Getting back in after a while off

It is a long time since I last wrote. Things have been moving pretty quickly on the get Zhe here front. It should all happen in the next month or so. I think she will be here before Christmas. I have been trying to clean up the house and get things ready for when she arrives.

Today was a hot day, did a bit of gardening though and went shopping not much to write about really.

Might go and watch a DVD I think

Nothing of Particular Importance --yeah right

It's Saturday night and I'm sitting here at the computer. I have just finished reading my round of other people's blogs and I wish I could write like some of them.

Blogs are such wonderful things. Reading people's thoughts, sharing their experiences no matter what part of the world there in. It's just amazing.

I haven't got much to write about tonight so I'll end it here.
Keep on blogging.

Wo xihuan

I like going to meet you around 9.00, early before you finish work.
I like standing in the noisy, busy street (Ma Chang dao) and watching you through the window, the big boss. Later, later than the stated knock off time you come out and see me waiting for you. Sometimes you criticised me for what I was wearing, or the fact that I was sitting on a step. Didn't I see the people spit whereever they felt like?

And then we would walk back to the hotel, get into the lift and go up to my room. There we would drink tea and talk, using dictionaries when we didn't understand. And I would look at you and think "top of the world".

Then later you would get up to go and I would go down in the lift with you and walk you to your bike and you would ride off into the noisy night.

And I would think. One night we will be together. We will be home.


Qinaide, I know how hard you work. I remember one night I met you at JuYou's place and when you came in, wearing your uniform straight from work I watched you rip your tie off with such disdain. Your staff and customers see the boss, the laoban. But darling, I can see your heart

Sitting here on Friday

Hi All,

Come on is there anyone out there who reads this. What was that movie where an alien listens to the radio waves coming form Earth and decides to come and say hello. Was one of Lloyd Bridges sons in it? I remember he brings a deer back to life after it had been shot by some hunter. It's going to be like that. Someone will one day read this and get back to me.

I've been playing on the internet for the last two hours reading other people's blogs. Mine pales into insignificance with some of them. Some have photos, music and everything! One day I might find out how you do that. Outside it is pouring rain. Very heavy on the roof. Good, we need the rain.

It's Friday night and I haven't got a clue what I am going to do over the weekend. I might go to the library tomorrow and read something. I've also got to go shopping. Sometime next week I have to take the cat to the vet to get her annual vaccination.
Must remember to do that and yes get the termite person back here to get rid of them.

It looks like it is going to rain for awhile, so it's probably to wet to do some gardening tomorrow.

What's happening in the news A US bombing raid has killed women and children in a village near the city of Baquba. Terrible.

Our minister for the environment has given his go ahead for a huge timber mill in Tasmania. Money definately does count. What chance has the environment got. What else is there - Don't get me started on the immigration minister and his views on Africans. Come on election! But what will we get when we throw the conservatives out- Hopefully we will vote them out! Just some more clones.

Anyway I might go and do something else. See you next time.

Sick Tuesday

It's Tuesday morning and I should be at work. But i've got a cold and I'm going to take the day off and rest. Yesterday I went to work and every one was asking me why I had come in. Telling me go home and don't come in tomorrow. So I'll oblige them. There is something tapping me from behind, reminding me that I have had a few too many days off work recently.

It's the week after the grand final. Geelong won - good luck to them, I don't mind. Melbourne Storm won the rugby. It's funny how many people like rugby when a Melbourne team wins the grand final. I find watching a game of rugby to be as painful as some of the hits that you see inflicted in the game itself.

Outside it is sunny and it could be a nice day. I'm not going to do much, I've got to write to Zhe and get that posted. Might watch a dvd or something, go to the library and do some study (if the headache allows).

My Father's cardigan

My wife was cleaning out the garage, throwing out stuff that she determined we no longer needed. My wife is like that, she determines and is determined. Anyway, she threw out an old hand broom that I had brought to the house years ago from my parent's house after they had died. It was the broom my mother used to hit me with when I was a kid. I watched her throwing it into the rubbish bin, thinking do I retrieve this or not?

This post was redited on 19/09/2013

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I haven't done much all day. I wanted to do some gardening but I just haven't got around to it yet.

Both my parents have died. My mother in 1995 and my father in November, 2005. I struggle to forgive my mother. She hurt me and although I try to see life through her eyes, I just can't quite accept what she did to me. I was born with hypothyroidism which makes me a cretin. My mother could never look beyond this and never thought I had much potential. Two days before she passed away, I had my last conversation with her. She told me I was a failure. That's my mother's legacy to me. She died before I had begun to look at her differently, before I could reflect on her own life and how she had been raised. My father on the other hand, lived longer and in that time I healed

. When I was a kid he was one of those fathers that always played with you. Football, cricket in the back yard. We used to watch the football every weekend. He would tell us stories about films like Frankenstein and Robin Hood and tell us his World war II stories - always sanitised. Those sorts of things. But he was always a very simple, gentle man. In the teenage years when separation starts, I admit I didn't see him as being much at all. We never talked much, ringing him up to say hello, but never having a conversation with him. A few words at most. Then, you would only see him at Christmas or on his birthday, those days that you had to be there.

He was in hospital for a few months and it was miles away from where I live and anyway, my brother and my sisters visited him, so why should I go every weekend.


And now he's gone and every weekend I wear his cardigan. It's my favourite piece of clothing.

Spring Saturday Morning 7.45

Saturday has come again and it looks like it is going to be a nice day outside. I've got my gardening pants on. So I might get into it later on. This morning I've got to do the shopping and then afterwards see what happens. I'm feeling good today, Collingwood were beaten in football last night and aren't going to play in the Grand final next week.

I'll tell you a story.

Once upon a time, a neighbour returned a large pot to its owner and when the owner looked inside the pot he saw a little pot.

"What's this doing here?"The owner asked the neighbour.
"Öh" said the neighbour. "The pot must have been pregnant and had a baby."

The owner thought this to be one complete rubbish, but he'd got himself a new pot, so he merely replied to the neighbour. "Yes, it must have had a baby."

Several weeks later, the neighbour again knocked on the pot owner's door and asked to borrow the large pot. The owner, thinking that he may again get a small pot wnet to the kitchen and gave it to the neighbour.

Time passes and the owner of the pot began to wonder when his neighbour was going to return it. One day he could wait no longer and went over to his neighbour's house.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news," The neighbour answered when he was asked about the pot. Ït got sick one day and although I tried my best to care for it, it passed away. I buried it in the garden."

"What are you talking about." The pot's owner replied. "How can a pot die, it's something made it doesn't have life."

Öh, but you said it can have a child. If it is alive enough to have a child, then surely it can die."

The pot's former owner coudn't think of anything to say and went back to his house potless.


That story came from a website www.submission.org I like it, like I do all folk stories.

I had better go, the animals are wanting to be fed.

Cheers until next time.