cariou and Angela Lansbury star as lead characters Benjamin Barker and Mrs Lovett.
My fascination with the darkness of humanity as described in books began as soon as I was old enough to venture to a public library, unaccompanied by an adult. My junior years were spent engrossed in tales of Egyptian reincarnation, vampires, hauntings, ghosts, the supernatural, and witchcraft.
I fondly remember multiple borrowings of the above hardback, The Dracula Myth by Gabriel Ronay, 1972* from Harborne Library. It introduced me to 15th century, Vlad III (Dracul), ruler of Wallachia, in modern day Romania. He ordered two Turkish envoys be impaled because they refused to remove their turbans, and 16th century, Hungarian Countess Elizabeth Báthory who bathed in the blood of virgins to keep her youthful looks.
In the ‘70s, whilst holidaying with my family in the Channel Islands, I devoured the contents of the above paperback, a memoir of ‘Edward Paisnel, a predatory paedophile nicknamed the Beast of Jersey, who was convicted in 1971 for an 11-year reign of terror. Paisnel believed himself to be the reincarnation of Gilles de Rais, and committed his crimes in the bizarre outfit depicted on the cover of this 1972 biography by his wife Joan’**.
In 1984, after completing four years at college in Worcester and Blackpool, I returned home to Droitwich Spa, completely disillusioned by the prospect of a career working in hotels. I was successful in gaining retail employment at Russell and Bromley in Worcester. It was here, I met my dear singer friend, Georg.
By then Sweeney Todd had opened in London. Georg sat me down to watch a video of this performance. I was absolutely entranced by it. I still have a CD of the original cast recording from Broadway.
My husband and I have thoroughly enjoyed seeing Sweeney Todd a couple of times at the Sydney Opera House. We also enjoyed the movie version with Johnny Depp as Sweeney and Helena Bonham-Carter as Mrs Lovett.
For me, the staged production of Sondheim’s version of this melodramatic gothic thriller will never lose its appeal.
*picture and description sourced from AbeBooks website https://www.abebooks.com/book-search/title/dracula-myth/author/gabriel-ronay/
**picture and description sourced from Good Reads website https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/3149803-the-beast-of-jersey
For the last countless weeks we have been selling off and donating our chattels so that we can scale down our footprint from 116 m2 (on a block of 686 m2) to 85 m2 on the ninth floor of an apartment building among city lights.
Our two year retreat in the country is drawing to a close. An immersion in nature especially in being adopted by magpies have helped us to heal our hellish experience of life in a townhouse development.
Today our house goes to market with the first open inspection on 10 May 2025.
Coincidently, today, Saturday, 3 May 2025, Australia votes. Temporary polling stations across the country, emblazoned with party colours welcome some whilst worrying others. The reward of a Democracy Sausage, biscuit or cake afterwards turns the experience into an Aussie outing.
Here, it is against the law if you do not vote without a valid reason for being unable to do so. There is an admin fee of $20 to pay plus if you end up in court, a fine if convicted, and responsibility for the Australian Electoral Commission’s costs too.
I wondered if there is a free AI tool I could use to turn doodled concepts into smooth and tidy patterns. I tried a few online products with annoying pop up sign up ads.
The result was okay however, I was unable to move beyond basic tidying. Taking out a free one week trial subscription with Fotor and an app for iPhone, I was able to produce the more pleasing results below.
Is it cheating, though?
The DNA results are in with reassuring and surprising results.
Knowing my maternal ancestors hailed from the Midlands, specifically Staffordshire, it was likely there would be a family connection to neighbouring Warwickshire.
With a maternal and paternal surname of Jones, I was thrilled to learn of Welsh roots. My father’s paternal family lived in Shropshire bordering Wales whilst his mother’s family lived in south east England, Kent.
Surprisingly, I have higher percentages of Scottish, Danish, and Netherlands heritages than Welsh.
As a toddler, I had platinum curly locks. Over time they straightened and darkened to mid/dark brown. I wonder if this is the Danish and Dutch influence.
Using the results, I experimented with AI image generators: Show me what a brown eyed, 61 year old male might look like with the following DNA: 73% England and northwestern Europe, 16% Scotland, 5% Denmark, 4% The Netherlands, 2% Wales. He is 1.7m tall and 10kg overweight.
This final image is the closest to my appearance, spooky!
When thinking of Norse god, Thor, I imagine thunder and lightening storms. Yesterday morning, in contrast, the journey to the station was gloriously lit by a light orange, pink, pale blue, wispy grey dawn.
Below a shot of one of my favourite views from the station. Glimpses of the heavens reflected in Saltwater Creek surrounded by silhouetted trees.
As the sky lightened with deeper reds and golds, I took a picture near Petrie station.
At the end of the day, whilst awaiting the arrival of the 4:20 to carry me home, thinking again of Thor, I captured a view of the platform, steel rails, and wall opposite.
This morning I used the double exposure filter to overlay the images in Google Snapseed to create the top image. I like the result.
theINFP 