sha la la

Everyday I look at the world from my window....

There is a story I want to tell. It is inside me. It could be my story, but I havent reached that happy ending yet.... so its not ready. I have climbed my family tree, nestled in its branches and become fascinated by some of the stories there.


I want to explore them. I feel connected to them. I want to be loved by them. Impossible, I know, when you consider time and space... but is it so impossible? Could I meet these people somewhere in my own personal dreamscapes?

I believe you can do almost anything in your dreamscapes....  and it can be therapeutic!

I was overseas when my beloved Nanna died. We had a special bond. We also had my mother in common. I dream of her often. She was our angel. She kept our family together. She had cancer in the 1980s, lived but it came back towards the end. One day, Nanna, Mum and I were sitting around the kitchen table having a cuppa.

I didn't believe she would die. I had discovered dreaming a couple of years before and being the opportunist that I am, I shared with Nanna what I had read. I asked her if she would contact me in my dreams, if she ever died. I was serious, and she shook her head. I remember asking her, that if she could, if it was possible - could she do it?

Closed minds would shrug this off. Old saggy horsey face school mums would probably accuse me of witchcraft.

Nanna knew she was going. The last time I saw her, she was really sick. She looked grey. It was my bon voyage party. I told her I would see her in 6 months. She said I hope so.

This isnt meant to be a depressing blog! You haven't reached the end yet!

Three months after she died, I was in Sylt, Germany. I sat on the beach with 2 friends till after midnight, playing around in the waning sun... it felt like it would last forever. That night, she came.

I walked into the kitchen. Mum says something, and I tell her, You just sounded like Nanna then. And it is her. I am suprised, Nanna! We hug. She holds me, and I said I thought you were gone. We talk about Mum. Nanna asks me if I want to meet somebody. We go outside, and an old lady with blue eyes is in the passenger seat of a white car. We meet. She is Nanna's mother. It was great to meet her. Then they are gone.

It was her. I don't care what people say. It wasn't my psyche regurgitating the day's events. It wasn't the 'Nanna in me' that needed to be expressed.

And she has visited me about 4-5 times since then. That I remember. I've met her on stairs, me coming up them, her coming down - we met in the middle and she was young again, and in a beautiful purple sparkly gown. I have asked her what heaven is like and she has told me, both of us knowing I will not remember in the morning. I even recall telling her how good her analogy was, and that I would definately remember that one. I didn't.

Now, when she comes, I'm not even suprised. I think she is still my angel. She has to be somewhere. As much as I question Heaven and Hell... I still want to believe she is around. Even if it is just in my human memories that keep her alive.

But then, if that is the case, am I holding her back? You know that Aboriginal belief in not taking photos of someone cos it traps their soul on this earthly plain? I do believe that heaven and hell are subjective.. so I don't really think I've trapped her here :) Maybe she will just have to come back and claim her soul...

Maybe she already has.. and has stayed for another ride :) Monique is a Cancerian too....

a little sparrow keeps calling...

I think I read somewhere that there was a superstition that sparrows were a sign of an impending death. Do we even have sparrows in Australia? Yes I am a graduate, but not in Maths.

Nanna and I, 1997

Personal jokes that no one really gets aside, I just wanted to make a public declaration about Edith Piaf.  I cannot confess to know everything about her, or even the words to her songs. But I love her. Maybe I'm perpetuating this love because Nanna loved her. She gave me her Edith Piaf CD once. That and two records - the Hair soundtrack and best of Janis Joplin. Me and Bobby McGee was one of her favourite songs.

The earth says hello indeed  

There are two songs by La Môme Piaf that I love. Always will. I've already decided that La vie en Rose will be the song Allan and I have as our first waltz when (if) we get married. He knows and has accepted this.  Also, I would like to suggest that Non je ne Regrette Rien be played at my funeral. And everyone must sit there and listen, even if it is in french. I will provide an english translation. :) No, I am not a control freak!

Edith Piaf

So you, my dear reader, need to google the two songs - and make sure you listen to the Edith Piaf versions. And watch the movie, La Vie en Rose. Marion Cotillard is haunting. Beautiful.  I cry when she wakes from sleep and is still dreaming, I cry when she sings non, je ne regrette rien. I wonder about the scene at the end.. and her daughter Marcelle. Her love affair with Marcel. As I was watching it, I wondered if Nanna knew about her addictions. 





Here's a tangent - about my virtuous grandmother being exposed to life's seedy underbelly. We were watching My Own Private Idaho together when I was 17. I forgot about the gay sex scenes. Awwwwkward. But Nanna sat through the movie. I wonder what she thought. I was horrified. At the end, all she said was "Well I'll tape over that before Trevor sees it". Good idea :)

I want to put the english lyrics here - I've noticed the french and english versions differ - I like them both and havent decided on which one I would sing :) I dont know french, and I cant sing - but if it was my wedding - everyone would have to watch and say it is great anyway :) Thats the polite thing to do. :)

La Vie en Rose

Hold me close and hold me fast

the magic spell you cast

this is La Vie en Rose

When you kiss me heaven sighs

And though I close my eyes

I see La Vie en Rose

When you press me to your heart

I'm in a world apart

A world where roses bloom

And when you speak ... angels sing from above

Everyday words seem to turn into love songs

Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be

La Vie en Rose

The lyrics are pretty and make you feel romantic - but I still like the French too. It feels romantic :) And when you dont understand the language, well thats when you hear the sentiment. Your imaginings create the scenery of the song ... 

Marion Cotillard, La Vie en Rose

When he takes me in his arms
And speaks softly to me,
I see life in rosy hues.

He tells me words of love,
Words of every day,
And in them I become something.
He has entered my heart,
A part of happiness
Whereof I understand the reason.

It’s he for me and I for him, throughout life,
He has told me, he has sworn to me, for life.
And from the things that I sense,
Now I can feel within me
My heart that beats. 

And really, I hope that when I take my last breath, I will not regret anything I've done.. or not done. Im 31 now, and there are already those little pangs.. which really are just longings and sadnesses - but when I'm 90 - I hope that all they are, are snapshots of time that I cant really piece together anyway. This will be my song :)

Non, Je ne Regrette Rien (I regret nothing)

Non, rien de rien, (No, Nothing at all)
Non, je ne regrette rien, (No, I regret nothing)
Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait, (Neither the good)
Ni le mal, tout ça m'est bien égal. (Nor the bad, they are
the same to me)

Non, rien de rien, (No, nothing at all)
Non, je ne regrette rien, (No, I regret nothing)
C'est payé, (It's been paid for)
balayé, oublié, (swept away, forgotten)
Je me fous du passé. (I don't give a damn about the past)

Avec mes souvenirs, (My memories)
j'ai allumé le feu, (I have burnt my memories)
Mes chagrins, mes plaisirs, (My sorrows, my pleasures)
je n'ai plus besoin d'eux, (I don't need them anymore)
Balayées les amours, (Swept away the love affairs)
avec leurs trémolos, (and all their tremblings)
Balayées pour toujours, (Swept away forever)
je repars à zéro (I start anew)

Non, rien de rien, (No, nothing at all)
Non, je ne regrette rien, (No, I regret nothing at all)
Ni le bien qu'on m'a fait, (Neither the good)
Ni le mal, tout ça m'est bien égal. (nor the bad, they are all the same to me)

Non, rien de rien, (No, nothing at all)
Non, je ne regrette rien, (No, I regret nothing at all)
Car ma vie car mes joies, (For my life, for my joys)
Aujourd'hui, (Today)
ça commence avec toi. (they start with you).

I suppose that while I'm here, discussing my own funeral, that I would like to be cremated. I want my ashes sprinkled in a rainforest. If it cant be a real tropical rainforest, then somewhere on Mt Glorious. My Nanna's name was Gloria. They wrote songs about her :) 

RIP You beautiful Des (21/04/1932 - 14/04/2012)

"Oh you beautiful Des, you beautiful Des, you beautiful Des.." is one of those long running family jokes. Apparently he used to sing this to himself in the mirror as he got ready for work. He probably only did it once. Ha. Probably. But copped a ribbing for the rest of his life.

I have one of those moments my mother likes to bring up in front of the extended family. I once mispronounced the word Bureau - I said Boo-roo. Mum likes to bring it up - I cant help it, but it infuriates me! I get all defensive. It doesnt help that I was 20 at the time. People are only supposed to see the foibles I want to show them.

Desmond Ray George passed away last week. He was my maternal Grandfather. I loved him. Mum said I was his favourite. I was everybody's favourite - der! And on a side note, I know I was the only one of his grandchildren to visit him in his last years, even if it was about once a year :) And if one of the other 7 want to correct me, good. I hope I'm wrong.

I saw him about a month ago. He was doing really well that day - he had all his faculties. His sister Barbara and my favourite Uncle Dallas were there that day too. It was nice. we had subway for lunch. Chatted. Left before the horseracing started.

Pa was born in Hobart in 1932 - lived in Melbourne and then Brisbane. He was known for this sense of humour, his work ethic and his love of gambling, horses and lotto. I loved Pa. He never said I love you - but he would say "you too" when you said it. I wish I called him more often - he never talked long on the phone, so you wouldnt be trapped for long. I miss him already. You kinda never really think someone will die - you know they will, but not yet.

I spoke with him about graduating. He always wanted me to graduate. I remember telling him I might not do Law, after I was accepted. He started to cry. So I told him recently that he wasnt allowed to go yet, he had to wait until December.. or after Christmas. I'm glad he was able to come to my graduation for my Arts degree in 2008 - he was so proud. I remember at the end when we were walking down the aisle, he was near the front with Mum and he was so proud - he was looking at me directly and clapping his hands in the air above everyones heads so I could see him.

His pride brings a tear to my eye - it was my chance to make him happy. He was very traditional... of another time. I,  however, am living in sin with bastard children. He didnt like this. Especially when Allan was the stay at home dad and I worked/studied. So I was proud in return to remind him on our last visit that the roles have changed, and Allan has been working for a year now. :)

I love you Pa. I hope you saw my impromptu ugoogolie at your funeral. I had to say something. I don't really even remember what I said - but everyone said I did really well. I think there is video evidence somewhere. :)

Now Pa - here is your celestial challenge: Nanna managed to visit me in my dreams... and I know how you loved your lotto - so I'm just putting this out there, but if you can orchestrate my fortunes in anyway, please help me win lotto. I will buy a ticket once a week from now on. Your birthday will be one of my lucky numbers :)

My Family Tree

I just want to say happy birthday to my Great Grandfather, Mr Harry Thompson. He was born on the 1st April , 1886 in Sebastian, Victoria - just north of Bendigo.
Apparently he had kissable lips - so says my Aunty Linda.. that's not strange is it?


He was one of 11 children (oh those were the days) and became an ANZAC in New Zealand, where he met my Great Grandmother, Catherine and married her in Reefton, NZ in 1921. After moving back to Bendigo, they raised 12 children together, one of whom was my dearly departed Nanna. He died in 1958 -before my mother and I were born.


I look at his photo and wonder about him. What was he like? Did he have a sense of humour? Was he charming? I should really try and find out :)