Australia is under attack from the conservatives. The obvious question; why conserve them in the first place? Isn’t a good conserve something locked in a jar with a screw top lid? I am surprised that a political party is proud to be named ‘conservative’. Do those that have died or in the process of doing so, belong to them? I mean, surely being alive is to progress along something or other. I am not usually given to philosophising, but after the remnants of the Vienna sourdough with fig and ginger conserve, am now in a mood that is mellow, gentle and reflective.
There are so many photos in my Window’s 8.1 explorer that I have taken to deleting those that I can’t remember ever having put there. I suspect that Windows is trawling through my posts and willy-nilly extrapolate something that one could then vaguely be pictorially be associated with. It is as hard to delete the pictures as it is to look at and sorting, checking any e-mails. One gets lost in the sheer monotony of pushing a delete button. A bit like watching a petrol bowser tick over when filling the tank on a rainy Sunday afternoon. I mean a button to ‘delete’? Is it perhaps a kind of subtracting of life segments.
After deleting some I came to photos of my parents. One picture just before the war in the flush of early love and without us kids. The other photo in our house around 1988 or so during a holiday back in Australia after they had returned to Holland many years before in 1976. An entire life in between. Perhaps you have seen the photos before. Old photo gazing does brings back things, doesn’t it?
One reason for their return was that their Dutch pension would be a lot better, more generous and not means tested. About 80% of average wages. But…the other and main reason was to be near their schizophrenic son Frank who had already been living in Holland as well.
The picture of those two in tub with my mother are Frank at the back and I at the front during WW2 in Rotterdam.