The street where we live

To the right is a rather poor image of a photo of our dear little departed dog, Finn. As I have said, we are petless at the moment, having decided to be so until we stop travelling far and wide and start spending more time at home. Finn was a LabradorxCocker spaniel. A most affectionate animal who adored his family, but was just a little bit 'thick' if I may say so. He developed the worst traits of both breeds. He was sitting on our outdoor table this day, having decided that it was a good vantage point from which to spot birds who dared to come into his territory. He used to chase raindrops when ever it rained, yapping hysterically. Otherwise, he was a very quiet animal, and all the neighbours knew that if he started barking and it wasn't raining, to come and investigate. He succumbed to old age and dementia several years ago and we have been missing him eversince. All this is because I want to tell you about a dog from my very young childhood. I used to think I remembered this dog, Mandrake by name, very well until I got older and realised that I had been told so often about the animal, as a child and adult, that he had become my memory He was a fox terrier, crossed with something not much bigger, and was a mad as they come. He was the usual brown and white colour and quite savage. He spent most of his life confined behind a fence, and every day, when the coast was clear, a brave member of the family would carefully open the gate and stand behind it whilst the dog shot forth, faster than a speeding bullet and as dangerous as a cannon ball, because colliding with him meant being knocked down and bitten. I remember one particular day (from having heard the story so often) when my mother came to collect me from my grandmother's house. She had apparently looked around and there was no Mandrake to be seen, so very carefully and quietly, she opened the back gate and stepped into the yard. All hell broke loose! A blur of brown and white fur cannoned into her and knocked bottom first into the nearby dubtbin, lidless just at that time. Her hysterics as she tried to get out of the bin, legs and arms waving in all directions, combined with the dog's mad racing around the garden, stopping now and then to growl threateningly at anyone who came within barking range of his fun, had the entire household in uproar. Rescue finally appeared in the form of my grandfather who found a rope and finally cornered the dog, dragging him back to his pen, where he began to complain loudly and bitterly about having his fun ruined! My by now weeping mother was led into the house for a restorative cup of tea, amidst unseemly laughter at her predicament. I think I really do remember the dog, but not the incident. He came to a sad end when someone carelessly opened the back gate and he raced into the road to attack a rare passing automobile.

The restorative tea was possibly served in a setting something like this, as my grandmother always had a table set for a cuppa, and the kettle on the boil. These are my green and yellow cups, a bit blurred, but very nice for all that. The cloth, hard to see the embroidery, is cross=stitched with a mexican boy and girl, and cacti. I have been catching up with afternoon tea sites and admiring all the finery there is to see. I really do wish we spent more time with friends over tea, but everybody is so busy racing the clock that it is almost impossible.

I have a tin of Harrod's Tea purchased in London, and it is a most delicious brew, which I now keep for special afternoon teas, when I must use the teapot and tea strainer, rather than a tea bag.

To the left is a photo of the street on which we live, with all its trees. Ours is the nature strip in the foreground, with some of the shrubs in bloom. As you can see, the street is full of trees and shrubbery and is very pretty. There are no cars parked here at the moment. Had I taken a photo at the other end of the street you would have been forgiven for thinking that I lived in a used car yard with lots of trees around it. A new crop of 18 year olds have their licences now, and the cars to go with them. Our street has no on road parking as such, so many nature strips have been given over to parking. It looks dreadful but...that's modern life. One household has at least six cars on site, and often more of a weekend. Modern living is a tad depressing sometimes.


Another lot of Australian native flowers. Ray had been to a garden club meeting, and came home with these. Amongst the wattle there is epacris, hakea, dryandra and grevilla. They certainly show up well in a vase, but unfortunately do not have a long life span. However, this is a wonderful time of year for flowers.

Spring is really here, because himself is out mowing the grass. Not lawn, just a mown patch of weeds, which we hope to be totally rid of over the next few weeks to create a bush landscape with mulched pathways meandering between the flora. The tablecloth is embroidered with Australian birds and flowers.

Back to dogs and my library days. My second school library was at a secondary boy's school in a rather tough area of Melbourne. I was very nervous about going there, but it was convenient to home and for on time pick up for my own youngest from school. Once the boys had seen me in action and they realised I was okay, they were wonderful. Not altogether the academic types, but they would be alright when grown. I was on reference duty one day when a young lad came bouncing through the door with a wide smila and a 'g'day Miss, I need a book on dogs!'

Me: 'What sort of dogs?'
Him (looking puzzled) 'Canines Miss.'

Me (trying to keep a straight face) 'What sort of canines."

Him: 'I told you Miss! Dogs!'

I managed to find him a book all about the various breeds of dogs and he went off happily, very pleased with Miss, despite her being a bit dim. A restorative cuppa was called for after yet another crossed line!

Happy blogging people

Cheers!