mostly as squares and rectangles and variations on squares and rectangles? Just once in a while people have built houses in other shapes - such as the occasional round house "to keep the devil out".
I suspect the simple answer to that question is "it's easier and cheaper and our things fit more easily into those spaces". Our house is exactly like that. It is, in a sense a squat rectangle with a longer rectangle on one side or the squat rectangle.
As houses go it is not inconvenient and it is only about thirty years old. My parents built it for their retirement.
It has certain features which were designed for their old age. Like most Australian houses it is all on one level. You do not climb the stairs to go to bed. The house is, as we have proved, accessible for someone in a wheelchair. (I cannot say the same of the back garden but you can get to the Senior Cat's workshop.)
The house itself also has another important feature. The city I live in is built on a major fault line. There was a quite serious earthquake in the region when I was a small child. I can remember it in that I can remember lying in bed and watching the wardrobe swaying backwards and forwards before my father came and carried me out into the night. I can also remember putting my small hand into the crack in the wall of the house belonging to my godmother's mother. Since then houses are supposed to have more protection against earthquakes. Of course not all of them do but ours was built with a particular type of foundations and the house itself rests on those in a way that is supposed to minimise earthquake damage. How much protection it would actually afford is something I hope we never have to find out.
But, that is earthquakes. There is no such protection against something like a tornado. We do have tornadoes in Australia but, at least so far, we have not had the sort of appalling damage that they have just had in Oklahoma.
It is that damage which makes me wonder about the way in which houses are built. The Whirlwind had a school project a little while back in which everyone had to design a house. They were told that money was no object but the house had to be environmentally friendly. There were some extraordinary ideas, interesting ideas, unworkable ideas, sound ideas and strange ideas. The Whirlwind's house was round, looking in on a central courtyard. She knew it would be expensive to build but, apart from that, it was a house that could well have been lived in. A friend of hers designed something that was similar but octagonal rather than circular. Again it would have been expensive to build but it could well have been lived in.
Looking back on those houses I wondered whether they would be more earthquake proof or tornado proof or something else proof. There is a house not too far from here which is a dome shape. It was an architectural experiment. I have no idea what it is like inside or what it would be like to live in but the architect designed it with the fault line in mind.
And, looking at the horrendous damage in Oklahoma, I am wondering whether we should perhaps start to think about other shapes for building houses. Would round houses help to keep the devil-wind out? I don't know enough about physics but it is something I like to think about.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
"She's a real twenty-first century
child," one of our neighbours told me. She had come over with her three year old granddaughter to deliver a "sick chair" for the Senior Cat to repair.
Her granddaughter was dressed up as a doctor and was busy examining the teddy bear I keep, among other things, to amuse small children. Her chatter to the bear was about going for a "cat scan" and "pussy will not scratch and it doesn't hurt".
Her mother had recently had a CT scan and it had been explained that it did not hurt but no mention had been made of felines!
CT scans did not exist when her grandmother and I were three. When the Senior Cat was three even an x-ray was a major event. His grandparents did not even know about x-rays when they were three. The human body was even more mysterious then that it is now.
I had also been talking to a friend earlier in the day. She was about to take her cousin to the doctor. This morning there was an e-mail to say that she had taken her cousin for another CT scan in the afternoon. They are now waiting for the results. The results will probably be available today. It is one of the marvels of twenty-first century medicine.
The neighbour and I wondered though - what will medicine be like when her granddaughter is the age we are now? We think medicine has advanced dramatically - and it has - but it may seem primitive by then.
We are a long way from being able to "cure everything". I doubt we will ever be able to do that. If we could find a cure for everything, including old age, we would surely cease appreciating how precious life is. There is also little point in living longer if we cannot live better. The increasing number of older people with dementia surely tells us this.
A week or so ago someone was being interviewed on the television news service about some research being done on the brain. He was asked how much we knew about the brain. His reply would probably have startled many people because he said, "Almost nothing."
And perhaps that is one reason why living things are so interesting and why we have so many people interested in trying to find out more. It is because we do not know - and that can be the most interesting thing of all.
Her granddaughter was dressed up as a doctor and was busy examining the teddy bear I keep, among other things, to amuse small children. Her chatter to the bear was about going for a "cat scan" and "pussy will not scratch and it doesn't hurt".
Her mother had recently had a CT scan and it had been explained that it did not hurt but no mention had been made of felines!
CT scans did not exist when her grandmother and I were three. When the Senior Cat was three even an x-ray was a major event. His grandparents did not even know about x-rays when they were three. The human body was even more mysterious then that it is now.
I had also been talking to a friend earlier in the day. She was about to take her cousin to the doctor. This morning there was an e-mail to say that she had taken her cousin for another CT scan in the afternoon. They are now waiting for the results. The results will probably be available today. It is one of the marvels of twenty-first century medicine.
The neighbour and I wondered though - what will medicine be like when her granddaughter is the age we are now? We think medicine has advanced dramatically - and it has - but it may seem primitive by then.
We are a long way from being able to "cure everything". I doubt we will ever be able to do that. If we could find a cure for everything, including old age, we would surely cease appreciating how precious life is. There is also little point in living longer if we cannot live better. The increasing number of older people with dementia surely tells us this.
A week or so ago someone was being interviewed on the television news service about some research being done on the brain. He was asked how much we knew about the brain. His reply would probably have startled many people because he said, "Almost nothing."
And perhaps that is one reason why living things are so interesting and why we have so many people interested in trying to find out more. It is because we do not know - and that can be the most interesting thing of all.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Milk has become an
issue - again.
One of the farmers to the south of us has become fed up with the poor quality of the product available on the supermarket shelves. His cows produce better milk than that and he believes it should be made available.
Of course there are all sorts of rules and regulations surrounding the supply and consumption of milk so he hit on the idea of selling shares in a cow and allowing people to profit from their share - in the form of milk. The government is not happy. I doubt he will be able to continue.
The reason of course is that the milk is not pasteurised, nor has it had the cream skimmed off. People who drink it might become ill - or fat - or both.
When we lived in an adjacent dairy farming area we bought milk directly from one of the farmers. Our family of six consumed a gallon of milk a day. We ate it on cereal or as porridge and drank glasses or mugs of it for breakfast. We consumed more at the mid-morning school break, at lunch time, after school, at the evening meal and before we went to bed.
My brother would go down the road to the dairy every morning, rain or shine or hail. It was about three hundred yards down the road I suppose. He would take the "billy" and, if the farmer was not there, help himself from one of the big churns and then wash the big dipper in scalding hot water and leave the money on the shelf above the churns.
When he brought it home my mother would heat it in a huge pan on the woodburning stove and, when she judged it was sufficiently warm to have killed off anything that needed to be killed off, it would go in the refrigerator. The cream would settle on the top and she would remove that later.
As children we just drank it. My parents drank it too. We were all so busy and active that none of us had time to be fat. The only time we saw the doctor was the visit by the school doctor. The local children were almost never ill either. We did not become ill because of the milk and I can only remember one overweight child. He had what I now know to be a glandular condition.
And the milk tasted good. (The cream tasted even better.) It was not white but pale cream in colour. It was not watery thin but creamy thick. Did it clog our arteries and do dreadful things to other internal organs? Perhaps it has - but we liked it.
I can understand the fuss the government is making. There are people there who worry about our health. They take on the responsibility for keeping us healthy. It would be impossible to have a lack of regulation and people getting ill. It might lead to law suits and life long injury and... well, you get the picture.
So many other people will never experience the joy of drinking real milk. I have not forgotten it and, although I am good little cat in that I now drink the "light" version, given the chance of drinking just one saucer of real milk, I would drink it again.
One of the farmers to the south of us has become fed up with the poor quality of the product available on the supermarket shelves. His cows produce better milk than that and he believes it should be made available.
Of course there are all sorts of rules and regulations surrounding the supply and consumption of milk so he hit on the idea of selling shares in a cow and allowing people to profit from their share - in the form of milk. The government is not happy. I doubt he will be able to continue.
The reason of course is that the milk is not pasteurised, nor has it had the cream skimmed off. People who drink it might become ill - or fat - or both.
When we lived in an adjacent dairy farming area we bought milk directly from one of the farmers. Our family of six consumed a gallon of milk a day. We ate it on cereal or as porridge and drank glasses or mugs of it for breakfast. We consumed more at the mid-morning school break, at lunch time, after school, at the evening meal and before we went to bed.
My brother would go down the road to the dairy every morning, rain or shine or hail. It was about three hundred yards down the road I suppose. He would take the "billy" and, if the farmer was not there, help himself from one of the big churns and then wash the big dipper in scalding hot water and leave the money on the shelf above the churns.
When he brought it home my mother would heat it in a huge pan on the woodburning stove and, when she judged it was sufficiently warm to have killed off anything that needed to be killed off, it would go in the refrigerator. The cream would settle on the top and she would remove that later.
As children we just drank it. My parents drank it too. We were all so busy and active that none of us had time to be fat. The only time we saw the doctor was the visit by the school doctor. The local children were almost never ill either. We did not become ill because of the milk and I can only remember one overweight child. He had what I now know to be a glandular condition.
And the milk tasted good. (The cream tasted even better.) It was not white but pale cream in colour. It was not watery thin but creamy thick. Did it clog our arteries and do dreadful things to other internal organs? Perhaps it has - but we liked it.
I can understand the fuss the government is making. There are people there who worry about our health. They take on the responsibility for keeping us healthy. It would be impossible to have a lack of regulation and people getting ill. It might lead to law suits and life long injury and... well, you get the picture.
So many other people will never experience the joy of drinking real milk. I have not forgotten it and, although I am good little cat in that I now drink the "light" version, given the chance of drinking just one saucer of real milk, I would drink it again.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Chaos? What chaos?
My sister was supposed to organise my youngest nephew into delivering me and the six large (and I mean large) bags of yarn to the mini-market venue yesterday. Did she want me to remind her? No. She would remember.
Except that, she didn't.
My nephew is an "on time" sort of boy. His mother has never been an "on time" sort of person. I think that both her children have rebelled against this. They both tend to be "on time" sort of people.
When he had not arrived I phoned. Fortunately he was home and was up and dressed and, when told what had happened, said,
"Not a problem, be there in five." Well it took slightly more than five minutes but it was pretty close to it.
He loaded the bags in the rear and we went to the venue. He unloaded. Helped put up a few trestle tables for us and disappeared. All that wool was not his idea of fun. As he left he said to me,
"Mum will be home in the afternoon. Ring her if you need a ride home." Right.
A good friend helped me unpack, put what we could on the table and the rest in the open bags (which were more like sacks) on the floor. Fortunately they were clear plastic so people could see they contained more yarn.
I put up the notice that said the proceeds from this stall were going to the African charity. The Senior Cat's pens went next to the notice. The coned yarn went on the other side. We had full packets of yarn on the trestle. Organised.
Other people were coming and going with all sorts of yarn and knitted items. I kept my eyes averted. I do not need more yarn!
We were supposed to open at noon but some people were still unpacking. This was not their fault. The same hall is used for a dance class in the mornings and access to it is always delayed. Several Guild members had brought visitors. They had already begun to wander around. One or two of them helped stall holders. In order to be fair though there were no sales until we opened.
Eventually we did.
I wondered if I would manage to sell anything at all. The Guild has been given yarn recently. Much of it has come from several deceased estates. It has been sold at low prices and the proceeds have gone to the Guild. Most Guild members suffer from what we fondly call "SABLE" - (Stash Advancement Beyond Life Expectancy). Nevertheless I had hopes of the general public who might wander in.
And wander in they did. There must have been some word-of-mouth advertising in the adjacent shopping centre because people said, "I was doing some shopping and..."
Good. We were kept steadily busy throughout the day. The twelve pens the Senior Cat had made sold quickly. The yarn was picked up and put down and then picked up by someone else. I had kept the prices low - better to sell it than bring it home? I thought so. One woman bought a big skein of yarn saying, "I have a room full of wool but I have to have this..." I know she has a room full of wool - more than anyone else I know.
Other people bought yarn when they realised that the proceeds were going to help children. Some bought because they liked it others had a specific project in mind or because they thought a couple of balls might make a beanie or go with something they already had. I think it also sold because it was good quality yarn. I hope people were happy with their purchases.
I went with six large bags and came home with just one. It was mostly coned yarn and just a few odds and ends. We can, I think, do something about the coned yarn in another group.
At the end, after a 10% commission to the Guild, we had raised $542. I wonder what the other stall holders raised. I did not dare look at some of the beautiful yarn there. (Yes, it was tempting!)
My sister was, of course, not home when I tried to call her.
"I'll take you home Cat. Your sister will owe me - big time," someone told me. It is out of her way but I accepted gratefully. I will try to do something for her later - or perhaps I should get my sister to do it?
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Today I am planning to spend the afternoon at
knitting Guild I belong to. It is the one formal "social" group I have joined. I lead a knitting group at the local independent bookshop and do some teaching at the local library. The Guild group is slightly different.
I believe there is a need to contribute to a group if you belong to it so I act as the Librarian for the several hundred books the Guild owns. It should not be a particularly onerous task but, unlike most libraries, I need to know the content of the books because I am more likely to be asked, "Cat have we got a pattern for..." or "I have X wool and I want to make..." etc. Yes, most people knit to patterns. There are very few people who do not. I understand that even though I last used a pattern (and adapted that) when I was in my teens. I am, quite simply, too lazy to use a pattern. It is too much work.
Today though the Guild is having a mini-market open to the public. The "library" will not be open.
I am hoping to sell some yarn, mostly wool and wool/silk mixtures. It was given to me some time ago. It was given to me by someone I did not know at all. A friend 'phoned and asked if she could pass on my number to someone "who's got some wool and stuff they want to get rid of. I suggested you might be able to use it for the kids".
This sort of thing has happened before. It is usually because someone is clearing out a cupboard, has decided they are not going to knit whatever it was they had started, is going into a nursing home and will not have the space (or perhaps the time and energy) to go on knitting all they have. People give it to me "for the kids" - by which the mean the unaccompanied children my friend in Africa cares for.
I have no idea how people believe I would actually be able to knit all they give me. I am not a fast knitter, not nearly as fast as people who have more time than I do to spend at the craft. Some people do understand that and I try to explain to others. I tell them I will try and sell whatever they have given me and donate the money instead. Nobody has objected so far. Most people seem more than happy it is going to be used in some way.
This last time though even I was stunned. There was a knock at our door and someone stood there surrounded by four large black bags - the sort you use for garden rubbish. Each of them was about two thirds full and then tied at the top.
"Er...you are the person who will take the wool?" he asked. I nodded and managed to say "Yes. Please come in."
He hestitated and then said,
"I have to get a box as well."
He dumped the four bags inside the front door and dashed off. A moment later he came back with a box, fortunately it was a small box.
"That's just a few patterns and needles and stuff. If you can't use any of it then just give it to someone who can."
"That's very generous of you," I told him.
He shrugged and said, "It belonged to my Mum and and my wife. It's nice to think it is going to be used for those kids. I can't stop."
He was gone. The only thing I knew about him was his first name. He obviously did not want to hang around.
I thought the bags would be full of the usual cheap acrylics that people want to get rid of because they have discovered it is not nice to knit. We donate most of that to people who knit small blankets for animals.
This time though it was different. There was some beautiful yarn there. Most of it was no more than a ball or two but there were several unopened packs of yarn and some other garment sized lots. I have sorted, labelled and priced. I hope I can sell at least some (and preferably most) of it today.
I know that, if I do, there will be people who will be asking for patterns and help at our little library. I won't mind in the least. The money will be helping to keep "the kids" warm in other ways.
I believe there is a need to contribute to a group if you belong to it so I act as the Librarian for the several hundred books the Guild owns. It should not be a particularly onerous task but, unlike most libraries, I need to know the content of the books because I am more likely to be asked, "Cat have we got a pattern for..." or "I have X wool and I want to make..." etc. Yes, most people knit to patterns. There are very few people who do not. I understand that even though I last used a pattern (and adapted that) when I was in my teens. I am, quite simply, too lazy to use a pattern. It is too much work.
Today though the Guild is having a mini-market open to the public. The "library" will not be open.
I am hoping to sell some yarn, mostly wool and wool/silk mixtures. It was given to me some time ago. It was given to me by someone I did not know at all. A friend 'phoned and asked if she could pass on my number to someone "who's got some wool and stuff they want to get rid of. I suggested you might be able to use it for the kids".
This sort of thing has happened before. It is usually because someone is clearing out a cupboard, has decided they are not going to knit whatever it was they had started, is going into a nursing home and will not have the space (or perhaps the time and energy) to go on knitting all they have. People give it to me "for the kids" - by which the mean the unaccompanied children my friend in Africa cares for.
I have no idea how people believe I would actually be able to knit all they give me. I am not a fast knitter, not nearly as fast as people who have more time than I do to spend at the craft. Some people do understand that and I try to explain to others. I tell them I will try and sell whatever they have given me and donate the money instead. Nobody has objected so far. Most people seem more than happy it is going to be used in some way.
This last time though even I was stunned. There was a knock at our door and someone stood there surrounded by four large black bags - the sort you use for garden rubbish. Each of them was about two thirds full and then tied at the top.
"Er...you are the person who will take the wool?" he asked. I nodded and managed to say "Yes. Please come in."
He hestitated and then said,
"I have to get a box as well."
He dumped the four bags inside the front door and dashed off. A moment later he came back with a box, fortunately it was a small box.
"That's just a few patterns and needles and stuff. If you can't use any of it then just give it to someone who can."
"That's very generous of you," I told him.
He shrugged and said, "It belonged to my Mum and and my wife. It's nice to think it is going to be used for those kids. I can't stop."
He was gone. The only thing I knew about him was his first name. He obviously did not want to hang around.
I thought the bags would be full of the usual cheap acrylics that people want to get rid of because they have discovered it is not nice to knit. We donate most of that to people who knit small blankets for animals.
This time though it was different. There was some beautiful yarn there. Most of it was no more than a ball or two but there were several unopened packs of yarn and some other garment sized lots. I have sorted, labelled and priced. I hope I can sell at least some (and preferably most) of it today.
I know that, if I do, there will be people who will be asking for patterns and help at our little library. I won't mind in the least. The money will be helping to keep "the kids" warm in other ways.
Friday, May 17, 2013
I have been roundly criticised
for "criticising the Budget"...except that I did not actually criticise the Budget at all.
Oh yes, there was that letter I wrote to the paper and several people I know whose views lean to the far left of politics were not happy about it. I can understand that they may have seen it as an attack on the man dubbed "the World's Greatest Treasurer". He can do no wrong in their eyes.
And then there were some others who are worried it might mean that those nice little handouts and union perks they have been getting might just disappear. Perhaps they have cause to be worried - or have they?
Someone, who was criticising me, complained that the Baby Bonus was going to be removed in the middle of next year and "that means we will have to start a family now so we get it". Muddled thinking methinks...and nature may not allow it anyway.
It all puzzles me. If I have choice say between buying a loaf of bread which I need in order to feed myself and the Senior Cat and buying a bar of chocolate then I know I should buy the bread. The bread may actually be more expensive - to begin with. Although it may be more expensive initially it will sustain us longer, provide better fuel and allow us to work so that we can earn the money to have the chocolate bar sometime later.
Governments do not seem to work like that. They want to provide the chocolate bar so that people will vote for them. They are only interested in the short term.
I said this and I have been criticised for saying it. Criticism comes with the territory if you write letters to the paper. Other people get criticised too. Oh well.
Perhaps I should have said more about the Budget than I did. Perhaps I should have said that I still do not believe the NDIS - or Disability Care - is going to happen in the way that the government is claiming it will. No government is going to find the continuing funds for the level of care they claim Disability Care is going to provide. I also believe that the money they are taking from universities and re-directing to earlier years of education is nothing more than politics. We don't need smaller classes in schools. We need better classes - and that means better teachers and a different philosophy of education. Better teachers are better trained. It means that current teachers get ongoing training and new teachers get a much more rigorous course. It means that schools concentrate on the basic building blocks of learning and that children are expected to work there - and not just be entertained.
And, if we want people to go to work, we have to make it possible to employ them. If dairy farmers need to employ several people for ninety minutes on each milking shift and have no work for them outside those times can someone please explain why they must be employed for a minimum of three hours? If the farmer can find people willing to work those shift times (and some will and then go back to growing blueberries in the district I am thinking of) then surely it makes sense to be able to do it? There are many other similar examples. We have over-regulated to the point of ridiculous in the misguided belief that we are somehow protecting people by "safeguarding their rights". We aren't. We are destroying their chances. Oh yes, there needs to be a watchdog of some sort but it should be a conciliatory one not an armed guard ready to shoot.
So, there you have it. I think bread is more important than chocolate (although I happen to like chocolate). I know this is very wrong of me and that every flavour of politics likes the chocolate coating most.
Now I meekly await your criticism.
Oh yes, there was that letter I wrote to the paper and several people I know whose views lean to the far left of politics were not happy about it. I can understand that they may have seen it as an attack on the man dubbed "the World's Greatest Treasurer". He can do no wrong in their eyes.
And then there were some others who are worried it might mean that those nice little handouts and union perks they have been getting might just disappear. Perhaps they have cause to be worried - or have they?
Someone, who was criticising me, complained that the Baby Bonus was going to be removed in the middle of next year and "that means we will have to start a family now so we get it". Muddled thinking methinks...and nature may not allow it anyway.
It all puzzles me. If I have choice say between buying a loaf of bread which I need in order to feed myself and the Senior Cat and buying a bar of chocolate then I know I should buy the bread. The bread may actually be more expensive - to begin with. Although it may be more expensive initially it will sustain us longer, provide better fuel and allow us to work so that we can earn the money to have the chocolate bar sometime later.
Governments do not seem to work like that. They want to provide the chocolate bar so that people will vote for them. They are only interested in the short term.
I said this and I have been criticised for saying it. Criticism comes with the territory if you write letters to the paper. Other people get criticised too. Oh well.
Perhaps I should have said more about the Budget than I did. Perhaps I should have said that I still do not believe the NDIS - or Disability Care - is going to happen in the way that the government is claiming it will. No government is going to find the continuing funds for the level of care they claim Disability Care is going to provide. I also believe that the money they are taking from universities and re-directing to earlier years of education is nothing more than politics. We don't need smaller classes in schools. We need better classes - and that means better teachers and a different philosophy of education. Better teachers are better trained. It means that current teachers get ongoing training and new teachers get a much more rigorous course. It means that schools concentrate on the basic building blocks of learning and that children are expected to work there - and not just be entertained.
And, if we want people to go to work, we have to make it possible to employ them. If dairy farmers need to employ several people for ninety minutes on each milking shift and have no work for them outside those times can someone please explain why they must be employed for a minimum of three hours? If the farmer can find people willing to work those shift times (and some will and then go back to growing blueberries in the district I am thinking of) then surely it makes sense to be able to do it? There are many other similar examples. We have over-regulated to the point of ridiculous in the misguided belief that we are somehow protecting people by "safeguarding their rights". We aren't. We are destroying their chances. Oh yes, there needs to be a watchdog of some sort but it should be a conciliatory one not an armed guard ready to shoot.
So, there you have it. I think bread is more important than chocolate (although I happen to like chocolate). I know this is very wrong of me and that every flavour of politics likes the chocolate coating most.
Now I meekly await your criticism.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
It is possible to hear some very curious
conversations in the waiting room of the eye clinic of a large public hospital.
I had a follow up appointment yesterday. I dutifully checked in at the appointed time and then sat down in the waiting area. A few minutes later two women came and sat down next to me.
One would have been in her sixties, the other in her early thirties. They were talking to each other and I did not take much notice until it went quiet around me. I sensed other people were listening too. The one in her early thirties was very earnestly talking about the need to provide her son, who appeared to be a very small child, with "mati" protection, protection against the "evil eye".
"He has such beautiful eyes you see. People keep commenting on them and I'm sure they're jealous and they wish him harm. I'll just have to get something..."
The conversation continued in this vein until, fortunately for the rest of us, they got called away.
The couple sitting opposite me looked at each other and looked at me and the man said, "Poor little kid if his Mum really does it."
I suspect she will.
I suspect we all have superstitions - although we may not always be aware of them. We don't see them as being superstitions.
Superstitions are particularly alive and well in some sections of the community. I am not sure why this should be so in 21stC Australia but it must give them some comfort.
I was called in by the nurse...a sensible, down to earth woman with a sense of humour and a strong Yorkshire accent. She put the necessary drops in my eyes and I went to wait in the next place. The two women were there - and still talking.
After some time they were called away. I waited. The door to the Registrar's room was open. I was due to see her for the check and I could see the room was empty. Eventually the nurse came back and said to me quietly, "Sorry, doctor's been called upstairs to a serious paediatric emergency."
I told her that was fine and I quite understood. Like everyone else there I was anxious to get away again but, even if it had meant I had to leave and come back the following day, I would not have complained. An emergency in paediatrics is an emergency indeed. Some child's eyesight was clearly in need of urgent attention.
It was some time later before the Registrar returned. She looked upset but smiled and called me in.
"Are you all right?" I asked her as she closed the door.
"No," she told me and then gave me another slightly shaky smile,"Thanks for waiting - and for asking. It's one of those times when I feel useless... "
To distract her slightly I told her about the woman who had been talking about obtaining protection.
"If only it was that simple," she told me, "I wish we could just buy that sort of protection for the child upstairs."
I do too.
I had a follow up appointment yesterday. I dutifully checked in at the appointed time and then sat down in the waiting area. A few minutes later two women came and sat down next to me.
One would have been in her sixties, the other in her early thirties. They were talking to each other and I did not take much notice until it went quiet around me. I sensed other people were listening too. The one in her early thirties was very earnestly talking about the need to provide her son, who appeared to be a very small child, with "mati" protection, protection against the "evil eye".
"He has such beautiful eyes you see. People keep commenting on them and I'm sure they're jealous and they wish him harm. I'll just have to get something..."
The conversation continued in this vein until, fortunately for the rest of us, they got called away.
The couple sitting opposite me looked at each other and looked at me and the man said, "Poor little kid if his Mum really does it."
I suspect she will.
I suspect we all have superstitions - although we may not always be aware of them. We don't see them as being superstitions.
Superstitions are particularly alive and well in some sections of the community. I am not sure why this should be so in 21stC Australia but it must give them some comfort.
I was called in by the nurse...a sensible, down to earth woman with a sense of humour and a strong Yorkshire accent. She put the necessary drops in my eyes and I went to wait in the next place. The two women were there - and still talking.
After some time they were called away. I waited. The door to the Registrar's room was open. I was due to see her for the check and I could see the room was empty. Eventually the nurse came back and said to me quietly, "Sorry, doctor's been called upstairs to a serious paediatric emergency."
I told her that was fine and I quite understood. Like everyone else there I was anxious to get away again but, even if it had meant I had to leave and come back the following day, I would not have complained. An emergency in paediatrics is an emergency indeed. Some child's eyesight was clearly in need of urgent attention.
It was some time later before the Registrar returned. She looked upset but smiled and called me in.
"Are you all right?" I asked her as she closed the door.
"No," she told me and then gave me another slightly shaky smile,"Thanks for waiting - and for asking. It's one of those times when I feel useless... "
To distract her slightly I told her about the woman who had been talking about obtaining protection.
"If only it was that simple," she told me, "I wish we could just buy that sort of protection for the child upstairs."
I do too.
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