If someone had told me, when I was young, that I would one day leave the cool northern hemisphere climate, my birthplace, I wouldn’t have believed them.
Why would I want to trade in grey, cloudy skies, and drizzly rain that clings to your clothes and hair?
This morning I find myself sitting at the bus stop. Across one of the busiest roads in Sydney I see: a blue sky; lush green leafed trees; and a palm tree.
Not wanting to know my:
Fergus B. Fotheringham
Feared fungus, frogs and lambs.
When excursions were planned,
Rambling ‘cross field and land,
There was ne’ery a doubt
He’d rather go without.
Uniquely Australian, the grass tree, Xanthorrhoea, is at home in the red sandy outback. Our neighbours in Sydney gave us a potted tree to commemorate our living in Australia for ten years. This the second time it has flowered in seven years. They typically grow around one centimetre per year, and can live for many centuries.
Further information is available here http://www.pawlan.com/monica/australia/
It’s spring again
We’re smiling again
There’s perfumed pentagrams
It’s spring again
Time to sing again
Jasmine from Petersham
I recently received an email from WordPress to remind me that September is the anniversary of the birth of theINFP.com. This proved to be the catalyst for me to to reflect on why I blog, review the blog’s categories and look to the future.
In the beginning
I can clearly remember the feeling of trepidation as I clicked to share my first post with the World. It was called Memory, Motivation, Momentum, you can read it here – you will be part of a select group. So many negative thoughts ran through my mind: ‘Why would anyone be interested?’; ‘I will look like a fool’; and ‘Who do I think I am?’ When I started blogging three years ago I was unsure of why I was doing so. I half expected that it was just another phase that would wax and wane.
The path
Generally, I don’t have a lot to say; considering myself a trifle dull. I can see the interest die in the eyes of most people when I talk to them. I learned late in life that it is okay to be a shy introvert. Walking the path to rid myself of the masks, walls and perceived expectations I have buit up is not a easy as I anticipated. Being part of the blogging community has helped me along this journey. It is reassuring to know that there are people who are interested in what I have to say, even if it is only in a few words.
Significant periods in my life seem to be marked by decade long milestones. Each one signals the removal of a gossamer veil from my inner eye, one after another. My purpose in this earthly form becomes tantalisingly clearer. This often inspires me to create and share pictures, poems and posts.
The future
I plan to add a ‘personal development’ category to my blog. I will capture the articles and posts that resonate with me and explain how the concepts relate to my own experiences. The travel category will be removed.
Thank you for reading this short insight into why I blog and where I am going. I truly appreciate being part of your conversations, and you liking, commenting and following my blog.
Being myself, Robert
Afternoon sunlight illuminates the stone clock tower of Central railway Station.
It was a sunny day with a refreshing nip in the air. I made my way to a seat next to an ordinary looking young man, thankfully he didn’t appear to be listening to music. I quickly became immersed in the chatter of my mind. Occasionally I noticed details for the first time on buildings I had frequently seen before. I was vaguely aware of the bus stopping and starting as it often does on weekday mornings going into the city along Parramatta Road, Sydney, Australia.
Suddenly, the person next to me stood up.
I’m usually hypersensitive of others being about to do something. The shock of movement from next to me jolted me to the core. I experienced a yoyo feeling somewhere in my upper chest. Assuming the man wanted to alight from the bus. I hurriedly grabbed the bags on my lap, stood, stepped into the aisle, and sat down again after he had gone.
Memories of similar situations connected in my mind. Why did I react in the way that I did? My childhood training has stayed with me, I excuse myself and thank people when I need to get past them!
I would be interested in reading your experiences like this.
Sunday at the oval after a shower, Petersham Park, Sydney Australia.
While preparing breakfast this morning the smell of bacon frying brought back a childhood memory from 1970’s England. A time of vibrant colours, heady music and my Granddad’s quiet, gentle nature. My Mom’s family were from Smethwick (pronounced Smerrick), a Black Country town to the west of Birmingham. I remembered asking my Mom if I could have “a piece in the dip”. She would dip one side of a slice of white bread into the juices from the Sunday roast. I would add ground white pepper, fold the bread in half and savour each mouthful of this prized gastronomic delight. Me and my brothers would also enjoy a “piece” spread with dripping later in the week. This time honoured tradition began for me in my Nan’s house.
Looking back I have realised that this was a rare glimpse into 1940’s. The kitchen had an enamelled gas stove, crock sink, wooden drainingboard and faded toile de jouy wallpaper.
Why the Sylvac Hyacinth vases? My Nan had one just like the one at the back, it sat proudly on the sill of the bay window of her home in The Oval, Smethwick, West Midlands, UK.
Related
More about my accent can be found here Evolution of my accent
More Black Country words and meanings: Black Country Dialect
Classic Black Country sayings: Black Country Sayings
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