At first, I was afraid that being in isolation was going to be excruciatingly boring. But I must admit, I was wrong. Not only did I rediscover hidden memories tucked away, I also reconnected with the past in a very unexpected way. Like the other day for instance, I was practicing browsing through my Facebook page when I came across a group from my Primary school days. They were sharing amusing antidotes as well as some unpleasant memories many of us experienced at the merciless hands of some of the Nuns in a Catholic school in the 50’s. I still shudder at the memory of those stern-faced Nuns walking around the classroom, wielding long, pointy edged canes during lessons. Although I must admit, the fear of being wacked across the knuckles at the slightest sign of hesitation, is probably why to this day, all the Multiplication Times Tables are indelibly imprinted in my mind. A skill that I must admit, came in handy when I had to sit for an arithmetic test when applying for my first job working behind the counter at a local Coles store on a Saturday morning, before the days of the check-out. And to this day, I still can’t drink milk without flashing back to being forced to drink a small bottle of warm milk from the crate that was left out in the sun all morning. And I suspect that thick layer of often curled cream that rose to the top of the bottle, caused many an upset tummy. Obviously before the days of Health regulations. However, there were also fond memories, like the Tuck-shop that sold luke-warm pies & pasties, Musk sticks and my favourite, Vanilla slices or more commonly known back then as snot-blocks. Of course, the best part of the day was the long, leisurely walk home from school with friends, or calling in to the fish & chip shop on the way for a serve of hot, greasy chips wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper. Thankfully, times have changed. The good, old days are exactly where they should be. In the past. And for better or worse, those formative years helped shape who I am today. At least, that’s my excuse. So, while I’m learning how to use all this modern technology without the grand kids around to help, hope everyone in Aussieland and abroad Stays safe; Stays Positive; Stays Connected;

Vivian Waring (author When Tears Ran Dry)

Message for the day.
Never use discarded potting mix found at the bottom of the garden, on indoor plants displayed in a glass cabinet that now has the distinct whiff of a veggie patch.
This was just one of the many mishaps that occurred while I was pottering around trying to find a constructive way to start the day. Was discussing this very problem with my feathered friend, Pedro, who was named after a one-legged Magpie adopted by Father -In -Law and taught to whistle ‘Pedro the Fisherman’ while Pop belted out the tune on his harmonica. Or so the legend goes.
Unfortunately, I possess no musical skills, however Pedro warbled along in response while I deliberated important issues like, should I sort out the cluttered wardrobe in the bedroom and bag outfits that hung around for years waiting for me to fit back into them, which at first glance was obvious would never happen, or should I re-arrange the book case lined with dusty, dog-eared books destined for a better life in the local op-shop.
Pedro eventually flew away to get on with his own stressful day of trying to survive in the mayhem us humans had bequeathed on his environment, so I wandered over to the swing seat, tucked in a nook in the garden and relaxed amidst the ferns, enjoying a ‘cuppa’ and a ‘nanna-nap’ in the morning, autumn sunshine, while mulling over my own choices for the day.
As always, praying that everyone in Aussieland & abroad
STAYS SAFE* STAYS POSITIVE *STAYS CONNECTED
Vivian Waring (author When Tears Ran Dry)

This year we celebrated Easter via modern technology. From live video chats, text messaging, electronic greetings and best of all, cute chocolate-coated grins flashing across countless mobile phone screens, delighting many grandparents in isolation.

And of course, live streaming of church services, reminding me to whisper a silent prayer for all our loved ones out there, heroically putting their own lives at risk to fight an insidious enemy that doesn’t take a holiday.

Praying that everyone in Aussieland & abroad

STAYS SAFE**STAYS POSITIVE**STAYS CONNECTED

VIVIAN WARING (author When Tears Ran Dry)

Gone are the leisurely strolls along the beach, luncheons with friends and weekly shopping expeditions. Instead, I’m now sitting home alone doing a Seniors on-line groceries order, or as the grand kids call it ‘the granny run’.

But as restrictive as things are, there are some positives that have emerged to help occupy my day. Like the new exercise bike I ordered on-line last week while browsing the net for no particular reason. Well to be honest, it was a toss between spending time improving my skills on the computer, or finishing lining the pantry shelves that I’d started doing last year and never got around to finishing, using that old, familiar excuse ‘don’t have time’. Well that’s one line I doubt I’ll be using again for a while.

Anyway, my impulse purchase arrived before breakfast this morning. Well done Auspost.

The large cardboard box contained what seemed like one hundred and one different parts and just as many nuts, bolts, and screws of various sizes. All neatly labelled from A to Z, supposedly to make assembling the contraption easier. And all in under thirty minutes. Or maybe not.

Finally, after hours of fiddling and with only a couple of left-over screws, which I hope aren’t really necessary in keeping it all from falling apart, I’m pleased to announce ‘Project accomplished’.

 Began sorting out the various bits during the morning news. Finished putting them all together to resemble the image on the box in time to watch the evening news. Day well spent.

Starting tomorrow morning, will be ready and eager to begin pedalling my way through to a healthier isolation.

At least that’s the plan.

 In the meantime, praying that everyone in Aussieland & abroad

STAYS SAFE **STAYS POSITIVE**STAYS CONNECTED

Vivian Waring (author (When Tears Ran Dry)

Just as I was starting to question if I would be able to fulfil my dream of travelling to Cambodia later this year, an omen from the mysterious world of cyber space, jolted me out of a bout of self-pity. I’d spent the entire evening trying to connect my mobile to Facebook with no success. I was about to give up when the screen lit up with notifications of messages and calls from friends who didn’t hesitate to return my messages. ‘What messages?’ I asked myself, till I received this stern ‘Nans, stop playing with your phone again”. Apparently, I had inadvertently pressed ‘Messenger’ triggering an avalanche of responses, including some from friends I had left behind in Cambodia. I choked back the tears as I heard the familiar voice of my friend Clara. A modern-day saint who has devoted her live to the less fortunate, and who I was privileged to work alongside for several years. Some of my former students, who are the future of this struggling little Kingdom, told me of their lives today, some successful, others still trapped in the cycle of poverty.

So no more ‘smashed avo’ & coffee when out and about. Instead the saved coins will bring me one step closer towards the day I can finally share a feed of my favourite noodle soup with friends at the local market near the Olympic stadium, in Phnom Penh, close to where I once lived.

YOUTHS OF ANZAC

Spits of rain fell from the heavens as the swelling crowd gathered below. Magpies, Rosellas and other chirping, native birds joined in the cacophony of melodies that erupted from the surrounding bush. Squawking seagulls flew in from the bay, attracted by the smell of sausages sizzling on the Barbie. Children played on the banks of the Canal, seemingly oblivious to the solemn day

The stirring sounds of the bagpipes heralded the start of the march. The crowd clapped as aging Diggers were slowly driven past, ahead of Veterans and family members honouring fallen heroes from Gallipoli, over one hundred years ago, to Iraq and Afghanistan today. I flicked away a tear of pride as I watched my grandson and other youngsters from various, local sporting and youth groups march past, wearing medals of grandparents and parents they never knew.

As the Bugler sounded The Last Post, the children on the banks jumped to their feet without prompting from parents. The boys instinctively pulled off baseball caps and warm hoodies and stood still, heads bowed in respect.

Yes. Anzac Day is in good hands. And as we welcome more migrants into our diverse communities, hopefully a new generation will be instilled with that same, national pride of being an Aussie, ensuring the tradition of Anzac Day lives on in future generations.

“Lord protect all who serve & comfort those who love, wait, grieve & lovingly heal the fragments of shattered lives. Amen”

Lest we forget

Vivian Waring   (Vietnam Vet widow)

#vivianwaring  #anzacday #veterans #Anzacs  #Legacy

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My kitchen will never be the same now that my young Khmer friends have returned home after completing a two-year scholarship at Latrobe University. The pantry shelves linger with the aroma of coriander, ginger and lemongrass, evoking fond memories of my time spent in Cambodia before the ancient Kingdom became a popular tourist destination. Can’t wait to return. Of course, I’m a bit older these days, but lifestyle magazines tell us that the modern 40-year-old  is the new 20-year-old;  A 60-year-old is the new 40-year-old, and so on. I reckon but those calculations I should be in my youngish 50’s. But before I start packing the suitcase and trawling over travel sites for cheap airfares, I need to  brush up on my embarrassing language skills, so it’s back to Khmer  language class where Aussie/Khmer kids learning their cultural heritage, put me to shame.  It’s also a good excuse to head on down to the local Temple during the Khmer New Year celebrations. A must for anyone interested in experiencing this amazing culture. In the meantime, need to sort out my limited finances; update travel injections to ward off everything from Malaria to Rabies, before I can cross anything off the ever-growing Bucket List.

#cambodia #volunteer #travel #seniors

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