Archive for February, 2009

Today my twins gave their first ocncert. Christina was the one who had the opening piece, playing her Spanish guitar.

She was carefully made up; I was the one who applied the make up – she has never made up in her life,  so I was the one who did the job. But at the last minute terror grabbed her heart and she refused to be the first on the stage.

But she did play Beethoven´s Sixth Symphony on the piano. Then Brianda took her place to play Brahms´ Lullaby.

And finally Brianda climbed on to the stage again to play with two of her mates. She was leading, but unfortunately one of her mates forgot to enter when he should and they had to repeat the piece from the beginning.

They did not made a mistake and I was the proudest and happiest mum of the entire Earth.

Whatever my marriage was, I am grateful to their  father. He gave me my daughters, and they are my world.


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Waltzing Matilda

This has been one of my favourite songs for as long as I can remember.


 It still is. Absolutely perfec music.

I did not know, back then, that it was Australia´s unofficial hymn. As hymns go, it is quite beautiful. It does not sing about killing anyone.  Oh, and no modern version. No  Tom Waits.


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You come

lay with me

at home


at home

lay with me

you come.



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I have never had a Valentine, nor has anyone ever given me a present or a rose or a book or a card or a kiss.

I have never worried much;  one of those days used to make people buy something that they don´t need.

To my surprise my little  daughter came home with a Valentine gift. The book she wanted and I could not find last Christmas, wrapped in silver paper with pink hearts.  She also had a beautiful pink  little fairy. 

I was taken aback. She´s just eleven years old. She can´t be thinking of boyfriends… or can she?

Apparently she can. So I adopted my best CSI manners and thoroughly investigated the matter. First, who was the boy. Second, who was his mother.

 Because no eleven years old can spend 25 dollars on a present for his girlfriend. Or so I thought.

I phoned the mother of her boyfriend. Everything is all right, she said. Johnny has been saving all his pocket money for weeks to buy that present for the most beautiful girl in the world. 

I couldn´t agree more, of course. My daughter is the most beautiful girl in the world. It´s just I thought I´d have to wait a little longer to deal with boyfriend troubles…


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This morning I saw something really strange when I opened the window.

Julius, my next field neighbour was speaking quite amiably with our new next field to next field neighbours.

Our new neighbours have fifteen assorted dogs, ranking from a Yorkshire terrier to a malamute.  Plus two chestnut horses – and Julius simply thinks that any person who keeps pets is as mad as a hatter.

So I felt curious and joined the group.  There was a black horse tied to Julius´ fence. Not yet a full grown horse, but not anymore a foal.

Brianda, the horse and a lump of sugar

Brianda, the horse and a lump of sugar

 It was terribly thin. 

It came near us, nuzzling our hands, searching for food and love. Someone had left it there at night. This is an isolated place. No one had seen anything, no one had ever seen the horse nor knew anyone capable of such cruelty.

We gave the horse something to eat and caressed it. We lead it to our next field to next field neighbour´s fenced garden. It could hardly walk. We phoned the vet.

The horse has been grazing all afternoon, limping slowly along the fence, getting carrots and apples and caresses from my kids and my neighbour´s kids. It is very tame and sweet and likes to be petted.

The vet came in the evening. The horse has one of its hind legs broken.

They are going to kill it tomorrow.

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I always tell my children they should ask help from the police whenever they are harassed or bullied.

I wonder  if I am teaching them the right way.  Because corrupt policemen are the worst bullies of them all.  The ones who are supossed to protect us are the ones who attack and torture us. Wonderful.

The video is entitled “An Interesting Encounter With Alleged Police”. And quite rightly.  Those policemen who abuse their power are not the police at all. They are the Waffen SS.

The video was taken around 6am on Sunday February 8, 2009  in the outskirts of Melbourne, Australia.

The victim of  the attack got a bruised sternum, four broken ribs, a surgical scar split open and both wrists damaged by way too tight handcuffs.

The victim was an unarmed fifty one years old cyclist who might not be carrying a gun or a knife but who had in his hands a powerful weapon indeed.

A camera.



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She hath no loyal Knight and true, the lady of Shalott

I received the customary put down from the father of my children. I do not remember now when. One day ago, two days ago… it does not matter.

It began in the customary way. Shouts, shouts, shouts. I am a bad mother, I am a bad cook, I am a bad teacher, I am no good, I am a bad wife, I can´t do anything right, I can´t even keep a clean house, I am an alien and a bad influence for my daughters.

It did not end the customary way. The customary way is that I agree to everything and he is satisfied and leaves me alone.

This time one of the twins heard his shouts and came downstairs. She did not agree at all and began shouting back insults to his father.

And so his final statement changed: he decided to send me back to where I belong, to the old flat in the city. The city that horrified me from the moment I set my foot in it, the Grey Stone city, where the streets are paved with grey flat stones, the tall omnipresent churches are made from grey stones, the street lamps are made with grey stones and people´s hearts are grey stones.

I was being sent to be buried in grey stone. Alone.

I made myself a cup of tea and picked up my sleeping pills. One pill, one gulp, another pill, another gulp.

It was oh so easy. After the fourth pill the sharp edge of reality began to fade. I had to, what was it that it was so important just a minute ago?  Who cared? When a dreamless everlasting sleep was there at hand.

I don´t know when the time or the day was when I woke up. I only knew that I was drowning and I had to leave. I put a pullover on and left. I started to walk and kept on walking. The direction did not matter. The only thing that mattered was putting some distance between the man sitting on the sofa watching the sports channels and drinking beer and myself. I took one step after another. One step after another, and another, and another, till I could no more recognize my surroundings.

But there is not really anywhere to go, is there?

I returned home with bleeding feet. Thirty miles is a long way to walk when one is wearing a pair of wellies. But I took one step after another though I did not have any strenght left for walking and kept going out of sheer will.

The man was still sitting on the sofa watching the sports channel. He had not even cooked a meal for the kids. If I had given up my responsibilities, why should he care? 

I made lunch. I cleared the table and I put the washing machine on.

I will go on living. If this is living.

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