The Stone Cottage

 My brothers mate squatted here in the 70’s, Glenn might have as well,  I can’t remember. My friend Marion and I used to go up there sometimes too. You turned right at the creek down a certain road and bashed along a bush track for a bit to find it. 

It was that exciting time in your life when the world is newly seen through your own eyes. Everything sparkles and interests, and your senses are keenly soaking in things for the first time. It was freezing up there because we never thought of clothes and I can’t remember thinking of food or drink either. We never had money in our pockets, or at least I didn’t. Sorry Marion, you probably did. But did we ever eat?

Dad came up to check on us the night Marion and I stayed. He was fine. We were fine. When I think back now, he will have been in his early 40’s. A young man and tolerant of my adventurousness and independence. Actually, they were probably worried sick.

We nearly didn't spot the place. 

The Cushion Comfort Zone

Made using an outfit my Grandma wore to my Uncle Ted and Aunty Grace's wedding when I was 7 years old. Don't ask me how I remember this, not from the day (although I remember the day and my aqua dress and hair bun), but Grandma did tell me. Or was it Mum?
Gorgeous colour!
The ribbon was a snippet I've had for years and years. European, silk and now only a few centremetres left. The embroidery ground is vintage kimono silk.

The Wedding. I'm the little girl on the left, to the right is my brother Glenn, then a little girl named Judith whom I never knew. My Dah (left and behind me) died not so long after. Then is Grandma (not such a great shot) in my cushion dress.

All stem stitch using perle 5.

The new (old) lounge suite required new colours. It looks washed out here but isn't. Note the old rag rug on the floor. I bought 4 at a market for $20 each. I would have bought more but had no money. An older lady had made heaps and heaps and I'm sure her husband (she wasn't there) didn't appreciate why anyone would want one, let alone four or more.

Corded piping.

Hopefully you can print this out and it will be the same size as mine. Not that that matters.
Just in case you want it.

In situ. Soft and filled with feathers.

The inspiration.
From HERE. It's an old butter stamp.

 

I've Been Tagged!

Lucy 'In The Sky' tagged me with my first ever Blog Award! How lovely! I met In The Sky at good old Ravelry, Yay! Thanks Lucy! I want to live where you live, it looks so pretty and green. We could have cups of tea.

Now, I have to tell you 10 things about myself that you don't know. Which is hard and I've done it twice so far (you'd think I'd remember) and my computer HAS CRASHED! Which it never does. So, if I get through, I'll publish BEFORE I award 10 of my favourite bloggers too! Ok?

1: My middle name is Fiona and I was named after the female character in Brigadoon. Mum and Dad went to see the play when Mum was preggers. Dad still calls me Fiona sometimes (in cards) and my Uncle used to call me Robyne-Ona, or the alternative, Fleas-Onna.

2: When I was 15-16 I went to Melbourne College of Textiles for a one year course, but because I started part way through the year I missed the embroidery component.

3: I still bit my fingernails at age 52 years and 11/12ths.

4: My friend Marion and I went for a drive (hitch-hike) up in the Dandenong Ranges one day (1973-4) and got a lift with Brian Cadd, a well known Pop musician of the day. We sat in the back and put our bare feet up on his leather and wood old-Jag upholstery and he didn't hassle us at all. We were too cool for school because he was a bit daggy, but we cooly bragged about it later.

5: I worked for five years as a gardener here at Cloudehill, doing paving and hedge-clipping and all manner of proper gardener slog, even though I'd not had a garden since I was a wee thing. It's not what you know, it's Who You Know.

6: I hate mushrooms, crab and oysters. I'm ashamed to admit that, but it's true. I hate them.

7: I named my daughter Lucy before I knew that my Grandmother's middle name was Lucy, my great-grandmother's name was Lucy, my great-great grandmother's name was Lucy and my great-great-great grandmother's name was Lucy.

8: In all my family history, I have not found a single convict.

9: I got a 3 day old goat as a pet when I was 12. Dad said she was lucky to learn to walk becaue I never let her down. So cute.

10: My teenage friend and I tried really, really hard, and I mean really truly sincerely honestly hard to send a psychic message to someone, then went around to see if he'd been at least thinking of us at all, even vaguely. And he hadn't.

There's A New Little Melia On The Way

My darling first-born (seen here with his Mormor) is gonna be a Papa! And that means I'm going to be a Grandma even more than I am now!!! It's very exciting!

I'm quite emotional about it. And Rob can't stop grinning. I'm worried his face will split. I'm looking for a perfect Teddy Bear or something fluffy but not crass... and there's quilts to embroider and Wagga's to make and singlets to embroider and Oh Oh Oh!

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I'm very teary because Mum misses out. Rob doesn't get to share it with her either. He was my Mum's little boy. The first grandchild and her darling. Cycle of life huh? Still hate that. I have less ability to deal with it as I get older. I'm weary. I want the new without it meaning out with the old.

Ruby's Sunshine Dress

Which will soon fot her daughter Mercedes, although Sadie isn't the red-head her mother is (and suits pinks and purples, not oranges and yellows). S'pose I should make her one of her own.

My Brother Is 52 Now

So this little package in one of Mum's many little packages is entirely (100%) retro no matter how you look at it. Do I have to give it to him? He won't care for it. I will on the other hand, and would undoubtedly add it belatedly to my curtains. Sigh... I'll tell him tomorrow.

The Last Photo Of Lucille

Seen with her ever loving brother Rob. Pretty hands. Bit grumpy as I recall and only he could make her laugh at such a time.

Today's the anniversary of her death. I have to (hate to) admit that the pain does recede and dull. Scab and scar over. My grief then was continuously overwhelming without relenting, for a long long long long time. I had an unwavering faith in heaven and so on at the time which didn't stop the pain of seperation, but perhaps made me accept things differently. Now, I think the whole thing sucks. And people who try to make me believe in heaven seem like they are rubbing salt in my wounds. Taunting me cruelly.

When she (might have) turned 21, the pain all came back. Sometimes I want to make myself feel it, but it's not that easy. Other times I think that I'm not thinking about it but get innundated with memory and wanting and don't know (nor question) where it comes from. But it comes and I cry as if it was yesterday, and not 1982, 26 years ago.

There's a thing I wrote which you've probably read but if you haven't and want to, it's here...

Me, Some Time Ago.

Found in the deep recesses of my father's house.

Dad had just picked me up from Sydney and brought me back to my Granny's house in Yackandandah. That's me on the left, newly hippified and saying Far Out and changed forever. There's my dear friend Rhonda, who coincidently had moved to Yack where we became best ever friends. Everyone wished I was more like her... responsible, good and well... responsible. I kind of agreed. Lovely girl.
A few months later, Christmas Eve. My brother was in NZ and it was the first Chrissy without him. Mum was sad and I can't find the photo of her from that night. It's my favourite. I'm 17 and a half.
18 ans 2 days and just about to go get married for f##!!'s sake. Grandma made and embroidered the cossie. It had a big white wool half circle skirt with velvet rainbow around it.

Hello Again

I've been going through my Mum's sewing room and finding things. Dad wants everything else to stay for a while... clothes etc, but the sewing room's to be turned into a computer room and we're all bandying together to force him onto the internet, where many of his mates will send dumb jokes and he can join forums about fire stuff... engines, fighting... history.

I've found my Grandmother's photo's though. This is Grandma (Phyllis) when she was about 20-ish... 1920's anyway. I've had a couple of other photo's taken on this day for years. It's amazing, to flesh the day out like that, so long ago. There is definitely something of me there.

I'm staggering between disbelief and stunned recognition of Mum's death. It's awful. Such a bright person. You'll have to bear with me I'm afraid, or just look at the pictures.

x But thanks for the love people, seriously. You've been so lovely. Sniff.

April 9th, 1935 - August 12, 2008

She actually did it. I can't believe it and I hate death like you wouldn't believe. Yes, yes, she was ill and now she's not... but she was alive and now she's not. She was so very ill and every little thing required more effort than she had, almost... every breath was a struggle and her back hurt constantly, terribly... but she laughed and made fun of herself, and she loved my children and had words of wisdom that we either laughed at affectionately or took on board and agreed with, and she adored her great-grand-children like they'd been made from the purest ingredients and could do no wrong (which is true).

Mum was planning pot-holders in the midst of her drug and pneumonia induced delirium... just one or two. I took her a bag of culled felt I had for the op-shop in a nice new purple pencil case with embroidery cottons and a bundle of pictures to inspire her. I gave her the crappy felt because she (1) wasn't bothered by polyester like I am and (2) I knew she wasn't going to do anything and there were some good Mum colours.

Dad took her home last Monday (just over a week ago) and it was to die. She'd been fighting for so long and was losing. I stayed. Last night was my first night at home with Ross. I slept on a mattress at the foot of her recliner (purple) and we stroked her face and held her hand and fed her baby food and then shaved ice until she wasn't able to do it anymore. We washed her and I used my ray-gun to ward off well-meaning friends who stayed and stayed and would have (well meaning-ly) robbed my father of his last chances to be with her and redeem anything that needed redeeming and to tell her he loved her. He politely kept up conversations with friends and I'd see him glancing over and so I'd ray-gun them into submission. Sometimes I had to turn it to the highest setting.

We've cried buckets but there are oceans. It's no comfort to me to say she had a good life, it wasn't long enough. I want her here. We were the sewers. We remembered the stuff. We rolled our eyes at Dad and stuck up for the need to buy the trim that you could only get an hour's drive away because it was the right colour.

She stipulated that everyone wears purple at the funeral and you'd have to know her to say typical! I never wear purple and I said to my brother that I've side-stepped Mum's demands all my life and I wasn't wearing purple to the funeral, which is a lie. I'm wearing her jewellery... and I'm just about to make a purplish skirt... and jacket if I can be bothered. I've been meaning to make it for a few years and it's only right. But it's aubergine so I'm winning a bit and so is she.

So beautiful, that girl. Pretty, blonde, with big blue eyes. I have her hands but I'm much taller and dark.

Even though I've had Nick Cave's 'Death Is Not The End' going through my head for days... I'm not so sure. It's fucking un-natural, that's all I can say.

I love you Mum. I'll miss you forever but every time I look at my daughters I can see your personality. Even my son has your obsession with shoes. We're all stubborn and happy-in-ourselves.

So sweet and a little bit naughty.

The Start Of A Great Love Affair

My first ever embroidery. Two hand towels, big enough for baby hands. Wandin Yallock Primary School 3011 (I think... that just popped out of my brain so I'm willing to go with it). Grade 4? Can't remember, but I was thinking about these the other day. I recall how much pleasure the design and colours gave me. Mum still had them and gave them to me yesterday. Huccaback, however you spell it.

Puckle Street 1934-5

The middle one is my darling Grandma. My Nanna (her mother) on the right with my dearest Mum in the pusher. Even I can see me in my Grandma.

Me Mum & Me

I used to carry this around so I could get my head around the fact that Mum was Mum. It seems so odd... you know what I mean?

I've Always Loved These

My Grandma and Dah courting. Must be in the 20's or very early 30's. They didn't stop this behaviour until he died at 59 years of age.

It's Just Me Again

My brother Glenn Stuart, myself in the middle admiring something, and Sheryl Bailey, my Mum's childhood friend's daughter. Surrogate cousin.

This is my Nanna (great-grandmother Lucy Ellen), my Grandma (Phyllis Lucy), my Mum (Judith Ann) and myself, Robyne Fiona. Nanna and I shared a birthday, also with my father's Dad (Gramps). At Grandma's house in Moonee Ponds, where I later lived to go to Melbourne College of Textiles.

Me & Stevie Park

I always thought he was nice. Last time I saw him was when I was about 10.

I Thought I'd Already Shown You These But...

Hampton, everyone's favourite picnic spot by the sea.

My great-grandmother Lucy Ellen Dickinson (nee Wakeham 1880-1966) is the woman with the hat (yes you guessed right... milliner by trade), my darling Grandma is the baby to her right a bit at the back on some guy's knee (Uncle Dave Gardener, who died Christmas Eve on the way home from work. Grandma said he was a mean poultry farmer. They'd stayed there and for 6 weeks he gave the children nothing but chicken broth. Grandma's little sister Tiny said 'If only we could have some meat, if only just a sausage!).

My great-grandfather George is bottom right. He took the next photo and you can see people responding to him in it.

The woman directly left to my Nanna (Lucy) is Aunty Mary Wakeham (her sister and my Grandma's favourite Aunt). Mary taught my Grandma to crochet at age 5 with regular sewing cotton and a fine hook. She died in a lift accident. She had pressed the button for a lift, the story as I remember it is that she was meeting her sister Lucy, and George . The lift arrived but she was distracted by someone and didn't go in immediately. When she did moments later... she opened the first gate (if you will remember how it was) and stepped in but the lift had gone up to meet Lucy & George, and she fell to her death down the lift well. I have a couple of things she made. I'll show you...

The baby on the bottom right, Tommy, died of a snake bite when he was 15. His dad there died from an asthma attack.

I know you probably don't care but I have to put it here...

Tanya

Yackandandah again, out the back of Granny's pub. My other Grandma did up this doll and it was donated to the Yack Mardi-Gras. I remember the day... brass band... big parade through the town... I was just or nearly five. The doll had a sash like a real 'Miss Somewhere'. Miss Yackandandah. I don't remember the details, but Granny must have had a raffle which I WON!!! So, we took Tanya home and she was relegated to the top of the cupboard in the spare room, because she was special. Ear-marked 'for later on'.

Not long after, we had a house fire in the spare room, from an electrical fault. Tanya bit the big one. I clearly remember my dream (nightmare) of her going up in flames and I woke screaming and calling her name.

Ross wonders if that's where it all began.

My first death. Now I see this photo, she looks to be shrouded and I was amazed to see that she isn't the elegant, beautiful, mature woman of a doll that I remembered, but an ordinary girl. I love her just the same.

I got very sick after that and was given a new doll when I got out of hossie, I named her Danielle and thought of her as Tanya's daughter.

Here's The Whole Story

Apparently I wasn't allowed to climb on my grandfather's pile of bricks, as you would expect. My Dad caught it all on film. I bet I got away with it too... it always worked in the future (the smile), no reason to think it didn't work then.

Flashback Friday

Up near Hall's Gap, 28 years old... I remember thinking I was fat at the time! If only I knew how much I wasn't...

Always shy in front of a camera.