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I thought the reason English royalty pushed Christianity was because it espoused that kings were divinely appointed. In other words, it supported their cause. It puzzled me how rational people in this day and age could still believe in myths, then grew to see it all points toward a goal. To disbelieve would knock down the whole house of cards. However, everyone can't be an apostate. Some must believe. A lot believe. I do not. I have not for some time. "Born again" only works for those who never believed. Once you disbelieve you can't go back to blind faith.
If hunter gather societies were ideal as in quality of life and our current arrangement is based on an agreed fiction, am I right to live outside that fiction? Am I an outsider because my family departed from that fiction early? Did I depart from it earlier than I thought? Have I ever belonged? How easy it is to fall outside the norm, and once outside, it takes a big change to get back in. Hunter gatherers would have been active in many varied ways. They would not have to work to upkeep a home. Work would be for survival.
She knew her head wasn't where it should be when she saw the kaleidoscope across her right eye. Earlier while on the train her scalp felt as though her hair was sitting oddly, out of place. At home she saw bright lights when glancing in a mirror but when she moved her head they were gone. Talking to a neighbour she first saw the kaleidoscope, and commented, thinking it was her glasses and removing them. The lights returned and hung there during the conversation but she kept it to herself. Her scalp still crawled. This was a new migraine symptom.
The fan in the corner is real. I can touch it or bump into it and knock it over or stub my toe. It has a cage to stop finger injuries. Etiquette around using the fan is invented. I am not aware of any etiquette in the use of fans so this is a poor example of what I am trying to say. Perhaps general etiquette such as asking "do you mind if I turn on the fan?" and the failure of the question being asked being seen as a breach of etiquette. Yes, I think this is an example.
Maud wondered, as she pondered once more being a vegetarian, what do vegetarians feed their cats? She knows a vegetarian with a cat but she feels it would be bad mannered to ask, and may open a can of worms. She will research on Google when she has the chance. She is not even sure how she will be a vegetarian. It seems a bit hard, but that picture of the calf in a box has really thrown her and she doesn't intend buying meat anymore from a supermarket or even the local butcher. She really is in a quandary.
through the tunnel feeling melancholy. She had felt melancholy for a few days and enjoyed it. Enjoyed thinking of life having no meaning. The two construction workers walking toward her on the way to work started off this line of thinking. We are all chained, she thought, to our working way of life. She trudged on and people looked at her as they drove and walked past. She wondered why. Was it her glum expression? Did her hair look weird? (She had it in a rather haphazard pony-tail.) Was she charismatic and striking? Who knows and who cares! Eh?
Seven days of April have passed and it is still very hot. Temperatures are up to the low thirties. The nights are a bit cooler though. It is Greek Easter and the Greeks are barbequing lamb. I know it is lamb because someone just called out "you are burning the lamb". It smells delicious too. The backyard is full of smoke but the washing on the line is mercifully unaffected. Neighbourhood BBQs never seem to affect the washing. We are surrounded by Greeks and it is not a Greek area - coincidence. They have large family gatherings on special occasion days.
The pet alpaca loved to play chase. Her owner was confused - was she an alpaca or a llama, or something else? She had been around so long it was easy to forget. She was cuddly and amorphous. It didn't matter what she was. Her owner would have liked a dog and this animal was very much like a dog. It may be a dog. The dream ended before the owner could ascertain what she had wondered in the dream - what was her pet? The yard they played in was hilly and had scrappy grass. It was like an animal enclosure.
The visitor walked through the apartment that had surprisingly dated décor. It was the largest apartment he had ever stayed in alone and conjured up memories of a dream he had once had, of a huge house with two huge additional wings, one of them haunted (seriously). The dream had been so clear he expected to find himself in the house one day. This had locked doors with the promise of enormous undiscovered wings, but was not it. 1890's bordello seemed to be the theme of the bedroom - or 1980's glamour may be more apt. Note the date synchronicity.
This tropical locale makes stepping outside onto the balcony tiles like getting into a warm bath. It is very quiet for a capital city, but now the birds have begun their morning chorus and the traffic has ramped up. The same thing happened yesterday, as though a switch was flicked on. Soon the sun will be up. I should shower now so I can watch the sunrise. I have a small glimpse of the bay from the balcony. All around is tree damage following Cyclone Marcus. The monocotyledons have shredded leaves. The power of the thing must have been awesome.
The unseasonably hot weather continued. A visit to one of the hottest places in the country was no different to the weather at home, although at home the temperature dipped considerably at night. The school holidays not normally known for their beach weather held a different mood this April. A bunch of school kids tumbled off the train, scrabbling and excited in the heat. It feels more like a holiday when it is warm. A heavy smoke haze hung over the city. Autumn burn-offs went ahead as scheduled in spite of the high-summer temperatures that did not abate.
Home today from Darwin. What a lovely time I had. I must go back some day and stay longer. I call my brother later as it is his birthday. He is still at work, doing the job of two or three people. What is it these days with that problem? He plans to have left-over Chinese food for dinner. Not a bad birthday dinner. I have eaten on the plane and need nothing. I am tired but a bit hyped from the trip to sleep easily. I feel again I have a cold coming on and take some Echinacea.
Friday the 13th and I go to work as usual. It is OK as I am in the habit. I do not have to work on anything in particular and leave early, having worked long hours in the past week. I relax on the lounge and watch the Friday night football which is not my choice but pleasant to have on as a family activity. The sister brings in fish and chips. I have some left over wine. I go to bed at the usual time. I feel some circles have been closed this week. A good way to be,
A lovely Saturday. I decide to skip doing the washing. It means I can relax before going to the piano lesson without having to jump up and put washing on the line. I will do it tomorrow. This evening a bush fire has started, and the neighbours have a smoky barbeque going, and I am glad I did not have washing out to get all smoky. I see the fire at the start when I come out of the supermarket. I drive home with an eye on the smoke, estimating the location. I am not far wrong it turns out.
The bushfire sweeps around quickly ending up at the bend in the river near me. I receive warning texts on my mobile phone. They are irrelevant as I am not in the danger area, but it is alarming. The large and loud RFS chopper hovers overhead all day and a little zippy chopper flies all over, I guess spotting new fires. I drive around and see the chopper with the bucket for scooping up water, lots of cars by the river and people heading down. I decide to go home. Later the fire flares up but it does not cross.
I have some trouble getting up for work this morning after a long day yesterday of noise and smoke from the bushfire and fire-fighting effort. It is good to escape the smoky neighbourhood and head to work. The treacherous winds of yesterday afternoon have completely died down and the smoke has settled in the valleys, of which we are one. It must be even worse at the river. After work I stay on the train past my stop and see where the fire burned across the tracks on the other side of the river. A train drove through it!
Another smoky morning. This afternoon the bushfire is brought under control when winds die down and back burning is successfully carried out. Home this evening is almost normal with no discernible smell of smoke. There is a smoky haze on the horizon and a suspicious white plume through the dark quite close by that looks like the smoke as it was at the height of the fire close by on Sunday, but this does not seem to be the fire. That sentence is a bit too long. The house needs a good clean. Lucky it was already pretty dusty anyway.
The smoke from the fires is worse than ever this morning. The eyes of the woman who works at the railway station are red. She has probably been walking around in it for hours by the time I arrive. At work I exchange fire stories with someone else close to the action. She evacuated for the afternoon on the first day, the smoke becoming too much. Everyone in the area who remembered the fires of '94 was nervous the fire would jump the river. I lived there up to the year before and I didn't blame them. It was horrific.
They bump into each other on the way in to the office and say "we should catch up". She carries a white rose "picked from my garden". Later in the week they meet in her office. As the meeting finishes the one who stands to leave notices the rose lying prostrate under the computer monitor, wilted and ruined. The two look from the rose to each other and away, the one leaving pausing with the thought "why would you not put it in a vase?" Does it remind her of another life that once was, and the inevitability of decay?
Day one of a three-day pass. What to do first? Naturally, some relaxation is the first point of order. Later she begins cleaning the vacated room and moving in shelves. She moves two but doesn't get to the third one. She leaves all the contents behind. They need a good clean. She enjoys a quiet evening making plans to rule the world. She is deluded. She will never make a dent. She feels a bit discouraged by the big clean up she has begun. It will be a bigger job than she anticipated and she can't do it alone.
Day two of the three-day pass is a write-off. She sits around doing a little too much relaxation. How much relaxation is too much, anyway? She doesn't even need to cook because she has prepared a meal to go in the oven the night before. She used some of the pre-prepared salad she keeps in the fridge (carrot, celery, onion)in the can of tomatoes, which is a really good tip. She turns on the oven and places the dish inside. In due course it is ready and she eats half, saving the other half for tomorrow.
Day three of the three-day pass arrives quickly. She does the washing and other weekly chores first before moving onto the mammoth room re-arrangement project. She completes the set up and clean of the spare room, moving the furniture about in a way that came to her last night. Good thing she slept on it. She is happy to wait for help with moving the contents back onto the shelves. She wants to do a sort into things to keep, things to not keep, and of those, things that are broken and old and can be thrown out.
She goes to work and has a demoralising day. She finds it hard to be motivated on Mondays at the best of times. In spite of this she gets through a lot, mostly involving making calls and making arrangements with various colleagues. She once told a colleague she doesn't like making phone calls on Mondays - and this is true - but he calls her and reminds her. She is embarrassed and says "I can't believe I told you that". It seems she can't put a foot right lately and today there is one more nail in the coffin of her reputation.
She read a small social media post about why one should marry. The simplicity was mind-boggling - to keep us from bad habits. How true it is. When she had a dog she called him "my husband". It was for him she got up early each day and walked. It was for him she went home each evening to feed and walk again, if he was lucky. That routine saved her from what is now killing her. And she thought it was all about mutual support of a financial kind - and love, of course. What a fool she has been.
She likes to see the tree bare. Birds sit it in, entirely visible - usually large black birds like crows and magpies. There are not many deciduous trees in the area and it is a bit of a novelty. It is picturesque like a Christmas card, even with the crows, that look more like silhouettes and could be any bird. It is a reminder also that winter is here, and the relentless heat and humidity have finally abated for a few months. She passes the tree every day and admires it. She is not really sure why she likes it so.
She first noticed the tree was not deciduous but dead in spring when it failed to grow leaves. It was dead but still had signs of former life. The small twigs that had once supported leaves remained, as did seed pods. It seemed death was swift. Birds continued to sit in the tree, perfectly visible. She loved that. This tree remained in perpetual winter. On a hot day its nakedness had an aura of coolness, the memory of winter. Cooler than the heavy canopies of the trees nearby, whose shade offered little respite from the heat rebounding from the pavement.
Only two of them worked at the office that day. There was a holiday on Wednesday so people took the last two days off work, or worked from home. She made an idiot of herself by quoting an earlier incident. He sought the opinion of another colleague who was in the room that day - and he was right. It made her wonder how often she misremembers, or fills in the gaps with her imagination or assumptions. Something to keep an eye out for in the future. She has apologised but it is probably not enough. She feels little remorse though.
Today is the first Saturday in years that I got up and got on with the day. The normal routine is to get up and get a cup of tea, go back to bed and do puzzles; get up and put washing on; go back to bed with breakfast; get up to put another load on; get up and put washing on line; get up and shower. In between, puzzles. I had to get somewhere by midday hence the change. I made it in plenty of time and got home to put washing on, make breakfast and sit with puzzles.
If I could see the future, say ten years hence, what will it look like? What will I look like? Will climate change have ravaged the world? What iconic animals will be extinct (what will be left?) Will I be ten kilos heavier or ten lighter. What pets will I have? What will the children be up to. Will they have jobs, relationships? Will I still be working? I doubt it. Where will I be living? Will I have a car? Will I still be here? What wars will have been fought? What new inventions made? What progress in science?
The last day of the month is always a bit of a relief! The result of a published batch! My feet are cold. Autumn is here and instantly the extremities feel the cold. Time to get the socks out. I wish I had a blanket. I can't get up and get one because the cat is on my lap and you don't disturb a cat. At least my lap is warm. When I finish this I will put the cushion on which I rest the laptop (can't put it on my lap because the cat is there) on my feet.
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