96. Plato’s Four Virtues – Journal Entry 14th July 1982

We had a very comforting dinner last night of veal tail stew with turnips, carrots, beans and potatoes for main course followed by fruit and custard. Yesterday was essentially a non-study day. Monika cleaned the kitchen mess after breakfast while gran kindly cleared the concrete area outside and made up a colourful vase of flowers. I cleaned the dining room which was in a filthy state. My clothes were also in a woeful state, dirty and waiting to be washed. I had to borrow one of Johnny’s shirts to greet our first guest of the day. While chatting, I put together some lunch. 

The Livingstone Shire Council’s Strategic Plan meeting went well and a draft list of recommendations were drawn up before the meeting was finalised. After the meeting, Mr T called me aside and asked me about the four virtues I had listed on the board*. In a hushed tone, he asked why they were written up and who had done it. I told him about our family dinner time quizzes and he explained that he belonged to a society that had the four virtues as their tenets. I responded that one could hardly go wrong following them and that nowadays they seem to be lost virtues. Mr T ended the conversation by telling me he tries to live by them every day. And indeed he does, many others sadly do not possess such integrity.
*Ed.—Plato’s four cardinal virtues are wisdom, courage,  moderation and justice. To learn more click here.

The members dispersed fairly quickly as gran’s new bottom dentures were hurting her. I whisked her off to the dentist without further delay; poor thing, she had been eating pap for the past two days and couldn’t stand it any longer. Monika and the boys came with us to Yeppoon. We drove home worrying that Barbara was going to arrive at an empty house because Gareth had afternoon footy practice, however, we arrived to discover all was well, Gareth was home and showered and Barbara her usual chatty self. I took Gareth down to the newsagent for school supplies and then trimmed the hair out of his eyes. Gran prepared a divine vindaloo with rice and dahl for dinner.

I had taken a quick shower and was about to settle down to some study when Yvonne, who had missed the morning meeting, came to discuss the recommendations and work on the strategy for the health centre, as well as several other matters. It was very pleasant without a single interruption throughout our very fruitful discussion.

Before she left, we talked about bread making as she bakes regularly for her family. Yvonne also divulged something interesting about her past: she had not approved of a large sum given to a group whose mandate was to redeem marriages. She felt that if two people were not able to live together, what was the point of wasting time and money trying to keep them together? I had thought so too until David had told Johnny that ‘official’ people just believed everything was over between him and his wife and did not even consider their reconciliation; it was assumed they only needed help to face life apart. 

Yvonne explained that she had left her husband, with whom she had two sons, but didn’t tell me the reason for leaving the marriage. Her ex-husband took another wife—and her  three grown-up sons; one of whom was in the habit of bringing home pregnant women who left their children behind; incredibly, this happened three times to the same stepson. Then, as if things couldn’t get worse, his new wife was caught shoplifting, took an overdose of something and ended up in a psychiatric ward. Finally, on the advice of his sons, Yvonne’s ex-husband sold his house and contents and rented a flat with his second wife. This turned out to be an excellent solution as the rest of the mob had to find a place of their own. Yvonne seems to have lived in Rocky for a long time, one of her sons is studying at the Institute and the other is a policeman, and her elderly mother is still quite active. By the time we finished talking, it was already 9:30 pm, much too late to start intensive studying. After moving some papers around on my desk and drinking a cup of coffee, I went to bed.

Last night I read Čapek’s essay on proletarian art which examines the combinations that appeal to the urban dweller, the worker. He says “folk art is a luxurious primitive production” and I quote:

Proletarian art is that which is consumed by the workers because of their vital necessity. If they care more for a mouth organ than for quarter-time music, let’s talk about mouth organs and not about the music of the future…the actual mission of art is to abolish boredom, anxiety and the greyness of life…the world  needs proletarian art…living joy is passionately sought after…art contains certain natural and constant values like love, courage, intelligence, beauty, optimism, powerful and exciting action, great achievements, adventure, justice and such like motives which have not changed much since the creation of the world. Amazement and sympathy: inexhaustible and deep springs of popular enjoyment, primitive and invincibly human. Certain ancient traditions: news from the court, heroic epics, reportage novels and other grudgingly appreciated resources, should be reexamined and art created out of them.

If he knew how, Karel Čapek would write a novel of love, heroism and other great virtues and it would be so beautiful, so sentimental and so uplifting that worker hands will pass it to other work-worn hands.

94. Letter to Z – Journal Entry 24th June 1982

Dear Z,

We all thoroughly enjoyed your visit; it was great to see the whole family and our only regret is that we were not able to take more time off. However, as Johnny says, you are all most welcome anytime. Why not come up for Christmas? Be warned though, it is usually very quiet apart from the midnight tree-raiding and special feasts. Our only outing seems to be a slow walk on the beach mid-morning after a huge Christmas breakfast. This is usually followed by another family beach cavort on New Year’s morning. Christmas time is mango season and unfortunately, the beginning of wet weather.

Thank you for the photographs. Gran has now carefully arranged them into her album. Monika ordered extra copies of those she took and we picked them up from Yeppoon yesterday; I’m sending you a batch for distribution, as you see fit

For a few days after your departure, Nathaniel walked around saying rather forlornly, ‘Z dorn!’. He excitedly pointed you out in Monika’s photographs and even remembered the dressing gown you used while you were here.

I am relieved examinations are now over. I had two exams and Karen had six. Barbara is going for five days to the annual ATC camp at the bottom of Phillip Street. Gran and I will probably bake several large chocolate cakes for them, like we did last year. Karen is back for a few days before going on a week-long camp in the Bunya Mountains; it will be freezing there.

The temperature dropped dramatically last week. Even though we are on the Queensland coast, it was down to 7℃ inside the kitchen with the most dreadful wind from down your way. It’s a glorious morning but still quite cold, so I am sitting at my desk with the heater on. Next semester will be busy because I was rash enough to sign-up for four subjects.

I am particularly looking forward to a subject called Methodology, part of the Associate Diploma in Computing, that teaches students to think clearly; something I am very much in need of! The prescribed textbooks are: Thinking about Thinking by Anthony Flew and Learning to Philosophise by E. R. Emmet. The lectures will be given by CIAE’s resident philosopher and I am curious to see a philosopher in action.

I recall two evenings spent listening to Johnny and a philosopher discuss a range of topics. They had the extraordinary ability to explore and develop concepts, many of which represent the most important aspects of humanity, civilisation and education. 

I shall quote from Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. He categorises people as Romantics or Classics.  Romantics, Pirsig says, are intuitive, aware of appearances, imaginative and creative… Classics, however, see underlying forms and because he is essentially in favour of Classics, he describes their style or approach to things thus:

The classic style is straightforward, unadorned, unemotional, economical and carefully proportioned. Its purpose is to bring order out of chaos and make the unknown known. It is aesthetically restrained. Everything is under control. Its value is measured in terms of how well this control is maintained.

All of that to say, I am looking forward to the Methodology subject to see what effect it has on the students, myself included. I must ask Johnny about last year’s students; I imagine it would be difficult to measure clearer thinking.

Gran, Monika, Gareth, Nathaniel, Johnny and I are very keen on naan bread and I now make it once a week. A major breakthrough thanks to R, for helping develop the recipe. We now have a twenty-five-kilo bag of rye flour to make chapatis, which I find are infinitely better than bread. Chapatis can be made much quicker, they freezes well and a few at a time can be used for breakfast or lunch.

By the way, our house number is not “2” even though it is on our kitchen door; Gareth found the number under our house and decided to put it up. Our official address is 11/17 Clement Street. You can use 11/17 Cnr Phillip and Clement Street, however, Phillip Street will suffice. Emu Park is a small town and I am sure your mail will find us.

Gran seems to have settled down to her gardening and social activities. She managed to water her garden for years with only a trickle until Johnny installed a new tap for her near the barbecue. The radishes, shallots, lettuce and brinjals are thriving now that the sprinkler has a better flow of water. Gran is much happier with this simple fix.

I shall post the photos with this letter when we go to Rocky later this morning.

90. A Birth and Fish Feast – Journal Entry 10th June 1982

What better way to start a brand new, best ever notebook than to record the birth of a child: TJ born on the 8th of June and brother to Nathaniel, a day after Gareth’s birthday and on the same birthday as Clare Cosgrove. Monika is still in the hospital and due back in a few days.

Thank you Johnny, my Johnny, for finding an unruled notebook for me to write my diary.

Our neighbour Hector also had a birthday so we rang and wished him a happy birthday; we are one of only a few people who know it’s his birthday. When Barbara took him some flowers he told her his daughter was coming for dinner and he was looking forward to it.

Z rang for a chat and announced Mary finally packed all her bags, her purchases are at last over. However, Mary is not looking forward to leaving the girls and Australia, she likes everything here. When Mary stayed with us in Emu Park, I noticed she took a keen interest in all that went on around her and loved the meals Johnny cooked; she insisted I list them all and is keeping a detailed diary of her visit to Australia.

Marcello and Monika have taken some lovely photographs of Mary and her family.

M, R and Z moved easily with the household, pitching in and helping with the work, so the burden was not on any one person.

Among the many memorable meals we had while they were here, I must mention the fish feast that was prepared by M, R and me; the diversity of colour was particularly appealing. Early in the morning, Marcello, Monika, M and R went with Merv to Rosslyn Bay Harbour and caught about thirty-seven steely backs or bony salmon. M made a good South Indian fish curry, R made Bengali stuffed fried fish and I made a herb fish curry.

I shall attempt to describe the fish feast in greater detail: M, R and I initially discussed what we would do with the fish and jointly drew up the menu. First, we picked fresh coriander seedlings, curry leaves, chillies and chives from our garden—a very pleasant activity for M and R after two years of Melbourne city life. M’s curry was excellent, a pleasant dark brown colour with ground coriander, cumin and chilli, fresh coriander leaves and red chilli roughly chopped, and finally thick tamarind pulp and salt to taste. The curry sauce was left to simmer for quite some time, getting browner and thicker with glimmers of red chilli flecks throughout. The prepared fish fillets were slipped in at the end and cooked only for a short while.

My curry, which we chose in contrast to M’s Madras fish curry, was mostly green and yellow, a mixture of finely chopped herbs and turmeric, with a handful of glossy whole red chilli thrown in, and lemon juice as the souring agent—fish curry is greatly improved with a sprinkle of lemon juice, vinegar or tamarind pulp, just before serving.

R made a lovely green herb and white coconut cream stuffing for his fish dish. Whole fish were slit open and cleaned thoroughly, stuffed carefully with coriander, mint, chilli and coconut cream, then shallow-fried until a dark golden brown. When served, the exposed green stuffing was a pleasing contrast to the brown crispy skin with extra stuffing served in a little bowl on the side.

Accompanying dishes were plain buttered rice, chopped tomato and onion salad and a large bowl of yoghurt.

Needless to say, the family were quite impressed and appreciative, our dinner talk as loud as ever.

89. Reflections – Journal Entry 9th February 1982

It is a lovely morning, the household has eaten breakfast and everyone is busy getting on with their day. The time is 7:15 am, Monika and Barbara are at the bus stop, Johnny is about to leave for work and I will ask Gareth to help me put out the garbage. Johnny and I went to the garage earlier to fill the Rover with petrol and put air into the tyres so I can drive grandma to her afternoon bowling.

This is Monika’s typewriter, and I am finding it difficult to use it after an electric machine. One has to hit the keys so much harder and slow down considerably to give the keys time to get back into place.

Yesterday I followed the first half of the day’s schedule and then settled down for a couple of hours to read Johnny’s earliest letters. I took a stroll on the beach with Gran, Monika and Nathaniel for half an hour, but couldn’t fully relax, I was longing to get back to the letters. I wanted to read my early letters to Johnny, starting with our long train journey to Benares. Unfortunately, on our return I noticed the house needed attention, so with my mind elsewhere, I cleaned and dusted. Then Gran asked for some help to prepare our evening meal which meant I couldn’t get back to the letters until after dinner. Johnny went to meet a new member of staff from Canada at Rocky airport, so I settled down to read my journal entry of our train trip. It sounded fun in parts and rather adventurous, especially to one who had never been on a three-day train journey.

The letters are upsetting, fascinating and beautiful, and extremely passionate, especially Johnny’s.

Has living together for fourteen or fifteen years dulled our love for each other?

Certainly, one ghastly incident has placed a large stain on the relationship that one cannot clear away. Our large family and commitments have given us very little time for each other. We are still incredibly close and our relationship has improved, but my ignorance and stubborn ways have marred some of our time together. Now, on reading the letters again I find I was indeed so unaware, Johnny must have been very much in love and endlessly patient to have put up with me all these years. He is so wise, the most understanding and kind man I know, and such a rare human being.

Let me not forget this again, ever.

It is now 7:15 pm and everything went more or less to schedule today. The hardest part of my day was studying as I was constantly fighting the urge to bob up every five minutes from my desk. Now it is time to compose a letter to Madras about the bike parts before Johnny gets home.

88. Relationship Breakup – Journal Entry 30th January 1982

Thursday was a thoroughly enjoyable day. Karen and I left at 7 a.m. for an 8 o’clock meeting I was attending in Rockhampton. Karen waited for me in the car; she read, wrote and slept. My meeting at Warby’s was reasonably crisp and productive, and in fact, covered quite a bit of ground. At about 10 o’clock, Karen and I left for Vinny’s where we examined the goods for sale and tried on some weird outfits. By this time we had spent eight dollars and were yet to buy the rubber thongs Karen wanted, her sole purpose for coming to town. Luckily we found Ersatz school sandals at a bargain price. Without any money left over for a snack or drink, we headed home to have lunch, but just out of Rocky the brakes in the Rover failed completely, it was a slow and cautious trip back. Ah, lunch was so good: fish and chips for Karen and egg and chips for me, followed by jellied mulberries, rice pudding and cream. We snorted in our pits to prepare ourselves for dinner that evening: Karen was shouting us dinner in a fancy French restaurant.

Only four of us were going – Karen, Johnny, Gareth and me. We prepared dinner for the rest of the family, dressed in our best clothes and drove to Rockhampton in high spirits. The dining room of the restaurant was painted a deep red with maroon curtains, tablecloths and table napkins. Everything was hushed and padded with soft background music. Imitation oil lamps, containing clusters of tiny electric bulbs, hung from the ceiling and smartly-dressed waiters hovered expectantly.

Dinner was a great success and a new experience for Gareth who seemed to enjoy it very much. We drank house wine (accompanied by large amounts of cold water to stay sober), sampled the snails, ate numerous brown plaited rolls with gusto and sang rude songs in the car all the way home. Johnny walked around the house with a cheerful expression on his face; he had enjoyed being out with the two young ones and was pleased about the way they were developing.

Saturday was quite eventful. At half-past five in the morning, Johnny and I did our customary walk and physical exercises. After buying the bread for breakfast in town we walked home via the beach. Then Johnny took a few members of the family to Yeppoon after breakfast, dropping off Gareth and the mower at Mrs Reller’s place.

Karen was feeling apprehensive of her meeting with T because she proposes to sever relations with him. He also has something to tell her, so she will try to find out what it is before she gives him her prepared speech, just in case it is no longer relevant, superfluous. Marcello and I were in the kitchen while she awaited T’s arrival. She was mad at Johnny (and me) for offering some advice and then, according to her interpretation of Johnny’s expression, sneering when she turned down the advice. I pointed out that she ought to know Johnny wasn’t in the habit of sneering, in fact, he never sneers. She also complained about Johnny’s remark: that she wanted it both ways.
“What did that mean?” I asked. She didn’t know, too angry to find out what Johnny meant by that.
In the meantime, Marcello tried to find out what we were talking about but Karen refused to tell him; despite this, she did ask how one told someone to piss off.
“Tell him to piss off,” said Marcello. “Just like that… tell him to piss off,  that you have your studies to get through and you aren’t going to follow the example of your brother.”
“You got your balls cut off at Grade 9.” says our Karen to her brother.

We talked about a friend L, who was in a similar position to Marcello. He is at present out of a job. “He should go back to his studies,” I remarked.
“He can’t,” Marcello said. “For the same reasons I can’t.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “You won’t because you are too fond of the good life, and lots of money, unlike the enforced poverty some of us put up with.”
“Mother,” warned Karen, “you said you wouldn’t talk about it.”
In the meantime, Marcello had a breakfast of a couple of steaks with a couple of eggs. I cannot recall if he had any bread with them but he did have a glass of cordial.

T finally arrived and walked up our long gravelly driveway towards Karen. Although I am probably making this up and misinterpreting what I saw, he seemed to have a soft and eager expression on his face.
“Where did she meet him?” Grandma wanted to know, making biscuits in the kitchen.
“At a disco,” I said. “The poor chap is quite taken with her.”
“Where does he work?” she asked.
“At the mines.”

87. Love Stories – Journal Entry 23rd December 1981

Read The Wanderer by Knut Hamsun and Miss Julie by August Strindberg after reading Friends by Henry Miller. Johnny considers Miller’s exploits rather juvenile with all that indiscriminate f@#king. Certainly, because of Miller’s many marriages, it would seem he could not be devoted to only one woman. Why am I raving so much about Miller’s writing? Perhaps because it seems to be so open, naive and accessible. There is a joy of life and no thought of yesterday or tomorrow. Hamsun is an extraordinarily good writer. No wonder Miller was taken by him; he would be the first to admit how much he has been influenced by Hamsun.

My head is filled with the readings of the past week: Graham Greene’s essays and autobiography, Miller’s World of Sex, Friends and Tropic of Capricorn and the books of Strindberg and Hamsun. One has such an itch to write, but to write what?

Spent two hours on a long but condensed version of a love story entitled Zamindar, about the English in India featured in The Woman’s Weekly. This was followed by a short modern love story of a rich man and his mysterious cleaning lady who fall in love. Why do most women like reading love stories? Why do I enjoy reading love stories, even though I know it is not what really happens? Most women look benignly on young women and their lovers and husbands. Perhaps they are thinking of their youth?

D.H. Lawrence comes closest to describing how it is between a man and woman who love one another and enjoy each other’s bodies and Han Suyin would be second. Many of the ancient Chinese stories seem to convey passion and devotion.

Let me look at an idea I had long ago: when younger sister was born, father was with his mistress while his wife was in labour.

25 Dec 1981
Last night, a little before midnight, we went to the Singing Ship. Johnny stayed behind for a phone call but didn’t see Santa Claus putting the presents around the tree.

A lovely time was had by all. First, we drank cold Spumante that Gareth had won at the school fete. Then Johnny’s Christmas cakes were ceremoniously cut: first a Dundee cake and the other a West Indian bride’s cake, dark and moist. Finally, the moment the family had been waiting for, the presents were distributed and opened one at a time while everyone else admired each gift. There was genuine pleasure in the receiving of presents. Barbara was given two books on shells which had many coloured pictures. She was also given a selection of beautiful shells, mainly cowries, and the delicate skeleton of a seahorse. Barbara was absolutely terrified when she opened the package of the seahorse skeleton, believing it was a snake. We had all retired to our beds by 1:30am but she was up by 5am, so mum read the shell books with her.

After a large breakfast of bacon and eggs, the family went to the beach. Barbara found a few shells and we all returned for an excellent lunch of cold ham, lettuce, bread and wine. We now await dinner of roast turkey and three vegetables, followed by a large fruit salad and fruit jellies for dessert.

Started reading A Many-Splendoured Thing by Han Suyin. M and Z rang to wish us a happy Christmas before going out to a family Christmas dinner of forty people. It was good talking to them, they have found people extremely friendly and seem to have made many friends. Mary and Cliffy are coming to Australia on the 15th of February and it was decided that mum would go down to Melbourne when they arrive and then return with them when they come to visit us. Cliffy cooks well and likes doing things for other people but is quite mischievous, swapping things like his clapped-out parts for somebody else’s good parts, his old records or whatever.

26 Dec 1981
Finished A Many-Splendoured Thing. Han Suyin has captured the strong and passionate bond that can form between a male and female. The complete absorption with one another appears to be idealised by the Chinese which is strangely at odds with their polygamous family system. This ideal in Western society is a bit of a nuisance because most people feel cheated when their mating is not perfect or well matched.

Several things were discussed with Johnny this morning. What is said in “true love” is usually the same in ersatz relationships and misunderstandings occur at a phonetic level of conversation rather than at a deeper level. Also, the danger of offering advice is that it is usually misinterpreted or acted on in a totally different way from what the adviser had intended. People rarely check and recheck whether they had understood correctly and cryptic messages are esteemed.

86. Pre-Christmas Camp – Journal Entry 13th December 1981

We are at camp. Most of the family are swimming in the creek while I sit at the campsite watching the kettle of water I just placed onto the fire. Breakfast was at 6:30 am and Johnny and Gareth cooked an enormous meal of porridge, fried slices of canned ham, baked beans and fried rice; our typical camping food. For lunch, we shall have canned fish, spam, processed cheese and bread or biscuits. Last night for dinner we ate “hearty beef soup”, corned meat with fried onions, corn and beans. There was no pudding this time; I refused to buy the yucky instant puddings sold in supermarkets. Why does all this canned, freeze-dried and processed cheese taste so good when we are camping? Apart from baked beans and canned fish at home, the family would never eat the food they eat at camp.

We haven’t camped for at least two years and are thirty or forty miles north of Emu Park, not a serious camp by any means. There are miles of wild and empty beaches, mostly Army Reserve land, with great fishing. We used set off in the early morning in our trusty four-wheel drive Rover and spent leisurely days eating oysters off the rocks and many hours trying to catch fish. Marcello was the only one who had the patience for fishing. Occasionally we would find the odd treasure here and there, much to the delight of the children: rusty anchors, blue and green glass floats encased in heavy macrame mesh, Taiwanese oil jars and a few beautiful shells.

16 Dec 1981

This week I shall get on top of the mildew in the bathroom and mend the fences and coops. On Thursday we have planned a trip to Rockhampton where the family will swim, rummage around the shops, have lunch in the park, spend a few hours at the library, swim again and return home.

In the garden, the banana trees need attention, as do the okra and bean plants. I will have to plant more okra and beans and make sure that the lawns are mowed; everything grows so fast in summer.

I must finish Gellner’s Legitimation of Belief and press on with my studies of Pascal and Functions, however, that will be after I make mango pickle.

82. Liver, Liver and More Liver – Journal Entry 20th October 1981

After the usual breakfast activities of feeding chicks and hens, washing clothes and tidying the kitchen, I settled down to finish the next chapter on indefinite integrals and start my next assignment. Andrew will be coming for a homework session; I must have a look at his maths book.

Mulberries and ice-cream seem to be the favourite pudding these days; the rich darkness of the berries mixes with the melting ice-cream in deep purple swirls. Dinner was pizza, with quite an array of Johnny’s different toppings, accompanied by a salad of lettuce, grated carrot and shallots, from our garden.

Over the next two days, I have a lot of cooking and gardening to do. Both activities seem to take many hours, leaving little time for anything else. The bean plants need to be staked and tended and other patches in the garden need work too. I will be trying two new cake recipes for pudding and we will be having our delightful sausages and liver one night and chops, carrots and boiled cabbage for the next. Boiled cabbage… reminds me of Dickens.

27th Oct 1981

Liver, liver and more liver, say the kids. Packed with vitamins you need, I say. Can’t mask the taste of liver, they say, but having sausages with the liver does help to get it down.

Gran was out bowling all day with the other pensioners. Johnny is still in Brisbane, busy gathering information on the new computer; he will be teaching external students.

I’m feeling yicky and must get on with some work and write letters. Andrew will be coming this afternoon for another homework session.

29th Oct 1981

Johnny and I will be going out for dinner to Ellen and Geoff’s place. I must check what clothes I have for the evening.

Made bread dough, cleaned a bit of the kitchen, arranged a vase of flowers and prepared a dinner of fried fish with sauce, beans, lettuce salad and rice for the rest of the family.

This weekend Gareth will be mowing the church lawns and setting up the side verandah. More study needs to be done and maybe a garbage run to the dump?

31st Oct 1981

The everyday jobs in life are tedious and I am still spending more time on everything but my studies. How much time should we be able to spend on what we really want to be doing?

I met Frank when Gareth was mowing and had a tour of the Sadari’s garden and ducks. Frank grows enormous pumpkins; he gave us a large one from his garden that was perfectly formed. Maybe I will make pumpkin scones?

Mark should be coming today for his homework session and I must finish off my assignment before then.

10th Nov 1981

This morning was lovely. The black cockatoos called briefly but the pine cones are not ready for them.

16th Nov 1981

Barbara wants to go to camp, but Helen tells me other parents are not sending their kids because of the inclusion of the Quay Street trainees. Phoned the library and discovered that they have found the Mozart tape that was supposed to have been overdue. After mixing the chapati dough, I made the vindaloo, beans in onion paste and dhal with spinach picked from the garden.

Not getting much writing done these days. There is so much to do.

81. Family Dinners – Journal Entry 13th October 1981

Tonight’s dinner will be lasagne, boiled cauliflower, tomato and onion salad followed by cold custard, mulberries, ice-cream and cream.

I must make progress on studying Chapter 7: Definite Integral, do the laundry and clean the dining room after cooking the bechamel and ragu for the lasagne.

It is windy and cloudy with the odd drizzle of rain; our moods are so linked to the weather and even the poultry look damp and disgruntled today.

I talked to Mrs K about Barbara calling on her after getting off the bus yesterday afternoon.

Mrs K was in bed and Barbara had walked straight into her house and said she had a problem: Patrick had another girl and what was she to do?
“Go with another boy,” Mrs K replies, sitting up in bed.
“You know I don’t go with any boys,” says Barbara.
“Don’t you?” Mrs K is somewhat surprised by this answer.

Then Mrs K says to me, “You know, sometimes Barbara talks as sensibly as anyone else.”
To which I reply, “Oh yes, it’s only when you notice her putting a flask of hot coffee into the fridge, you feel something’s not quite right.”

Then when we see Mrs K at the bus stop, she asks Barbara, “Barbie, what does Monika advise you on your problem?”
“It’s none of her business,” mutters Barbara and while I turn to chat with Mrs K further, Barbara asks Monika what she should do about her problem.

15th Oct 1981

After the usual pre-breakfast tasks, I have a leisurely breakfast with Johnny who is leaving a little later today. We chat while I cut his hair in the garden. It was very pleasant in the sun with the chicks wandering around the garden cheeping and the strawberry leaves a lovely dark green shining in the sunlight.

When Johnny left, I fed the chooks, emptying the large galvanised garbage cans we use for their food bins and leaving them in the sun to be filled later with pellets and cracked corn. My next job was to wash Johnny’s maroon shirt and hang it in the shade to drip dry. Then I checked with the Building Society on our new repayment amount and, to my relief, they explained that our payment stays the same and we don’t have to change anything with the bank.

After lunch, I cleaned the dining room and bedroom,  and as I planted out the melons, I noticed that Barbara was quite stirred up about the next pair of trainees at her work who may be going to the Quay Street Workshop; she is hoping to be one of them. I had to break it to her that she would not be going and that she would not be able to cope with the amount of work they expected to be done there; it would not be suitable for her. She desperately wants to go there, refusing to accept this explanation. Barbara had already spoken to the manager explaining that she liked hard work!

The seasoning for the roast duck tonight is onion, garlic, a splash of soy sauce and a drizzle of vinegar. To accompany the roast, we’ll have rice, sweet and sour cabbage, pineapple and onion salad and shallots. For pudding we can have lychees and ice-cream.

16th Oct 1981

Dr Gold examined a slight rash on Karen’s skin in his Rocky clinic and said it was probably hormonal changes because of her age and to ignore it, however, excessive exposure to the sun could aggravate the condition. He also commented it was a pleasure to see good skin compared with what he normally saw – spots, blotches and crocodile skin from excessive sunbathing – not a good thing in the hot Queensland sun.

Johnny and Gareth picked up the moke, purchased bike parts, adjusted the moke clutch and arrived home by 3pm to prepare dinner. Gran, Barbara, Monika and Nathaniel were at the library while Karen and I were at the clinic; after that Karen and I went looking for swimsuits; it was a good afternoon in Rocky although it was rather hot in town.

For dinner we had lightly fried smoked fish, cauliflower and broad-beans with cheese sauce and boiled potatoes, followed by cold, juicy rockmelon.

It is almost 9pm and Johnny has gone to collect Karen from her work at the Sailing Club.

80. Pork Vindaloo – Journal Entry 8th October 1981

Today I have a long list of jobs to do; household tasks like washing and hanging out clothes, making the veal tail stew and preparing a basket for our trip to Rocky. On the way I will pick up wax sheets for the candles, take mum to the Cultural Centre, visit the library, get money from the post office and pick up the refund at Medibank. I also need to find shirts for Gareth, a raincoat for Barbara, material for Gran and stop for lunch, our usual fish and chips and fizzy drinks in the park.

Even I’m calling mum Gran these days since all the children, their friends and our friends call her Grandma.

The trip to Tanby for the wax took over an hour with a delightful visit to the Blanks shed. There were hives, huge vats of honey, boxes full of squeezed honeycomb and bees buzzing around boxes in the yard. Under the house were stacks of new hive boxes with frames waiting to have the foundation sheets pressed on.

Blank has a scheme for making money from pollen.
“What stopped you doing this before?” I query.
“Lack of pollen,” he shrugs.
“Where would the pollen come from now?” I press him to elaborate.
He explained that he was going to Mackay to spread his beehives around but expects trouble from the Mackay people who don’t like his bees. Such is the life of a beekeeper.

9th Oct 1981

Dinner tonight will be baked salmon, rice, peas, tomato salad, Johnny’s excellent homemade capsicum sauce followed by Danish pastries. The capsicum sauce looks fiery red on the pink fish. Perhaps I should make saffron rice to add to the colour scheme?

Monika took Barbara to the bus stop so I washed up the breakfast dishes, minced the sheep hearts for the new chicks and fed the chickens. The older chick that had been quite sick seems to be getting better. I collected the eggs and hung out the washing and was at my desk by 8:30am. Johnny is at home today; after I managed to put in some solid study on my Calculus problems finding relative extrema, we had an enjoyable lunch of bread, cheese, olives and wine.

Nathaniel is now being weaned before his nap. He cried, ate four coconut macaroons and vomited, then vomited again. Monika gave him several baths to calm him down, wheeled him in the pram and put him in bed but he would not sleep. By 3:40pm Monika and Nathaniel called a truce; he stopped crying and played cheerfully about until dinner time and then fell asleep when Monika took him for a ride with Johnny who drove Karen to work.

I shall tackle Emmet’s Learning to Philosophize this week and How to Read Better and Faster by Lewis next week.

12th Oct 1981

Johnny was asked at work why he was looking so happy. Life is good at the moment, in spite of the usual piling up of bills and the continuous shortage of money because of our large family.

Just paid $112 to the solicitor last week; on listing our current bills we have, in addition to our usual ones, car repairs to pay off at $100 per month for the next twelve months, the electricity bill arriving soon and the Rover needing money for repairs which mum has kindly offered to give. Christmas is coming up and then we will have Karen’s living expenses when she starts her studies. I will need textbooks next year too. Fortunately, Karen has a good chance of earning a certain amount towards her expenses for higher education.

Dinner tonight is pork vindaloo with dhal, rasam, tomato onion salad, coconut chutney and chapati. I also need to make the tomato puree and ragu for tomorrow and pikelets for afternoon tea.

Vindaloo

(a Portuguese development)

Ingredients:

½ kg pork (or stewing beef)
1 onion
4 garlic cloves
3 tsp ground cumin
¼ tsp ground chilli
¼ tsp ground black pepper
1 tsp paprika (optional)
1 tsp curry powder or 2 tsp ground coriander (optional)
2 Tbsp vinegar
Salt to taste

Method:
  • Fry the chopped onion and garlic in oil
  • Add the spices and fry a minute more (add a little water if too dry)
  • Add the diced meat and fry until coated
  • Add a drizzle of water, put the lid on the pot and simmer on low until tender
Variations:
  • Add curry leaves when frying onions
  • Add grated ginger to frying onions
  • Add ¼ tsp of ground cloves and ¼ tsp cinnamon
  • Add 2 Tbsp tomato puree with meat