Locked Out

Locked out

When my daughter was in hospital for a broken ankle my husband Max and I went to visit her and to pick up her house keys so we could look after her house in Richmond and feed her animal.

We left the hospital just as she headed into surgery so we knew she would be out to it for hours.

When we arrived we decided to have a cupper before we started so we brought all our gear inside including my purse with our car keys and Max’s wallet in it, locking the car as we went in.  

When we had finished Max went out the front to collect the mail and water the plants and I started to organise the food for the animals. I fed the cat, the fish and the rabbit who were all inside, then I was about to go outside to feed the two dogs when I thought I better close the front door, for the Dalmatian had a habit of pushing past you when you open the back door and rushing out the front one and then we would have a lot of trouble bringing her back home.

So that done I headed out the back door with her big dish of food. I just stepped on to the top step when a gust of wind blew the back door shut. I gave the dog her food and went back to open the door to get in but I couldn’t, I had forgot to take the deadlock off. I thought that is ok I will call Max and he can come in through the front door and let me in.

 Wrong again, when I closed the front door that was deadlocked too. So now we were both in a mess. I was locked in the back yard as the fences were too hard to climb and all the gates were also locked. Our car keys and phone and any identification to say who we were, were locked inside the house and it was starting to get dark and cold.

Max and I first checked the windows to see if any of those were open, but of course they were locked too.

What can we do next. It was time to Panic and that’s what I did, blaming myself. I should have taken the keys with me or I should have made sure that the front door was not deadlocked before I closed it, and I should have propped the back door open before I went to feed the dogs. Why was I so stupid? Max tried to calm me down saying “we will think of something” but by that time I was so upset I couldn’t think.

Even if we could get to a phone, who would we call, we couldn’t even call our daughter to find out if anyone had another key for it would be hours before she would be out of the recovery ward. We didn’t know any of our daughter’s neighbours but Max tried them but none were home.  I panicked again for here we were with me stuck in the backyard with nowhere to sit but the back steps with no cover of any kind. Max at least could do more than I could but without the car keys he couldn’t go far. We thought we could ring the police if we could get to a phone but what could they do. They might have been able to cut the lock on the gate and let me out (if they believe our story) but we still could not go anywhere.

The house was rented but we didn’t know what agency my daughter was with or even where they were. In desperation Max remembered there was an estate agency in the shopping centre a few kilometres down the road so he decided to walk down there to see if they were the one she dealt with, and also hoping they were still open, and if they were would they believe his story.

 With much dread I watched Max walk down the road. I started to panic again saying to myself “knowing my luck he would not be successful”. After what seemed like hours I heard Max coming up the drive and I rushed to the side gate to greet him, and I could see he had a smile on his face. Not only was it the right agency they believe his story for they knew our daughter well and recognised the description he gave of her. So they lent him their set of keys. What a relief;

I was so glad to hear that key turning in the keyhole. When the door opened I fell into Max’s arms telling him how sorry I was for causing all that trouble. 

All I wanted to do was to go home and go to bed so that’s what we did, dropping off the keys at the agency on the way.

We learnt a good lesson. We had another set of keys cut so every time we went to my daughter’s house, Max put one set in his pocket and I kept the other around my neck so I would have them with me if we forgot to take the deadlocks off again.

As someone famous said: “Failure is the key to success; each mistake teaches us something”.

Courage under Fire

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COURAGE UNDER FIRE

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Private Eric Joyce was all alone in the New Guinea jungle, with Japanese gunfire all around him not sure how to get back to his battalion without running into his enemy the Japs. He needed courage with every step to go on.

Why was Eric all alone you ask? It was at Templeton’s Crossing on the Kokoda track during World War 11 and his CO had asked him to stand at the crossroad to direct the company that was following onto the right track then wait and come up with them. However the commander of that company said “We do not need you now, you can go up and join your own battalion. Maybe commander didn’t realize how away far Eric’s company had traveled.

Alone Eric set off, afraid of what was before him, for the terrain was rough steep, very wet and he could meet up with the enemy at any time.

After he had trudged for over an hour Eric sat down for a short break to catch his breath and to get his bearings. When from out of nowhere a Jap sniper’s bullet whistled pass his ear terrifying him into action he tumbled behind the nearest tree. Eric couldn’t see where the sniper was hiding so he slithered on his stomach till he was well away from that area. Again only courage and knowing his battalion was not far away kept him going.

Eric could now see his fellow soldiers the 2^nd/1st battalion  through the trees and was about to come out of the jungle to join them, when shells from an anti-aircraft gun started landing all around them killing many of his mates. From his position Eric could see exactly were the shell were coming from and he knew that if he could get back to C. Company they could help.

This meant going back through the jungle on his own, so he plucked up the courage and again headed into the unknown.

Eric Finally reached C Company, told them the situation. He was then able to show the soldiers where the gun was. The company then circled around behind the Japanese and the gunman was killed saving a lot of their mates from death.

After this incident Eric was promoted to sergeant and was well liked by all the men in his section.

These soldiers went through many hardships together, Often wet to the skin for days on end from the constant rain, little food and sleep, they had to endure heat, files, mosquitoes, dysentery and malaria. They all had to have courage just to survive.   Many became heroes, many dyeing for their country. Out of the original 2^nd /1^st Battallion 6^th Division that was sent to New Guinea, less than fifty survived, lucky for Eric he was one of these.

Eric was discharged from the army on the 10 March 1944 because he was continually coming down with bouts of malaria which left him too sick to continue in the harsh army life.

I would like to thank all those men and women who had the courage to face the enemy to save us all.

      

  

Our old Front Door

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OUR OLD FRONT DOOR

In my mind eye our old front door still looks the same as it did in years gone by. I lived behind that door for the first sixteen years of my life and I still recall some the people who came to and through that door. Memories that make me laugh and some that make me cry. Some of these memories were of Family and friends some were just acquaintances but they all had a story to tell.

One is the story of a friend of my father. At seven o’clock on the dot every forth Friday in the month our front door bell would ring announcing that Mr. Fred Harris had arrived to play cards with my Dad.

He was always well dressed in his hat, suit and tie; he was also a well-spoken man.

Fred often came bearing gifts of lovely Marquetry wood work (that is the art and craft of applying pieces of veneer to a structure to form decorative patterns, designs or pictures). These were given to my mum. Among the gifts was beautiful tea tray, and a jewellery box that I really fell in love with.

He also seemed to bring the rain with him, so the standing joke was if you were going out that night you had better take a raincoat with you.

Another person who came to our front door every day (though I only saw him in the school holidays) was baker bearing a big basket of lovely fresh bread. I could hear him coming because he was always whistling so we used to call him whistling Rufus.

He came in a cart drawn by a beautiful Clydesdale horse, which used to follow him down the street stopping in front of every house Rufus went into. I loved that horse and the lovely bread that tasted much better than the bread you get these days. I came home from school one day and mum told me the sad news the Whistling Rufus had passed away from cancer. The new baker didn’t even have a horse he only had an old ford truck and he was a surly man and he never whistled.

My Memory now goes back to a man we only knew as Frank. He would come to our old front door trying to sell tickets to live show in town that had finished month before. When we refused to buy any Frank would get very upset and say, “But I am selling them for less than half price.”

Frank was also the “Cloths prop man” you remember the long branches of wood with a fork at one end that was put in the middle of the clothesline to stop your washing dragging on the ground.

Well Frank would walk around the streets calling out “Cloths Props, - Clothes Props and we kids thought it was very funny to say things between his calls. “What did you have for breakfast” the answer “Cloths props, “what do you wash with” “Cloths props” and many other things too numerous to mention.   One day my Mum and my two elder brothers were on our front veranda, Mum was sitting in near of our front door shelling peas, while the boys were playing behind the wall. When Frank started to pass our house calling his trade Fred yelled out “What did you kill your mother with” Frank replied “Cloths Props” then he realised what had been said. The only person Frank could see was mum, so see was the one that got told off.

Many friends a family came through our front door at one time my eldest sister Shirley and her family were living in our house as well as my other sister Betty and her husband Rod. Where we all slept I cannot remember. But I do remember one incident that happened during that time.

Rod was having breakfast and my nephew Wayne who was three at the time was waiting for his, watching Rod as he ate. Rod had a bit of steak, first he turned it to the right then to the left then he turned it upside down and back again. This got too much for Wayne so he said in a loud voice “my father doesn’t do that, he doesn’t look he just cuts” which caused a great jubilation amongst everyone who heard his comment.

Friends always came through that old front door, for our birthday parties. My brother Fred often had big parties. Mum would ask him how many were coming and he would say “only a few” and twenty or thirty would turn up. Mum must have known for there was always plenty of delicious food.

Christmas was another time all the family came through that door.

  Christmas meant a feast. Mum always beat us kids out of bed on Christmas morning (around five am) to make the Christmas pudding which was so big it took hours to boil. And what a lovely pudding it was.    She would not stop working on Christmas morning till the lovely dinner was all served up on the plates of the crowd of people that came for lunch and that included her children, my nana’s and granddad, aunts uncles and later her children’s spouses and the grandchildren.    
 When we moved from Willoughby to the central coast all these activities came to an end, for it   was too far for most people to travel.

Our new front door was different somehow, never seemed to me as friendly as the old one.

Oh to live behind or old front door again- and be young enough to enjoy it.

Internet Down

Internet down

I rose early in the morning

My day all planed ahead

But as it turned out

I should have stayed in bed.

I had club computers to update

Emails to send and students to ring

But the Internet was not working

So I couldn’t do a thing.

I tried turning off the modem

And then turning it on again

But still the Internet stayed off

This really was a pain.

I though I will ring my IT brother

He will know exactly what to do

So rushed to ring only to find

That the phone line was dead too.

So I went to use the landline

And even then I couldn’t get through

A voice said that all the line were clogged

So now what am I to do?

I thought while I am waiting

I could ring my students to fill in time

Their phone numbers were on Google Docs

And I was not on line.

 

I finally got through to my brother

Of cause he was not at home

So I left him an urgent message

My Internet is down, please phone.

When my bro finally rang me

 We tested my gear and it worked fine

He then found out from my provider

That someone had cut their line.

It was a fibre optic cable

Which they were trying to repair

Now it’s day two, I’m still off line

And nearly pulling out my hair.

So now no computers are updated

Emails not read or sent

Cannot see my Facebook friends

Please bring back my Internet.

How did we organise our lives

Before all this technology came to town

At least we never got in such a twist

                                                Because the Internet was down.

One of my winning Stories

OLD PHOTOGRAPHS.

Ellen was sitting by a glowing fire of coals which radiated warmth and brightness into the room, yet seemed to conceal the mysteries of the forgotten past and the unknown future in their gleaming depths. She was old, with pure white hair surrounding a face lined with the cares and troubles of many years, but with the brightness of youth still shone from her soft hazel eyes. The freedom she had once had been taken away by her

Unto-operative legs. On her complaining knees lay a large, thick book, full of treasures. Tenderly she opened it at the first page.

  Here was a photo of a young man, not handsome, but with such a kind face and honest frank smile. There was deter­mination in the slight tilt of the chin and a challenging look in his eyes. It was her husband Edmund as he had been when she first met him. He was dead now, but she did not feel lonely. This portrait brought back all the memories of their eventful life, and he seemed to live again as she sat there by the fire.

  Beside this was a portrait of herself, she knew she was not beautiful by any means. She looked long at the photograph which recalled all the happenings of her young life, surprises, shocks, pleasures and pains, moments of anxiety and sorrow, and even interesting little events which remained in her memory for some unknown reason. She smiled softly as she lived again the moment when she had met her dear Edmund, and gently she passed on to the next photograph.

  A scene of happiness beyond all bounds, showed next, a marriage scene. Their wedding where rejoicing friends and relatives were celebrating with confetti outside the little old convict-built church of her home town. It had been in May and the entire world seemed to rejoice with her.

 Now came a collection of pretty scenes, taken on their honey­moon. She gave a little sigh of happiness when she enjoyed again the never to be forgotten scenes and inci­dents of that trip.

 The house in which they lived when they were first married was next. Her heart beat quickly as she remembered the good times and the not so good times spent there. She also remembered how devastated the whole family felt when they had to leave this happy home. Not because they wanted to, but because the army repossessed their land to build a military base.

Suddenly Ellen’s eye fell on the next picture. It was the portrait of their first child, their son Bill. Her mind slipped back over the years to the time when this little bundle of humanity had brought the young couple so much joy.

 Sad memories flooded in with the next photo of him years later in his army uniform. He and his brother Albert went to fight for their countries freedom and how he had lost his. Only his brother had returned.

 Soon tears sprang to her eyes as she remembered the death of her third child, a, beautiful fair Haired boy, Freddy. This photo made him look like an angel. Only three when he so tragically drowned in an unused well on their property. 

 After this Ellen looked tenderly and lovingly at all the snap­shots and portraits of her growing children. She and Edmund and had ten children over twenty four years. She remembered the joys, tribulations, excitements, triumphs and achievements which they had brought to their home. One by one her children grew up, estab­lished careers and married happily. A never-loosening bond of affection bound parents and children together.

The photographs now before her, of her grandchildren, made her realise that she had done well along life's road.

 Here was a photograph of her Edmund again, just before his death. He had worked hard during his lifetime and had earned his reward. Tears sprang to her eyes and dropped, glistening, on to the worn pages of the precious album before her. She still had sorrows. Thankfully some of her children were around to comfort her.

 The last photo was a large coloured photograph of herself, seated, with her children and grand­children gathered around. What a big, happy family they all were!

She smiled, and gave a yearning sigh as she closed the lovely album and sat gazing into the fire. The memorable photographs returned her freedom for now. In her memories she could walk again, holding her head up high so she now could see how much she had accomplished in her life.

 There is priceless value in old photographs!