How Deep?

It is time for my Friday song post.  Where did the week go?  I’m relaxed and comfortable (in-joke, a little Aussie humour) at the seaside.  However, at the back of my mind, there is still this ominous foreboding that we are in too deep.  It’s a feeling that Australian singer-songwriter, Richard Clapton, writes so well about in his song, Deep Water.  So I thought it should be my Friday pick. Read more

Kate’s Song

I think I’ve said enough recently so I should let someone else do the talking.  And singing, of course.  Because it is Friday and that is my song day.

I am also joining in with Thursday’s Ragtag Daily PromptA Flower Cried.  How confusing is that — a Friday song on Thursday?  Anyhoo, the subject of the prompt probably gives you a clue that you may want to skip this one or at least have a couple of handkerchiefs nearby.  Here is Eric Bogle singing Kate Wolf’s song, Cornflower Blue.

Take care everyone and have a good weekend.

Kind Regards.
Tracy

Thanks For Nothing?

A few days ago, my feminist ideals were put to the test and found wanting.  I was having lunch in a restaurant whose main clientele were migrants to Australia.  I think I was the only Australian-born customer at that point in time.   In that nice, quiet haven, I witnessed an extraordinarily vile verbal attack by one diner on his female dining companion.  As he was speaking loudly enough (just below shouting volume) for all of us to hear, we were clearly meant to be complicit in the drama.  Or maybe it was just a tactic to embarrass and intimidate his companion.  Probably the latter.  It was horrible. Read more

Outfoxed

In Australia, it is quite unusual to observe a fox going about its nefarious business, but we did indeed see one and have the photographs to prove it.  One day, as my True Love and I approached the river, we heard a duck making a great cacophony.  It was clearly very agitated.  Perhaps this noise, and the fact that we were upwind of the duck and fox, masked our approach.  The duck made its escape, much to the disappointment of the young fox. Read more

Bluey The Fly

I was astonished, ladies and gentlemen, to learn of the investigation by the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) into the origin of the idiom — to run around like a blue-arsed fly; an idiom that means to be very busy.  In particular, I was surprised by the OED’s initial proposition that the origin of the phrase could be traced to a 1970 quote by HRH Prince Phillip, the Duke of Edinburgh.  As many older Aussies can tell you, the phrase has been around at least as far back as the 1950s and probably longer.  I was also surprised to learn that the phrase may actually have its genesis in another country – America.  I’ll be blowed!  (Word nerds can read about it here and here.) Read more

Horse Tales

A long time ago in a land far away, my True Love and I had a big adventure.  It was on our European backpacking tour of ’91.  While we were in Ireland, we decided we would lash out (spend up big) and take an organised day tour of Killarney National Park.  Our mode of transport was horse and cart, and then dinghy for the return across Loch Léin to Ross Castle (I hope I’ve got that right.  It was such a long time ago).  For the more intrepid traveler, there was the option of riding a horse.  Now I’m not that intrepid but I used to be a good rider, so I chose to ride.  My True Love wisely chose to travel by cart. Read more

The F World

A fissure has emerged in our household, ladies and gentlemen.  Or at least it has for the purposes of this post.  My True Love has told me in no uncertain terms that he is sick of my virtue signalling.  Well, that was my interpretation of what he said.  He actually said that he didn’t want to retire and spend the rest of his getting shorter life with me if I was going to be so hysterical ALL THE TIME about climate change.  I need to stop being so anthropocentric. Read more

Everything Is Just Fine

In just under an hour, my Saturday will begin.  I am thinking of instituting a Friday song on my blog as way of celebrating the end of the working week (but of course, many people also work on the weekend and don’t get paid any, or very little, extra for this convenience).  Since the Ragtag Daily Prompt is sardonic, I might as well kill two birds with one post.

No one does sardonic better than Alanis Morissette.  I dedicate this pick to all the underpaid shift workers out there.  Everything will be fine, fine, fine.  At least it will be for me.

Sing it with me.

Happy weekend.

Regards.
Tracy