As avid fans of Jerry Seinfeld, we were stoked to spot an extra show go on sale right when it happened, so we were able to secure super seats to the extra Sydney show. We trained down and stayed at a nearby, very comfortable hotel, had a meal in Chinatown to remind us of Taipei days and had an awesome time at a very funny show. We've also been to various Australian Chamber Orchestra (ACO) and MusicaViva concerts in the last few months, or Cassy has accompanied her mum.

I went on a flying 4 day visit to Hobart to catch up with Wol and family while they were home for "summer" from Taipei. I stayed at their new place, we had a BBQ or two, visited with Sean, Katie and family as well and generally had a fantastic catchup. Hobart had reverted to type and was cold and dreary: it made us realise yet again how lucky we were with 18 days of perfect weather when we circumnavigated the island last November.

Cass and I decided to give the car a spin for a five day sojourn to some classic mid NSW country towns and stay in luxurious hotels and eat and drink with gay abandon! We'd always wanted to stay at Lillianfels in Katoomba after having a high tea experience there some years ago on a bike trip. The room was huge and fitted out beautifully and we wined and dined at "hatted" restaurant "Echoes" as well as reprising our high tea experience. Of course we also did a mini-hike and rode on all the railways, skyways and cable cars while soaking up the natural ambiance and peaceful bush scenes. 

We departed after a couple of days for the equally impressive Byng St Hotel in Orange. Again a favourite of ours from motorbike trips in the past, Orange is a little gem of a country town, just big enough to show off, yet small enough to be quaint and relatively quiet. Our accommodation this time was ultra modern chic, and one of the best places we've stayed. We spent one day exploring the surprising find of the Borenore caves, just a short drive from town, headed to Lake Canobilis for a scenic walk and dined at the equally surprising "Raku" Japanese restaurant, a bustling and authentic "izakaya" just a few blocks from our hotel! We had a fantastic short break and apart from the car getting her bottom scraped on some shocking, pot-holed and uneven roads on the "scenic route" back home, everything worked out even better than we'd expected.

In the past month or two we've decided to institute an "adventure day" into our regular weekly schedule. There's nothing wrong with our almost daily routine, where we go on our 6 km walk along the Bather's Way, up the Memorial Walk and into King Edward Park and back, as well as catching a movie from time to time, Cass visiting her mum or going on a lunch date or me having a swim or surf....sometimes all of the above! We decided to dedicate one day in the week, usually mid-week, to a different adventure. It might be as tame as a lunch out at a nice restaurant or a movie in Gold Class, or may be as adventurous as indoor go-cart racing or ice skating or mini-golf, all of which we've tried recently.

We were both channelling our inner teenager at Hunter Ice Skating, and we remembered very quickly why we didn't continue with it....we were both pretty pathetic but at least we've got lots of room for improvement next time! I found the ice very unforgiving when I cartoon-like flailed my arms and fell on my bum a number of times, but managed to scramble up and keep going. A challenge!

Cass was very skilful at the mini golf and we both managed to get reasonable scores while having a lot of fun at a relatively new course at the old district park tennis complex called Rippit Golf.

The indoor go-kart track was even exciting to look at without the driving and after getting kitted out in our helmets and safety gear and watching an introductory video, we were let loose on the track for our first of two selected races. We had the track to ourselves mid week and midmorning, so we had fun orientating ourselves to the vagaries of the karts, adjusting to the power needed for various turns and hills and we got better as we went along. By the time we'd had a recovery time and started our second session, we were both shaving time off our best lap as we got used to the power and heavy steering. Great fun!

Cass and Valerie are away for 12 days visiting Western Australia. They flew over and are coming back on the famous, legendary train, the aptly named Indian-Pacific. I'm holding the fort here and have lots of time on my hands, partly why I carved out a little time to write this post: usually we're too busy having various adventures!

 

I recently discovered that one of my short stories had been published by The Newcastle Herald as part of their summer writers' competition (less than 1,000 words). Apparently it was published on that gargantuan news day, January 1, when the paper was probably just a few scraps of paper produced by a skeleton staff. It was a Monday too! Oh, well, at least it got into print. I was inspired by a picture of the famous Merewether Baths at sunset. Here it is...

"I was hacked into existence nearly eight decades ago, rock-shelves hewn into walls and pools. Now I’m cracking round the edges, chips off here and there, yet oceans of sunscreen and baby oil have been splashed liberally all around to smooth my walls. I’ve been pampered and rejuvenated. I’ve been re-designed. I’ve been scraped and pumped and painted. Still, it’s at the end of the working day, when the sun sets and the last swimmers leave, that I like to reminisce about some of the times I’ve shared with others.  

The bride teetered on the edge before losing her balance and toppling into the water, her dress blooming on the surface like some bloated jellyfish. Her newly minted husband stumbled and lurched, grabbing at thin air to stop her plunging in before he, too, overbalanced and hit the drink, cartwheeling his arms in comic book fashion. The rest of the wedding party’s shrieks of horror soon turned to delight as one, then another, bridesmaid and groomsman dived in to join the shocked couple in the water, realising that it was only the photographer who would remain dry to record the hilarity. A wedding shoot to remember! 

The swimmer pushed off with his feet, toes grabbing the craggy wall under the whitewashed block, the big number “1” looming large in a flash of vision. He liked the southernmost lane (actually, it made his day if he scored it!) butted up against the edge and with the chance of a fellow lap swimmer on just one side. The wall guided him to the other end, gently nudging him if he swam off course. It was coveted by the old boy’s mates as he slowly slapped his way up and back, head thrusting skyward to gasp a breath, goggles misting and shoulders beginning to throb with a dull ache. Reluctantly, he relinquished his spot, and it was snaffled like a seagull on a hot chip by another swimmer as he left the pool...maybe he’d grab it again tomorrow?  

The kids swathed in neon rashies and slathered in sunscreen played on the little strip of sand along the shallow pool. Yellow earth-moving trucks, graders and diggers, were pushed around under the beach umbrella, building a miniature world of mountains and valleys, golden sandy roads beside granular playgrounds and crumbling houses. The brother and sister, engrossed in their work, called for mum and dad to look at their building project and help them build a river to meet the town. All four of them scrambled and dug, flinging sand aside to allow the water to flow into their tiny, new world as they laughed and played. The river flowed into the streets when the dam was breached, and the town was flooded. That’s the end of building, now time for a swim! 

The surfers only ventured onto the pool deck when the seas were monstrous, giant surges of power in every swell denying them entry to the ocean from the beach or rocks. Waves crashed into the blocks; roaring freight- trains barrelling through the pool and smashing over the promenade, turgid bulk jettisoning onto the picnic tables and benches. The board riders, undeterred, fought their way to the blocks to await a slight lull in which to launch.  Timely leaps seemed doomed, yet these nautical warriors defied physics and belied their stature by paddling furiously against this colossal surge, duck-diving powerful foam and emerging beyond each wave. Time and again they dived and paddled till, one by one, they negotiated the treacherous route seawards and paddled north to recover before challenging the liquid skyscrapers flowing towards the beach. 

The teenagers hadn’t intended to end up here at the end of a hot summer’s day. A day at the beach with friends doesn’t get any better than when the sun is shining, school’s a memory for the year and the air is sizzling with excitement and anticipation. They were pulsing with energy and happiness and the group of friends frolicked in the surf and baked in the sun, towels interlaced on the sand as secrets were shared and friendships confirmed. They broke for regular drinks and snacks, and the time moved on, and the pool at the end of the promenade beckoned.  Diving in the big pool, the group slowly dwindled until just a few were left dotted in the water under a setting sun, a canvas of blush gold brushed on low clouds as the light ebbed. The two of them kissed lightly, lips cool and hearts racing, all others forgotten as electricity danced and summer smouldered. 

Crustaceans and limpets used to carve their tracks languidly over these shelves and through rockpools, as the surf fizzed across the rocks and hit the cliffs unabated and free. The water is corralled now, and the pace of life has changed. I’ve seen a lot, believe me. The crowds keep coming day after day, ice bathers in winter dawns and families frolicking till summer’s sun sets. School carnivals and social swimmers, sporting teams and step-runners. I’ve even got my own lifeguard now! I’m old but strong, relishing the role I’ve played in so many people’s lives.  More adventure awaits tomorrow...Won’t you join me?"  

 

Our dear old mum died recently. We miss her everyday. Here's a little insight into her life via some words I wrote to read out at her recent "celebration of life", which we had on her birthday just among close family.

"Mum grew up just round the corner from where we are now, Dave and Kath’s only child. She talked about her childhood with great fondness, despite difficult periods when Kath would take to her bed and Denise and “daddy” would look after the house. She grew up with a love of animals, music and reading, attended St. Joseph's and eventually went to college and qualified as an infant's teacher, her first gig on the lake at Wangi Wangi. It was around this time that she first encountered the dashing young Michael Braggett, and although it was a bit of a “slow burn”, they were married in 1959 and the rest, as they say, is history! 

Universally loved and admired, Mum carved out a career in teaching, raised 4 children, ran a lively household, supported a busy husband and even after retirement, volunteered as a docent at the Newcastle Art Gallery. She was a highly intelligent, cultured and loving presence in our lives, yet I’m going to outline some of the quirkier aspects of the mother we all knew so well. 

Mum the athlete: Mum’s idea of walking consisted of the short walks to her car and back. Mum reckons she played tennis as a teenager, but I never saw her take part in any sporting or exercise activity apart from the “Alexander Technique”, which seemed to consist of lying still on the floor with a paperback under her head.  

Mum the dietician: Despite raising us on a healthy diet of meat and three veg, mum herself wasn’t overly fond of fresh vegetables and as the years went by, she was increasingly drawn to desserts and other sweeties as her staples. She spread lashings of butter on toast and cakes as well as squeezing lemon on just about everything else. She also had exacting requirements for presenting food: making a sandwich for her was a difficult task ruled by size and quantities and even the shape of the completed sandwich! This paled in comparison, however, to making a pot of tea, the rituals of which made a formal Japanese tea ceremony look like child’s play! 

Mum the singer: Singing for the little kiddies at school accompanied by piano playing was one thing, but there was nothing like our nervous anticipation of the 1st hymn at mass each week. Mum’s superb soprano voice would soar above all others as she sang with great volume and gusto, leaving us squirming with embarrassment! Later on, we were quite proud of mum the singer but earlier on, not so much! 

Mum the zen master: When I was six, I saw a sash window fall at our old house in Pride Avenue, and cut most of mum’s fingers, which were dripping with blood. She cried, but only silently, so as not to upset her little children. This serene calm became a hallmark and there are countless examples over the years. Mum never voiced a word of complaint when Kiss or AC/DC was playing at ear-splitting volume when she returned home from work each afternoon, but she did break with tradition once when I gave her a mouthful of cheek, kicking me up the backside when I ran past only to break her toe in the process! When I crashed her car through the back garage wall, after getting my feet caught up in the pedals in my first driving lesson and as I sat shocked with debris strewn all over the car, mum calmly stated, “Perhaps you’d be better off not wearing thongs next time”! I also remember arriving home from Japan after nearly two years away and mum said, “Oh, hello there you’re back!” as if I’d just stepped out to get some milk! 

Mum the medical expert: Despite no formal training in the medical field, mum had an encyclopaedic knowledge of most medical ailments, especially anything she, or the family, was inflicted with. Mum took her role as a doctor’s wife quite seriously and seemed to absorb knowledge from Dad by osmosis. She could rattle off the Latin root names of all manner of diseases and ailments, sometimes with tongue twisting dexterity...which allows me to neatly segue to... 

Mum the linguist: Mum pronounced words with such confidence and gravitas, that most were unlikely to question, let alone challenge, their accuracy. She’d occasionally drop one or more into conversations, with “menu” and “ceramic” springing to mind. She even pronounced some French or Japanese words in front of Cassy and me with such authority that we questioned ourselves and had to look them up when we got home! 

Mum the practical joker: Mum always enjoyed a good laugh, yet she rarely initiated the joke herself. One notable exception was at Dad’s 60th birthday party. held in this very room. Throngs of family and friends were gathered, canapes were nibbled and the champagne was flowing. The catering also included some cakes for dessert, including a large lemon tart emblazoned with the word “Citron” in large letters and chocolate writing. Father Gerard Mackie, one of the friends in attendance, asked mum about the word’s significance. Quick as a blink, deadpan mum replied, “Oh, that’s an old family name of the Braggetts, in fact, it’s Michael’s middle name.” Father Mackie then, armed with such interesting conversational fodder, proceeded to tell most of the room, until sheepishly, mum had to publicly declare that “Citron” was not actually dad’s middle name after all! 

I could talk about “Mum the teacher” where she had enormous respect from all her colleagues, including some of my friends with whom she worked, “Mum the philanthropist”, who sponsored all sorts of worthwhile causes over the years, even winning a car through a charity lottery once! There are countless other facets of mum to speak of and remember but mostly, of course, “Mum the mum”. She had an enormous impact on our lives and we miss her in all sorts of ways and we find ourselves thinking of her daily. We love and miss you, mum! "

Here's an album I've made of some photos of mum.