Margaret Fulton’s Cookbook.

A Play..

Characters: Jonty, aged woman (real name; Jeannie) no-nonsense person..grandmother of Cassie.

Cassie: 13 yr. old Grandaughter in Jonty’s care for the duration of the school holidays.

Scene: Jonty’s kitchen table..Jonty sits alone reading from a letter.

Jonty : “ Thanks ever so much for looking after Cassie this coming week, mum…I don’t know what I would do these holidays without you…I hope she is no bother to you and perhaps you will find her good company..(if you can lever that wretched mobile phone from her hands!)..She will drop around Friday after school..Also, I have arranged with the super-nice people at “Foodfast” to deliver a cooler-box of food products to your door this week to save you having to buy in extra for Cassie…there will be products in the styrene box they deliver that we regularly eat here, so Cass’ will feel right at home!…

Again…thanks so much Mum..both Michael and myself are so busy this week at work seminars and conferences, we just would not have the time to spend with Cassie that she needs..

Love you…Emily. “

(Jeannie places the letter with envelope to one side of the table, stands and goes to a kitchen dresser on the side of the room..she takes from one of the shelves a large book and brings it to the table…She plonks it down heavily on the table, opens it and reads..)

J..: “The Complete Margaret Fulton Cookbook….A Styrene box of food, INDEED!…We’ll see about that…won’t we, my dear Cassie?”

(The doorbell rings, Jonty goes to one side of the stage and returns carrying a white styrene box labelled “Foodfast”, which she places upon the table. She begins to remove items from the box, naming them as she does so…)

J..: “What’s all this pre-packaged rubbish?…Boxed pies, boxed beef casserole, boxed pizza..two of!…boxed curry!…(she pulls out a wrapped candy bar) A Mars Bar!!..goodness me..bananas, avocado, and a smattering of other various canned products…well…we know where this lot will go!”…(she places the box behind a door nearby and returns to the table, where she opens the cookbook.) ..Now…let’s plan a real menu of real food!”

(Jeanne..goes to a drawer and brings pencil and paper to the table..she begins to write upon it, speaking the written words as she does so)

J..: “Weekly menu..;

Friday..: Mains..: Moussaka..With Broccoli and Carrots…Dessert ; Lemon delicious pudding.

Saturday..: ( she pauses to consider)…Let’s go easy on the poor girl to start..(she crosses out a word) ..no blood sausage, beetroot and fried egg…lets give her a treat…Calamari!”…(Lights fade to dark…)

(Stage lights up to show Jeannie entering from the left accompanied by a young schoolgirl in uniform)…

Cassie..: “ Thanks for having me over, Gran…it’s good of you to put me up for the week.”

Jonty..: “ You’re always welcome, dear..I’ve got the spare room all made up ready for you..You can put your things in there…( Cass turns to go, but is held by Jonty)..”Oh..is that your new school blazer?…it’s very smart, if a little tight..”

C..: “ Oh please don’t say anything about my weight, Nan…it’s so embarrassing..”

J..: “ Not I, Cass, dear..(turns aside to mumble)  with that processed food they eat, it’s no wonder.. ( turns back and declares out loud)…I think it is a good sign for a youngster to carry a bit of “condition”…none of that yon Cassius has a lean and hungry look around here!…but is that the school motto there under the badge? ( she reads) ‘Factum Sit Verbum Tumm’..? “

C..: “ It means ; ‘ Make your word your action’..”

J..: “ How very noble..”

C..: “ Some of the older girls have made a joke of it..’Fart when y’sit but turn y’bum’..”

J..: “ Not quite..so noble.. but there..you go.. make yourself at home while I get ready for dinner.” (Lights darken for several minutes while kitchen table is set with food for the dinner..Jonty opens the Margaret Fulton cookbook and reads) “ Ah, yes…here we are..Moussaka…that’s tonight’s meal..”

(The table is set for dinner, Jonty places the dish of Moussaka on the table as Cassie enters from the right, casually dressed, holding her phone)

J..: “ Just in time, Cass…sit yourself down and let’s have dinner.”

C..: “ Smells wonderful…is this from the box mum ordered?”

J..: “ Hardly…that hasn’t arrived yet…perhaps they had a busy day and will deliver it tomorrow…Here..this is my cooking ..from a recipe in The Margaret Fulton Cookbook..”

C : “Is that an old fashion cookbook, Gran?”

J : “The cookbook may be called ‘old fashioned’, Cass…but the recipes are still quite relevant.”

C : “ But it takes so much time to prepare food from a cookbook.”

J : “ And so it should, Cass..whether food be slow and long to prepare or not, good food…very good food is eternal!”

C.. : “ Mum has a cookbook she uses for the microwave.”

J.. : “ Is that so?..well, I shouldn’t wonder on the meals she must prepare.”

C.. : “ OH, no, Gran…the meals come already prepared, she has to heat them up according to instructions.”

J .. : “Fancy!…modern times…so convienent.”

C..: “ Oh..what is it?” (Cassie smells the moussaka).

J.. : “ Moussaka, my dear..”

C.. : “ Where is that from?..it doesn’t look like the meals mum gets from Foodfast.”

J..: “ Many places, I believe..it is thought to be of Greek origin, but in the cookbook, she says it is from Rumania…tell you what…why don’t you look it up in that phone of yours?”

(Cassie brightens up keen to use it to impress Gran)..

C..: “ Oh…It says on AI that it is from Baghdad..! (she reads) : “Although moussaka is famous as a Greek national dish, it was not invented in that country. A mediaeval book titled ‘A Baghdad Cookery book’ suggests that moussaka originated in the Levant. It contains a musakhkhan recipe similar to that of moussaka. The cookbook was published around the 13th century..”

J..: “ Well…I suppose Ms Fulton’s source must stand corrected…after all, what can one say against AI..? “

(Cassie picks up knife and fork and gazes over dinner setting, replete with water jug, glasses and side plates etc..) This is nice Gran’…I usually eat my dinner in front of the tele’while watching Netflix..”

J.. : “ Be a bit sloppy, I would think…doesn’t the sauce drip off the plate?”

C..: “ Oh no, the food comes in separate serves in its own plastic container.”

J..: “ Oh…like dog food?” (Jonty gazes wide eyed in naïve amazement at Cassie).

C..: “ Oh Gran…not at all..it’s just normal these days..”

J..: “ I think I will stick to the old fashioned way..just like when your mother was young like yourself, Cassie.” (She smiles kindly to Cassie).

(stage darkens to re-light to show Jonty and Cassie sitting in lounge chairs in the next room…Cassie is nibbling some sort of crackers from a snack-pack while she watches the tele…we can’t see what’s on the television, but it is loud, aggressive with flashing lights…Jonty sits side on to the tele, not watching, knitting with needles…)

J : “What’s that you’re watching, Cass?”

C : “Oh..it’s a thriller, Gran..it’s on to the end of episode six!”

J : “Sounds rather exciting..what’s it called?”

C : “…’Rescue from Russia’…lots of action..”

J : “Perhaps I should watch?”

C : “Oh..I don’t think you’d like it Gran…it’s a bit rough..”

(Jeannie stops knitting and looks to Cassie with her eyebrows raised in sardonic surprise)

J : “Oh..You think I have lived such a sheltered, life, Cass?”

C : “Oh, no, Gran…but..but I don’t think it could be as rough as it is nowadays…what with all these wars, terrorists and things..”

J : “There were a couple of wars around back in my days, Cassie…and even around this house here there were moments of touch and go…even back when your mother was a teenager..like yourself…well..perhaps a bit older than yourself..”

C : “Here!?…like we see on tv?”

J : “Certainly…well, it didn’t boil over into actual gunshots, but it came close..back when your grandfather was alive.”

(The television show ends..Cassie turns off the television and moves to sit on a pouffe near her gran..)

C : “ What are you knitting, Gran?”

J : “ Oh..it’s just a tea cosy..it is going to be a koala bear..when I put some stuffing in the head.”

C : “ It looks cute…but who do you knit them for?..I’ve never seen one at my place”.

J : “ It’s for the Auxillary stall…we have one for display and sales down the local shopping mall once every three months.”

C : “ Do people still actually use them, Gran..and why do you do it?”

J : “Oh..I doubt if people do use them for what they are made for, Cass…but people do say they remind them of older times and they buy them for their cuteness or just for show..(Jonty smooths out the knitting and gazes at it in silence)..and there are those who admire the intricate stitching in them..something not practiced much anymore in these faster times.. I make them, Cassie, because in the repetitive stitching and the slow evolving of the finished product, my mind must hold to a strict discipline of keeping and paying attention to the required pattern..it doesn’t do to drop a stitch..a system I suppose I grew with and held as need to stay the distance as I lived throughout my life..and now, at the end, I do it because it is a simple, solid-comfort to myself.”

C : “Anyway..So tell me, Gran..what did happen around here..it sounds exciting!..what was the most thrilling event back in Mum’s teen years?”

(Jonty stops knitting and places the work in her lap and stares at the ceiling thinking..)

J : “Let’s see…Well, there was one rather frightening night that got your grandfather all in a lather because Emily (Cassie’s mother) came home very late and on the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle..your grandfather…Ralph was livid!”

C : “Mum had a biker for a boyfriend?…like..wow!…I didn’t know she had it in her..”

J : “Yes..well..that was Ralph’s worry…and he was part of a group of bikers in those days.”

C : “What..a big fat biker on a Harley Davidson motorcycle?”

J : “Oh no…they weren’t like that in those days..they were quite stylishly dressed as was the fashion of bikers in those days..lots of sharp leather jackets with chrome chains and things..and they rode British motorcycles..like Triumph and BSA..or a Norton if they were intellectual..”

C : “How do you know the motorcycle names, Gran..?”

J : “Well, that’s how many of us youngsters used to get around in those days…motorcycles were the main means of cheaper transport for working people…even Ralph courted me on a Triumph Tiger”…(Jonty smiles condescendingly to Cassie)

C : “So what happened after mum gets home late?”

J : “ Ralph..as I said was livid..(Jonty fusses with her knitting while she regales the tale to Cassie)..He worried about several things, the dangers of riding around with a gang, whether this gang got up to trouble with the law and if his daughter was being promiscuious with her boyfriend..”

C : “Mum!…promiscuious!?…(she snorts) hardly..she evens asks me if her bra-strap is too visible under her gown when she goes out with dad..”

J : “It was the times, Cass…a leftover from older days, older mores..Anyway , when they do finally arrive home, Ralph goes outside to confront the boyfriend and wales into him about disrespecting himself, Ralph as the father..and the lad casually takes off his leather jacket and throws it over the rear-view mirror of the motorcycle..I remember it had an image of a cartoon character of the times painted on the back..and I think he was nicknamed after it..what was it now..Oh yes..”Zeke wolf”..and he was called ‘Zeke’..anyway, he casually says she’s (your Mum) old enough to make her own decisions…and Ralph then makes a decision for himself and clouts the boyfriend about the ear’ole!…well one thing led to another and I had to intervene to separate them rolling about on the front lawn before they did each other some real damage..”

C : “Wow!…what did you do?”

J : “I threatened them with the straw-broom, calmed them down and said to at least go into the house and talk it out, but not make a spectacle on the front lawn…Which we all did..and in the end after much to and fro-ing of blame and excuses and reasons, they shook hands and apologised for the misunderstanding…”

C : “And was anyone hurt?”

J : “ Just their pride…and your Mum’s boyfriend got his shirt near torn off his back..so Ralph had to lend him one his so the lad could at least ride home without catching a chill..”

C : “Oh well..I suppose that was the last mum saw of THAT boyfriend..”

J : “No…not really..he hung around for quite a while after that incident..as a matter of fact, he and Ralph shared an interest in motorcycles right up until Ralph’s death back so many years ago..before you were born.”

C : “Oh…gramps and dad would’ve got along as dad likes old motorbikes..he has one in the garage that he’s restoring..I think that’s called a “Triumph”..”

J : “The boyfriend was a quite handsome chap..and he and Ralph also had an interest in tattoos they talked about…Ralph had a couple he got in the navy when he was in the war..and the boyfriend had one of a cobra snake on his chest,, I saw it that night he had his shirt torn off..”

C : “ Hah!…that’s funny..say..dad has a snake tattoo on his chest too!”

J : “Well, as I say,,the boyfriend hung around for quite a while until Ralph wanted to know what was his intention regarding Emily..And he said his intention..using his own words..;’Was to make an honest woman of her’..Ralph’s temper immediately flared up and then they both laughed at the mischievous slighting and they shook hands…and your mother and the lad eventually got married.”

C : “Oh!…Oh!..so the biker lad.. HE was dad?…Oh..how wonderful…I can’t wait to tease mum!..and dad:…”Zeke”..oh..oh..just imagine what I can do with that!”

J : “But first you are here for the week and please, for Gran’s sake put that phone away and please, hold your tongue until you get back home…for patience really is a virtue..and there’s plenty of time to think about those times and I’ve still got a few more tales I can tell you, but please…use restraint and be civil.. I don’t want any angry blow-back from your parents..AND, I’ve got a whole week’s menu already worked out for us to have a really nice time spent cooking them together…all chosen with love from my “Margaret Fulton Cookbook”.”

(Stage darkens…end of play)

So Smells Defeat.

I confess…I..of the steely disposition have been traumatised..my once confident self image of “Mr Fixit” has been in one fell moment swept into the dustbin of “the delusion of a job-well-done”…no longer can I wave the stem-glass of Chablis with over-exaggerated pinky-finger stretched air of manly conquest as I regale friends (and the Ladies) with my latest mechanical prowess over the machinations of that cursed machine..The Motorcar.

I am defeated!

It all started so innocently as I parked the motor in the parking lot and in stepping out, noticed a slight stream of liquid trailed from behind the parked car…”Was that of my car?” I pondered “or from the last person used the bay?”…a quick inspection under the car (as any right-minded male would do) revealed no sign of a dripping leak, so I passed it off as an outrider of no consequence…you see, I am now going back over what led to the disaster as we drove home in quiet confidence of a shopping venture well completed, with no other worry ahead but to cut and serve the ham and prosciutto (with Greek salad) fresh bought from the market for a light dinner…

Then, out of the blue it happened!

In the middle of heavy traffic, the temperature gauge started to raise…I gave it a pout and a line of wrinkled brow and dismissed it as being a consequence of the slow moving heavy traffic that would, once speeded up cool the radiator and thence the motor. Then once out on the highway, it didn’t go back down (the temperature gauge!) but continued to creep up until a little light came on with a sharp “bing!” and a sign on the dashboard instruments said something like “down powering”…which sounds like the sort of thing a “newspeak” politician would say when kicked out of the front bench…but no, the car sort of played up…but I thought we could nurse it home and tomorrow I’ll fix it.

And it decided to stop completely.

And it wouldn’t start again…stopped out in the countryside miles from nowhere, which in itself is also miles from anywhere..”Oh, it’s overheated…I’ll let it cool a tad, top up the water and we’ll be on our way” I thought..But it was not to be.. The computer in the car said : “NO!”…and that’s it, isn’t it…there’s no room any more for a twist of wire and a snitch with the pliers and back on the road again…never again..and that’s when my manly Mr Fixit crashed…there was absolutely NOTHING I could do..kaput!

This is the thing that hurts most..: I’m a sixties / seventies youth, we had motorbikes, rough cars, many of both that we’d keep on the road with electrical tape and bent wire…because the machines of those times were more “organic”…you rode or drove them in a manner that you were “connected” to the rumbling, vibrating mechanics like our forebears were with their horses and carts…we were an essential part of the mechanics of transport..we lived, talked, slept and ate valves and gaskets and grease and oil…the spark plug was as well known to us as a microbe in a Petrie dish is to a bacteriologist!

But no more..gone..

And I feel responsible for the fact that I didn’t or couldn’t read or even believe the signs of the motor overheating like I used to in the old days when a stream of steam would curl from the bonnet of the car…and I have to admit being lured into a false sense of security with these ultra modern motors, where one is contained in a cocoon completely detached in reality from the vulgar mechanics of the automobile..You can’t hear the motor running, there is a smooth ride that ameliorates any roughness of suspension or ride..there is only filtered air fed into the cabin via airconditioned comfort..and when the small notice comes  when you first turn on the ignition key to say ; “System Check…OK”…you trust it implicitly…why would a machine lie to you?..THIS, is the age of Supra Technology!..it knows best..and when the car did break down and I again turned the key in the ignition, what did that little sign say?…yes..too right ; “System Check…OK”..

BASTARDS!

Also, when you pop the bonnet to check the motor, you are greeted with a ribbed alloy shroud that completely covers the motor making it invisible to the eye, looking for all the world like that “face-hugger” beast from “Alien”, that shrieks ; “Don’t you dare touch…there’s nothing for you here!”…and you know…now, I believe it.

So I called the Roadside service man and this thin sub-continent lad stepped out of his van and straight away said; “I’m sorry, there’s nothing I think I can do”…and the honest man turned out to be as good as his word..and I ask you..what has happened to that legion of mobile roadside RACV etc men who rode around the countryside on motorbike and sidecar as in the promo doccos of that age, looking very ‘Chappy” and only too willing in snow, rain or sleet, to assist? I think, like my own manly confidence, they have gone the way of all the rest of a practical, competently trained and organised society…

“Resistance is futile”…

I give up…I surrender..

Most of the division in the Western Sphere of governance is driven by a perception of entitlement manufactured within and driven on by an exaggerated sense of outraged bourgeois entitlement, an entitlement of material, philosophical and class privilege…and I repeat..: The only contemporary political leader (so far) who dealt successfully with these sanctimonious “entitled” bourgeoisie was Chairman Mao..and look where China is today..The West needs desperately a cultural revolution of its own to cleanse our societies and economies of the upper middle-class gormless bastards!

The Fortune Teller…by Caravaggio..

(The boy looks pleased as he gazes into her face, and she returns his gaze. Close inspection of the painting reveals what the young man has failed to notice: the girl is removing his ring as she gently strokes his hand.)

Conspiracy of duplicity?

There’s something weird going on..been going on for a couple of decades.

In the posting of the story below; “A Notice of Decision”, I was curious enough to look back in my personal files to see that a very similar set of circumstances happened to me as did to “Jack Dahlwitz”…also in another short play down the list a bit further, “Fields of Deceit”, where again, it came to my notice a similar set of circumstances were worked against the father in that story to his detriment…(which by the way, eventually worked out that one of the children, like “Jack’s” daughter, came to live with the father on their own volition). So I became curious as to how these men had rulings made against them via similar accusations and why they were made against them in what circumstances.

There was one particular clause of accusations that figures most prevalent in all cases, and I suspect it is the one most leant upon whenever a divorced couple come to the family court to mediate on custody rights..and it is the one accusation of neglect / cruelty….THAT is the one allegation that is easiest to level at a father as they are always perceived as an “instigator” or a “perpetrator” in any declared domestic conflict..and as many men will nod their head in agreeance here..; “to be accused is to be already condemned”…but strangely, going on the collected statistics, the vast majority of “neglect / cruelty” convictions brought by the authorities have been committed by mothers against their own children!

Since I am neither “Jack” nor “Brian”(the farmer in “Fields of Deceit”), I cannot speak for either of them, but the recorded accusations in the stories tell the same tale..and I did go through a very similar process after my first marriage, and in thinking back on that time now many years ago, and considering the submissions I placed before the female Senior Case Officer, outlining my work and achievements over fifteen years of the relationship, including the construction of our homes, my continuous working life, the shared raising of children etc…I now wonder on the one very pertinent question that case officer ought to have asked herself but appears did not in ruling against myself..and I must conclude also concerning those other two men..: “Why is it so that this Father, after working so much to build, create, facilitate, maintain a safe and comfortable environment AND support his partner and children over their fifteen years of relationship, suddenly, at the end of the marriage, go “off the rails” and then, according to the statements put forward by the ex-wife, desert, neglect, and fail to support his children?”

And to this query, I feel correct in applying that age-old Ciceronian question ; “Cui Bono?”

Yes indeed…”For whose benefit?”..Why a seeming conspiracy to use any state of conflict to enact against the interests of men against women…by women..for women?…could this be an act of vengeful payback by some sort of feminist sisterhood in its striving to “bring down the Patriarchy”?…could this be seen as a personal enactment by women in positions of power to play out their own aggrieved circumstances when they can?..perhaps a “ganging up” on men placed in a vulnerable position because of all of the above?

I don’t know, and I am not going to advocate the case for more gender division, as I am certain that so many men and women have witnessed such seemingly biased decision both for and against BOTH genders that it would be egregious to take sides..BUT I will present below a list of monies distributed to certain lobby groups funded both directly and indirectly through federal government funding..make of them what you will…But I have to ask..: If the “Office For Women” receives several billions of dollars per year to protect them and their children, one is inclined to also conclude; “protect from what or whom…and the obvious answer is : MEN”…so if it is always men who are the alleged trouble, then it stands to reason that to maintain the generous amounts of monies allocated for this danger, it would be fair to assert that it would be in the interests of certain parties to seek out and promote every and any relevant incident, even if using the most vague or obscure details of such incidents that favours such a level of accusation.

(Some of these figures seem a bit ‘rubbery’ to me as I was only able to obtain them via a Google / Ai search…but you can search your own if you please.)

“The Australian Government is investing over $4 billion in women’s safety and gender equality initiatives, with the Office for Women receiving specific funding for coordination and evidence building

. The Office for Women received $3.9 million over four years from 2024-25, plus $1 million annually ongoing, to support whole-of-government coordination on women’s safety. This is part of a broader investment package that includes new funding for frontline legal aid and services to address gender-based violence. 

• Women’s safety: The government has committed $3.4 billion for women’s safety initiatives since October 2022, which includes support under the National Plan to End Violence Against Women and Children 2022–2032.
• Women’s health: The 2024-25 budget allocated $793 million over five years for women’s health, a significant increase that includes funding for cheaper access to contraception and new endometriosis clinics.
• Gender equality: In the October 2022 budget, over $7 million was allocated to support the government’s commitment to gender equality, including funding for Gender Responsive Budgeting and the National Strategy to Achieve Gender Equality.
• Boosting Female Founders Initiative: This initiative provides $52.2 million in grant funding to support female founders in scaling their businesses.
• Housing: The government has directed funds to support housing for women and children fleeing domestic violence, through programs like the $1.0 billion increase to the National Housing Infrastructure Facility and the $10.0 billion Housing Australia Future Fund. “   (Google search)

The other lobby group that has “found its feet” over the last decade and receives substantial funding both direct and indirect that assists it to promote its membership and objectives that challenge the “Male Patriarchy” for many positions in a jockeying for power is the LGBTIQA+ community. Strategically, the Office For Women gives financial and material support.

“ There is no single federal government office responsible for funding all gay and lesbian lobby groups; instead, funding is handled through various departments and programs depending on the group’s specific activities

. For example, community and social cohesion initiatives are managed by the Department of Home Affairs, while support for programs like the Safe Schools Coalition may come through the Department of Education. Additionally, funding for specific research or projects has historically been provided by former offices like the Office of Status of Women. 

Examples of relevant government bodies and programs

Healthcare and health initiatives

• Inclusive Medicare: A new $10 million commitment will support training and accreditation for healthcare providers to improve access to “inclusive, culturally safe primary care” for LGBTQIA+ Australians.
• $13 million grants program: This program aims to scale up dedicated LGBTIQA+ services and initiatives that support the health and well-being of the community.
• Data collection: $2 million will fund the collection of data to help identify priority areas for action in health and wellbeing, based on surveys by La Trobe University.
• Medical research: The Medical Research Future Fund (MRFF) has provided $26 million for research to improve the health of LGBTIQA+ communities. 
•  

Policy and community support

• LGBTIQA+ Equality Component: This ongoing component allocates $20 million over four years to research and develop an action plan on issues like employment, education, and housing that impact LGBTIQA+ people.
• Community-led support: The government has committed funding to community groups and organisations to help them influence policy and priorities.
• Public education: A $10 million public education campaign is planned to promote inclusion and understanding of trans and gender-diverse people. 
•  

Other funding areas

• Community leadership: $10 million in funding is allocated for community leadership development, including training for community leaders and trans and gender-diverse groups.
• Asylum seeker support: $5 million is designated to ensure departmental staff receive adequate training to assess asylum applications from LGBTIQA+ people. 

For men’s health…:

“Federal funding for male support groups in Australia is channeled through broader initiatives rather than specific line items for all groups, though there have been targeted investments. For example, the 2024-2025 budget included “$32 million in targeted men’s health initiatives” for programs like Movember, Men’s Sheds, and other grassroots mental health support

. However, the total amount varies, as funding is allocated to various projects and organizations, with a portion often going to perpetrator-focused services for domestic violence and general mental health services that benefit men. 

Specific funding examples

• Movember: Received $11.3 million to train health workers to better engage with men.
• Men’s Sheds and other mental health support: Expanded funding was provided for grassroots mental health programs, including Men’s Sheds, which operate across Australia.
• MATES (suicide prevention): Received $3 million for its suicide prevention program, which targets fly-in-fly-out and drive-in-drive-out workers who are predominantly male.
• Men’s Referral Service: Received funding to continue its national operation of a counselling and referral service for perpetrators of domestic and family violence. 
•  

Funding breakdown by budget and year

• 2024-2025: The government invested $11.6 million in men’s health, which was part of a larger $32 million in targeted men’s health initiatives.
• 2023-2024: The budget allocated $10.9 million for men’s health. “  (Google search)

(NB. I appreciate the last paragraph above in the men’s section under “Men’s Referral Service”…)

In contrast, lobby groups for men’s health / wellbeing, while indeed receiving funding from the federal government, would seem to have to not just “sing for its supper” in comparison, but have do some pretty fancy hoofing footwork to get a modicum of proceeds…but hey!…surely that’s because men are always the “guilty party” and so less deserving of consideration.

(Afterword..: This article reflects only the author’s opinions and experience, and I do, of course acknowledge the reality that males constitute the majority of the guilty parties in cases of violent domestic crimes..however, in light of recent murders reported here in the antipodes where women have been the perpetrators, it is encouraging to see that some have broken through the “glass ceiling” and are now confident enough in their own right to join their male confederates in letting their imaginations “live out” their own particular criminal fantasies.)

A Notice of Decision.

Made under Part 6A of the Child Support (Assessment) Act 1989.

Applicant:                                       Ms. Dahlwitz.

Respondent:                                  Jack Dahlwitz.

Date of Conference:                     November 2002.

[I have found that at least one reason for departure from the administrative assessment of child support has been established and consequently must now consider whether a change to the assessment would be ;

• Fair (just and equitable) to the children and both parents; and
• Fair to the community .

In light of my findings on the reasons explained, I am of the view that a significant reduction in the annual rate of child support from Ms Dahlwitz would be appropriate and that Mr Dahlwitz has a greater capacity to contribute…I also note that Mr Dahlwitz has chosen to expend money on an overseas holiday, which is inconsistent with the expectation that the needs of his children take priority over other expenses…]

This was the closing explanation of a conference concerning the amount of child support Jack Dahlwitz was to either give or receive after his marriage was dissolved. There followed in the file in his possession, what he considered a retinue of double-speak, double standards and outright rubbish that allowed the female case officer to rule in favour of his ex…not that he contested the application (he didn’t even attend the “conference”, but relied on personal documentation to put his case) nor the decision…he expected no better from what he saw and had learned experience from other tradesmen who had been “scalped” by the Agency…..BUT…he did write a “Personal Letter” reproduced, as he states ; “here for whom so ever would care to be enlightened of the “other side” of the divide” ( Jack continues)..

“You can take it as it is written..I offer no excuses nor apologies for the sentiment contained in that letter from 2002…of course, I have had to censure names and titles etc..Be certain that I am NOT advocating myself as some sort of culture warrior for men, both genders have much to answer for..but I am, like so many fair-minded men AND women, fed up with the rubbish seemingly endlessly dumped on fathers in general”…

Ms. Mxxxxxxx Cxxxxxx,

Senior case officer..Child support agency.

“This is not an application for reassessment of the “Notice of Decision” that you made regarding child support between myself and my ex-spouse, rather, it is a personal letter to hopefully enlighten you to the realities of the situation for myself and many other working fathers in the same situation as mine. I was most distressed with your judgment that; “Mr Dahlwitz does have an earning capacity greater than $xxxx per year.”….also the thinly veiled comment that I was hiding my real earnings for the year because of the fact that I had sold my house and taken my daughter, (the same daughter that you so criticize myself for “neglecting”)..my fiancé and my mother for a holiday to England and bought myself a second-hand car. Yes, I sold my house…because I could no longer afford the payments on it, since my ex-spouse had taken illegal custody of the children and forbidden them to even go to see me…and reported the situation to Centerlink as though it was a mutual decision, not a legal one… I went on my own accord to admit to Centerlink that it was the case that the children did not stay with me 50% of the time and therefore they had to cut me off the  “pension education supplement”, resulting in the decision to sell my house!…Centerlink swiftly and apologetically reversed the decision when I challenged my “ex” after she kicked our daughter out of her house, not once, but twice! and she (my daughter) came to live with me. However, I could not live under such a precarious financial position, with my “ex” and her lawyers circling me like so many Indians around a wagon-train. if my comment “Invested the money in enjoyable commodities” appeared to you a little cavalier, it was meant sarcastically  (I obviously failed in this respect!), because of the fact that after so many years of hard slog, all I had to show was a piffling amount of cash!

However, I really did not expect too much of your department, hence my tongue-in-cheek seriousness to the whole damn thing! if you feel insulted by this comment, consider ; how many and various were the amounts of payment that were over time mooted about (and still I haven’t received a penny!). Consider ; the fact that you had no problem accepting Ms. “Dahlwitz’s” unproven assertions and how eager you seem to embrace any excuse to censure mine! Consider ; your comment ; “ I am of the opinion that he has the capacity to make a greater financial contribution towards the needs of (my daughter)….” It is of no wonder I feel that the “Chardonnay Set” has again sanctimoniously delivered a judgment biased both toward gender and class! Gender ; because I know my “ex” and her wily ways, and I can read in her application all the guile and jargon of the “poor-woman-victim-me” in its insinuations…her “abandoned”, and here was that evil man ; “running off to Europe with his new love…oh! the shame of it!…” etc,etc….”deserting his responsibilities ..(which in fact you yourself reinforced with your value-judgements)”…and the plight of self-sacrificing study and work and debts incurred because of… Well let me tell you ; me-ol’-china!…My ex-wife has been “studying” since I first met her, seventeen-odd years ago…everything from massage to management…. child-psychology to clinical naturopathy…self-enlightenment to self-empowerment…small business practices to the minding of everyone else’s business..she has never stopped studying!…and I worked, as stated..: The “good little worker”…the “good father”…I built our TWO family houses..one after the other..literally from the ground up…not contractors, not subbies..ME…and while working full-time in the building trade…and looking after the children while madam pursued her “enlightenment”…but you didn’t see that in the application, did you?… not from me nor certainly from my ex. Any report on the responses from working fathers would show a certain unwillingness to “whinge” on the imbalance suffered by these men. But then, maybe the “chardonnay set” doesn’t want to read such a report….maybe such a report doesn’t exist! …I wouldn’t be at all surprised, a lot of working men that I speak to are loathe to air their grievances to the general public…. cop it sweet… is more the order of the day. As a matter of fact, I would not even have written to you , save meeting my “ex” down the street and having her admonish (yes : admonish!) me with the sentence : “There was a lot of serious insinuation in that [notice of] decision, and I trust you will take heed of them”. Well, sister, here I am, you tell me the insinuations!…You tell me that I haven’t done my “bit” to support my children!…You tell me that I have the capacity to make a far greater financial contribution to the upkeep of my children…Both of you…ALL of you smug, self-satisfied, well-paid, free educated, well-placed intellectuals tell us working fathers that we have reneged on our responsibilities….And then castigate us for attempting to gain an education so we can climb out of the work-sleep-work cycle. And there is the class prejudice! it’s fine for My wife to spend years and a small fortune of the family’s funds dithering around in the miasma of sometimes dubious educational institutions, but when the worker tries (and I applied for university entry before we separated and after we had finally gained free-hold on our property…. and THAT, only possible because of the houses I had built before) to gain an education, he is a slacker, a malingerer…. no, sorry, I don’t accept your judgement….I don’t appreciate your inference, and I don’t respect your middle-class attitude. No, I don’t have an axe to grind, What I say is the reality of the situation and I care little what you think on the subject. But like I said, I would not even have written to you except for the fact of my “ex” using your decision comments as justification for her own smugness. A smugness that I had to tolerate most of the years of our marriage. I and a lot of fathers in the same situation expect little or nothing from your dept’!

If I appear angry in this missive, it is because I am… Angry for all us working fathers that have had to endure the slights of a society that would have better aimed its darts to that class of men and women that really did and does continue to malign and oppress those that try to do a good job of raising their families! And finally on the subject of my children…My daughter is with me FULL-TIME and I am of the opinion that it won’t be long before my son is also with me (on his own accord). And I will, as in the past, continue to house, feed and encourage them on their journey through life.

Sincerely..MOST sincerely.. Jack Dahlwitz.”

Casper David Friedrich..1825-1830.

Night Messages.

#4 : The Writing Blog.

Christopher Corridini writes and posts a controversial short story on a social media blog, which elicits some controversial commentary from the “in house cabal”.

Noel Bourke..

Corridini, I’ll give you the tip, Henry Lawson, you are not. A fluffy bit of fantasy writing, maybe, but far from believable.

Corridini replies to Noel..:

”Corridini, I’ll give you the tip, Henry Lawson, you are not.”……Why, thank you Noel…I’ll pass that on the next time I meet Henry….”Henry”..I’ll say..”I’ve had the good oil from Cyril Connerly’s understudy that YOU are so much the superior writer than I…….like another drink, bro’?”

Now fuck off, Noel..

K-Leigh..

Corridini…If we put our writing up on a public post, we are inviting comment and criticism. If you can’t take it, then you don’t have to do it. But as Tich pointed out, we rely on donations and readers to keep going. We must be mindful of that. On your own blog, you can do as you please. Here, we try to get along. That doesn’t mean we all agree but we try to be civil.

Corridini replies to K-Leigh..

Passive aggressive at its best

Tich Tailer.

K is right, Corridini.

Coral and I pay good money for someone to promote our articles. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t get the traffic that we do. And without the traffic … we don’t earn the money that goes towards the site’s costs.

Telling a commenter to eff off undermines the work – and money – it takes to bring the commenters here.

Corridini to Tich..

Tich…that “Noel Bourke” did NOT give legitimate criticism…he was just trying to be a smart-arse…surely you have knocked about the sticks long enough to know that..and if HE is the type of reader and commentator you want on the site, then you are lowering both YOUR standards and the site’s standard.

I might add that the petty critique he did offer was of such churlish miserableness, it wouldn’t qualify for a primary school reward star!…such a person with so mean a hand ought not be encouraged…surely?

Personally, I wouldn’t value such low capabilities as a wanted commentator…he’d desert you and the site as soon as you confronted him…but that’s your call…you know how I feel about those sort of people.

Kerri..

This is the real issue with Corridini’s writing: it lacks coherent argument. This makes           for frustrating reading and no doubt frustrated comments.

A good writer knows what they want to say and then they say it. Saying one thing then writing about another entirely unrelated thing is sloppy and self indulgent. Even the most creative writer understands this: refer to Lawson’s poem: its one theme from start to finish.

I agree with Rosemary he would be better off with a Blog or at the very least some heavy editorial reviewing before publication. This will help the author as well as the reader.

Viking Duk..

Once again and for the last time, l’ve had it confirmed why I delete Corridini (the ego has landed).. Corridini dribbles, unread. That legend in his own headspace to me is just another pretentious wanker. So Corridini, please fuck off.

Apologies to administrators, etc., writers and commenters usually don’t piss me off to this extent, so no more, straight to the bin goes Corridini.

Corridini replies to them all..

You bastards are just shitty because this chap; “Corridini” ..a “fuckin’ dago”, has more of an idea of the cultural idiosyncrasies of Australian society then you Anglo’ know-alls..AND can get them down in writing…screw you all!

Enough is enough..

It didn’t take too many posts on this article to see where it is going…My original comment has been vivisected, quoted out of context and extrapolated via the strangest segue into an attack on posters here in general…one can get the slightest feel of the proverbial “nigger” surrounded by a lynch mob.

But to be in the final case asked why I was attacking the site..: “ I can’t quite understand why you were “only defending yourself.” Wasn’t it you who came in first, arguing that we should expect “aggressive attack” and putting forward a case for it?”…..This selective twisting of the whole “argument” of my original on-topic discussion post has to take the cake…and could be placed on page as the perfect example of cognitive dissonance.

And with the moderators in general…indeed..I would say even in a “love-in” familiarity with each other, I have no possible case that I could plead without in-situ prejudice…and now I cannot be bothered to..

So I must say goodbye to those friends I have gained on this site…and rest assured, I leave not because I feel defeated..because as I have before stated..I could take on ALL my detractors here in word for word debate with “one pejorative tied behind my back”…

No..I leave because I can see within the psyches of those detractors that infectious essence we all have witnessed in pictures of crowd panic and fear…all in the defence of their own precious “identity politics”..”I’M an individual, you can’t fool ME!”..you disgrace yourselves and I will not allow myself to become infected by such low cowardice.

Roswell :

I was disappointed by Corridini’s response.

I can’t think of one person here that he has ever shown respect to.

This site would be better off without him.

Corridini, take that as a warning. It’s up to you.

Corridini to Roswell.

Roswell…I believe you are an American….the habit of sucking-up to those in a position of  wealth and power and the habit of those in power using their position to oppress and demand the “toeing-the-line” is a thing most desirable..I believe..of your countrymen…here in Australia, it is called “crawling”…as in “crawling to the boss”…and in THIS country, there was and I would still hope there is a deep resentful aversion to the individuals who would “tug his forelock” to the boss and ” go crawling” to maintain his job…so in the spirit of such a great Aussie tradition, may I just say to you for your threat… GO AND GET FUCKED!

Lovo.

G’day Roswell, crikey mate 😮 I would suggest, and this is only a suggestion, that you leave Corridini’s last comment “up” for all to see…..mm.

Roswell.

I will, LOVO.

But it may be the last time he’s commenting here.

Leefe.

How is insisting that men be held accountable for their behaviour “getting bogged down in identity politics”?

Corridini to Leefe.

Leefe..you just did the remarkable thing of both asking and answering your own question in a one line sentence…I take it back….there’s a brilliant mind working away there…somewhere.

Tich Tailer.

“Your threat and my response is going straight up on the Twitter platform”.

I take that as a threat to me.

Corridini replies to Tich, et al.

I’m thinking of this blog like a cabaret room…not one of those smokey, East-end vaudeville halls, but rather like one of those big, flashy Las Vegas cabaret halls, “The Big Room”, where you have the regular performers and every now and then Tich brings on a “guest writer” …a big hitter for the week…like Dr. V.. or George T… …or another…and there we all are struttin’ our stuff “on the boards” before a mostly appreciative audience..

And then there are the blow-ins come in from the gambling halls…the tired public…done their dosh on the craps table or perhaps the poker machines…and clutching in desperation in their hands the “complimentary drink” of cheap whisky and soda…on ice, they come to slake their disappointment and frustration on the house by heckling the performers..The guys, I like to imagine, with the receding forehead hairline but the lengthening skanky ponytail, and that leather jacket that looked all the goods on Thin Lizzy back in the seventies..but not so snazzy now..The gals with their gold-lame’clutch-bags and Avon’d eyes “lookin’ for Mr. Goodbar”…but in a vegan sort of way…all out for as good a time as they can get in these halls of voluminous gowns and wordy loquaciousness…and it isn’t long before you hear the heckled cry…: “You can’t sing a bar like Frankie!! (Sinatra)”….and they look around them for support while laughing that hollow laugh of the losing gambler……..But hey..it’s all good..because regardless of the fears of losing the audience, it’s a known fact that the public will always come back for a good show!

So let the Maestro strike up the band and let the good times roll….I’m feeling lucky!

Bronte.

Well said, as usual Corridini! Please do not stop writing your excellent “diary” entries, at least as long as you are physically able to anyway! Always enjoy your thoughts etc.

Corridini’s last comment to them all.

Thanks for your support, Bronte…but alas…this will be the last post that I will place here…that stupid comment from Tich put the kybosh on my patience with the low wit and intolerance that I have experienced from so many cruds on this site..and now, what with the clamoring for blood from the ball-cutters here, I can only shivver in dread of exposure of my verbal, sexual fumblings as a seventeen year old trying to …like Peter Sarsted [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kb5nPD7V3U4 ]…discover what it was that those ladies were hiding under their clothes!….and now, with what I can only believe that any young male would approach with worrying fear and trepidation the hidden delights of female erotica..there will be more than enough women reaching their mid-twenties with their hymen still intact to be able to claim the next virgin-birth and we can ALL await with breathless anticipation the second coming of Christ to once again lift us males AND females to some sort of abstintential Valhalla!…

Me…FUCK!…I miss the seventies!..

Night Messages.

#5 : The Evil Eye (Malocchio).

Dear Eloise, sorry I haven’t written sooner because I have been helping Franco crush the grapes and make the wine and we have to do it before the cold weather sets in.

I am sitting here in the dark tonight writing this email with only a small lamp near me, as I don’t like telling these things too much and I know the rest of the family doesn’t like it either..They are very superstitious over here in the villages and don’t mention things that upset or disturb what they believe are malignant spirits. The church and the priests do not figure that much in these deeper superstitions as I suspect they go way back to the Pagan days.

Even now, sitting here at the table, I feel there is something watching me from the dark corners of the room…ready to pounce should I write something too revealing.

I wouldn’t have believed it myself when I first came here to live, but now, after thirty years, I too shy away from denying that there is something in these dark stories.

Anyhow, since you ask out of innocent interest and since you are my sister, I am writing this to let you know about the “Malocchio” (Evil eye) that they do here, or take it away, also headaches, warts, etc. is that anyone can learn it but to be able to use it, the chosen person has to be given the mystic words by an old women that knows it to a younger one on midnight of Christmas Eve, and then the old woman can’t do it anymore. So that’s how it’s passed on.

 To test if someone has been cursed, they do it by passing a bowl of water that has been dropped a few drops of olive oil in and blessed three times (here three times is used for everything, or three or five or seven, always odd, never even number, because even numbers are bad luck) and then pass the bowl of blessed water over the head of the person three times saying the mystic words, then set the bowl down and see if the oil drops disappear, if so you have a Malocchio. Then they see after a while what the oil drops form. For example, if it forms a necklace ( the drops one after the other) they say a woman gave you the Malocchio if it forms a mashile (male) thing it’s a man that did it.

Anyone can give a Malocchio even by saying nice things. For example; if you see a baby and say ; ” What a lovely baby” you have to say ” Benedict” Which means bless him or her, otherwise you will give them the Malocchio. And babies are very subject to the Malocchio. If somebody is doing the sauce, wine or other food things you have to say ” San Martino” to them otherwise the sauce etc. will go bad. And they say that you made it go off because you didn’t say San Martino.

We change our wine over on San Martino’s day otherwise the wine turns upside down and goes off.

I have a lot of stories of bad witchcraft that the people have told me and also some true ones. I have one of what happened to Franco when he had a very big wart taken away by a witch from San Benedito. It’s something out of this world, I have got it written down so I will sent you a copy of it, also other stories. I will send them by post as they are too long to write by email. By the way, dad had a cousin at Pescara that was a really bad witch, so I will write about her too.

Well bye for now, say hallo to Brian for me. Hoping you are both well as we are here. Love, Geneveve…

Night Messages..#6.

Random poems from Twitter (of 140 characters or less).

 1)          4 AM.

4 am. I lay warmly abed,

 Rain raps its staccato fingers impotently on the glass

 And my sleeping lady lies naked next to me.

 Croesus’ riches r but nought.

*

2)          Little dreams of a moth.

I have little dreams,

They are quiet and shy.

I dream of primrose days

And the patterned wings of butterflys…

Sometimes I dream of thee,

And sometimes I dream of us,

But come the Primrose light of day

My dreams fall back to dust.

But when next I lay abed,

Eyes clos’d by night’s velvet glove,

Return to me quiet dreams,

My shy dreams..

My dreams of sylth’n love.

*

3)         How do I declare that to thee,
What is natural as leaf to tree?
As close a bond as river to reed,
As smile to laughter!
Yourself , my need.

*

 4)          The cold claws into the bone,

Hollows the heart,

Freezing the home.

Must needs warmth like a summer’s day,

A lover’s frolic in new-cut hay!

*

5)          The mirror tells its secret tale,

What is REALLY YOU will prevail,

When all may not be as it seems,

The really you will haunt my dreams.

*

6)         China girl, shy thy eyes,

Lest thy soul I do surmise.

Cherry lips; silk fan eclipse,

Tho’ heart-face turn aside,

Womanly beauty cannot hide.

*

7)          ‘Neath dark root of Mallee tree,

Quite hid there for  history,

Things thou will never see:

Pots & poems and chipperee

Secreted there of you by me.

*

8)          Poetry chess between you and me.

You open; Ruy Lopez,

I counter shiny knight.

PLAY!

Until our pieces  do finally see

Checkmate to thee or me.

*

9)          I held a bird with broken wing,

No more to fly, tender thing.

Put it down or leave it go?

Let nature deal the final blow?

Yet in its small, frightened eye,

A touch of myself do I espy,

Who am I to refuse it balm,

When never has it done me harm?

Why not, with helping touch,

Can I not relieve its hurt,

And with tender love & care,

Will it not sing once more its air?

“It will not fly” you c’ld say,

And does a tree run away?

And does the oyster glued to rock,

Not wait with patience for its food?

So this bird, broken now,

Us together shall allow,

Some moments when we shall share,

A little of life’s splendid air.

*

10)          Would pebble fall,

From spire so high,

As swift as tear from my eye?

As soft as song from my lips

As deep as a love fade into eclipse?

*

11)         Through a glass darkly,

I see her face;

Feel her arms in warm embrace,

I see her eyes,

Cherry-red lips,

Tho’ thru’ dark glass as near I get.

*

12)          Morning, Karen…a tad sad today..

“One of us is gone,

Goodbye old mate..

Errol..

U keep open Heaven’s Gate,

We’ll see you there..old mate.”

*

13)          Portrait pictures, side by side,

many years between,

Time and tide.

Her lips not now so soft,

Eyes not so wide.

So much ebb between time and tide.

*

14)            What has one gained

When a tally done?

Are pelf and possessions

Worthy of time gone?

If a smile is lost

And bright eyes grow dun.

*

15)          I once loved a girl,

(We both were young).

Eyes so sweet, bodies so strong.

Cruel time has left a memory,

But the girl I loved is yesterd’y.

So I am now clasped in a hold,

I cannot stay young,

Dare not grow old.

But cannot stop feeling

What my heart  be told.

Was life,

And all its promises,

But a Judas kiss !

*

16)          I am a collector of souls ,

I hear people talk ; I ken,

I see what they write,

And I collate,

I am the watcher on the rim of a far horizon.

*

17)          Croissants /coffee,

REAL coffee..& morn’

Magpies thrill, Galahs shrill,

Chooks chortle.

There’s an egg there somewhere.

Ahh sweet, sweet life!

*

18)          Eyes of a woman they do betray,

Sweet laughter lost in antic hay.

A smile as wide as a long white cloud,

My random thoughts I think aloud.

And when my thoughts are of thee,

The strangest thoughts come to me.

An open sky of azure blue,

Open sky, sunshine and me and you.

Let’s fly away!

*

19)           A shaft of sun through the Parthenon glows,

Upon a wild, white Athens rose.

The blossom of that tender bush,

Is tinged at heart with a gentle blush,

When held, ‘tis said, ‘tween lovers fingers twined,

Would, with age-old chant, their voices bind;

“Oh Sun who gives the blush to thee,

     Grant her cheeks may blush for me,

And with the passing of this day,

     Grant the wish I wish I may.”

*

20)          My hair is silver,
My eyes still shine,
Each part o me,
Is a part o thine;
I am the earth, the trees, the vine,
Drink of me, heart sublime!

*

21)           In each of us there is that twist,

That in the end will come to this.

No matter the culture, the mother, the art,

Each to each,

Heart to heart.

*

22)           Could love play a richer tune,
Upon the strings of a harp in June,
When summer at its fullest height,
Doth bathe a world in sweet delight!

*

23)          Were I to fling a cry so high,
Into the vast, open mallee sky,
Would thou hear, by and by,
Like a memory,
A faintest echo,
A longing sigh?

*

24)          In this world of hue & cry,
Is peace within you or I,
A silence of the soul divine,
A chant of song so sublime.
Hearty rich as red, red wine.

*

25)          I lay words upon a blank, white page,

As been done upon an age,

Wither such be wise or no,

Best you judge when I go.

Prithee more than; I don’t know.

*

26)          None will sing thee

Songs like I..

No-one to whisper;

“To Eternity!”

Never to see in thy sweet face,

Such Tranquil peace of time and place.

*

27)          Is each of us an idea,

Of what we wish to be; a

Face, body, wealthy King

Gold crown w/fat jewel ring…?

In the end I am but I

MY jewel of mine own eye.

Out of the shadows…Edward Hopper.

Night Messages.

#1; Michael and Meghan.

The muted hum of “incoming call” burred on the mobile phone on the bedside cabinet, the soft glow of the phone lit up a middle-aged woman’s sleepy face half covered with dangling bangs of blonde, tangled hair.

“ Y’what?” Meghan breathed, already recognising the profile pic illuminated.

“I just wanted to say thank you for the delightful dinner date tonight..I really enjoyed it”.

“Oh…ok, Michael…I’m glad you had a good time…” she sleepily responded..there was a weary pause in her reply, then; “I had a good time too.”

“Did you REALLY!…oh that’s so good…first dates can be rather difficult to get through.”

“Difficult?” the woman had woken up a bit more at this comment..”I don’t think I was “difficult”…”

“Oh no!…not YOU…I mean …in general…you know, not knowing the other person..the conversation can be a bit…wooden…if you know what I mean?”

“I suppose that depends on how many first dates you been on…”

“Yes, I suppose so…but with online dating, one DOES get to meet quite a few women”.

“Quite a few??…How many HAVE you met?”

Michael could see he had ventured into troublesome waters , so ameliorated his reply so as not to give credence to a perceived Svengali-like personality.

“About the average for a person my age….online that is..They don’t always come to fruition in the real world.”

Meghan had recovered from the annoyance of being disturbed from her much valued sleep, and felt piqued enough to give some cheek.

“About the only thing “wooden” in our conversation was that flitch in your trousers when you jumped up at the table!….by the way..sorry for spilling the drink on them..”

“Yes..gosh!…do you think the waiter noticed?”

“Luv’…the brunette two tables away noticed enough to raise her eyebrows!..Was it the chicken schnitzel aroused you, or were you just happy to see me…Say..what are you hiding down there, the Saratoga Trunk?”

“The what?”

“Never mind…it’s a movie from the war years..called “The Saratoga Trunk”…just an analogy of no connection”.

“You’re a complicated one, Meghan…complicated but very interesting”.

Meghan was starting to wonder on the value of Tinder Dating…where have these people been all their lives?…have they no knowledge of the accumulated trivialities of living information?..

“No..pretty simple really, it’s the world around me that is complicated..I’m a bit like a crossword puzzle, you just fit the correct letters into the right squares and bang!…I’m solved”.

“There…that’s what I mean…I don’t really get what you’re referring to.”

“Well…it IS a bit late…no…EARLY!.. in the day for me to get my thinking hat on, so I might be talking a lot of rot….hey!…why are you ringing me at this ungodly hour for anyway?..A lady’s got to get her beauty sleep, you know…”

“Oh..yes..sorry…I was just laying here thinking of our dinner last night….thinking of you…I…I just wanted to hear your voice again.”

“My voice…what’s the attraction in my voice?”

“Oh…it has that soft purring tone about it that says; ‘sophisticated woman’..confident..in control..sort of husky-sexy tone .”

Meghan suddenly stopped Welsh-combing her hair at Michael’s admittance..and winced one eye in suspicious curiosity..

“Michael…?” she cautiously inquired..”Why are you awake in your bed..I presume you are in bed…and wanting to hear my voice at this hour of the night?”

“Why?….well…I like…your voice…the sound of it…it has…a warm…edge to it…” Michael was breathing these words out in a rhythmic, measured, distracted manner as he spoke..the implication was not lost on a woman as savvy of the ways of men as Meghan had grown to be.

“What are you doing, Michael?” she cautiously asked.

“ME…?” Michael replied a little too quickly “Me……..nothing…nothing at all..”

“Then send me a pic of you laying there….NOW!…”

“Why?”

“Cause I’d like you to…but it has to be right now…just as you are…”

There was a lengthy silence at the end of the line, like Michael was coming to grips with his situation and whether this new friendship with the woman on the other end of the line could tolerate such an indiscretion..He thought for a moment before coming to the conclusion that people their age had just about “seen it all” anyway, and indeed, hadn’t Meghan just that evening at the dinner table confidently said as much?…He decided to proceed with Meghan’s request..He focused the phone camera on the relevant point of interest and pushed the button…there was a flash of light and the pic was taken..Michael checked the photo to see if it showed the proportions of the object of interest in a favourable light, and nodding his head in self-admiration, clicked the “share” button on the face of the phone.

The only response from Meghan before she suddenly severed the conversation at her end of the line was a shocked…”Jehoshaphat!!”…

Night Messages.

#2: Mother.

The mobile phone in the deep pocket of Sophie’s uniform hummed it’s demand for attention, she extracted it and checked who was calling..she was on the point of pressing the dismiss button, but changed her mind at such a futile gesture as Sophie was only too aware that the caller would persist until she answered.

Sophie swiped the phone and pressed it to her ear.

Janine : She’s wanting to know again, Sophie.

Sophie : Can’t talk now, Jan…at work.

Janine : She’s here now with Danny. They’re both on to me.

Sophie : I’ll call you later…busy.

(Pause of quarter an hour……..phone rings again..)

Janine : They’re still here and won’t leave when I ask.

Sophie : Make them go away, Janny..it’s in your power to make it happen.

Janine : Yes, I know what the therapist said, Sophie, but she won’t listen to me.

Sophie : I can’t deal with this now, Jan, the boss is watching.

Janine : Alright…..but she’s your mother too!….and your brother!

(Pause of half an hour……..phone rings again..)

Sophie : Alright, Jan..I’m on my break..now what’s happening?

Janine : Oh, I’m so glad you’re here, Soff’ , Mum’s on again about “Where’s my pearl earrings?”

Sophie : You know where they are, I got them home..I had to get one pearl replaced.

Janine : It’s not me you should tell, it’s mum.

Sophie : I can’t tell her that….(a pause)…..I no longer can see her.

Janine : She’s here now…with Dan’ .

Sophie : Let her look at your phone and I’ll text her.

Janine : She won’t look….you know she hates modern technology.

Sophie : I can’t deal with this, Jan…I…I just can’t deal with this…..you KNOW mum died eight years ago!

A pause…….

Sophie : And Danny, five……

Janine : Their presence is here with me…they’re always with me.. If only she didn’t have that heart attack and Danny his accident..

Sophie : She died with dementia, Jan…and Danny was a raging queen who got HIV!…

A pause….long silence….

Sophie : You have to get used to the fact that they’re both gone, Janny.

Janine : NO!…Amara at the Spiritual Connection says their presence is very strong in me.

Sophie : Amara is a fake ‘Medium’…she would say that!

Janine : That’s not true..she helps so many people down the Centre to connect with loved ones.

Sophie : Well if they are such loved, why do they need an intermediary to “connect” ?

Janine : Amara has the power, she’s a recognised medium.

Sophie : How do you recognise a medium?

Janine : Huh!?

Sophie : They’re halfway between loopy extreme and subversive loopy….

Janine : Well, I don’t think you’re funny, Soff…

A pause……

Janine : I told Mum and Danny your “joke”…they liked it and they laughed and laughed.

Sophie : Smoko’s over now, Janny…I gotta go back to work…see you later.

Janine : Hang on!…What’ll I tell Mum and Danny?

Sophie : about what?

Janine : The pearl earrings…she keeps saying; “where’s my pearl earrings?”

A pause…..

Sophie : Tell her I’ll drop them around to you tomorrow morning after my shift.

Janine : Oh, thank you so much, Soffy…you’re always such a help…I’ll see you then.

Sophie : Put the kettle on an’ brew me a cuppa..

Janine : I have a nice cake here ready for you too..Oh, you’re such a treasure, Soffy..

Sophie : Yeah, Yeah….I know…I’m a real sucker for punishment!

Night Messages.

#3 : The Poet and The Punisher.

“Words fall from our lips like cherry-stones into waste-bins..

Words of no serious content nor of any consideration..

Without wisdom, we are but drones,

Without emotional feelings we are but beasts of the fields.”

Poet : What do you reckon?

Punisher : Dunno..I’m not that much into poetry.

Poet : Yeah, but does it ‘read well’ ?

Punisher : I don’t get what you mean by “read well”…I can read it alright, but it’s just a comment…like so many others here on social media.

Poet : Sure..but do the words make you concentrate on their meaning?

Punisher : Oh give it a rest will you, I told you..I’m not the romantic type, nor am I that emotional about things..

Poet : Well I find that rather unbelievable, considering the type of ‘punishment’ you deliver to your clients.

Punisher : Well you better believe it…I deliver a caning to their buttocks with cold, hard efficiency WITHOUT the least measure of empathy.

Poet : Sweet Jesus!…I can just picture it!…talking of which, I would love to see you dressed in your ‘Madam Lash’ costume…send me one?

Punisher : Oh, ‘allo…the “boy” likes to adventure into the shady world of erotica now, does he?

Poet : I have nothing against erotica, as a matter of fact, I believe it is an essential for the healthy function of both body and soul.

Punisher : Christ!…don’t go getting all philosophical on me, I have a greater belief in the harsh world of practical realities, and when the client says “harder”, believe me, I deliver!

Poet : Hmmm……Do you wear leather gear?

A pause…….

Poet : Sally..I just received your..”gift” if I may call it that..to myself, such beauty given with sensual intent to me..to only me..it is a gift supreme..a gift I have no appropriate words of gratitude for…I could only swoon at the erotic pleasure..

Punisher : Oh God!…you DO lay it on….but thank you anyway…my pleasure.. now goodnight.

A pause till next night.

Poet : “Good evening, Sally…I hope you slept well today…I have to say you took me by surprise last night..I came as usual to see your “night-night” farewell and there was your delightful gift shining into my eyes like a full moon in clear skies..it took my breath away I must say…and yes…yes..I did open the pic up for a quick and hungry glimpse..and yes…I did kiss it!..and admire it…as I will always now..such a sight of pure beauty!”

Punisher : Don’t get too wound up…I am only doing this while it amuses me..I’ve never been serenaded by a poet before…so send me some to flatter me some more.

Poet : A shaft of sun through the Parthenon glows,

Upon a wild, white Athens rose.

The blossom of that tender bush,

Is tinged at heart with a gentle blush,

When held, ‘tis said, ‘tween lovers fingers twined,

Would, with age-old chant, their voices bind :

“Oh Sun who gives the blush to thee,

     Grant her cheeks may blush for me,

And with the passing of this day,

     Grant the wish I wish I may.”

Is this alright?

Punisher : Nice….Nice…Yes, I think THAT is me…in every sense of the words.

Poet : My stumbling, bumbling words do no justice to the beauty of that image you have sent me, Sally…how does one tell of the personal warmth ignited in me with such a gift…I treasure it and hold it to utmost privacy…it is a beauty above so many others….I worship the thought that produced it..Your long, blonde hair falls just right….I will spend long moments dwelling over those curves…

Punisher : Speaking of curves, I want your opinion of something I just bought.

Poet : Sure…but I am really not a good judge of either fads or fashions, so whatever it is I will give my best appraisal.

Punisher : I brought this body-suit yesterday..do you think it fits me well?..I worry if my full breasts are squeezed too tight into the black body suit…the zipper was only just able to control the force of my mamm’s…and they look like they are trying to escape!…Should I try a white body-suit instead?

A pause…..a long pause…

Poet : Against such a force that God hath created, the humble zipper has but feeble chance of containing any shred of modesty…I salute God…and I salute YOU..Sally.

Punisher : I’ll take that as an approval…

Poet : I truly believe that erotica is a thing contained within a person…and pictures of the body are but gateways by which to enter to that pure emotion.. I have opinions on that creation of the erotic moment…

Punisher : Actually, I like what you say there, and I’ll keep that in mind the next time I cane a client.

Poet : The crux of erotica is an art form of psychologically implanted beauty..A beauty perfected in the imagined process of the creating of an erotic moment.. One looks to the image..and one imagines the thinking that went into the making of that image.. The subject deciding just what image she wishes to show to the camera and the viewer..and here there is pause enough while the voyeur re-creates in their imagination, the actions of the subject model..Having decided, she prepares her clothing..undressing or putting certain sensual clothing on..the choosing how much flesh to show…what part or whole of sexual organ to allow to be seen…then the preparation for the camera angles..light..the adjusting of breasts or buttocks for best image..adjusting the lace cloth to cover that most pure part of a woman’s genitalia.. what can be described as the “personal touch” of creative erotica……..all this is contained in a swift imagined cameo playing out in continuous loop in the voyeur’s mind…and in that imagined preparation, the experienced male can “join the dots” to see quite clearly those hidden delights of the sexual woman judicially and temptingly covered for the erotic photograph…so the two dimensional image becomes three-dimensional “reality”…a silent sigh of pleasure and delight……take my breath away….take my breath away…oh woman, thy pure delight.

Punisher : Oh gawd!!

A long pause in social media communication ….

Poet : Sally…I haven’t seen you on the site for a couple of weeks…you haven’t replied to my messages…are you alright?

Punisher : NO!…I am fucking NOT alright!…I have caught this bloody covid thingo and am dying….dying!…God…don’t bother me…I’ll get in touch with you if and when I want…Good bye!

Poet : “Goodbye?” surely that is a little severe, I only wanted to talk some more with you…share some poems and pictures…are you ok?

Punisher : FFS!… Stop being puerile, petulant and using myself as little more than an object for your own selfish sexual fantasies…I’m sick, my son is sick, my friends are sick and I can’t be bothered even thinking of poems OR pictures…now piss off!

Poet : I have for a long time in my life had this awareness that I seem to come into things..jobs, organisations, groups etc.. just before they end…and now since I have ‘known’ you, we have gone from casual conversations of “life in general” to have this pandemic bear down, the situation of your  health..and our friendship is being sorely tested..

Silence…

Poet : Oh Sally….How things have changed since we had our first “chat”….who would have thought so much would bear down on our lives…hope you are keeping warm….

Silence…

Poet : Ah..I dunno, Sally…should I persevere?….perhaps I should give it best and just leave it all go…block you and put it all behind me..or perhaps you’ll soon tire of the episode and block me anyway…

Silence…

Poet : Ah, Sally..I have, after all, kissed that pic of your gorgeous derrier on my PC screen so many times, I might as well kiss it verbally here some more and at least post some poetry to serenade you..I still enjoy that..anyway…

I dreamt that time was in reverse,

And never came that ending tryst,

I hold you still in night’s embrace,

And never came that ending kiss,

And never stilled that loving fire,

So very near to my heart’s desire.

Let the masses throw flattery and accolades at thy feet..but I..and ONLY I, will EVER serenade thee with such force and volume of sweet, sweet panegyric.. Goodbye, my sweet..goodbye…

Silence…

“The Afternoon Meal”…by Evert Pieters.

Annunciation.

’Twas once a given, that righteous annunciation from time immemorial be,
Women, if they wish, child bearers would be , men provide for their security,
Such is the scheme of the natural world, that no man nor woman ought despoil,
But there comes this middle-class of opportunists that demand change,
Calling for women to abandon their right of prioritise children born,
Instead embrace that class’s command, place career first – childbirth forlorn.

Who gave permission to that class to dictate their personal opinion,
As if it was from some “divine” diction ordained via middle-class instruction,
Just to enable profiteers to capitalise on a cheap labour option,
Speculators to swindle the working families with promise of “riches”,
From such employment to guarantee wages equal to Croesus’ treasures,
Earned by doing overtime as shelf-stackers or domestic cleaners.

This is the only promise those liars and opportunists can deliver,
Using cunning language instilled from their private school mentors,
That the “consciousness of kind” can afford from similar past accrued riches,
Following a long, long line of upper-middle class crooks and swindlers,
Claiming to be the best of friends and working people assisters,
Proclaiming that personal denial of children is a promised career enhancer.

“Career, career!” the mantra chant from lips of barren, middle class slavers,
With figures ‘at hand’ from a statisticians’ survey, calculated from “average wages”,
Of the highest paid slaves serving their bourgeois masters,
While those same opportunist owners raise the cost of living faster,
Than can be afforded from such “fantastic” wages,
Forcing workers to take more jobs, work harder, longer, for pay-master.

Such is the profanity given as promise in a blasphemy against humanity,
The core and foundation of blind, egregious, bourgeois philosophy,
Delivered from pulpit, from senate lectern with a tone of gratuitous flattery,
Of course there IS a condition assigned by force and circumstance,
That demands disgraceful compliance of workers servility,
Of endless obeyance to their creed of cursed materiality.

Making mockery of the once honest work of crofters and crafters,
Scorning the raising and feeding of the child as like cow milking,
Persuading young couples to delay any offspring,
To an older age when money and career is more entreating,
Till the mistake is learned that nature favours not older childbearing,
And couples are left barren or reduced to surrogate pleading.

No..No..heed not those double-speak speculators with their “Gordian Knot”,
Of un-natural adherence to a philosophy of grab what can be got!
Cursing others who want family instead, as not being equal, deserving their lot,
Women perchance, could child-bearers be, with men to supply for their security,
Such is the scheme of the natural world, that NO class of society may claim contrary,
’Twas always a given, this righteous annunciation from time immemorial be carried.

4 thoughts on “Annunciation.”

1. catterelJanuary 16, 2025 at 9:24 amEdit And still we continue to buy into the lie, perceiving the truth only at the point where we are old and no longer of any value in the labour market-place, and our Cassandra-like cries disregarded. My daughter and her middle daughter have both had the good fortune to be stay-at-home moms, and both excellent at this task, continuing to self-educate on the way, But I can’t count the number of times I have been asked “doesn’t she work?” “hasn’t she got a job?” or “what a waste of a good brain!” They have both had the courage to follow their convictions, and have husbands who support their choice. My eldest granddaughter (like me!) would go stir-crazy if she were “just” a wife and mother, so she also has a job and, being naturally, efficient and creative, has advanced in her career. My youngest granddaughter works to eat and isn’t interested in promotion, as she prefers not to be stressed about her work. I am thankful that they have been able to avoid the ratrace so far.Like Reply
   1. freefall852January 16, 2025 at 11:44 amEdit Hello, catt….As an amateur student of history, I have read so much of past, “managed” societies..and of those well archived ones that have collapsed, I read a pattern in their demise..and almost without exception, it starts with the destruction of the cultural foundation of its rise…Gibbon wrote of it, Mommsen wrote of it, Machiavelli wrote of it, Veblen wrote of it…and of them all, none of their cautions were taken seriously….and this last lot of middle-class vandals that have been corrupting our culture since the great sellout of the enclosure laws have succeeded in turning gender against gender till there is little left but suspicion and hatred…I am of an extended family of seven adults ( the other recently passed away) with four healthy, adult children who have grown through their reproductive years..our children ; two male / two female…yet only two children between them all…the women have graced us with grand-children…the males have retreated out of suspicion and fear of loss of assets from even marrying…they will grow old alone, but are yet too young to be aware of the void of loneliness in old age….it is a crying shame…I cannot begin to describe the anger I feel toward these modern-day manipulators of social management…I despise them, I despise them, I despise them…Liked by 1 personReply
      1. catterel January 16, 2025 at 12:14 pmEdit Maybe we are lucky in Switzerland, where the rural lifestyle and its values are still respected valid currency. I have chafed at the bit on many occasions, but on the whole I prefer thge quality of life I have here to what I see of my frriends’ and relatives’ lives in the UK, USA, Germany and France.Like
2. freefall852 January 16, 2025 at 9:44 pmEdit I thank you, Catt’ for your thoughtful and well-considered comments..they are most appreciated when one seems to post on certain subjects that are almost treated as taboo subjects….I have for a long time railed against the twisted propaganda put out by “official channels” of both mainstream and social media that paints the middle class as a benign “we’re here to help you” parental overseer with nothing but good on their minds. I can trace the beginnings of the interference of this malicious breed of bacteria back to the deal that was struck between the declining aristocracy and their mortgagor; the rising industrialist upper middle classes, ie; the passing of the enclosure acts that forfeited the use of common land to the common peoples of the villages in England and elsewhere in Europe, which drove millions of peasants into the big cities seeking work..any work to survive, to be scooped up by the rapacious industrialists to be put to work to construct the industrial revolution. These days we have the so-called age of technology and the rise of that almost gormless blowhard propaganda of the “miracle” of Ai that is going to revolutionise every bodies lives…what buffoonery, what utter bullshit! There was some wanker on the radio yesterday blowharding about using Ai to give warning about future bushfire danger locations and where to direct units to control existing outbursts…I mean..; tell us the bleeding obvious! I thought that is why we have those spotting towers located in all of the alpine regions…and then, ironically, a couple of years ago we have a disastrous grass-fire from some idiot throwing their cigarette out the window of their car…who’d a thought…

Sweet Innocence.

The Pencil.

A Quiet Little Corner of the World.

Fields of Deceit.

The Caretaker.

Cheeriozy!

The Last Ecstasy of The Forbidden Fruit.

A Last, Lingering Kiss.

A Miscellaneous Act.

Love Me Tender.

Margaret Fulton’s Cookbook.

A Trivial Enquiry.

Beautiful Dreamer.

Sacred Site.

The Puppets of Maggie Meagher.

Sweet Innocence.

A Play of one set, one act.

Characters : ..

Sister Cecilia..In charge of the Choir.

Mother Superior (Charity by name)..Head of the college.

Father Collins..Senior Priest.

(N.B. : Both nuns wear similar dress uniforms of the modern style of Sisters of the faith.)

Scene : The office of Mother Superior..lots of timber furniture, religious statuettes and fixtures..a broad desk with tidy, minimalist objects and papers on it.

(There is a gentle, unobtrusive knock on the door..it has to be repeated before Mother Superior is taken from her reverie gaze out of the window…She turns to glance over her shoulder).

Mth.S. : “Come in.”

( A diminutive nun enters, aged around sixty years, her white hair shining against her white face..her cheeks glow with two cheery pink blushes.)

Sis. Cecilia : “ Ah! ..Charity…a pleasant morning isn’t it?”

Mth. S. : “Yes Sister…thanks be to the Lord Jesus Christ in all his benevolent mercy.”

Sis. C. : “Yes…yes…to be sure….Well now, Charity…you sent for me?”

M. S. : “Yes…It’s about the choir.”

Sis. C. : “Ah!” ( The little nun brightens up and clasps her hands together) The choir..yes..my special baby.. my pride and joy, and it must be said that several girls from our school’s tutorage have risen to sing in the state orchestra! Proud, I am of our little choir, my little nightingales.”

M.S. : Yes, Sister Cecilia…the choir…( She addresses the little nun with her formal title, warning of an imminent lecture.. Sister Cecilia stands quiet with hands clasps and turns her head to listen..Mother superior turns from the window and sits briskly down at her desk.) Now, Father Collins and I sat and listened to the choir last Sunday at the morning service. .  “

Sis. C. : “Oh Charit…Mother Superior , weren’t they just divine, the sweet innocents, I do believe they sung their little hearts out last Sunday….”

M. S. : “About Caroline Halsbury…” (Mother Superior interjects).

Sis C. :“And Caroline Halsbury…” (the little nun puts her fingertips to one of her cheery cheeks and rolls her eyes to the ceiling)… “that girl has the voice of an angel….if ever there was soprano material…”

M. S. : “Sister Cecilia!!” (Mother Superior cries impatiently).

Sis. C. :“Yes?” (the little nun answers, wide eyed).

M.S. :“Be so kind as to stop prattling when I am trying to tell you something….goodness knows it isn’t easy what I have to say without the running commentary…”

Sis. C. :“Well, I do apologise, Charity, but I am rather fond of my girls.”

M.S. :“That may be so, Sister, and both Father Collins and myself agree that they sounded beautiful….charming….” (she pauses and toys with a pen on her desk) “Not withstanding all that however, we were also of an opinion that their appearance is also of the utmost importance, almost, (since they represent the college in appearance as well as voice), almost as important as their singing…which brings us to Caroline Halsbury….” (she pauses expectantly, the little nun looks puzzled).

Sis. C. :“I…I don’t see the point, Mother Superior.”

M.S. : “Oh Cecilia, really! (Mother Superior leaps up impatiently from the desk and rolling her hands together strides once again to the window. There is an embarrassed moment as both nuns remain silent.) Well, really, Sister Cecilia….its…its, well, that birthmark right across her face!” (she blurts out finally).

Sis. C. :“Birthmark?” (the little nun is fazed).

M.S. : “Yes, bother it, the birthmark!…that Port-wine stain..that livid blot across the entire left side of her face…surely you’re not blind Sister?” ( Mother Superior turns from the window, her fists clenched in frustration so the knuckles were white, she had hoped it would go smoother than this).

Sis. C. : “Why of course I know it’s there, it is rather unfortunate for the child, I dare say, she’ll have to live it down her whole life…”

M.S. : “…She’ll have to leave the choir!”

(There is a moments stunned silence in the room, a shaft of sunlight burst onto the red velvet piano chair. The little nun stands with her mouth open, hands raised in front of her, the cheery spots now fading from her cheeks.)

Sis. C. : “Leave the choir?…but why?…just because of her birthmark?… Oh Charity, I implore you…”

M.S. : “It’s very, very distracting having to sit and look upon it, Cecilia, both Father Collins and I agree on it and I might add I overheard Mrs Herreen remark the same sentiments to Mr Herreen…it draws one’s attention..it’s just too distracting and it upsets the….the harmonious balance between the hymns and that glow of…of…well as you said yourself…’sweet innocence.’ “.

( The little nun’s temper quickly rises and the pale blushes on her cheeks now become crimson.)

Sis. C. : “Are we then to set a precedent of judging books by their covers, Mother Superior?”

M.S. : “Oh, Lord bless us Sister, the whole world judges books by their covers, and men by the cut of their clothes and girls by their good looks..always have..so there’s no precedence at all in that reality! The choir is a showpiece for the college and as such should strive to be above criticism in both performance and appearance! The girls in the choir should be the pick of the school, we’ll leave The Good Lord to supply their beauty, their voice training only, is in your hands, Sister…you understand? ( The tirade leaves Sister Cecilia speechless and sad, she remains silently standing with her head bowed) So…( continues Mother Superior after letting that sink in) unless something can be done to hide it, she’ll… unfortunately…have to vacate her place in the choir ( Mother Superior’s voice softens a little at the last) Will not make-up cover it?”

Sis.C. : (sighs sadly) “Both her mother and herself have tried, but it has to be so heavy it becomes obvious in itself,” (Mother Superior pinches her lips together in exasperation of the whole ugly incident, none the less she presses on.)

M.S. : “Well… that’s how it stands then Sister, if you cannot come to a satisfactory cosmetic solution by this Sunday, I’m afraid she’ll have to resign from the choir….That will be all for now,” (exit Sister Cecilia through a door to the right of the room..The room of Mother Superior darkens, while a light falls on Sister Cecilia as she ponders on the problem.)

Sis.C. : “How cruel, ( she hisses) how thoughtless..who are these people to see only the substance of the thing and not the spirit? Who are they to judge the body and ignore the soul? How thoughtless, how insensitive, how cruel!..and made all the more difficult in that Caroline Halsbury is one of the main singers in the front line of the choir. (The little nun goes to sit in a seat just there on the side of the stage near a statue of The Virgin Mary..a spotlight illuminates both the little nun and the statue, making a soft glow emanate from the scene…Sister Cecilia is silent and in deep thought)…Bother and bother them!  (She says in frustration..she then glances up at the statue of The Virgin Mary in a blush of shame for her temper.) I’d like to show them, my Lady, put them in their place, oh no, not for me, blow it, but for Caroline.” ( Suddenly an idea flashed through her mind like a bolt of lightning.) “Why….why of course…how very….very right.” (She quickly gives a sign of the cross to the statue of Mary..the statue of Mary with the child Jesus held against her sacred heart).

(The choir can be heard, but not seen off-stage singing out beautifully from the first note of Mrs Gilchrist’s deft touch on the church organ at Vespers, their collective voices harmonise as sweet as a chorus of nightingales from the darkened choir stalls. Father Collins stands with Mother Superior outside the door to Mother Superior’s office listening to the choir.)

Father Collins : “Sweet innocence, Sister Cecilia has certainly achieved top note with those girls ( he remarks, then asks) ..and did you have success with that little suggestion we put forward concerning that unfortunate young girl, Mother?”

M.S. : “I believe so, though it is rather dark  there in the choir box, but I’m certain she would not disobey my instructions and I was quite clear as to what they were, I can assure you, Father.”

Father C. : “I say, Charity, ( Father Collins leans down to her ear ) it would be an extra fillip for the college if those angelic girls could be seen more clearly while they are singing”. (Mother Superior looks at him, nods her head and smiles).

M.S. : “How true, Father, and I think I can arrange that. (she calls softly to a little girl off-stage) Mary-ann, go quietly to that doorway over there, and you see that row of switches there next to it, yes? Then turn on the one farthest from the door….you understand?….good, now off you go…The light for the choir stalls,” (she informs Father Collins).

( There is a moments pause while the switch is thrown and a bright light glows from somewhere off-stage….Mother Superior and Father Collins smile to each other, obviously  pleased with themselves. An excited but muffled cry ripples through the congregation as all have obviously glanced to the illuminated choir stalls, not the least from Mother Superior who cannot suppress a cry of horror.)

M.S. : “Oh Mother Mary!”

Father C. : “ Oh Lord!…What has she done?…why..why..ALL the girls have been painted with a crimson stain across their faces!”

( There is a victorious call from off-stage..it is Sister Cecilia.)

Sis. C. : “You were right, Charity..and praise be to the Blessed Virgin..there was a solution to the dilemma and we did solve it…so you see..now we are ALL Caroline Halsburys….even myself!”

(Mother Superior stands in shocked silence with her hands over her open mouth.)