In lieu of genius

Ok, just a quick whinge, and then you can all go back to what you were doing before.

The washing machine blew up (I mean, that is to say, without the noise or the smoke, id est it stopped working) on Saturday, as did the computer.

On the up side, my new mobile phone has a camera, so as soon as I can figure out how to get the pictures onto the computer, we shall have pictures, and pictures we shall have.

Now, I must be off, for I am about to set a new land speed record for writing a 2000 word essay on a topic about which the author knows next to nothing.

Falling-out bits, uneaten.

Young Noisie is home from school today with a virus. I knew she had one coming, because she usually really loves school, but she's been trying to get out of it for the last two days. Last night she hopped into bed with me. Her temperature was really high (I don't know how high. When Polly was little we used to rush her off to the hospital becasue her head felt warm, only to wait three hours to be told there was nothing wrong with her and that she had no temperature. I think that's something to do with only checking their foreheads when I think they're sick, so I've really no idea how hot they're supposed to feel when they're not. But because I'm a far more neglectful parent than I used to be, I no longer subject myself to the eye-rolling of hospital staff whenever I think one of my kids has a temperature. So when I say the kid had a temperature, just take my word for it, ok?).

So anyway, Noisie had a really high temperature last night. I know this because she was speaking even more nonsense than usual. All night she was muttering things like "That timing's not right", and "There's a matter". I mostly managed to ignore her.

(Really, the child does require ignoring on a regular basis. Last night, in exasperation at the high number of juvenile voices ranting at one time and at maximum volume, I made the understandable suggestion that "Will you all. Shuuuuut. Uuuuuuuuup?", hopefully in a voice not completely devoid of maternal affection. Noisie said aghast, amidst the downward-winding roar, "Oh. Mum. You said the F word."

Q: I what, dear?
N: You said the F word.
Q: Er, the F word? What F word did I say?
N: (soto voce) Shut up.
Q: That's the F word?
N: It's one of them.

You get my drift. Sometimes it's best just to ignore them.)

All night I mostly just shoved her further down under my armpit, until morning when I acquired enough consciousness to find the fridge and rattle a bottle of panadol out of the back of it. She's been fine, since, except for being rather pink around the edges.

However, and this leads me to my main point, lunch at home, consisting of a Hungry Jacks baguette, of which I did not eat the falling-out bits, replaced an otherwise planned and brightly anticipated lunch with the delightful Ms Blackberry, at which I most certainly would have eaten the falling out bits, if her recommendation of said unrequited luncheon, at the recommended luncheoning establishment, was up to scratch, as to the veracity of which I have no doubt.

Attention, class.

I would like whoever "accidentally" took my mobile phone to please return it. It is important that the telephone is returned immediately, because I need it to receive business calls, and also to contact my friends and family. Not having it is causing me a great deal of inconvenience.

Just put it on my desk, and no more will be said about it.

A Hiroshima A-Bomb victim, Ms. Kurihara Sadako, once wrote the following passage in one of her poems:

It was night in the basement of a broken building
Victims of the atomic bomb
Crowded into the candleless darkness

Filling the room to overflowing
The smell of fresh blood, the stench of death
The stuffiness of human sweat, the writhing moans
When, out of the darkness, came a wondrous voice
"Oh! The baby's coming!" it said

..........
And so, a new life was born
In the darkness of that living hell

..........
We shall give forth new life!
We shall bring forth new life!
Even to our death

Last night we felt like celebrating. We had nibbles for dinner: nachos, rice crackers and dip, marinated chicken wings, chilli-fried chicken giblets and chocolate icecream. The girls had orange juice in champagne flutes, I bought a bottle of better-than-usual red, because life really is too short to drink bad wine, Bill had a jug of water, and we toasted each other and our esteemed invisible guest. Lolek came over and we emptied the bottle of red while screen printing peace flags, and the kids stayed up way too late for a school night.

This morning I was interested to learn that Bill believes Douglas MacArthur had no choice but to bomb Japan. I told him I thought there was always a choice. For instance, they could have all agreed to call it a day, and gone home to be nice to their kids. He refused to discuss it further with me until I'd read up on it. He said "There's no point having an uninformed discussion."

Well.

So, at the exact time that the other people in Perth who believe that everyone should really make a bit of an effort to be nicer to each other are waving their homemade peace flags at:

Forest Place
5-6:30pm

because they saw it advertised here,

Bill and I will be resuming our own peace talks, under the watchful eye of the Dalai Maharishi.

Furthermore

I've lost my mobile phone and, for those who came in late, that really irritates me.