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Showing posts from March, 2011


Pets. I had my fair share of pets over the years. There were dogs, cats, and at one stage I had a kangaroo. Today I don't have time to take care of any kind of animals. The only animals I have now, are ones that sit on cupboards and have to be dusted from time to time. Or I have pictures of them The animals I like I would not be able to have. My favorites are Bengal Tigers, Wolves and Bears.

When I was young I have a ginger cat which put up with everything I did to him. He was very docile. We lived  in a caravan in a railway yard. I had a dolls pram but most the time the doll didn't go for a ride. Ginger, the cat spent many hours in the pram. He sat without complaining while I dressed him in dolls dresses, bonnets and booties. I placed him in the pram and wheel him around until he went to sleep. Or sit on the swing which hung from the branch of the Jacaranda Tree to swing slowly while I rocked the pram. When he need to go I had to be quick to grab him before he ran away with t…


This is a good time to discuss flooding because the rain is falling once again. For many a year we have missed out of rain pelting down day after day. May people of today will not have experienced the whiles of a finicky weather system.

I can remember days when the sun shone brightly and hot where I lived but we were flooded in with no exit. The only chance we usually had was to travel by rail motor to town where you replenished your food. Over the years I traveled through many a flooded water way.

In those days cars didn't have all the electrical works under the bonnet.  Mum panicked each time we came to flooded areas because she knew dad would suss out the depth of the water, check for rock, logs, or washouts, before attempting to drive through. Now people charge into flood water not bothering to check out what they will be entering then expect rescue people to came to save them.

My father carried a supply of oily rags, tarps and a box of tools. He removed the fan belt, covered all…

The Long Journey

The story begins way back in the early 1950's when I was born. There were many ups and downs with a lot of curve balls thrown into the mix. 

My father worked hard all his life until a few days before his death. He worked cutting cane with the cane knife, not a harvester like used to cut the cane now. The cane burnt each evening to be harvested by hand the next morning, where it was cut in back breaking work to be laid on the ground in rows. Later the top were cut from the sticks before being loaded on a tram wagon to be taken away to the mill to be made into sugar. All the workers covered in the black burnt thrash left on the cane.

He also worked for the railway fixing bridges, a navvy who cared for the first class maintenance of the rail line to keep the trains moving. In his spare time he worked cutting timber which he transported to the sawmills. Cut sleeper blocks which were sent away to be cut into sleepers for the holding together of the railway tracks. Then he build his own b…