Do you hear what I hear ..

"Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy,
Do you hear what I hear?

Do you hear what I hear?

Ringing through the sky Shepherd boy,

Do you hear what I hear?

Do you hear what I hear?

A song a song, high above the trees

With a voice as big as the sea,

With a voice as big as the sea .."

 

 

Gosh - another year draws to a close.
Time to decorate the old house and bring music into the hallway.
First door to the right..that's me!

The sounds of Christmas and all which that ensues is upon us.

'Do you hear what I hear?'

I am hearing the bells.
This year Christmas also heralds the end of 'the long kiss goodbye'. 
My boss, the Principal is packing her school bag for one final time. And for one last time she will hear that final bell.
And for one final time I also will hear that bell. Though a different bell. Last year I tied a tiny bell to her Christmas gift and she attached it to her office door.
To be honest, I am quite fond of it.
Because when she opens the door I have at least 30 seconds to re-position myself and quickly hide the form guide! 
( I knew No.5 would be a sure thing )
Yes - I will really miss that little bell.




I've put a great deal of thought into Annie's gift this year.
Both a Christmas and retirement sentiment.
I've struggled a little I admit.
Because she has received so many generous and lovely tributes.
But the answer was right there, hovering in the slipstream of my thoughts.
A Bell.
So I have sought out the most beautiful bell, resplendent with compelling dulcet tones.
Forty years ago she began her career as an English Teacher.
So I have had it engraved. Befitting of the occasion.

'I go and it is done, the bell invites me.'
Macbeth (II, i, 62-64)

Maybe the bell will remind her of me occasionally.
I'm not really sure.


I used to play Words and Chess on my iPhone a few hundred wonderful times this year. But I don't play anymore. There are no pretty or clever words to describe how each morning, and sometimes late at night I so dearly miss those little chimes. Maybe Kops and Lev might sum it up for you. I hope so.


A star, a star, dancing in the night with a 'tail' as big as a kite.

This Christmas I am heading up to FNQ for Christmas with my family. That's Far North Queensland for the uninitiated. My entire extended family are heading to Port Douglas for Christmas. In fact they are on their way now.
I hope they are enjoying all of that sugar cane, and cane, and cane, and cane ..
( I'm sure it will look fabulous from the air, champagne in hand, etc etc etc ..)
But mostly I hope they all stay safe. 
We have never been away from 'home' en masse at Christmas before. Ever.
This will indeed be interesting.

'Do you know what I know?'

I hope Santa knows where to find us.
We only have one child in our extended family. 
The Boy Child.
We were so very lucky that he believed in Santa for an extended range of years.
When he reached an age where the word on the street was that Santa was not truly really truly - he googled it. And there it was - St Nicholas - a Saint - of course he must be real.
Thank you Google. You're 'awesome'. The only other word on the street it seems ..

For many years the boy child's most loving mother went to the most impressive theatrics on Christmas Eve to ensure the stage was set.
Yes. Snowy footprints in QLD - in December!
Nothing was too much trouble for our little boy child.
And every Christmas morning around 5am I would hear 'Susie, Susie, get up', whispered in my ear.
And every Christmas morning I would say  'Hey - did you hear the dogs barking around 1am? I think they must have heard the bells on Santa's Sleigh'.
And every Christmas morning our little boy child would nod vigorously as only the innocent child can -  'Yes, yes - I did hear them!'

'Ringing through the sky Shepherd Boy'

It will be an interesting week at the Mirage.
Interesting for many reasons.
In the 1980's my brother built the Mirage.
In the 1990's I was employed at the Mirage.
I am sure there will be many bells-a-ringing for us both.
And I am also sure we will be awake at 5am. 
Sans bells.

One of the cutest things that I consider has come to pass in the last ten years or so, is Santa's Flight Plan which is uploaded by Air Services Australia sometime in the week prior to Christmas.
http://www.airservicesaustralia.com/santa/2013/12/19/notice-issued-to-pilots/
I love that the media get 'on board' and I love that all Pilots are requested to give 'Sleigh Rider 1' top priority. 
Oh - how much would you have loved to have followed this magical little flight path when you were a child. When I was little I used to say Santa's Slee. Because my middle name is Leigh - pronounced Lee not Lay. Slee not Slay. Sleigh - You with me? Oh whatever.

'Way up in the sky little lamb, do you see what I see?'

I hope the big fella knows where to find us this year.
And I certainly hope he has room in 'Sleigh Rider 1' for my racehorse which will be named Flowerbombe and who will always leave a little explosion of loveliness behind it.









And my bestselling App called 'Lips Tips'. 
When that takes off every day will be Christmas!
Yes. That's all I want for Christmas.
There's me done.

But just quietly all I really want for Christmas is a half kilo of QLD prawns, a dollop of good quality mayo mixed with a little tabasco and a squirt of lemon.
Oh, and something a little frosty and pink.
That would be quite lovely.
28' and a light southerly would also be quite lovely. And a trifecta.
That would be the loveliest of all.
Faith, Hope and Love.
Not necessarily in that order.

Wherever you awake on Christmas morning I hope that your Christmas Day is just as sweet as sweet.

As sweet as those sweetest little chimes.
That proffered great gifts.

As sweet as the sweetest pea.

May all the blessings of Christmas be yours. x

'With a voice as big as the sea.'

 

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W8HM5XE1yek
Do you hear what I hear?

23 more sleeps ..

This morning I woke to a newsy email from an ex colleague who is living in the Northern Territory spending time with her husband volunteering in the Kulumburu Community.
She wrote of the newly liveried Qantas aircraft that arrived last week in Broome to be blessed by the local Priest and the Aboriginal Community.

In the late 1990's I flew from Frankfurt to Bangkok on one of the first Aboriginal liveried aircraft 'Nalanji Dreaming'. I can still remember that little burst of excitement when finally arriving at the gate in the vast Frankfurt Airport to see 'Nalanji Dreaming' was our ride home. Well half way anyway! The flight to Frankfurt the week or so prior had been extremely turbulent and I was feeling a little apprehensive what the same route in reverse would produce. But when I saw that aircraft all fear evaporated. Lord knows why but for some reason I was absolutely sure that no calamity would dare befall this sacred aircraft. Lord knows why.
Bring on the sick bags, but we would reach our destination.

Lord knows why alright.
In 1978 I climbed Uluru. Not just once but 1 and 1/2 times. HIgh Achiever? Absolutely. Not.
I was on a school trip - though the word safari was the fashionable term back then.
In those days scaling the rock was not seen as a sign of disrespect or a lack of spirituality or a sure path to hell.
It was a right of passage.
The first time I went up I was very scared.
I'm really not so great with heights.

So down I came. Until a very nice boy told me that if I would like to try again he would climb with me.
And so climb we did.





And when we reached our destination it may have well been Everest such was the elation of victory.
Although when I look at this picture, the words 'like a Jesuit over a waterfall' often spring to mind.


In 1979 my Mum sent me to California for almost one year.
My Dad had died the previous year - in my last year of high school.
It had been a long time coming.Yesterday would have been his 81st birthday.
I didn't do so well that final year. Just sort of muddled through the best I could.

When I returned home from the U S of A, my Mum did not send me anywhere nearly as exciting this time around.
She sent me to 'Secretarial College'. EH! And I couldn't stand it.
It was just bloody ghastly.
One afternoon while catching the bus home an old primary school friend boarded.
She told me she was working for Westpac in their 'Data Processing Centre' in Woolloongabba. She was doing 'data processing'.
At that time Woolloongabba was a very indigenous suburb of Brisbane, though I am not entirely sure I knew the word indigenous back then.

As a small aside, only those who have ever worked in Woolloongabba can spell it really really fast.. double U, double O, double L, double O, N, G, A, double B,A !
It's quite an accomplishment! You really need to add a little flourish at the end.
Go on - try it! Fun hey!
But anyway, back to the story..

Well. I immediately wanted to do 'data processing' also.
It sounded very sophisticated.
And it would surely beat typing and shorthand...surely.
And if I had to have gone back to 'Secretarial College' with all those jumped up old harpy's for just one more day I would ..

I don't know but I just would.
You see the only thing my Mum didn't bank on when I returned from my little sabbatical in California was that I was now a teenager of the world. I had seen things, I had opinions.Yep. I did.
And my opinion of Secretarial School when I had been a guest of the Captain on the now retired Aircraft Carrier the USS Enterprise..Yes Captain - I had opinions.

So..what did I have to do to get a gig doing 'data processing?'
I had to go into the Commonwealth Employment Agency and ask for a form.
That's what I had to do.
Take it home, fill it out and do a little 'photo statting'. Oh and get permission from ones Mother as 'data processing' involved shift work. Yep. That's what I had to do.

So..next day back on the bus I go. I had to hand my application complete with photo statted school results etc etc to a Mr Smith. We had a short conversation, I told him my thoughts on being a sophisticated world traveller and the interview was over.

Thirty minutes later I arrived home.
My Mum had just received a phone call from said Mr Smith.
Mr Smith wanted to know why I had not applied to go to University, why I hadn't applied for this and why I hadn't applied for that. That if I wanted to attend the Australian National University in Canberra he would assist. My results in English and Art were outstanding, even though my Maths and Economics were appalling. He would assist in getting me that Aboriginal Scholarship and have me relocated to Canberra.
Where at that moment my Mum intervened with 'What? She's not an aboriginal...'
And he said, "What? Isn't she...'
And Mum said 'NO! She has just wasted 6 weeks of her life lying on the beach!'





So I have a tendency to tan well!
And you can get a lot of thinking done on the beach!
We have laughed for over 30 years at that story.

Almost as funny as a chaplain we dealt with recently who lives at 69 Luckie Street.
Oh God the mileage we are getting out of that one.

Though I do wonder where I would be had I studied English at Australia National University. Where I would have ended up.

And so I commenced at the Westpac Data Processing Centre, this unmarked complex on Ipswich Road which has a perfect view directly to the Princess Alexandra Hospital.
Of any view anywhere in the world this would have to have been my worst nightmare.
Maybe those 2 trips up The Rock had come back to haunt me after all.
The PA Hospital, as it is affectionately known in Brissy was where my Dad passed away the year prior.
It is without doubt my nemesis.
And where I have many a time gone boom crash pow into many a marble wall fainting away at any given or ungiven moment. I actually think those head injuries may be responsible for my sometimes random thoughts and overactive imagination!

You see I am squeamish! Very very squeamish.
I have felt the need to tell people my whole life that I am squeamish.
For their own good not mine!
So squeamish that if anyone is describing anything that entails (not entrails) the words blood, drip, tube, incision, hospital, you get it...there is a good chance that within a few minutes I  could very well be quite shockingly on the floor!
(I spend a fortune on lingerie as I live in constant fear the wrong person might catch a glimpse of my knickers!)
So whoever is regaling me with graphic detail - I need to warn them - or leave the conversation quickly.
This doesn't happen all the time.
In fact when faced with crisis I am impressively shocked into action.
I'm impressed anyway!
It's random.
But I always know.
When the mind suffers the body cries out.

The only people who understand this are my family and very close friends.
When my Mum recently had major surgery we were both very freaked out,
The morning I arrived in Qld to visit her at the hospital I was in a state.
In fact the whole flight up I was in a state. Oxygen mask - yes please!

When my oldest friend picked me up from Maroochydore Airport to take me to the hospital I asked her what I should expect.
Blood - check. Tubes - check. Bandages - check. Drip - check.
Oh God.
Hospital smell - NO. A small blessing!
So armed with knowledge in we went. I said "Donna I am just keeping my head down and following you. I don't want to see anything on the way. Let's just walk very fast and get to the room!"
And so we did.
And there was my beautiful Mother sitting up in a chair with all vestiges of scariness strategically concealed under a blanket.
After the flurry of hugs, kisses and tears she said, 'lie down in the bed'
And so I did. And boy did it feel safe.




That morning when my Mum had had her blood pressure taken it had been unnaturally high.
The surgeon asked her what was wrong as it had been perfect for days.
My Mum told him her daughter was arriving that day and etc etc etc!
God how embarrassing.
She also told the Sister. "Oh yes we have heard about you.."
For the next 5 days every moment I was at the hospital I was in the bed and Mum was sitting up. I learnt a lot about life in those 5 days.
Mum knew where I was meant to be.

December is here.
Three more weeks of school and the count down is on.
I am exhausted.
My colleagues are exhausted.
Term 4 is without doubt relentless.
I love my role, and I am very good at it.
I don't mind saying that.
Like I don't mind saying, "I am about to
faint".
It gives everyone a laugh.








When I pull into my most coveted designated car park every morning that says 'Principal's Assistant' I always wonder how I found my destination, here to this rather prestigious Grammar School - given I was a 'Secretarial College' drop out.
I really don't know.

But my Mum knew.
She knew where I was meant to be.
Even though we both had to bang our heads many times along the way.

It's 34' in Melbourne today. Wowee.
I am not working on my tan. Way too hot for my delicate skin!
For the next few weeks I am just working on me.
And my filing.
To finish what I started.
23 more sleeps.
BFN!