Plans change.

You’re probably wondering why I have a picture of the inside of the Peter MacCallum Cancer Institute (The Peter Mac) on a blog post titled “Plans change”. Let me tell you why…………

I had plans. BIG plans. Seven weeks overseas visiting Ireland, Scotland, England, Wales, France, Germany, Italy, Austria and Greece. I have had to adjust these plans a little bit.

According to Encyclopedia Google the quote “The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry” is the modern translation of “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft a-gley.” from Scottish poet Robert Burns’ “To a Mouse.” I always thought it was written by John Steinbeck, but he only pinched a teeny bit of it to use as the title of his famous novel ‘Of Mice and Men’.

Cancer will make you change your plans. My dad has cancer. Lung cancer. He was diagnosed about 2 months ago. This is not his first cancer. It started with the melanomas. Then there was the squamous cell carcinoma on the left side of his neck a few years ago. Every visit to the Peter Mac had the family on edge. What was going to be cut off today? What else had they found?

The relentlessness of a post-cruise bout of pneumonia led to the doctors taking a lung x-ray which revealed the cancerous tumour on the left lung and subsequent testing led to the discovery of the bonus little tumours on the right lung.

Last week things got life-threateningly scary for dad. We were at the pointy end of things and the point was pressing into him pretty hard.

Packing a suitcase and boarding a plane that was going to take me thousands of miles away from my dad and my mum was NOT an option. I knew where I had to be and on a plane to Dublin was not it.

So I changed my plans. A postponement. Nothing a few phone calls and emails couldn’t sort out.

Unbelievably my dad was discharged from the Peter Mac today, a week after we were gathered around his bedside trying to bring him comfort in what we honestly thought were going to be his last hours. The team at the Peter Mac had only one option available and they gambled on it. The gamble paid dividends. But I don’t think they took into account the stubborn nature of my dad. He wasn’t ready to go yet. You don’t fuck with my dad.

He had better keep this fighting spirit going. The new flight is booked for the 31st.

 

 

 

 

 

OMG!!! Someone LIVES here!!!!

I have to tell you a funny story that happened to me on my holiday.

I had stopped for a toilet break in some town somewhere between Napier and Wellington and I noticed a fantastic derelict building on the opposite corner to the park that had the toilet block. As I do like a good derelict building for photos, after taking the time to make myself comfortable, I took the time to snap away.

This place was gorgeous. Broken windows with weather-damaged plywood replacing the broken panes. Water stains down the exterior. Rotting timbers. Broken gate. A washing line on a serious lean. Dangerous and crumbling concrete steps. A pile of old magazines could be seen through a window from the outside boundary.

My mind was alive with the possible stories of the past inhabitants.  A hoarder who lived a hermit’s life, talking to nobody, surviving on cans of baked beans served atop thin slices of stale white toast served on cracked china plates. Living off the grid by rising at dawn and going to bed as it got dark. Dying alone and not being discovered for months.

A lonely old man with no money and in frail health living his last days in the house he moved into with his long dead wife. Unable to afford basic home repairs. The house crumbling as rapidly as his bones.

As these wonderful stories about this derelict, vacant house danced in my imagination I snapped away.

Then as I made my way towards the rear of the building, where the rot was clearly visible at the back steps, I looked up at a window and nearly had a heart attack. There was a bloody cat sitting in the window frame, inside the house, just looking at me.

OMG!!! Somebody LIVES in this house!!!!

This house that looks as though it has been abandoned for the last 5 years has a human occupant. And a feline one.

Holy shit!!!!

Suddenly I was terrified that someone was going to step out of that back door with a shotgun yelling at me to get off of their land. So I very quickly took my photo of the cat in the window and got the bloody hell out of there.

I am still amazed that anybody would be living in the house. It is well past the term ‘renovators delight’. More like ‘demolition dream’

 

 

So what did we learn from this?

New Zealand was the latest step in my solo-travel ‘experiment’.

The experiment began with a weekend away to Beechworth with a group of photographers. There were people I knew from other photography excursions, but I was flying solo on the accommodation. I then dipped my toes in the water with a week away in Tasmania. New Zealand was the big test. Three weeks away………. overseas………. on my own.

So, what did I learn from my experience?

I learnt that I can do it. And do it happily.

Now I know that there are those of you who will scoff at my experience. After all, New Zealand is almost part of Australia. We drive on the same side of the road, we talk the same language but with different accents, we listen to the same music, watch the same crap on television and the food is very similar.

But for me it was about being on my own for three weeks. It was about negotiating the airports and the hotels and the car hire confidently and without mishap. It was about walking into a restaurant and requesting a table for one without embarrassment. It was about experiencing new things without constantly thinking…….’What if….?’

Not once during those three weeks did I feel alone or lonely. For me, this was the most important thing.

Looking back on it I’m almost cranky at myself for waiting so long to do it. All these wasted years waiting for that elusive somebody to join me on holidays.

Honestly, it was bloody wonderful being totally selfish. I could go where I wanted when I wanted. I could eat whatever I wanted when I felt like it. I could stay in one spot and admire a view without wondering if the other person was getting bored. And I was able to puff and pant as I struggled up another bloody New Zealand hill and only had to listen to me criticising my lack of cardio fitness.

The only thing I did struggle with was the selfie. Every time I stopped to take a selfie to share on Facebook I felt like a total tool, but when there’s no-one to take the photo for you you’ve just got to do it yourself.

Now that I know I can do it I am going to begin planning my next trip. I’m thinking England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales. Two years time. Minimum eight weeks away. Yeah. 🙂

I’m back!!!!

I took the FLOOZEmobile on holidays with me.

I am back.

Back to reality.

Back to drudgery.

Back to washing and shopping and chores.

But back to my son, my home and my dogs. 🙂

And…….back to the internet!!!

It’s not that Tasmania does not have internet access……….. it’s just that the places I managed to find a bed happened to be out of decent internet/phone range. This is both a good thing and a bad thing. On the up-side, I didn’t have to worry about what was happening in the big world out there. I was on holidays and the last thing I wanted to know was the latest on the USA farce known as their election, or whether some other fool has gone seeking his 100 virgins in the hereafter by killing dozens of innocent people. However, on the down-side, I couldn’t be contacted if there was an emergency at home nor could I write my blog.

In reality though, I did enjoy my time without the now commonplace forms of communication. I was able to explore Tasmania without worrying about Facebook, emails, text messages and phone calls.

I got lost in paradise. But sadly I didn’t get lost quite enough.(Otherwise I’d be still there, not here typing away)

Brace yourselves. I was only in Tasmania for six days but I managed to take more than 1600 photographs. I have reduced this number to a touch over 1300 and I will endeavour to reduce this even more but there is just SO MUCH to see in this amazing state of Australia. In six days I have barely scratched the surface of the treasures she holds. Goodness, I didn’t even get to the West Coast OR even wander the capital city. I am going to need to book a week or two for each quarter. Cover her systematically.

How long till I retire????

 

 

 

Happy times

Ok. I am happy.

“Why am I happy?” I hear you ask. Because as of 5pm this evening I am on holidays!!!!! It may only be a week, but it is a week of no traffic, no early wake-ups and no work!!!!

Actually, I can’t promise myself no early starts. I have an early start on Saturday morning as I have to be on board the Spirit of Tasmania before she sails at 9am. And then there’s the potential sunrise shoot at Cradle Mountain…… But it will be a different kind of early wake-up. One filled with potential amazement.

But for now, I am in my happy place. I am on holidays. And I will have a lovely sleep-in tomorrow morning to kick start my relaxation.

🙂

 

The adventure begins tomorrow

My mind is a maelstrom of thoughts, ideas and questions. The first of a series of, somewhat out of character, adventures begins tomorrow. I’m off to Hopetoun, a little country town about 4 hours drive north-west of Melbourne, with a friend and her camera club.

I should be packing now, but I’m not in the mood and I can’t think clearly enough to determine what I will need for the next few days.

As long as I have my camera and tripod the other stuff is superfluous. I’m sure that nobody would notice, or care, if I was wearing the same clothes for the whole weekend. As long as I whack on some deodorant and have fresh undies……..

Best thing to do is go to bed with paper and pen and write down what I need as I think of it.

Toothbrush!!! Don’t forget the toothbrush.

And the camera battery charger.

And underwear.

And the new winter beanie.

 

Holiday Queen???

I’m back!!!!!

Not so sure if I’m happy about this state of affairs, but reality must be returned at some point. I do, however, promise to never leave home again without my laptop, internet access and Lightroom 5. Four days of high volume photography and no way to really look at what I’ve taken, do the serious deletions, get a bit of editing done OR write a blog takes it’s toll on a girl.

But I have a question………….

So I decide to go away for a few days almost immediately after spending a long weekend away. How does this make me the ‘Holiday Queen’?

This is the title that has been bestowed on my by my darling #1 son.

Holiday Queen?? Hardly.

If I was really a holiday queen I would be using some of the many weeks of holidays that I have stored up in my long-service leave. I would be taking weeks off at a time, not days. I would be traipsing the streets of Scotland or Ireland, or would be back swimming in the warm waters off an island in Greece.

Is it the mere fact that I have taken a few days off that are not within my usual holiday schedule that has caused me to earn this title? I normally take one week off during each school term break. I have done this forever because that is what working mother’s do.

Is it because I have been AWAY???? Away from home. Away from #1 son. Away from the dogs. Away from normal responsibilities. I usually have a week off and stay home.

Or…………..is it because I am so chilled?

I went to Portarlington cool, calm and collected. I came home cool, calm, collected and buzzing with happiness from the great time I had.

I then packed a bag 36 hours later and hopped on a plane to Nelson Bay, NSW, cool, calm and collected, not stressed, nervous and hyper (which would have been my usual pre-holiday state)  and returned home cool, calm and collected and exceedingly relaxed.

You know what? I think it’s time I looked into using some of that long service leave.

I wonder how much a ticket to the UK is???