But its not Fair !!! Am I alone ?

Does anyone else adore their Ferals to the point of wanting to squeeze them till their eyes pop out and at other times want to lock them in their room and throw away the key and turn to chocolate and wine for comfort?  I do.

Sibling rivalry .. in my house of mud it may as well be a four letter word.  I know all kids fight with each other and I think it would be abnormal for them not too .. but my Ferals are the grand champions of sibling argument!

Born just under 2 1/2 years apart it seems it has always been this way form the moment the Weed could talk and move.  Competition and the old ..'its not fair' are regularly heard being screamed from one end of our mud home to the other.  I truly do love my Ferals the same but oh boy do they know how to test it.

I have in many ways raised the Ferals alone.  Hub works away a lot so most has been left to me and I can honestly admit that it has been a struggle.  A struggle that many mornings I do not want to climb out of my nice warm bed and tackle again and again.  Its a feeling that I do not like within myself.

Am I alone in this feeling?  Are other parents struggling with the same issues?  I assume they are but its not something many discuss as we all want our children to be the picture perfect kids. 

My two Ferals have a massive size difference.  As said before, my Curly Feral is sooo tall and has shoulders the width of mine.  His huge feet propel him through the water at great speeds and at 10 he is physically mature for his age.  The Weed on the other hand is slight in build, fast and can give as good as he gets but it only takes one swipe from the paw of the Curly Feral to send him flying into something that always seem to result in pain. To decide who is at most fault is hard as they both scream blue murder and I usually end up taking a deep breath and letting them sort it out.  As I have said many times to them ... 'If you are going to kill each other can you please at least do it quietly'.

The Weed and the Curly Feral ...
happy in the fields of Tasmania

I do know they love each other.  I will often find them curled up together at bed time and the Curly Feral had been known to become very protective over the Weed,  but still this is forgotten in a fit of frustrated "its not fair' anger for both of them !

Am I the only one?  Does this happen within most families and does the perfectly behaved front that we all see from so many people hide any secrets of not really being able to cope?  I do wonder...

It is true that I want the Ferals to grow up to be strong independent men.  To have the strength to handle what life will send their way but I do worry.  I worry because life will not get any easier for them.  It will be there to test them to beyond their possible capabilities.  But I do so hope they succeed.

 The long  cold winter days did not help and I longed for the frogs to start croaking and the ground to slightly dry so they could once again go outside and run their energy to exhaustion ... thank goodness the warm weather is finally here.

At this moment all is quiet but any moment from now they will be screaming for lunch.  It would be easier to be a bird and regurgitate old leftovers than to continually be the domestic goddess that I endeavour to be then cook up some exotic toasty !!!.. ha

Don't get me wrong though .. there are SO many  positive aspects of my Ferals.  The love they have for my parents and the way they smile and surprise me with little things when I least expect it .. but it is not always like that and I don't believe in sugar coating anything.

I love my kids and am so lucky they are mine .. but please please tell me I am  not alone in this world of sibling rivalry? Am I ? .........  Now where's that Vino...?


    Cheers  Dilly xx


PS:  Quiet lasted about 5 mins !!

Im back..... finally!!!

Its been a while since I last blogged.  Again life has jumped in the way.  School holidays, working, keeping up domestic goddess duties..these all eat into every precious day turning my time into a haze of never ending rush.  Sometimes I still want to jump off this ever increasing in speed life but I know I must hang on as today is tomorrows history and we start all over again.

I have been watching my Ferals a lot of late.  My goodness how time with them has flown.  My Curly Feral is 10.  I'm sure I was only cuddling a new bundle in my arms yesterday and wondering what on earth I was supposed to do with him !!  But here he is.. a tall solid chap with curly hair and size 10 men's feet. I do have to remind myself on a regular basis that yes he is only 10 and not the 13 the possibly looks. 
He is slowly developing an understanding of what life will throw at him in the years to come but then again none of us are ever prepared for what the next day may bring. 

The Weed,  well what can I say.  He has turned 8 and a new phase of attitude has appeared.  He is a comic in the making.  a performer and dancer that I am sure will entertain many in years to come.  His legs are becoming so long and his floppy hair that covers his big brown eyes gives him the look of innocence and knowing. But  I know there is more going on behind that cheeky smile with the crocked teeth than meets the eye.

My birthday has come and gone.  Another year under the belt.  Another year that I can not remember most of.  But here I am having turned 43 and I'm healthy... that has got to account for something I figure.  I did a few months ago have surgery on my right elbow which I dislocated many moons ago as a teenager whilst roller-skating.  It had big bone chunks floating around causing me much pain.  I'm so relieved for them to be gone but now I have been told I have stage 4 arthritis in it.  Oh the joys of ageing ! I may moan but I will survive !  Every one deserves a bit of pathetic me time at some stage !

Now we face the roller coaster of Christmas once again.  Wasn't it just yesterday we were singing Ho Ho Ho ? It sure feels like it.
My Curly Feral has worked out the Santa thing along with the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny.  Part of me is sad that this has happened as that part of his childhood innocence and believing in the magical world of Santa has gone, but he has handled it with great maturity... and with the threat of missing out completely if he tells his brother.  This so far has worked great !!

I really intend to try and get back to my writing more.. I really will try.  Was life this busy when I was a kid for my parents?  I don't know but this is something I will have to ask them.  The rollercoaster just keeps going up and down on this thing we call life... and I know I will continue to hold on to create more memories for someone to remember me by one day.

Cheers Dilly xx

Whats hiding in yours?

Come on.. admit it.. we all have one..I bet you do.. maybe even more than one..I know I do.. yes I'm talking about cupboards/wardrobes full of things that have been composting for years.  I have many.

Now those who know me know that I'm a fairly tidy person.. of sorts.. but my house of mud is a lived in home.  A home of Feral kids and wild animals.  I don't stress about Cats in the kitchen or Wombats in the cupboard's.  This is our home.. our way of living and it may not suit everyone but it suits me just fine. BUT.. never take a peak in my cupboards..NEVER !

Lucky Layla

Take the kitchen for instance.  I recently cleaned out my pantry.  Wow what a challenge that was.  It had come to the time when something had to be done because the food was starting to come back at me as I attempted to close the door.  Its amazing what one can find at the back of a pantry that had once been envisioned on the dinner plate.. but when the label says use by 2008 I figure its time to say good bye.

The bottom of my small pantry also has played a huge part in the raising of my Wombats.  They were often found hiding in there with their heads stuck in a tin of dry dog food looking very pleased with themselves.  The cry of "Mum.. the wombats in the pantry again " has often been heard bellowing around the muddy walls.  I would not change that for anything..what a great memory for the Ferals.

Do you have a drawer in your kitchen that is just full of stuff? I do.  I'm sure its very important stuff that is kept for a very specific reason, its just that I haven't found that reason yet. The old cards from my primary school days, the lock of my beloved horses mane, the countless Biro's that don't work.. ( I'm sure they will work one day! ) .  Most I have been told have a stuff drawer third from the top, but mine is the fourth drawer down.. the bottom one.. the one out of easy reach.  My drawer of stuff.. its awesome !

Wombat in the pantry

Now lets talk about wardrobes.  For those who know me know I very very rarely use an iron.  This is a piece of domestic machinery that hardly ever sees the light of day.  My clothes and those of the Ferals and Hub are lovingly taken from the clothes line where they have been flapping around in the sunshine and then sorted and stuffed.. yes I mean stuffed into the appropriate drawer or wardrobe.  These too have been known to spring back to life as I jam another t shirt or jacket in to an already disastrous cavern.  As for the drawers that hold our knickers and socks.. well its probably best I don't discuss them.  I have some pride you know !

The laundry again has no room for any more sheets and towels.  I often find long lost socks amongst the piles of neatly stuffed linen as well as many pegs from the clothes line.  This cupboard was, and I am sure will be again, a great refuge for any wombat that wants to sleep on soft bedding in the dark.  They bury themselves deep into a cosy nest and who would want to disturb that !

Maybe these messy and very unorganised cupboards/wardrobes/drawers are a metaphor for who I am?  Maybe I am tidy on the outside but messy within?  When I think of it more I think I may be right!  There is a scruffy messy Feral within myself trying to escape..its just pride and the feeling of trying to be in control that makes it all appear tidy on the surface... or maybe I just think too much !

Anyway I am sure I am not alone.  Personally I don't care about my messy drawers.  Its always a bonus when some long lost item of clothing finally sees the light of day again..it is like buying new stuff and we all know that things do eventually come back into fashion!  I don't care about wombats in the pantry or lizards in the cutlery drawers ..The Ferals are learning the finer points of messy organisation too..  But in the end I just care about a home that is happy and a refuge from the day to day goings of a busy life.

So I say.. yes if you do feel brave enough feel free to have a sticky beak within the depths of my messy areas then go ahead.  If you don't approve.. don't look..but in the end its my mess and I know where everything is ... sort of .. so it doesn't really matter does it !!

      Cheers Dilly xxx

A Friend

It has been a while since I have written.  Somehow life has yet again jumped in the way and I have found myself trying to get here but it not happening.  But now I'm back .. at least for a short time. 

I have been trying to think of something to write about, something that has meaning to me and I have come up with this:

Have you ever stopped to wonder what the people you went to school with are up to now?  How their lives have panned out or are they even still alive?  I have many times.

To be a friend you
must :

I know there are at least 4 people from my high school year that are no longer with us and I find this  very confronting.  Such young lives lost that could have in their own ways changed the world.  But what about those I used to hang out with? Are they happy.. rich.. famous? Or just average Australians like me raising kids and working for a living?

I'm lucky that I still have a circle of friends from that time.  We have all grown and forged our own paths, but when together again it is like time has stood still ... we can be the 16 year old teenagers we once were.. hopefully with out the pimples and permed hair !!!  I find it hard to comprehend that some of them have kids who are nearing the age of 20 !  I'm sure it was only yesterday I was 20 .. but here I am with a 10 and 7 year old.  I was a late bloomer !

It was only a couple of days ago that I ran into a friend in the dreaded "S word"  (see Blog ).. yep the supermarket ( yes I did have the Ferals with me too and yep they were FERAL..having a 7 year old cling to my legs and screaming while he scoots his derriere along the ground as I try to walk can be very.. how shall I say it .. character building !! ). 
 Anyway we got chatting and I realised that although we were never bosom buddies at school I really like this girl ! Its funny how time can change ones view and that we all do grow up.  She and I chatted about photography and a mutual friend.  We discussed our kids (of which one of each of ours share the same name.. great taste !) and generally just caught up.. It was great it truly was. She is someone I will definitely aim to see again.

There are some people from that time I would still run from ( read Blog.."It happened to me..Bullying ").  Time does not heal all wounds but we do move on.

I watch my Ferals attempting to make friendships and know how hard it can be.  The curly Feral does at times struggle with this.  He has a heart of gold but at times it seems he does not know how to show it.  I think it confuses him.  As for the Weed .. well he is Mr Personality and seems to cruise through.. he is one of the lucky ones.

I have made new friends during my adult life.. they are a crucial part of who I am now and who I will continue to be.  Most have seen me at my worst and at my best.  They have made me laugh and made me cry.  They are priceless. I know I have not always been the best friend I can be at all times but I will always be there if they need me .. that I can promise.

Life throws us many hurdles along the way .. its part of the experience of living, but sharing it with family and friends..true friends..can make the whole sometimes daunting experience all the easier.

So I say thanks to them for putting up with me, and to the new friends becoming nestled into my world welcome and thank you for giving me the chance to share our lives for hopefully many years to come..

         Cheers Dilly xx

If the timber could talk...

What is it that makes me so fascinated with history?  Why is it when I see even the smallest piece of something that appears old I cannot help but conjure up stories of what may have been.

A piece of china dug from a farrowed paddock, a rock that once was part of a home or a piece of furniture that is screaming out to be renovated and all the blemishes underneath are exposed to tell their story.  History intrigues me.

Years ago when I travelled the the Mother Country of England I was fortunate to stay with some wonderful people  ( yes you know who you are ! ).  They took me to the ruins of castles that had once stood proudly overlooking a village.  These ruins I have never forgotten.  Oh if they could talk what a fascinating story they would tell. I imagined knights on horses and fair maiden hanging out of the towers .. Ok maybe I have read too may books in my time..but still the who experience was totally encompassing with the romanticism of days gone by...

I remember staying in a 14th century pub of which the door frames where so low I had to try not to bang my head. It was obvious that generations of people have grown ..but the atmosphere of the building was intoxicating..as was the grog served !!
  I heard the village of Nottingham talked about on the radio and to me this was totally bizarre.  Famous places steeped in history that to a young person on the other side of the world seemed unreal.

Recently I have renewed my love of antiques.  They are something that has always appealed to me but with 2 young Feral boys charging around the house I thought it better to wait until they were older due to the damage factor.

I have just purchased a kitchen chiffonier that I am oh so excited about.  I have cleaned out the spot for it and eagerly await its arrival.  Whats its story is I do not know but maybe it belonged to a regal family and was used by the servants for storing crockery in.  Maybe it belonged to a poor family who treasured it as their most valuable possession and in the end sold it to feed their children.  The answer I do not know but its fun imagining.

Tomorrow I will be picking up a side board that has seen better days..and that's what I love about it. I am sure it will slowly tell me its story as I lovingly scrape the paint from it beautiful timber.  To see knocks and damage to me is telling the journey of its life.  To me scars on a body tell the same..a story..an experience.. so i can not wait to start peeling back the layers.



The hard work paid off



I don't care if the furniture in my house of mud all match or are different colours.  They are unique and all bring a sense of home to me.  I remember when growing up my Grandmother used to move on average every 18 months ( as long as she kept the same phone number we could keep up !! ).  I always knew though, that when certain pieces of her families history were placed in the 'special spot ' that it was home.. her home.. my sanctuary.  I know I will inherit some of these pieces one day when my parents decide the time is right and I will cherish them deeply as they tell the story of my family to this day.

It is funny how over the years something that once would have been seen as a piece of junk suddenly becomes valuable in the monetary sense.  For some this is good I know, but to me the value comes in the story, the journey it has taken to get to this point.  To me a piece of stone from a building I once knew is just a valuable as the Queens Jewels.  These are my jewels and my history to pass on to my Ferals.. and I can not wait to share these with them..whether they like it or not !!!

Cheers Dilly xx

PS this was written just before pieces arrived and here they are !

Must have been the machine.....

My clothes have shrunk.  They truly have!!  ..  I'm sure they were not that tight last time I wore certain items..they have shrunk !! I could not have put on weight ..could I?

Face the facts girl.. you have.  Its hard to admit it to ones self that the kilos have started to creep back on when I wasn't looking.  They seem to have stuck themselves to me with gusto making things a bit snugger than I like.  But why should I feel bad about this?  Because as far as society is concerned I should.

Now I'm nearly 6ft tall and not a skinny person in any sense.  I'm broad and " big boned" I have been told. I am the large one in the family.  the big girl.. The others quite small and dainty, No matter how hard I try I will never be one of the wafer thin sticks that are the same height as me and I don't know if I really would want to be.  I am curvy in most of the right spots with some wobbly bits thrown in for good measure but this is me.

I have always felt that nagging pressure to be a certain way. I have been known to ask the questions.. 
     Does my bum look big in this?.. yep
     Does it make my muffin top spread to a loaf of bread?  yep
     Should I be as graceful as the dainty gazelles that grace the cover of the latest magazine after giving birth to their 10th child and still not have a stretch mark to show for it? yep.
I know this is unrealistic.

I have tried on many occasions to suck the tummy in and only release it when no one is watching.  I have a great collection of 'fat pants ' to hold bits in that would otherwise like to escape and run wild with the rest of the wobbles. These do a fantastic job if I decide not to eat, move in a way that may cause them to hitch a ride in a not so pretty place or breath deeply.   I know its how we women perceive ourselves that fuel this feeling of inadequacy but to be honest it doesn't help when bombarded with skinny is beautiful and any other way is not.

Yes there are those women out there who are genetically blessed with the perfect body and looks ( half their luck ! ) but this is a very small minority.  Its just that these are the women we are shown in media.  Where are the ' normal ' girls ?  We are here !! I hear you yell.

 I love food.  I love the way it melts and tastes.  I enjoy eating with friends and family and sharing a bottle of vino over a good chat.  I know what I am putting into my mouth has the potential to shrink my clothes. I shouldn't care but I do.  I don't have much will power and that frustrates me huge time.

I'm 42 heading for the 43 mark.  I have bits that wobble on my wobbles, knees that are starting to face south and I don't look good in a pair of low cut jeans..( who does !).  I have wrinkles that I figure are telling my life story and hair that really is not my crowning glory deciding to share its natural highlights of grey with the world.  we all get older..all of us.  To those smarty pants girls who snigger as I walk past.. girls you will get old too !!!

I am sure I will continue to struggle with my body issues all the time pretending I dont care.  I will try , honestly try to be more accepting of myself but sometimes it aint that easy.  But I will not deny myself that piece of chocolate that is calling very loudly over my shoulder so I can just be the skinny girl. How boring life would be without it !


Cheers Dilly xx

Hi ho hi ho its off to work...

What was your dream job when a child? Did you always see a romantic version of yourself saving the world or at least some little animal that was desperate for your care?  I did .. well the animal part anyway.  Yep I wanted to be a vet ..

The notion of saving some cute little puppy's life or rescuing a kitten from the jaws of certain death always appealed.  But reality is far different to childhood fantasies.  Very different.

Yep I did work experience at vet surgery.  I could inject my own pets and remove stitches, but the brain power to achieve this dream I did not have.. thus it never happened.

So what have I done to contribute to this countries work ethic?..well..where to start.

I moved out of home at 18 and travelled to the far ( in theory anyway) end of our state.. Hobart.  I manages to gain 2 jobs fairly quickly in sales.  One was great.  Clothes and local craft were abundant within this store and I also did some modelling for the owner.  The other.. well lets just say the result of that job still haunts me today.  I admit I was young and naive but I really did not need to be treated in the way I was as it really has scared me to this day as I do doubt my capabilities regularly.  No one should be treated like that.

Anyway greener pastures beckoned and I went to work in a department store.  This position had its ups and downs.. positives and negatives and in the end although I was made redundant, and at the time was totally shattered, it proved to be a blessing in disguise. 

Up and moved back to the other end of the state.. to my family.  What to do now?? I know! ..  I will travel to far flung places and explore a bit of the world.. but I needed money...

Apple picking.  For those of you who happily bite into a nice crisp apple and think.. mmm this is great.. please in the future spare a thought for the poor bugger that picked it for you.  This is one back breaking job ! There is nothing like a cold frosty morning dragging your apple collecting harness around with frozen fingers.  Climbing to the top of some huge wonky ladder that is placed with bated breath in a position that you prey will not topple when you are reaching for that elusive fruit at the top of the tree. It sucks big time !!! 


A snap of one of the
 places I work now



Its hard, its cold, its exhausting and it hurts your body in places that one did not even know existed .. but.. after a few days the body healed, the sun shone and the people were great so it wasn't too bad.  I can prune a decent apple tree and graft different varieties onto one..so I did learn something !  And it did pay my way overseas.

When I returned what to do then.. yep back to the orchard.  Didn't stay too long, and since then I have worked in science centres, plant nurseries (loved that ), theatre and now I work 2 jobs in retail and theatre/ catering.  I'm busy, I'm tired but hey I do enjoy them all. I'm lucky as they work for me and the people are great.

But the hardest job I have ever EVER done is one that I have been at for a few years now and can see no immediate resignation in sight.  yep I'm a mum ...!  The pay is nothing, the hours are 24/7, the duties involve EVERYTHING one can imagine and it never ends but, the smiles make up for the lack of pay,  the bed time cuddles for the lack of sleep and the moments of quiet when all is right in the home fix everything else.

So what have you done and what are your challenges that lay ahead?  I may not have reached my dream job and become the saviour of the animal kingdom but this is the path my life has chosen to go..and really it ain't too bad !

Cheers Dilly xxx

Why have I been away...?? .. hmmm

You may  (or may not ) have been wondering where I have been these past few weeks.  Where have my "Oh so wonderful blogs of info and daily goings on" been ... well the answer is in one word... IPOD.... !!!

Yep those pieces of plastic computery stuff that my Ferals were given for Christmas by some twit .. IE: me.

The poor cat gets chased
with ipod child !

Those things that although in theory are great fun and can keep them entertained when necessary have proceeded to overtake our domestic bliss and turn it into ... to put it politely **#^!#!* AHHHH !!!!!!!

How many games does the average Feral require I ask myself?. The answer... as many as can be fitted onto the thingo after deleting continuously and reloading..which calculates to around 30.  How much download from our computer does this require?? Answer.. ALL OF IT !!  Hence I have not been able to access my cyberspace life for 3 weeks unless I wanted to wait for 100 years for the home page to download.  NOT HAPPY !!

Yep this is what
they photograph !!

Now I'm sure the genius people who invented these amazing pieces of technology are slapping each other on the backs with gusto congratulating themselves.. and so they should.. but the only slapping here in my house of mud is the continual slapping of Feral against Feral as they fight to regain the upper hand of the downloading experience !!

I personally do not know how the things work.  It takes a 7 year old to show me the on and off button!!  Am I the only one like that?  I hope not !!  They have requested an Ipad next.. huh.. over my dead body !! Are they not just an over sized Ipod anyway?

What happens also when a Weedy Feral drops his on our not so friendly brick flooring??  Yep.. crack !!  I never realised such a horrendous noise could come from something so small !! And he wanted it fixed  NOW!!  After explaining to him in between the screaming fits that it is 8pm, the  repairer  is closed and him not accepting this answer due to having lost the plot, I finally removed the offending item till peace returned..about 2 days.  Yes we will get it repaired..when I'm ready.  It still works anyway !

I am sure the novelty will wear off in time and the fighting might..if I'm lucky.. slow down ( I never expect it to stop completly ).  Maybe I will learn to work the thing.. but personally I'm happy being ipod illiterate. 

Cheers     Dilly xx

Ps: sorry about the funny colour of this blog.. pooter and I had a melt down and I do not know how to fix !!

Its burning.. Tasmania

My home state, my touch of paradise, my safe haven is on fire.  Not just a little fire either but one of huge size with devastating consequences.  Its summer in Tasmania and it is frightening.

Currently as I write this there are 39 fires burning across the state.  They are ranging from scrub fires to huge infernos which have already claimed over 100 homes and properties in the southern region.  There is a town called Tinderbox in Tassie and that's exactly what we are..a tinderbox that has been threatening to explode for a few years.

My Hub works for the Tasmanian Parks and Wildlife Service and part of his job is fighting bushfire's.  For the past few years he and others have been waiting for the state to combust as all the rain we receive in the spring brings on the growth to ignite another fire season.  But it has taken to now.. this year.. to really burn.

We have all watched in horror as the fires are broadcast on TV and the stories of those who stayed and not evacuated are told.  We have spoken to friends and family and hear how they sheltered in their boats on the pristine waters of Tassies coastline as the fire raged .  We have been told it was surreal and like nothing they have ever witnessed before.  The intensity, the speed, the power of fire that can bring even the toughest person to their knees.

In Tasmania we have beautiful bush land.  Land that could tell many stories from years ago.  Some that has never even to this day been set upon by human feet.  It is breathtaking.  But it is also dry.  Eucalyptus trees dominate the landscape which combust with the natural oils they produce.  They produce the most beautiful smell when the leaves burn but not the smell we want at this time. 

The understory of our bushland is littered with debris.  Leaves, sticks, and plants all that provide the perfect nest and fuel for a fire to ignite. It takes just one bright spark from either lightening or some idiot to set the place alight.  Just one second of stupidity that can and has destroyed the lives of many families.  But we in Tassie are a tough bunch.  A resilient lot that can overcome most thrown our way.

I woke this morning to the overpowering smell of smoke enveloping our house.  It was so strong that I worried for the Ferals and animals.  The orange hue of the sun attempted to shine through the smoke filled sky.  Considering we are a long distance from the fires it still puts one on edge and alert.

Our house of mud is surrounded in bush.  To hear the wind rustle through the trees and to see the wildlife scurry around brings a sense of all is right to our little oasis.  But we are also on tank water thus no water to fight any embers that may blow our way.  We have a fire plan and that is to get out if we feel at all threatened.  I also think I may pack a bag of precious and important things just in case.  The ironic thing is that there is snow forecast on the mountains later this week.. that's Tassie weather.. 40 degrees one minute and snow the next.

I hope with all hope that the wind dies down and rain soaks this parched ground of Tasmania.  I will watch and wait to see where the next fires pop up.  I will truly admire the people of our little state who bravely battle to contain these wildfires on the ground and in the air with the helicopters. 

Trust me .. you ain't seen the last of Tasmania yet and although we may be singed and scorched, this state will rise from the ashes to once again be the jewel of Australia.

Ps:  Make that 40 fires burning....