Tuesday, 19 November 2019

My Tuesdays by Pamela King


“Nanna!” I hear the voice as I enter the gate of my son’s house. When I walk through the front door she runs and clamps her arms around my legs.

While her mother dresses for work I supervise the little one’s breakfast.

Her tiny hand holds mine as we farewell Mummy. The emotions of love and trust overwhelm me.

 “No Kenzie, you can’t go on your slide, the grass is wet. Let’s go and put some shoes on.”

Her minor tantrum is ignored. I find chalk hidden under a plant and start drawing on the footpath. The distraction works and she takes the chalk to create footpath masterpieces.

Slipping inside, I play her Wiggles guitar. It soon has her running in to do the actions of “Rock-a-bye Your Bear.” The front door is closed until the grass dries.

“Dug Dug” she says. I’ve left Dug the Pug outside. The door is quickly opened and closed again.

We play more Wiggles music, with actions, then she wanders off to her toys. She brings me a small bucket full of jigsaw pieces. There are four separate jigsaws in the container designed to make it more difficult for her. Who is Mum kidding?

The lid is a bit stiff. “Help pees Nanna”. I tip all the shapes on the table. In no time she has all four puzzles finished. She completes each puzzle again. I make a mental note to find a more difficult puzzle for this child.

Now bored with the puzzles she stands at the end of the hall gesturing with her little hand for me to follow. In her room she looks at her books. “What about this one?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“This one?”

“Nope”.

“Which one do you want us to read?” Finally, she picks four. She climbs onto the lounge, taps the cushion and says “Sit.” We read the books, well, I try to read while she turns the pages. We make all the appropriate animal noises.

Morning tea time. I have brought delicious yoghurt with fresh blueberries. I get two spoons, lift her into the high chair and we share. When I’ve had my fill, I leave her with the rest. Oh damn! I didn’t put her bib on. The purplish stain is not only all over her face and hands but on her clothes too. (Mummy will be pleased).

Mess cleaned up, I lift her from her chair saying, “Up, up up”, then, “down, down, down”. Just like in the Wiggles song.

“More” I am told so we repeat it another four times.

Back on the lounge she takes my hand and starts drawing circles with her finger. I know what she wants. “Round and round the garden……….”. Such a sweet giggle. Her turn to draw circles on my hand but at the end of the rhyme I must tickle her. She pulls off her shoes and shoves her foot in my face. “This little piggy….” You guessed it repetition.

She takes my hands to get me to stand and we pretend she is pulling me across the room, then pushing, then pulling, then….

She is amusing herself with her dolls, so I slip into the kitchen and empty the dishwasher. Here comes my little helper.

The grass is finally dry so out we go into the sunshine to play. After about half an hour she is happy to come back inside.

Time for lunch. Ham sandwich for the little one and ham and salad wrap for me. She eats the ham and offers the bread to Dug. “No, Kenzie, not for Dug.” I get a sweet smile. You know the one – condescension.

“More.” She eats the ham and cheese from my wrap.

I take a small fruit juice from my bag. She knows there is a second one and looks for it. “What do you say Kenzie?”

“Pees.” It is said in a way her mouth forms an irresistible smile. Who can say no?

She plays for a little while but is starting to tire and asks for her dummy “Nunga nunga.”

“If you want your nunga you have to go to bed.” Firm shakes of the head.

She points to the remote control. “Puppies.” Okay, if there is no sleep, we’ll have some quiet time. I put on the Air Buddies movie about five puppies who rescue their parents.

She is getting drowsy, so I grab her dummy and bunny. Cuddle and rock her then put her in the cot and pat her on the back. She is soon in the land of fairies.

I’ve brought some work with me but opt to watch television for a while. As soon as I sit on the lounge I have a little black pug cuddled up on my lap. This is his time.

After an hour or so I hear her stirring. She is standing in her cot still drowsy but with the same sweet smile. We cuddle on the lounge and I switch the television to The Wiggles and, again, both of us must do the song actions.

Now wide awake, she takes my hand and leads me to the kitchen showing me she wants something from the pantry. “Use your words Kenzie.”

“Biscuit pees Nanna”.

We share a snack then pass the afternoon much the same as the morning.

A car pulls in the driveway. “Mummy!!!” she cries as she runs to the door.

It’s time to go. I get the greatest good-bye cuddles and kisses.  Oh, how I love my Tuesdays with my delightful granddaughter.  I never dreamed the love for my first grandchild would be so consuming or returned in such an extent.

I drive home with Wiggles’ songs in my head. They should disappear by about ………. next Monday.

Wednesday, 9 October 2019

A Dog's Eye View of Obedience Class


HEEL ON LEAD: Walk as slowly as you can, then spring forward with all your weight. If your handler falls flat on his or her face, you score 25 points.


RECALL: When your handler shouts at you, assume rock deafness. On no account sit in front of your handler, because he will only make you heel. 25 points if your handler loses his voice.

RETRIEVE the DUMBBELL: On no account fetch it back, because he will only throw it away again. If he wants the stupid piece of wood let him fetch it himself, you will be helping to train him not to throw away things he really wants. 5 points every time the handler gets the dumbbell.



SIT: Stay one inch away from the ground at the back end. This builds muscles and makes your rear legs stronger, which will help you pull your handler down on the HEEL ON LEAD.

Tuesday, 1 October 2019

Dora Arrives by Berenice Walters - Extract from For the Love of a Dingo

Our very first Dingo arrived, it seemed, by accident. A gentleman wishing to purchase a Cattle Dog pup broached the subject of Dingoes and my efforts to have it recognised officially as native fauna.

He asked me if I would like a female pup, guaranteed pure bred, but no questions asked.

The incredible dream I had nurtured for so long looked like it could at last become a reality. I did not really believe it could come true until she was actually handed over to me, a little fearful bundle of grey. I had told no one, not even my family. 



Dora was about 7 weeks of age when she arrived at our home. She was petrified of humans, and extremely cautious of everything, though she showed interest in the other dogs kennelled here, and they in her.

When I took her in my arms she tried to hide from the world by burying her head under my arm.  As a baby she always did this when approached by strangers.

I first took her into the house and gently put her down on the floor, trying to reassure her continually with my voice. She flew into a dark corner under the lounge, petrified. Talking to her quietly, I gradually put my hand on her and carefully edged her to me. Although frantic with fear she did not attempt to bite though she squealed in alarm and growled.

When the family came home, each was speechless in horror. Then, "Mum! That's a Dingo! We'll all end up in gaol. Get rid of it."

My pup and I just clung together, instinctively knowing that we belonged together; that this was our destiny.

Berenice Walters





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Wednesday, 18 September 2019

The Chair by Pamela King

As the sun set a red sky loomed overhead. “It will be a hot one tomorrow,” Rose thought as she opened the front door of her grandfather’s house and sighed.

“Oh Granddad, how will I cope without you? How am I going to manage cleaning out this place?”

She slowly walked through each room lovingly touching the photos and memorabilia on display.

“I can’t do it,” she sobbed. “Maybe if I start in the attic. There are things there I am less familiar with, it will be easier.”

The timber creaked and groaned as she climbed the stairs to the loft.




The last light of the day filtered through the dusty small window. In the shadows she noticed the chair, the one her grandfather had made back in 1953. It was one of four he had made for his new bride.

As she sat in the chair, she heard music that reminded her of the American Graffiti soundtrack.

Where was it coming from?

She stood up to look around. The music stopped. When she sat again in the chair the music began.

She closed her eyes, lost in the words and beat of the music. A familiar scent wafted past. Sandalwood. The same fragrance in her grandfather’s after shave.  She knew her grandfather was there in the attic with her to guide and protect her.

Tuesday, 3 September 2019

John A. Heldt: For writers, advice is abundant

John A. Heldt: For writers, advice is abundant: In On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft , Stephen King advises fellow scribes to "Write with the door closed, rewrite with the door open.&...