Top of the tide

By , January 7, 2013 5:14 am

Along the shore,

footstep by footstep,

the thin, crisp line wanders.

 

Meandering along the top of the tide,

it states: I was here, once.

It binds throughout each coastal bay,

every beach and cove,

weaving Australia with a tidal thread of today.

 

Tomorrow, the moon beckons a different path.

Partners in Life and Business – Keynote Speakers Mike and Sandii Element

By , December 5, 2012 12:24 am

Meet Mike and Sandii Element.Funny, engaging, smart & entertaining.  Keynote Speakers & Trainers for Australia & beyond.

Can couples work together and stay happy?

YES they can…if they know the rules for making it work.

Partners in life becoming partners in business are a growing trend in variety of industries, and it makes a lot of sense, but many couples understandably fear the challenge.

Mike and Sandii Element have been partners in life and business for nearly twenty years and can show how you can successfully (and happily!) combine a life and business with your partner.

Book Mike and Sandii for your next conference: Keynote Speakers, Trainers and Motivators, or MC your next Event.

For bookings and enquiries
+61 7 3206 9415

Clients include: International and Australian companies and organisations such as Holden, Nissan, Volkswagen, Star Media Group, Capital Radio Network, Macquarie Radio Network, Sewells Australia & New Zealand, National Poker League, Self-Storage Association of Australasia, James Home Services, Pumpkin Patch and the Australian Institute of Management in Brisbane and Melbourne.

Website here.

 

It’s a Pirate’s life for me!

By , August 29, 2012 4:34 am

A Pirates Life for Me!

By , March 20, 2012 12:07 am

This was written by Rachael Wallace but it could have been written word for word by me.

 

I first thought about taking pictures at funerals when a close friend died 11 years ago. I stood there watching everyone in their smart bright clothes (no one wanted to wear black – too dark, too final), taking in the beautiful flowers, the sentiments and eulogies expressed by friends and family, the glorious spring day with such vibrant colours reminding us of the life continuing outside the cemetery and her husband and sons – in a dream world that day – oblivious to what was going on around them. And I thought how, maybe, it would be good for them to be able to see the people who had turned out that day, from near and far, to show their love and support and pay their last respects.

How perhaps there would be small but important details that they would have missed, such as people’s accessories – special colours the deceased would have loved, the dressing of the church, the smiles on their faces at some of the memories, the respect and reverence from the funeral directors, the special moments and the love reflected all around by the ceremony itself and those attending it.

I knew that by taking photographs on such an occasion would mean breaking an enormous taboo, but I also knew in my heart, that it could be such a great comfort to the bereaved by choosing to have these precious last moments recorded that it would be worth doing. And so it has proved.

Those who have chosen to have my presence at their loved ones’ departure ceremony (and there are many reasons for their doing so) have been so delighted with the pictures that I have chosen and placed in their memory book that they have smiled, and hugged me and I have felt I have brought a little light into their dark times.

The photographs will also enable them to talk more easily to others about their loss as it is far simpler to start and continue a conversation around a book of photographs. In this way the taboo of talking about death is able to be broken down a little more. It isn’t easy. I am met with shock, and revulsion at times when I mention what I do but once I have explained the caring and respectful way in which I work, and how my work aids the bereaved, I have seen people change their mind. Most people think it an excellent idea and a comment I often hear is that they wish there had been someone like me around for their husband, parent, child’s commemorative service but that they felt too embarrassed to ask, or uncertain who to ask, or wanted someone with experience and couldn’t easily find them.

After a BBC radio interview with Anne Diamond I had several people call me to say how pleased they were to hear of the service I offer and was immediately booked by a wonderful gentleman for his wife’s funeral. It has been hard convincing those in the funeral industry of the demand for such a service, and I think it sad that there are still few out there who know it can be arranged, but I feel sure that before too long it will be a common thing on the list of requests offered when planning a funeral. I feel proud and honoured to be present at such personal occasions, and I know that the books I produce are of great comfort to people. And that, ultimately, is the service I am offering at a time of great need.

http://www.goodfuneralguide.co.uk/2011/11/why-funeral-photos-are-so-important/#comment-50991

She said: “When a person is grieving they do not notice what is going on around them and who is there because they are so busy on the day.
“By creating an album of photographs — a memory book — people can see all the people who turned up to wish their loved one farewell.
“It is helpful afterwards and is a nice focal point for people to think that the book is coming. Some people cry and some do not but it is amazing to sit with people and go through it. It is very healing.”
Mrs Wallace says her job at a funeral is to seem invisible.
“It is so important to be really discreet and sympathetic,” she said. “I creep around with my two cameras, trying not to make a noise and get in the way.
“I do not take photos during the prayers, or of people crying, and I try to look for a moment of happiness in the eulogies.
“I will do ‘open casket’ if requested and that does not bother me.

http://www.henleystandard.co.uk/news/news.php?id=1069109

 

 

ecOasis Resort – Luxury Chalets in Northern NSW

By , February 22, 2012 10:51 pm

Welcome to Ecoasis, where six beautiful Chalets are nestled in the pristine and ancient world of the northern New South Wales hinterland. Just two hours from Brisbane and a million miles from everywhere.
Where the incredible sunsets turn Mt Warning and the mountains into veils of purple and gold, creating one of the world’s most inspirational views.

Find us on Facebook!

http://www.ecoasis.com.au/

Phone 02 6679 5959

55 Tatyewan Street Smiths Creek (Uki)

New South Wales 2484

romance@ecoasis.com.au

Sing a Song for Lillian

By , February 13, 2012 2:43 am

Sing a Song of Lillian

Cowboy Calum and the Big Secret

By , February 13, 2012 2:27 am

Cowboy Calum and the Big Secret

Calum is Cooking – a birthday book for my nephew

By , February 13, 2012 1:49 am

Calum is Cooking

Country rain – from Switzerland to Nigeria.

By , December 8, 2011 12:54 am

Driving through stinging rain. Grey clouds hang like a shroud, whilst further to the south, sweeping sheets of white cover the hills and fields, causing small streams in paddocks to run, puddling at fence lines.

Today I am going to film a small country funeral for a Swiss woman, who so loved her family that she travelled each year to stay for a 3 month visit. This year she celebrated her 80th birthday, and then passed away very suddenly.

Today and forever her heart will be part Australian.

Already, I am lost. I drive swinging to the right, as I watch open mouthed as my turnoff to Toowoomba veers to the left. I’m confused by the prolific and complicated road works that jam the Ipswich highway. No matter, I have plenty of time, and I take the opportunity to drive through Ipswich and have a good look around though my sweeping windscreen wipers. I’ve heard that Ipswich has changed a lot – a dynamic mayor with his tea cup collection – and innovative city changes, but today I can’t really see anything new. It’s the same old highway, same traffic, same curious collection of white rocks stacked into a pyramid to my right hand side. Very odd. I don’t get it.

Pulling over to the side of the road, I stab at my new android phone for Google maps, and a strange woman’s voice tells me which way to drive. With my phone propped up within the dashboard, it leads me out of this town and back towards the main highway, where my little Astra competes with huge and fast-speeding semis and trucks.

Water everywhere. Thanks goodness for new tyres. Eventually the turnoff to Laidley appears, and I pull left and enjoy scenery. I always imagined living in this small town, I’m not sure why, something about it pulls me towards a slower life. Children in bright gumboots digging within a muddy garden. Cats sleeping in warm window nooks. Dark grey pigeons abridge rooftops watching the town centre. No sooner had I read all the Christian signs and anti abortion posters *country dream popped* than I am driving out of Laidley, heading towards the small crematorium and chapel.

The rain doesn’t ease, and the paddocks surrounding the gorgeous little cemetery are filling with rivers and brown streams of water, anxious to travel and flow. I hop from my car, from small island to small island of mud. My shoes are already soaked. It’s going to be a long day. A large gregarious caretaker called Barry meets me and together we chat for the next 30 minutes about this and that. He tells me of speeding through the cemetery (no clients of course) and how three special black marble headstones glow in the dark. I shiver with delight. “It’s just reflecting the building lights of course” but I won’t listen, I want to hear how they glow and my goose bumps build up and down my legs and arms.

Eventually the family arrive, huge umbrellas are shaken and stored, and raindrops are dusted off black coats. We’ve lost our Catholic priest, a new young man, fresh from Nigeria. A few phone calls later, it seems he has driven to the Plainlands cemetery instead. He’s on his way. We sit and fiddle, adjusting my video angles, rehearsing. Paula, a young blonde Funeral Arranger, tells me that in her experience, a lot of priests “give these families nothing. Nothing! No comfort, nothing.”

Grosse Gatt wir loben ditch plays. Our young priest arrives with an embarrassed face, he quickly changes into his priestly garments and the Service commences. Firstly, a long explanation and deep apology to everyone for keeping them waiting, and soon we all warm to this likeable, sensitive young man with the dark skin who travelled from Africa, performing the Committal rites to an old woman who travelled all the way from Switzerland to die. I love the journey!

He gives them comfort, and hope and faith. He gives them everything!

The widower speaks no English, and seems happy although a little dazed. It must be a shock: she went too quickly. I am there to film so he can take his wife’s memory back home, and show his neighbours that “he did the right thing.” In thirty minutes, it’s over; we exit the Chapel to Ave Marie. Outside, the hugging begins.

I film as gently as I can, without intrusion, and then head back inside to photograph the detail of the flowers. He wants everything preserved in my camera, and I oblige, clicking petals and the silver Cross and the details that catch my eye. The family are so relieved I’m there, and grateful. Umbrellas are popped open and dribs of black-dressed families huddle together, making their way to their cars. Someone takes my own umbrella, by mistake. Oh well, it can be my gift to them.

They are driving now to a local pub, where a long afternoon of schnapps and toasts will begin; and I leave them to their memories, and drive home; through the concrete canyons of Ipswich Road, past the wonky bridges and enormous overhead highway signs, winding my way through the suburbs to arrive to my own home and find a roast pork dinner – complete with homemade apple pie – all ready to be thrown into the oven. Thank you to my son and his girl, for being so thoughtful. I squeal with delight as I see my kitchen, with dishes full of salads, bowls overflowing with potatoes ready to be roasted, the seasonings, the flavours that beckon. Bottles of red wine are opened, and my husband and other son arrive for dinner.

It’s a perfect ending to a lovely day.

A Christmas Story (to be read aloud)

By , November 30, 2011 10:29 pm

T ‘was the night before Christmas

And in Little Bethlehem

Mary’s labour had commenced

“Thank God” she said, “Amen”.

 

T ‘was the night before Christmas

And Mary’s labour had begun

“I’m glad I’m off that donkey now,

My bottom is quite numb!”

 

There was no room inside the Inn

Nor motel in sight,

“Looks like it’s to the stables then,”

And she pushed with all her might.

 

“Though I’d rather have a Boothville Birth,

I’ve heard they’re really neat,

And after babe’s Leboyer birth

We’d stay in the family suite.”

 

“I’d rather have a Boothville Birth

And Joe can cut the cord.

I’d rather have a Boothville Birth,

After all, it IS the Lord!”

 

“Next time I’ll have a Boothville Birth

(My last midwife was a cow!)

I’ll join the Auxiliary

And tell my doctor to book me in,

Right now!”

 

“I’ll subscribe to the newsletter

And tour friends on Open Day

Oh thank God for Boothville babies,

Hip Hip my Lord- HURRAY!

 

(Written by Patty Beecham with tongue firmly in cheek November 1990)

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