Friday last week was Australia Day, a public holiday. Lib worked as normal and I worked too, although mine was more a matter of choice. The wholesaler who comes Friday was having the day off and I'd picked Foxy's Sunday order ahead, camellia and flax that keeps well, making Friday free for my choice.
I worked at Pat and Mal's in the morning, spraying blackberries and cutting out holly trees, painting the cut with straight Roundup. It was a perfect sunny day. I walked down the steep hill to the bush carrying the chainsaw and a full tank in the knapsack sprayer on my back, stopping to look a large sequoia on the way down, admiring it's perfect symmetry, the rough trunk reaching dramatically straight up toward the bright blue sky. I thanked whoever planted it, 50, 60, 70 years ago. It looks about the same age as the two in Gembrook Park, planted in 1934 to commemorate Melbourne's centenary. A ficifolia gum, gnarled and broad, in full orange red flower fifty feet away gave striking contrast. After 50ml of rain at Christmas followed by another 45ml a week ago, the grass tended green and the bush shone. Flowering messmates dotted the blue green forest on the hill to the east with scattered white.
It's a beautiful place, Australia, I thought. How lucky am I to live here and be healthy enough to work in this wonderful environment? Two hundred and twenty years nearly since the first fleet, we have done so much damage, but maybe there's hope.
I only had an hour or so of work to do there, the time it would take to empty the sprayer on the last patch of blackberries and cut the remaining big hollies on my way back. Gord and I had worked here the previous day for a couple of hours and I was finishing off, relaxed, soaking up the fresh air and peace, satisfied at striking some good blows on the weeds.
After lunch I took a box of honey off the big hive in our yard, then went to 'Sunset' and took a box from there. 'Sunset'* is on the main road on the Gembrook hill, from where there's an excellent view to the south across red soil and lush green potato paddocks, backed by eucalypt bush again dotted with the white of flowering messmate trees. The irrigation cannon in the distance pumped great jets of water like a giant rhythmic metronome, the spurts of water slowing and fanning out, before falling to ground like heavy rain. Gembrook in January is idyllic if the weather's kind and there are no bushfires about. It's the rain that makes the difference.
After extracting the boxes of honey I went to Nobelius Park in Emerald and whippy snipped the bank on the northern boundary. This bank, less than twelve months ago, was a horrible mess of weed; blackberries, hollies, cotoneasters, black locusts, privet, impenetrable and a bug for me for many years. As curator of the park and a member of the committee of management, I had a bobcat remove all the weeds and the old fence last autumn. Then in October, because it was so dry and we had the funds (because other factors prevented us doing other work scheduled in the maintenance budget), we had the bobcat man back to spread 10 truckloads of topsoil and create a nice level bank up to the Emerald Lake road. All well and good, but the mowing contractors hadn't picked up the idea yet, and the weed species were growing back with a vengeance. An hour on the whipper got rid of them and hopefully I can coerce the contractors to include it in their program and soon it will be a nice grassy bank with no maintenance problem.
It looked so much better when I'd finished. It was satisfying to see a major improvement to the park, which would't have happened without first thinking it through, talking to people, and then perservering. I felt I'd done my bit on this Australia Day 2007. Better than all the flag waving wanking that goes on.
* 'Sunset' was guest house in the 1920's , the name being retained by a succession of owners since, and is listed as of heritage significance by the Cardinia Shire Heriage Study 1999)
Monday, January 29, 2007
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Another Night Staring at The Ceiling
"Another night staring at the ceiling." That's what Lyle said to me as I left his room at the Casey hospital on Monday afternoon, January 22. It's been a long haul for him. It was December 6 when he left home in the ambulance for Dandenong hospital. After a week or so there, he had the brain haemorrhage operation at Monash, another stint in Dandenong, and now the last few weeks at Casey.
During the six weeks his condition physically and emotionally has fluctuated, but for the most part he's maintained a positive attitude despite physical rehabilitation not being achievable.
Elvie, Meredith and myself have run the emotional gauntlet with him over this six weeks, dealing with hospitals, doctors and social workers, and driving regularly to visit on a rotating shift, muchly helped by Meredith's amazingly resilient and practical daughters, Annie and Rosie.
On Thursday last week we (Elvie, Meredith, Rosie and myself) visited nursing homes looking for an available and suitable high care bed so that Lyle can move into residential care. We found one, much to our relief, at Salisbury House, Upper Beaconsfield, where Lib works, and booked it. It's the worst room in the place but is temporary till a good one is available.
Lyle's ACAT assessement was scheduled for Monday which is why I was at the hospital, a close relative being required to witness his signature on their form, or sign for him if he couldn't. He was assessed as in need of high care which would give the green light to his move as soon as the paper work was faxed around. Salisbury House was at the ready for his admission on any day. The social worker, Virginia, was happy we had already found accomodation as she said the hospital wants them out quickly once they've been assessed. She told me it would probably be Wednesday morning, today. Alas Virginia rang yesterday saying the doctors feel he's not well enough to move, there's a problem with his lungs, fluid, and also his left ventricle is playing up, which is not a new thing.
Poor old Lyle would be disappointed. On Monday when I saw him he was accepting of his move into residential care and looking forward to it. He has pressure sores and has had enough of the cold clinical hospital atmosphere. There's little encouragement there now that his rehab has failed and he knows he needs a new social environment. I felt proud of him, he said he had always been an outgoing person and he would fit in and not cause any trouble. The pep talk I'd prepared wasn't necessary. It was if he'd received it telepathically during the night, when I'd lain awake, running it through my mind almost in rehearsal.
So we wait, and hope. We feared he would hate moving into a nursing home and that it would crush him, and here he is champing at the bit, but not well enough to go. What cruel irony.
During the six weeks his condition physically and emotionally has fluctuated, but for the most part he's maintained a positive attitude despite physical rehabilitation not being achievable.
Elvie, Meredith and myself have run the emotional gauntlet with him over this six weeks, dealing with hospitals, doctors and social workers, and driving regularly to visit on a rotating shift, muchly helped by Meredith's amazingly resilient and practical daughters, Annie and Rosie.
On Thursday last week we (Elvie, Meredith, Rosie and myself) visited nursing homes looking for an available and suitable high care bed so that Lyle can move into residential care. We found one, much to our relief, at Salisbury House, Upper Beaconsfield, where Lib works, and booked it. It's the worst room in the place but is temporary till a good one is available.
Lyle's ACAT assessement was scheduled for Monday which is why I was at the hospital, a close relative being required to witness his signature on their form, or sign for him if he couldn't. He was assessed as in need of high care which would give the green light to his move as soon as the paper work was faxed around. Salisbury House was at the ready for his admission on any day. The social worker, Virginia, was happy we had already found accomodation as she said the hospital wants them out quickly once they've been assessed. She told me it would probably be Wednesday morning, today. Alas Virginia rang yesterday saying the doctors feel he's not well enough to move, there's a problem with his lungs, fluid, and also his left ventricle is playing up, which is not a new thing.
Poor old Lyle would be disappointed. On Monday when I saw him he was accepting of his move into residential care and looking forward to it. He has pressure sores and has had enough of the cold clinical hospital atmosphere. There's little encouragement there now that his rehab has failed and he knows he needs a new social environment. I felt proud of him, he said he had always been an outgoing person and he would fit in and not cause any trouble. The pep talk I'd prepared wasn't necessary. It was if he'd received it telepathically during the night, when I'd lain awake, running it through my mind almost in rehearsal.
So we wait, and hope. We feared he would hate moving into a nursing home and that it would crush him, and here he is champing at the bit, but not well enough to go. What cruel irony.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Mid Summer Bird Report
1. The eastern whipbird family that chose our garden as their residence and nursery in the spring has moved on. I haven't seen the juveniles for weeks and the parents have regained their shyness. We still hear an occasional 'crack', but it's more often at some distance and I haven't glimpsed mum or dad for some time. We all enjoyed their sojourn and hope they come back next spring.
2. The bronzewings are no longer 'ooming'. It must be a nesting or breeding thing. Jod told me the male 'ooms' while roosting in a tree not far from the female sitting on the nest. Maybe he's right, and they finished breeding for the year. They are still around because I've seen them recently when I walk. The rich metallic green on the wing always delights me, and they have strong purposeful flight. I've seen the odd crested pidgeon about lately too.
3.The parrot family is strongly represented still. Juvenile crimson rosellas, more green than the crimson and blue of their parents, follow the adults. Baby king parrots squark and nag their parents incessantly, giving away the truth, the ravenous and destructive nature of this most striking bird. The hot weather seems to bring out the the screeching insanity of the sulphur crested cockatoos, which, on top of the demanding, nerve jangling squarking of the baby king parrots, threatens to send men and women 'troppo' in the heat and the dry of this smoke hazed January. Galahs were less numerous for a while but just when I thought they'd moved on I'd hear a big flock 'chi chiing' overhead. The gang gangs are still creaking around, gently moving from tree to tree harrassed by bellbirds. The yellow tailed black cockies are seen now and again feeding on pine cones and flapping big wings in flight like huge bats. I have not seen them for a week, which makes me less confidant that rain is near. My favourite of all the parrots, the eastern rosellas, have been present in good numbers every morning on my walk. I love the brilliant green and their quiet.
4. I saw a speckled song thrush sitting on the picket fence at 13 Inness Rd. the other morning. I've mentioned before that this georgeous bird, a species introduced from England, is now in danger of extinction in it's home country, and is in Australia in a few limited localities such as the Dandenongs and a pocket or two in the Warragul and Ballarat areas. A couple of months ago I picked up a bird's nest in some prunings on the nature strip of No. 11 and took it to the farm where Jod said it was a song thrush's nest, which he knew because it was mud lined. I've been watching for the thrush about here so it was good to see it. There are always cars parked out front of No.13 and as I walked closer to get a better look at the thrush a black kelpie dog shot out from under a car and went for 'Snowie'. Gave us a hell of a fright.
5. The dawn chorus is noticeably more subdued by comparison with a couple of months ago, with the exeption of the harsh, raucous, 'quokking' of the wattle birds, which gets on my wick like the the screeching white cockies and the juvenile kingies.
6. I fill the bird bath daily and am doing the same for my neighbours who have gone to N.Z. for a holiday. Jod keeps several baths filled at the farm and I watched a mudlark come down yesterday in the 40C heat and stand on the edge panting before taking a scoop of water in its beak, swallowing, then standing, mouth open, panting. Mudlarks are a favourite of mine too, I have a young one that comes down and takes dry dog minis that I put on the shed windowstill for the blackbirds. Bellbirds follow me around in the evenings, hoping I'll pick up a hose and water something so they can get under the spray for a cooling shower. There's not much of that, most of my watering is with a can, slowly, to conserve water.
7. I hear the grey thrush now and again, the ibis colony has gone, the ravens are back to normal numbers, there are swallows about, no currawongs at the moment, no honeyeaters lately, and this morning I saw a willy wag tail. If I could do magic I'd send the bellbirds, indian minas and sparrows away and have some blue wrens and silver eyes and the little scrubwrens that used to come through the garden feeding on insects. We seem to have lost the smaller birds to this area.
2. The bronzewings are no longer 'ooming'. It must be a nesting or breeding thing. Jod told me the male 'ooms' while roosting in a tree not far from the female sitting on the nest. Maybe he's right, and they finished breeding for the year. They are still around because I've seen them recently when I walk. The rich metallic green on the wing always delights me, and they have strong purposeful flight. I've seen the odd crested pidgeon about lately too.
3.The parrot family is strongly represented still. Juvenile crimson rosellas, more green than the crimson and blue of their parents, follow the adults. Baby king parrots squark and nag their parents incessantly, giving away the truth, the ravenous and destructive nature of this most striking bird. The hot weather seems to bring out the the screeching insanity of the sulphur crested cockatoos, which, on top of the demanding, nerve jangling squarking of the baby king parrots, threatens to send men and women 'troppo' in the heat and the dry of this smoke hazed January. Galahs were less numerous for a while but just when I thought they'd moved on I'd hear a big flock 'chi chiing' overhead. The gang gangs are still creaking around, gently moving from tree to tree harrassed by bellbirds. The yellow tailed black cockies are seen now and again feeding on pine cones and flapping big wings in flight like huge bats. I have not seen them for a week, which makes me less confidant that rain is near. My favourite of all the parrots, the eastern rosellas, have been present in good numbers every morning on my walk. I love the brilliant green and their quiet.
4. I saw a speckled song thrush sitting on the picket fence at 13 Inness Rd. the other morning. I've mentioned before that this georgeous bird, a species introduced from England, is now in danger of extinction in it's home country, and is in Australia in a few limited localities such as the Dandenongs and a pocket or two in the Warragul and Ballarat areas. A couple of months ago I picked up a bird's nest in some prunings on the nature strip of No. 11 and took it to the farm where Jod said it was a song thrush's nest, which he knew because it was mud lined. I've been watching for the thrush about here so it was good to see it. There are always cars parked out front of No.13 and as I walked closer to get a better look at the thrush a black kelpie dog shot out from under a car and went for 'Snowie'. Gave us a hell of a fright.
5. The dawn chorus is noticeably more subdued by comparison with a couple of months ago, with the exeption of the harsh, raucous, 'quokking' of the wattle birds, which gets on my wick like the the screeching white cockies and the juvenile kingies.
6. I fill the bird bath daily and am doing the same for my neighbours who have gone to N.Z. for a holiday. Jod keeps several baths filled at the farm and I watched a mudlark come down yesterday in the 40C heat and stand on the edge panting before taking a scoop of water in its beak, swallowing, then standing, mouth open, panting. Mudlarks are a favourite of mine too, I have a young one that comes down and takes dry dog minis that I put on the shed windowstill for the blackbirds. Bellbirds follow me around in the evenings, hoping I'll pick up a hose and water something so they can get under the spray for a cooling shower. There's not much of that, most of my watering is with a can, slowly, to conserve water.
7. I hear the grey thrush now and again, the ibis colony has gone, the ravens are back to normal numbers, there are swallows about, no currawongs at the moment, no honeyeaters lately, and this morning I saw a willy wag tail. If I could do magic I'd send the bellbirds, indian minas and sparrows away and have some blue wrens and silver eyes and the little scrubwrens that used to come through the garden feeding on insects. We seem to have lost the smaller birds to this area.
The Observation of Harry
On my walk this morning I met Harry. Not wanting to repeat Harry's story which I have blogged before, let me just say that Harry migrated from Germany in 1952 and worked for the Victorian railways for all his subsequent working life until retirement, and he will be 75 this year. We talked about the weather and concurred that the temperature when each of us checked our thermometers when we began our walks today was 25C. There was more cloud about and we didn't think it would be as hot as yesterday's 40C.
Harry then told me that yesterday he received a letter from a police sargeant in Kew saying that his car had been 'observed' on the road and it was noted that his car registration plate was difficult to read. He couldn't understand this, he'd looked at it and it seemed fine to him , easy to read. It irritated him as he thought he would have to pay for new plates, unless, as he said, there was some other reason such as something on his car, or a reflection from it, that restricted clear vision of his plates from a certain angle.
I made a bit of a joke that "they are watching you Harry", saying it was important that the police could track who was who, and their criminal history, available at the push of a PC button in their police car. I said they could check his record and have all his misdemeanors there on the screen in seconds. Harry said, "I may have had a parking ticket once but I've never been booked by the police, not for speeding or anything."
It's interesting if you think about it.
After police were attacked in Noble Park recently when they tried to confiscate vehicles under the hoon laws, the media report said police were going to talk with the Dandenong Council about the possibility of installing surveillance cameras in the streets and also 'no standing' signs, to prevent people and cars congregating.
It seems that Harry, and all us, are going to be 'observed' by cameras more not less as time goes by. It's silly really, because bad guys just get phoney, altered, or stolen plates, and wear disguise, if they're up to serious mischief.
Harry then told me that yesterday he received a letter from a police sargeant in Kew saying that his car had been 'observed' on the road and it was noted that his car registration plate was difficult to read. He couldn't understand this, he'd looked at it and it seemed fine to him , easy to read. It irritated him as he thought he would have to pay for new plates, unless, as he said, there was some other reason such as something on his car, or a reflection from it, that restricted clear vision of his plates from a certain angle.
I made a bit of a joke that "they are watching you Harry", saying it was important that the police could track who was who, and their criminal history, available at the push of a PC button in their police car. I said they could check his record and have all his misdemeanors there on the screen in seconds. Harry said, "I may have had a parking ticket once but I've never been booked by the police, not for speeding or anything."
It's interesting if you think about it.
After police were attacked in Noble Park recently when they tried to confiscate vehicles under the hoon laws, the media report said police were going to talk with the Dandenong Council about the possibility of installing surveillance cameras in the streets and also 'no standing' signs, to prevent people and cars congregating.
It seems that Harry, and all us, are going to be 'observed' by cameras more not less as time goes by. It's silly really, because bad guys just get phoney, altered, or stolen plates, and wear disguise, if they're up to serious mischief.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Mid Summer Bee Report
Since the festive season, when we had a burst of cold weather and 50ml of wonderful rain at Christmas followed by another 10ml around New Yea's Eve, the weather has returned to a dry pattern. The honey flow has continued, steady rather than heavy. Yesterday I took a box of honey from each of the two hives at 'Sunset' and one in our yard. A week ago I did the same, a few boxes from the bees in our yard on the Saturday before the cool change which unfortunately brought no rain to speak of.
I'm unsure of the floral source of the honey. I thought by now it would be messmate as there's plenty of messmate blossom on the trees, although probably the big trees haven't really broken yet. Messmate honey is dark and strong, like molassis, but this honey is mild, clear/medium amber in colour, and dense. Superp honey, as people I'm giving it to are saying. Over the past month or so when the bees gathered it, there's been blackberry flowering, clover, the rain extending the flowering period of both these, mint bush, which the bees worked heavily and is finishing flowering now, and I'm speculating, some white stringybark.
Why am I speculating? I have no way of finding out for sure. That's the thing about beekeeping, you are always wondering what's happening and there's always some mystery or other. I noticed the bees flying high to the east in a similar flight path to that of October when they were working the silvertop. I checked my honey flora book, 'Honey Flora of Victoria' and it seems that white stringbark grows around here and I think I recall seeing a stand on the Kurth Kiln Rd. But a big clue is that the book says that it often grows with silvertop, and that the honey is paler than other stringybarks with the same tendency to froth, and of good flavour and density. As I was uncapping combs last week I noticed a huge number of tiny air bubbles in the honey after the knife had passed over it and also as I filled the bucket at the bottom of the extractor, the amount air bubbles was extraordinary, consistent with 'frothing' mentioned in the book. I tried to ring Dennis Beale who worked in the forests diving log trucks for many years to ask if there's white stingybark growing with the silvertop to the east of the town within bee flight range of our place, but he's not answering his phone and may be away. (Dennis knows his trees and once worked helping a beekeeper in south east South Australia where he came from originally. He came to Gembrook many years ago on deer hunting expeditions with a group that teamed up with local deerhunters and he married one's sister. He goes back to S.A. every year where he has crayfish licence. I'm hoping a good size billy of honey might be a good trade for a couple of lobsters as it was a few years ago)
So it has been a bumper honey crop so far. I think there's about another 110 kg's in the tanks from the last two Saturday's exertions which would make a running total of 340kg. and there's still honey on them, I'm just trying to keep up enough to give each hive a little storage space. I'm tired of it now, tired of getting sticky and cleaning up. Yesterday the bees gave me a bit of a hiding. I have to admit, I had a hangover* so it was my own fault. I was clumsy and dropping things and the hive that swarmed in spring, now built up strong and honey bound, made no allowance for my condition. I had a short sleeved shirt with wide sleeve holes and I lost control of the bees for about ten seconds and they attacked me up the sleeves on the soft underside of the upper arms. They could probably smell the grog coming out of me. "Take that, you pisshead", they probably said. When I went back to put the empty combs back on them an hour or so later they were stinging mad and waiting for me. Man o man, hell hath no fury like a beehive roughly treated. It does bring you back to earth, and it serves me right.
The messmate could well yield yet, peak flowering is yet to come. And there could be honey to follow from manna gum and mountain grey gum or even the mountain ash in Gembrook Park. Who knows?
Winter never looked as appealing as it does to me now. I must get the wood split.
* We went out on Friday night to an Indian restaurant in Beaconsfield. It was a farewell dinner for one of the nurses at Lib's work. I was so tired at the end of the week and drank too much on an empty stomach before we ate late. Robbie was our chauffer and Raylene and John came in our car. When we dropped them off on the way home we went in for a drink as they've sold their house and are moving any day to Mt. Martha, so we had another little farewell drink. I think it was near 3.00 am when we got home and I slept in and missed my morning walk, first miss in 2007. I should not have worked the bees at all and should have rested, given my hangover, but I'm on museum roster today so it was yesterday or not at all this weekend.
I'm unsure of the floral source of the honey. I thought by now it would be messmate as there's plenty of messmate blossom on the trees, although probably the big trees haven't really broken yet. Messmate honey is dark and strong, like molassis, but this honey is mild, clear/medium amber in colour, and dense. Superp honey, as people I'm giving it to are saying. Over the past month or so when the bees gathered it, there's been blackberry flowering, clover, the rain extending the flowering period of both these, mint bush, which the bees worked heavily and is finishing flowering now, and I'm speculating, some white stringybark.
Why am I speculating? I have no way of finding out for sure. That's the thing about beekeeping, you are always wondering what's happening and there's always some mystery or other. I noticed the bees flying high to the east in a similar flight path to that of October when they were working the silvertop. I checked my honey flora book, 'Honey Flora of Victoria' and it seems that white stringbark grows around here and I think I recall seeing a stand on the Kurth Kiln Rd. But a big clue is that the book says that it often grows with silvertop, and that the honey is paler than other stringybarks with the same tendency to froth, and of good flavour and density. As I was uncapping combs last week I noticed a huge number of tiny air bubbles in the honey after the knife had passed over it and also as I filled the bucket at the bottom of the extractor, the amount air bubbles was extraordinary, consistent with 'frothing' mentioned in the book. I tried to ring Dennis Beale who worked in the forests diving log trucks for many years to ask if there's white stingybark growing with the silvertop to the east of the town within bee flight range of our place, but he's not answering his phone and may be away. (Dennis knows his trees and once worked helping a beekeeper in south east South Australia where he came from originally. He came to Gembrook many years ago on deer hunting expeditions with a group that teamed up with local deerhunters and he married one's sister. He goes back to S.A. every year where he has crayfish licence. I'm hoping a good size billy of honey might be a good trade for a couple of lobsters as it was a few years ago)
So it has been a bumper honey crop so far. I think there's about another 110 kg's in the tanks from the last two Saturday's exertions which would make a running total of 340kg. and there's still honey on them, I'm just trying to keep up enough to give each hive a little storage space. I'm tired of it now, tired of getting sticky and cleaning up. Yesterday the bees gave me a bit of a hiding. I have to admit, I had a hangover* so it was my own fault. I was clumsy and dropping things and the hive that swarmed in spring, now built up strong and honey bound, made no allowance for my condition. I had a short sleeved shirt with wide sleeve holes and I lost control of the bees for about ten seconds and they attacked me up the sleeves on the soft underside of the upper arms. They could probably smell the grog coming out of me. "Take that, you pisshead", they probably said. When I went back to put the empty combs back on them an hour or so later they were stinging mad and waiting for me. Man o man, hell hath no fury like a beehive roughly treated. It does bring you back to earth, and it serves me right.
The messmate could well yield yet, peak flowering is yet to come. And there could be honey to follow from manna gum and mountain grey gum or even the mountain ash in Gembrook Park. Who knows?
Winter never looked as appealing as it does to me now. I must get the wood split.
* We went out on Friday night to an Indian restaurant in Beaconsfield. It was a farewell dinner for one of the nurses at Lib's work. I was so tired at the end of the week and drank too much on an empty stomach before we ate late. Robbie was our chauffer and Raylene and John came in our car. When we dropped them off on the way home we went in for a drink as they've sold their house and are moving any day to Mt. Martha, so we had another little farewell drink. I think it was near 3.00 am when we got home and I slept in and missed my morning walk, first miss in 2007. I should not have worked the bees at all and should have rested, given my hangover, but I'm on museum roster today so it was yesterday or not at all this weekend.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
Neighbour Steve and Birds
Last Sunday, about midday, I took a jar of honey across the road to give to my neighbour Steve and his wife Anne. They weren't home so I left it at the front door. There had been a cool change the previous night and the weather was cool and drizzly so I cancelled my plan to go to 'Sunset' and do the two bee hives there and extract the honey that afternoon, as I had the bees in my yard the previous day. I was happy to do something else, honey seems to have dominated me lately.
I found my woodsplitter and made a start on the felled dead tree which I'd like to have done by the end of January so the wood will dry out with the heat of February and March so that we can use it next winter. On about the fourth round I noticed Steve's Land Cruiser drive past and I thought to myself I hope he goes in the front door so he sees the honey. The jar I left had a plunger type lid not a screw top, and it occurred to me that the lid may rise up and ants might find a way in.
As I swung the splitter into the the next round of wood the handle gave way and split lengthwise. I knew it was wonky, I'd bought a new hanlde months ago which was sitting near our front door and I remembered the wedge was in the box with the shoe polish.
Walking back to the house I stopped at the shed, thinking I'd have to burn the wood out of the hole in the metal splitter before I could put in the new handle. Contemplating lighting a fire when fire restrictions are in force, I banged one half of the splitter handle onto the other half which was still inserted in the splitter. The noise it made had a lovely ring to it, like that which aborigines make with their beating sticks, so I kept it up and found a nice rythm.
Enjoying my own little corroborree as I was, I looked up from my drumming to see Steve walking towards me. He'd come down to thank me for the honey and followed the noise around to the shed.
Steve's a good bloke, in his fifties, small in stature but with a big heart. His hobby is riding his pushbike for fitness and I see him more often in his lycra on the bike than I do in his 'Gem's Painting' van or his cruiser. He and wife Anne have no children but they're devoted to their three miniature spaniels. They're keen gardeners and I pick in their garden now and again.
Steve thanked me for the honey and agreed that I should get away with lighting a little fire to burn out the splitter, seeing it was drizzling and the ground was wet nobody would panic if they saw smoke. As we talked I could hear shrill bird calls high in the treetops and I said to Steve, "I think they're lorrikeets but I haven't been able to get a good look at them, the bellbirds are chasing them so they don't settle."
"They're nasty bastards, bellbirds", said Steve. "I saw them the other day attacking a sparrow's nest and dragging the baby sparrows from it. Mate, I don't like sparrows but that was awful. I tell you what though, those big black birds, you know those things with the yellow eye, they're the worst, they're cannibals!"
Steve was talking about currawongs and his excitement grew, "Where we used to live in Montrose I saw them raiding other nests and eating the babies of they own kind! Cannibals!"
I was looking up again trying to see the lorikeets. Steve continued, having thought of something else, "Were you home yesterday? You didn't happen to look up into the sky about 12.30 did you?"
"No, I was busy mucking round with bees and honey."
"There were heaps of crows, hundreds, four hundred or more, flying around and around, way up high, diving down, going back up, round and round. I've never seen anything like it before. It was amazing."
"Gee I wish I did see it, but I didn't. I've seen a huge flock of ravens feeding in Fialla's paddock on my way home up the hill into town. A big flock of what I think are straw necked Ibis were there three days in a row too. And at the same time hundreds of swallows were in the air above them and a large flock of starlings. Gembrook is teeming with birds at the moment. Maybe many have moved in cause we've had rain and it's so dry elsewhere."
"It could be, but those crows were spectacular. Thanks again for the honey. I'll catch ya later and we should get together for that drink soon", Steve said as he moved off.
I hope to do a mid summer bird report post soon.
I found my woodsplitter and made a start on the felled dead tree which I'd like to have done by the end of January so the wood will dry out with the heat of February and March so that we can use it next winter. On about the fourth round I noticed Steve's Land Cruiser drive past and I thought to myself I hope he goes in the front door so he sees the honey. The jar I left had a plunger type lid not a screw top, and it occurred to me that the lid may rise up and ants might find a way in.
As I swung the splitter into the the next round of wood the handle gave way and split lengthwise. I knew it was wonky, I'd bought a new hanlde months ago which was sitting near our front door and I remembered the wedge was in the box with the shoe polish.
Walking back to the house I stopped at the shed, thinking I'd have to burn the wood out of the hole in the metal splitter before I could put in the new handle. Contemplating lighting a fire when fire restrictions are in force, I banged one half of the splitter handle onto the other half which was still inserted in the splitter. The noise it made had a lovely ring to it, like that which aborigines make with their beating sticks, so I kept it up and found a nice rythm.
Enjoying my own little corroborree as I was, I looked up from my drumming to see Steve walking towards me. He'd come down to thank me for the honey and followed the noise around to the shed.
Steve's a good bloke, in his fifties, small in stature but with a big heart. His hobby is riding his pushbike for fitness and I see him more often in his lycra on the bike than I do in his 'Gem's Painting' van or his cruiser. He and wife Anne have no children but they're devoted to their three miniature spaniels. They're keen gardeners and I pick in their garden now and again.
Steve thanked me for the honey and agreed that I should get away with lighting a little fire to burn out the splitter, seeing it was drizzling and the ground was wet nobody would panic if they saw smoke. As we talked I could hear shrill bird calls high in the treetops and I said to Steve, "I think they're lorrikeets but I haven't been able to get a good look at them, the bellbirds are chasing them so they don't settle."
"They're nasty bastards, bellbirds", said Steve. "I saw them the other day attacking a sparrow's nest and dragging the baby sparrows from it. Mate, I don't like sparrows but that was awful. I tell you what though, those big black birds, you know those things with the yellow eye, they're the worst, they're cannibals!"
Steve was talking about currawongs and his excitement grew, "Where we used to live in Montrose I saw them raiding other nests and eating the babies of they own kind! Cannibals!"
I was looking up again trying to see the lorikeets. Steve continued, having thought of something else, "Were you home yesterday? You didn't happen to look up into the sky about 12.30 did you?"
"No, I was busy mucking round with bees and honey."
"There were heaps of crows, hundreds, four hundred or more, flying around and around, way up high, diving down, going back up, round and round. I've never seen anything like it before. It was amazing."
"Gee I wish I did see it, but I didn't. I've seen a huge flock of ravens feeding in Fialla's paddock on my way home up the hill into town. A big flock of what I think are straw necked Ibis were there three days in a row too. And at the same time hundreds of swallows were in the air above them and a large flock of starlings. Gembrook is teeming with birds at the moment. Maybe many have moved in cause we've had rain and it's so dry elsewhere."
"It could be, but those crows were spectacular. Thanks again for the honey. I'll catch ya later and we should get together for that drink soon", Steve said as he moved off.
I hope to do a mid summer bird report post soon.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Green Beech and Grass Hay
We've had only have one wholesaler operating since Christmas but he's kept me running, ordering lots of beech which he doesn't usually buy from us. His other suppliers, obviously, are taking a good break at this time of year.
I picked 50 tall bunches for him at the farm last Thursday which more or less was the finish of it there for this season. He wanted another forty yesterday so I visited a tree in La Souef Rd. that I didn't cut last year, after having done so for several years prior to that. Two years ago the owner of the property, Anne, sold it and moved to go and live with her daughter at Boweya, a small rural locality on the edge of the box/ironbark of the Killawarra Forest outside Wangaratta. Over the years I had come to know Anne quite well. She'd had serious health problems and lost her husband John to cancer. It was John who'd originally OK'd me to prune the beech tree which was growing close to the electricity wires, and if not cut regularly would have ended up a poor shape as the contractors for the electricity company cut the top of one side of it each year.
Anne had told me a lady called Allison had bought her house. Last year she was not home each time I called to ask her if I could continue cutting the tree. She was home yesterday. When I explained myself she said that Anne had told her about me and yes, I could cut the tree, she didn't want it growing as big as 'Ben Hur'.
Allison then asked me did I know what happened to Anne. "No", I didn't. Then she laid it on me.
It was a bit of a shock when she said that not long after Anne got to Boweya her daughter suicided, and shortly after, Anne followed suit. She died the day before the settlement on Anne's Gembrook house was to take place and it spooked Allison so much that she nearly didn't go ahead with the purchase.
I was pleased to be able to prune the beech tree and Allison told me to come any time I liked and take whatever I might need. I gave her some honey in exchange. She said she didn't eat honey herself but her son was staying with her temporarily and he'd use it. I told her that next time I'd bring something else, say some hand soap from Elvie's little shop at the farm, but she said she was just happy to have some pruning done.
We went into her backyard, she wanting to show me the work she'd done.
The vista from there is into my favourite scene on my morning walk, the valley at the head of which the Shepherd's Creek West Branch begins, but of course from a different side. Before Christmas the big paddock on the hill beyond the two one acre paddocks where I watch the galahs and cockies feeding, was cut for grass hay. From this viewpoint, looking across to the paddock, I guess about 20 acres in size, the big round bales are visible, 51 of them. Each is worth over $200 because of the drought. A bountiful harvest.
We've been much better off here in the Dandenong's than most of the state. When Molly got home to Wangaratta after Christmas she rang to say that not one drop of rain had fallen there, compared to the 50ml we'd had in Gembrook. And a friend rang from Wang. on New Year's eve to wish me all the best. He heard the rain on the roof and I walked outside to read the gauge, telling him we'd had another 10ml. They had zip.
I picked 50 tall bunches for him at the farm last Thursday which more or less was the finish of it there for this season. He wanted another forty yesterday so I visited a tree in La Souef Rd. that I didn't cut last year, after having done so for several years prior to that. Two years ago the owner of the property, Anne, sold it and moved to go and live with her daughter at Boweya, a small rural locality on the edge of the box/ironbark of the Killawarra Forest outside Wangaratta. Over the years I had come to know Anne quite well. She'd had serious health problems and lost her husband John to cancer. It was John who'd originally OK'd me to prune the beech tree which was growing close to the electricity wires, and if not cut regularly would have ended up a poor shape as the contractors for the electricity company cut the top of one side of it each year.
Anne had told me a lady called Allison had bought her house. Last year she was not home each time I called to ask her if I could continue cutting the tree. She was home yesterday. When I explained myself she said that Anne had told her about me and yes, I could cut the tree, she didn't want it growing as big as 'Ben Hur'.
Allison then asked me did I know what happened to Anne. "No", I didn't. Then she laid it on me.
It was a bit of a shock when she said that not long after Anne got to Boweya her daughter suicided, and shortly after, Anne followed suit. She died the day before the settlement on Anne's Gembrook house was to take place and it spooked Allison so much that she nearly didn't go ahead with the purchase.
I was pleased to be able to prune the beech tree and Allison told me to come any time I liked and take whatever I might need. I gave her some honey in exchange. She said she didn't eat honey herself but her son was staying with her temporarily and he'd use it. I told her that next time I'd bring something else, say some hand soap from Elvie's little shop at the farm, but she said she was just happy to have some pruning done.
We went into her backyard, she wanting to show me the work she'd done.
The vista from there is into my favourite scene on my morning walk, the valley at the head of which the Shepherd's Creek West Branch begins, but of course from a different side. Before Christmas the big paddock on the hill beyond the two one acre paddocks where I watch the galahs and cockies feeding, was cut for grass hay. From this viewpoint, looking across to the paddock, I guess about 20 acres in size, the big round bales are visible, 51 of them. Each is worth over $200 because of the drought. A bountiful harvest.
We've been much better off here in the Dandenong's than most of the state. When Molly got home to Wangaratta after Christmas she rang to say that not one drop of rain had fallen there, compared to the 50ml we'd had in Gembrook. And a friend rang from Wang. on New Year's eve to wish me all the best. He heard the rain on the roof and I walked outside to read the gauge, telling him we'd had another 10ml. They had zip.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Hospital Strategy
Holly Hutton, the doctor at Casey hopital whom I met two days ago, rang this morning and said that at the meeting yesterday she was nominated as 'the appointed person' at the hospital to discuss with me, 'the appointed person' in Lyle's family, the hospital's management strategy for Lyle. She said it had been decided to put him on a three week rehab program during which time they would concentrate on his walking, and at the end of the three weeks an assessement would be made as to whether he could go home or whether he would need placement. So we are still in a state of suspense, a long protracted agony, in particular for Lyle. He's hanging in there.
We all did it hard in yesterday's heat. I picked the beech, Gord carted, the girls bunched and Jod picked some pitto, and viburnum and rowan berries. There was also a little early clethra , hydrangeas and artichoke flowers. It was an impressive load that Elissa who drives for the wholesaler, picked up shortly after 5.00pm. I told Elissa when she started recently that her name reminds me of the musical 'Paint Your Wagon' in which Clint Eastwood sang a solo 'I Still See Elissa' and she said she'd not seen the movie but her parents got the name from it.
I'm sore/stiff in the feet, legs, hips, back, shoulders, forearms and fingers from my climbing yesterday. And it's hot again. Good thing I don't have much on today, and can have a bit of a rest.
We all did it hard in yesterday's heat. I picked the beech, Gord carted, the girls bunched and Jod picked some pitto, and viburnum and rowan berries. There was also a little early clethra , hydrangeas and artichoke flowers. It was an impressive load that Elissa who drives for the wholesaler, picked up shortly after 5.00pm. I told Elissa when she started recently that her name reminds me of the musical 'Paint Your Wagon' in which Clint Eastwood sang a solo 'I Still See Elissa' and she said she'd not seen the movie but her parents got the name from it.
I'm sore/stiff in the feet, legs, hips, back, shoulders, forearms and fingers from my climbing yesterday. And it's hot again. Good thing I don't have much on today, and can have a bit of a rest.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
It's a long way home
Gord came with me to Casey to see Lyle yesterday. He always likes to see Lyle and he has been coming to work with me a bit too. His company is comforting, as it always has been. Gord is such a placid soul.
Lyle seemed lucid, in fair spirit, and pleased to see us. He drank thick apple juice from his 'baby cup' while he swallowed medication the nurse brought in. I asked the nurse if she could message the doctor, Holly Hutton, to ask her if she could come to see me. Elvie had given me the doctors name, which Roger had found out by ringing the hospital. He told them that he was Lyle's GP, and Elvie told me he had spoken to her about the medication.
Holly Hutton came in and explained that she had only come back today after her break and had not really had time to get on top of everything. She asked me if I would like to talk to her outside. We left Gord with Lyle and stepped out into the corridor. She said they were monitoring Lyle closely, but as he'd only come in recently and they'd been on reduced staff, they didn't yet have a full picture. She said there would be a meeting tomorrow where a strategy would be decided and we would be informed but we would need to let them know who the appointed person was that they would communicate with. She then asked me did we want him resuscitated should such a decision be necessary. I said no, and she agreed that would be the view of the hospital also.
I asked her about his medication, in particular about whatever he was taking that Roger said could cause nausea. She took me back into his room and looked at the chart and talked pharmaceutial terms which was like a foreign language to me. She said he had pneumonia and was on antibiotics. My impression was that the medication was a bit of a balancing act with the purpose of making Lyle as comfortable as possible. I asked Holly would it be possible to get him a cup of hot tea which he'd told me was what he wanted more than anything, and she took me to a room where she said I was not supposed to be but it would be OK. She apologized that she was so busy and left.
Lyle loved his cup of tea, which he drank slowly in small sips from the 'baby bottle'. It reminded me of the good feeling I had as a parent when the kids were small and showed obvious enjoyment as they busily ate or drank something I'd prepared. When finished he asked was there any more of that apple juice and he drank that too. He then asked for his pee bottle which was out of reach on a chair but when I gave it to him he couldn't use it because he had a nappy on. He asked me undo the tags which I did and he managed to get his dick in the bottle and kept it in there for sometime, before giving me the bottle to empty, but there was nothing in it. He said to leave it close, on his bed and just do the nappy tags up slightly so he'd be able to get them undone. It seemed obvious he was having trouble controlling pee while lying down, which was why they'd put on the nappy. I asked him about not eating and he said he wasn't hungry in the evening but he did have breakfast which the nurses fed him from a porridge bowl sort of thing and it was good.
As we were about to leave he told he'd really like an orange drink so I said I'd get him one if the nurse said it would be alright, as I remembered that before he went into hospital, weeks ago, he was on a strictly controlled fluid intake as his kidneys weren't working well enough to get rid of fluid. I found her in the corridor and she said she would check it out but she thought he was only supposed to have the thick fluids as there was a problem with his swallowing. I told him this and he said, "Well I still want it." He was thirsty. I felt like a hard bugger for not getting one for him from the kiosk.
All in all I found him better than what Elvie and Rosie had reported over the last two days. It had been bad luck his move had come just before New Year's Eve and there was reduced doctors and staff, and those that were on probably were somewhere else in their minds. I saw Elvie on the way home to give her my impression and we agreed that I would be the 'appointed person' to communicate with the hospital.
I have to put any emotion aside now. Yesterday was difficult. Writing about it helps. I have a order for 30 bunches of tall tricolour beech, 40 green beech tall and 40 copper. I can get the tricolour quite easily at Huite's with ladder and pole(he has a tree I haven't cut for two years and he wants it reduced), but to get the green and the copper I'll have to climb to the top of trees at the farm and take the top off with a hand saw. Hard work on a hot day, and the volume worries me as I have some pitto to pick here at home also.
Lyle seemed lucid, in fair spirit, and pleased to see us. He drank thick apple juice from his 'baby cup' while he swallowed medication the nurse brought in. I asked the nurse if she could message the doctor, Holly Hutton, to ask her if she could come to see me. Elvie had given me the doctors name, which Roger had found out by ringing the hospital. He told them that he was Lyle's GP, and Elvie told me he had spoken to her about the medication.
Holly Hutton came in and explained that she had only come back today after her break and had not really had time to get on top of everything. She asked me if I would like to talk to her outside. We left Gord with Lyle and stepped out into the corridor. She said they were monitoring Lyle closely, but as he'd only come in recently and they'd been on reduced staff, they didn't yet have a full picture. She said there would be a meeting tomorrow where a strategy would be decided and we would be informed but we would need to let them know who the appointed person was that they would communicate with. She then asked me did we want him resuscitated should such a decision be necessary. I said no, and she agreed that would be the view of the hospital also.
I asked her about his medication, in particular about whatever he was taking that Roger said could cause nausea. She took me back into his room and looked at the chart and talked pharmaceutial terms which was like a foreign language to me. She said he had pneumonia and was on antibiotics. My impression was that the medication was a bit of a balancing act with the purpose of making Lyle as comfortable as possible. I asked Holly would it be possible to get him a cup of hot tea which he'd told me was what he wanted more than anything, and she took me to a room where she said I was not supposed to be but it would be OK. She apologized that she was so busy and left.
Lyle loved his cup of tea, which he drank slowly in small sips from the 'baby bottle'. It reminded me of the good feeling I had as a parent when the kids were small and showed obvious enjoyment as they busily ate or drank something I'd prepared. When finished he asked was there any more of that apple juice and he drank that too. He then asked for his pee bottle which was out of reach on a chair but when I gave it to him he couldn't use it because he had a nappy on. He asked me undo the tags which I did and he managed to get his dick in the bottle and kept it in there for sometime, before giving me the bottle to empty, but there was nothing in it. He said to leave it close, on his bed and just do the nappy tags up slightly so he'd be able to get them undone. It seemed obvious he was having trouble controlling pee while lying down, which was why they'd put on the nappy. I asked him about not eating and he said he wasn't hungry in the evening but he did have breakfast which the nurses fed him from a porridge bowl sort of thing and it was good.
As we were about to leave he told he'd really like an orange drink so I said I'd get him one if the nurse said it would be alright, as I remembered that before he went into hospital, weeks ago, he was on a strictly controlled fluid intake as his kidneys weren't working well enough to get rid of fluid. I found her in the corridor and she said she would check it out but she thought he was only supposed to have the thick fluids as there was a problem with his swallowing. I told him this and he said, "Well I still want it." He was thirsty. I felt like a hard bugger for not getting one for him from the kiosk.
All in all I found him better than what Elvie and Rosie had reported over the last two days. It had been bad luck his move had come just before New Year's Eve and there was reduced doctors and staff, and those that were on probably were somewhere else in their minds. I saw Elvie on the way home to give her my impression and we agreed that I would be the 'appointed person' to communicate with the hospital.
I have to put any emotion aside now. Yesterday was difficult. Writing about it helps. I have a order for 30 bunches of tall tricolour beech, 40 green beech tall and 40 copper. I can get the tricolour quite easily at Huite's with ladder and pole(he has a tree I haven't cut for two years and he wants it reduced), but to get the green and the copper I'll have to climb to the top of trees at the farm and take the top off with a hand saw. Hard work on a hot day, and the volume worries me as I have some pitto to pick here at home also.
Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Going Home
Lib, Gord Rob and I visited Lyle on Christmas Day , in the morning, at Dandenong Hospital. Elvie ,Meredith, Roger and Jod went down in the afternoon. He was in quite good spirits and said he was determined to get back enough mobility so that the staff would allow him to go home soon, even if it was only for a short while.
Gordon and I visited him again last Thursday and I thought he was the best I'd seen him for some time. It was obvious when we walked in the door he was pleased to see us and he gave me a thumbs up and said "G'day mate" then grabbed my hand in a warm hold. We didn't stay long. He said he has trouble keeping awake for more than half an hour at a time, but he was looking forward to getting to Casey Hospital at Berwick where he was booked in for two weeks rehabilitation, and would be going there as soon as a bed became available. A call came through to me from the hospital the next morning saying he was being moved to Casey that afternoon. They also asked me could I tell 'his wife'. Elvie must have been outside and not had the answering machine turned on as I couldn't raise her on the phone either.
Meredith's daughter Rosie, a teacher, lives 15 minutes from the hospital with her partner at his parents place, in a bungalow out the back. She has been wonderful while Lyle has been in hospital and visits him every day and collects his washing. She saw Lyle about 4.30 on Sunday, about half an hour or so before Elvie went down with Meredith and Roger.
When I saw Elvie at the farm yesterday, New Year's Day, she told me she didn't like what she saw at Casey the day before. It was all brand new with a lavish garden but in her words it was 'all show and no go'. Lyle looked terrible and said he was too tired to talk to them and he was sorry they had wasted their time coming down to see him, he couldn't stay awake. They couldn't find a doctor and the nurses didn't seem to know anything. His evening meal was untouched, he said he wasn't hungry, and he wanted to go home. Mum said he didn't mean home home, he meant paradise. I remember Nanna Myrt, Lyle's mother, my grandmother, the last time I saw her, as I lifted her into the car taking her from the nursing home to hospital, smiling and with a euphoric glaze in her eyes, saying she was 'going home' .
Elvie and I discussed plans for today, including that I should go to Casey and find the doctor in whose care Lyle now was in, and ask why Lyle was being given medication for Alzheimer's disease, which he doesn't have, and also antidepressants. Roger, a doctor, noticed this, maybe on his chart. A side effect of one of these is nausea which would explain why he wasn't hungry, but would seem to be undesirable in one so frail. Rosie came in while we mulled this over and it was reassuring that she said he was OK when she was there half an hour before the others. Maybe he was just overtired. She was on her way to see him and we asked her to let us know how he was.
Elvie has just rung me saying that Rosie said she found him not good and not eating. I'm going down there this afternoon. I have quite a lot to pick over the next couple of days (the orders are starting to come in) and the girls are busy with flower punnets for the restaurants. It's hard to work with a lump in your throat and tears welling periodically, but probably it would be worse sitting around doing nothing.
Gordon and I visited him again last Thursday and I thought he was the best I'd seen him for some time. It was obvious when we walked in the door he was pleased to see us and he gave me a thumbs up and said "G'day mate" then grabbed my hand in a warm hold. We didn't stay long. He said he has trouble keeping awake for more than half an hour at a time, but he was looking forward to getting to Casey Hospital at Berwick where he was booked in for two weeks rehabilitation, and would be going there as soon as a bed became available. A call came through to me from the hospital the next morning saying he was being moved to Casey that afternoon. They also asked me could I tell 'his wife'. Elvie must have been outside and not had the answering machine turned on as I couldn't raise her on the phone either.
Meredith's daughter Rosie, a teacher, lives 15 minutes from the hospital with her partner at his parents place, in a bungalow out the back. She has been wonderful while Lyle has been in hospital and visits him every day and collects his washing. She saw Lyle about 4.30 on Sunday, about half an hour or so before Elvie went down with Meredith and Roger.
When I saw Elvie at the farm yesterday, New Year's Day, she told me she didn't like what she saw at Casey the day before. It was all brand new with a lavish garden but in her words it was 'all show and no go'. Lyle looked terrible and said he was too tired to talk to them and he was sorry they had wasted their time coming down to see him, he couldn't stay awake. They couldn't find a doctor and the nurses didn't seem to know anything. His evening meal was untouched, he said he wasn't hungry, and he wanted to go home. Mum said he didn't mean home home, he meant paradise. I remember Nanna Myrt, Lyle's mother, my grandmother, the last time I saw her, as I lifted her into the car taking her from the nursing home to hospital, smiling and with a euphoric glaze in her eyes, saying she was 'going home' .
Elvie and I discussed plans for today, including that I should go to Casey and find the doctor in whose care Lyle now was in, and ask why Lyle was being given medication for Alzheimer's disease, which he doesn't have, and also antidepressants. Roger, a doctor, noticed this, maybe on his chart. A side effect of one of these is nausea which would explain why he wasn't hungry, but would seem to be undesirable in one so frail. Rosie came in while we mulled this over and it was reassuring that she said he was OK when she was there half an hour before the others. Maybe he was just overtired. She was on her way to see him and we asked her to let us know how he was.
Elvie has just rung me saying that Rosie said she found him not good and not eating. I'm going down there this afternoon. I have quite a lot to pick over the next couple of days (the orders are starting to come in) and the girls are busy with flower punnets for the restaurants. It's hard to work with a lump in your throat and tears welling periodically, but probably it would be worse sitting around doing nothing.
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