MY GARDEN

Coming Home

Hennie and I enjoyed the Bonzerfest in Adelaide. We caught up with some delegates from the first Bonzerfest in Brisbane and met lovely people for the first time in Adelaide. Congratulations to John Powell, he is a 'Bonzer Bloke.'

After the conference we hired a car in Adelaide and drove to Melbourne on The Great Ocean Road. What a great trip! We took three days and saw a lot. We spent two days using Melbourne's trams and buses and having a good look around.

We were scheduled to fly out of Melbourne for Brisbane at 6:00 pm and arrived early afternoon to drop off the car. We relaxed and waited around in the Tullamarine airport; this became boring after a while and I decided to find the Jet Star desk and check our departure time. We could not find our flight number so found a nice young lady in a uniform and enquired about flights to Brisbane. She informed me that Jet Star flew from Avalon to Brisbane. 'Where is Avalon?' I asked. Geelong, I was told—an hour's drive away. Panic stations now, two hours from departure time and we are one hour from the Avalon airport with no mode of transport.

We hailed a taxi and for $108 arrived at Avalon with time to spare. Hennie paid and we got out of the taxi and went to the boot for our luggage. We could not believe it when the taxi took off. There we were, me with my mouth hanging open and ready to burst into tears while Hennie ran down the road after the taxi waving his arms and yelling his head off. Oh for a movie camera. The driver did eventually look in his rear vision mirror and finally stopped. We arrived home with no further dramas.

Moral of this story is READ YOUR TICKET and beware of Melbourne taxi drivers as they are worse than those from Adelaide.

Rolly's Wake

My three grand daughters, nine year-old twins Niamh and Petra and six year-old Renne had a pale ginger and white moggie called Rolly. He was much loved and very spoilt with a soft and friendly nature.

Unfortunately Rolly went missing and calls to RSPCA, local vet clinics, lost cat posters attached to telegraph poles and local door knocks were all to no avail. Many tears were shed over the next two weeks. Then one afternoon there was a call from a nice young man to say Rolly had had a car accident outside his house and he had died. Rolly had a collar and disc with his phone number on it. This nice young man lived in another town 30 minutes drive away from my grand-daughters so it looked like a case of cat napping. The girls wanted to bring him home for burial in the garden and the nice young man said he would put him in the refrigerator over night.

When collected, Rolly was lying in a blue plastic tray looking for all the world as if asleep and flowers had been scattered on him. The nice young man coped with the tears of four females very well and off they went with Rolly lying in state in the tray on the back seat.

My son in law was out of town until that evening and as the girls wanted the whole family there for the funeral Rolly was with the girls all day as they went around the house and garden to play. All went well until my daughter called the girls to the dinning table for lunch. Petra was carrying the tray with Rolly when she tripped, the tray going one way and Rolly the other: pandemonium and many more tears. Order prevailed with Rolly once again resting in his tray and new flowers hastily in place. The afternoon progressed with a photo session and a rehearsal of the funeral service and no more mishaps.

Daddy eventually arrived home, a funeral was held in the garden by torch and candle-light and every one sang 'All Things Bright and Beautiful'. And three little girls went off to bed still singing and smiling.

No, there is no Irish blood in our backgrounds.