The Last Days Of Chez Fou

Today was meant to be my third last day at Debtor's Prison ~ as in the third time it was meant to be my last day.

But no. Finish as you started seems to be the motto of the family business owners & they are proving to be haplessly unorganised right to the end... then past the end... then a bit more...

Not much else happening on the job front & inspiration for my next career move is equally elusive. Oh... & I hab a code. How de hell did I ged a code ib de middw ob subber??!!

Hack. Cough. Sniff. Atishooaarrgghh!!

Can't Talk ~ Coughing!

So have some moody pictures instead.


Land's End ~ Victoria


Under The Boardwalk ~ Bateman's Bay

Famine Or Flood

As so often happens with me, I don't post for days on end, then you get three within hours of each other...

This one's because I've been reading the Sydney Morning Herald online while waiting for various cooking stuff to happen.

An interesting article on rearing the modern male ( I've fixed the link!)

Where do we stand on boys/men who cry... & what's acceptable for us to cry about?

Myself, I only seem to tear up when I'm completely emotionally overwhelmed & I find that words aren't doing their job conveying just how f@cked up I am/the situation is. I suffer from what Van Morrison calls 'Inarticulate Speech Of The Heart' (great phrase, I just can't stand him!!) & my gifts of gab & vocab desert me when discussing or conveying those ineffable feelings which rend from the inside, leaving me not only hurt/confused/lost but also frustrated at my inability to communicate effectively ~ something I normally pride myself on.

By contrast, I haven't cried from physical pain in living memory... & I can remember back to about the age of 4. I remember yelling in pain & surprise when I burnt my hand on a hot iron, but I don't remember crying... nor when I fell off a bike onto the sharp edge of a steel toolbox ~ being about ten or eleven by then, I'm pretty sure all I did was use every schoolboy swearword I knew. But one of the memories which popped up thinking about this is how embarrassed I was when a supposed 'tough guy' friend fell seven feet from a tree whilst trying to reach a roof, paused for a couple of seconds, then burst into tears & wailed incommunicably 'til we reached his home, whereupon his mother told me to go home & he was ushered inside. Funnily enough, the incident was never mentioned again ~ the male code of honour being genetically imprin... oops!!

Back to preparing dinner for me... Over to you... anybody...??