What made you sad today?

[luvdids]

So sorry to hear that Mandy. As I'm finding out, grief really does suck. It's a shitty awful thing to have to go through so am definitely thinking of you. Post/vent/rant in here, it helped me x

[stui magpie]

[Skids]

Finding out that the company I work for will be starting to notify people that they are redundant next week.... not sure on how many will be chopped, hope I'm not one of them!

[partypie]

[think positive]

spare a thought for Merrilyn Scott, how much must this poor woman endure

https://au.news.yahoo.com/a/33071569/breaking-murdered-teacher-stephanie-scotts-dad-killed-by-falling-tree/#page1

[Jezza]

Terrible news.

The amount of sadness and heartache that family has endured in a short space of time is something that is difficult to comprehend and make sense of.

[think positive]

It sure is mate, just awful

[Skids]

[regan is true fullback]

My Uncle Jim Cannon died last night, aged 90. He was a stalwart ruckman for the Sunshine Crows in the 1950s and early 60s.

As well, he was an engineer at various businesses in Sunshine throughout his working life. He taught all us kids, including lefties like me, the value of hard work and saving money.

[think positive]

Commiserations mate, never easy losing someone. Bloody good age 90. And sounds like he filled them well, cheers mate xxx

[ronrat]

[Skids]

[think positive]

Oh

[stui magpie]

Only a little sad personally, and that's for Mum. Part of her past died over the weekend and it's put her in touch with her own mortality.

One of her cousins, 1 of triplets, died on Saturday morning. I've met them a few times but not enough to feel much, but to Mum it's her childhood.

Triplet girls, 18 months older than her, born to her mums sister, premature. 2 were identical the third not. Dunno how that works.

I've heard all the stories, when they were born they were so small their mother put them in shoe boxes on top of the wood stove to keep them warm. (no humi cribs and fancy tech back in the 1930's).

The trips lived in town, mum was raised on a farm. On Saturdays, her Dad would load the family into the horse and gig and head into town to do the weeks shopping. Mum's mum would do the shopping, Cliffy would go to the pub and mum and her younger brother would stay at the trip's house which was a weekly adventure.

Little things, like arriving in the morning while the trip's were eating corn flakes for breakfast. Mum didn't know what these things were floating in milk, she though it was horse chaff as she usually ate either porridge or chops for breakfast on the farm.

The trips of course would often gang up on mum, them being 18 months older and 3 of them, but they learned quickly not to mess with the farm bitch. One time, after putting up with their teasing for the day, as soon as her father arrived in the horse and gig from the pub and went in the house, she grabbed the horse whip from the gig, rounded up the triplets with the whip and herded them into the chicken coop where her brother was waiting by the door to lock them in. (Both her brother and dad did pretty much anything she wanted)

Another time, the trips decided to experiment by giving the farm bitch a hair cut. Didn't go well and ended even less well when cliffy arrived and tore strips off the 3 for daring to touch his daughter's hair.

Cliffy was a piece of work in his own right. 5'8", built like a chimpanzee with long arms and bandy legs, damn near as strong as one too. Left home at 10 after having a blue with his stepfather (unsure if he even knew it was his step father, his sisters didn't know they had a different father), took off on his horse and never went back.

I'm not sad so much about the death of mums cousin, I hardly knew her, she was nearly 80, had Alzheimer's, so she's most likely in a better place even if their is no afterlife. The bit that makes me sad is that another link to our rapidly forgotten past is gone.

Someone up in Toc said to mum before she moved down here that she should write a book about her life, cos she did a fair bit of stuff. I'm tempted to get one of those dictaphone things or just a bunch of memory chips for the phone, feed her a few wines over a period of a few weekends (like that would be hard) and just get her to talk (even less hard than the wine), record it all, and when I pull the pin from work I could sit down and knock it together in book form.

Memoirs of the bitch from the bush who refused to know her place.

[Morrigu]

^ you should do that!