Edition 6
On my mind this week:
With two sick kids and not a lot of sleep going on in our house my world has felt increasingly small. It has also coincided with some frankly astonishing revelations about the goings on in our Australian parliament. I won't go into all the details but what I will say is that I am so grateful to live in a country with excellent female journalists including Louise Milligan, Leigh Sales, Laura Tingle, Samantha Maiden and many others who are working tirelessly in the pursuit of justice particularly for those affected by sexual abuse, harassment and assault. It's been a very difficult week to be a woman in a Australia.
A Reflection on Grief
I’m going to the memorial of an old friend’s mum tonight. Grief is a strange and unpredictable beast. It can catch you unawares in the most unlikely of places and take your breathe away with it’s speed and velocity. Sometimes it’s gentle and comforting. Sometimes it’s rage. Sometimes it’s snort inducingly funny and warm. I remember when my Dad died eventually grieving the grief of those first huge waves because as each day, month, year passed he seemed further away. This holds true but now and then he suddenly swims clearly into focus. For me it’s when I’m stomping about the garden, swearing under my breathe, hat askew, gumboots on digging a hole, manically furious that I’m not already finished the task I’ve just begun while systematically saying things like ‘why the bloody hell is that there and NO ONE in this place does anything’ when out of the blue there Dad is. The feeling is as if he is standing right next to me. Strong hands, big forehead with his misshapen red cap, paint splattered trousers and an old polo that he only wore when he was doing something as industrious as cleaning out the gutters or building something out of wood. Dad was almost always in suit pants and a shirt, even at home on those days when the clatter of his keyboard and the sloshes of extra strong, two teabag cups of tea were the soundtrack to our childhood, he was without fail in pants and a collared shirt. Except for when he was on the roof or in the garage furiously painting or building or mowing. And it’s in those times that my husband calls my ‘manic’ episodes when I get so focussed on a task I march around the house, sweaty and furious frantically cleaning while not suffering the slow moving, methodical pace of EVERYBODY else that I can suddenly become bowled over by the presence of my Dad. I remember once while planting a lime tree in our back garden I just kept shovelling dirt through a thick fog of tears. It was as if Dad was standing next to me. I miss his energy and his tenacity, his no holds barred approach to life and his ability to be so certain of his place in things. I miss his view that leadership was not always about following the crowd. That you didn’t have to be like everyone else or do things the way they had always been done. Dad was full of contradictions and complexity. At once determined for us to think and analyse and debate things for ourselves while fervently hoping we would all land on the same deep faith that permeated everything he did. I guess I’m writing this for myself, but I’m also writing it for you if you have lost someone. If the grief is fresh and immediate or very old. The truth of life is that we all lose people we love. So tell them you love them and drink the cups of tea while you can. Life is fragile so are eggs. Remember to check each carton before you buy the whole dozen. And if you have lost someone I’m so sorry. Grief is a strange and unpredictable beast at once foreign and familiar.
Something to read:
My sister wrote a really interesting (and also very scary) article this week for the Guardian about the environmental impact of polyester and particularly recycled polyester used in active wear. https://www.theguardian.com/fashion/2021/mar/22/how-green-are-your-leggings-recycled-polyester-is-not-a-silver-bullet-yet
Suggestible podcast this week is a bit of a chance for me to exfoliate some rage about the unfolding stories that just keep on coming about the current appalling culture present in our Australian parliament. It has been a week of revelations. James recommends Resident Alien and Mario 3D world and I talk about a really good book and my favourite hommus recipe.
Something to cook:
This recipe was given to me by a wonderful pal Jodie and I think for any bleary eyed parents or hung over party goers this may just be your saviour.
The Best Breakfast in the World (fritters with ultimate toppings)
Enjoy with a strong latte and the morning newspapers. Or just a good book. Let's face it the papers are a lot at the moment and you may need to drink your coffee and eat your breakie before you dive in.
Ingredients:
Fritters:
200g tub of cottage cheese
430g can of corn kernels
2 eggs
150g self-raising flour
6 spring onion (green ends), chopped
Salt and pepper
Optional: Up to 40ml milk depending on consistency of batter
Toppings:
Finely sliced red chili
Natural/Greek yogurt
Maple syrup
2 x bananas (ripe)
Bacon rashes
Instructions:
Combine cottage cheese, corn, eggs, flour, spring onions, salt and pepper.
Pan fry fritters/pancakes in small batches.
Once cooked, fry up bacon until crispy.
Remove bacon from pan, slice bananas lengthwise and caramelize them in the pan.
Stack the fritters on a plate, top with natural yogurt, bacon, banana, maple syrup and finely sliced chilli.
Serves 4
And that's a rap this week. Easter is just around the corner so next week I'll be writing in a stupor of toasted hot cross buns and easter eggs. I wish you the same.
Lots of love,
Tonts x
I would like to acknowledge the Traditional Owners of the land on which I write today, the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin nation, and pay my respect to their Elders past, present and emerging.
