I’ve been spending the first month of the year watching my father die. He’s slipping away, slowly, bit by bit, the life dripping out of him.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Mostly I sit and watch TV with him–Wheel of Fortune, televangelists, rodeos. He’s too weak and tired to talk much now, but even before we didn’t say much. And what is there to say to each other at this late date?
My sister, my dad, and me
There are several websites you can peruse, and books you can buy, to learn Australian slang. While these tend to vary in breadth, depth, and quality, most are certainly worth a quick squiz (i.e. a brief look). What keeps Aussie colloquialisms fresh and lively, to me, are not only the terms themselves, but also the way they are mixed and matched by various individuals and groups of people. Of course, as in any country, phrases and their usage will differ from region to region.
When I visit some new place whilst travelling round the country, or when I attend a local dinner with a few fresh faces in the crowd, I carry a small notebook and pen in my handbag. This is because, even after eight years living here, I still catch people saying things I haven’t heard before – things that often leave me laughing, even days later.
Here are a dozen of my favourite Australian phrases, with definitions and examples of usage given after each one.
1. A few sheep short in the top paddock – a bit stupid. Example: “Once you get to know ‘im, you can tell he’s a few sheep short in the top paddock.”
This fellow may be said to be “a few sheep short in the top paddock,” and no wonder, if he regularly uses the flock to make hats! (image source)
Christmas Day this year marks the end of my eighth year in Australia. I arrived on this continent on 25 December 2003, having flown straight through and missed Christmas Eve, due to the time variation between here and home. I spent that first hot summer’s day with my future husband, Robin. We took a walk in Westerfolds Park, and enjoyed a swim in the Yarra River, under the protection of tangy-smelling eucalpyts, and squadrons of screaming sulphur-crested cockatoos. Christmas lunch with Robin’s family included abundant fresh seafood – shellfish, salmon, and king prawns – a variety of salads, beautiful Australian wines, a selection of traditional cakes (plus a delightful Pavlova), dessert tarts, and hand-made chocolates. This was an all together different realm from my usual Northern Hemisphere holiday experience. Everyone was in short sleeves and there wasn’t a turkey in sight!
Our Living Christmas Tree
Christmas by Michael Leunig I see a twinkle in your eye, so this shall be my Christmas star and I will travel to your heart: the manger where the real things are. And I will find a mother there who holds you gently to her breast, a father to protect your peace, and by these things you shall be blessed. And you will always be reborn and I will always see the star and make the journey to your heart: the manger where the real things are. From Poems, 1972-2001
Isn’t that plane flying awfully low…
Listening to the radio the other day I was surprised to hear a story about stilt walking. I was even more surprised to be taken back to a recurring childhood dream. In the dream I’m standing in our yard just off the front porch when a man on stilts rounds the corner from the back yard. Sometimes it was my father on the stilts, sometimes some other man (or men); I either don’t remember (or never knew) who. The feeling the sight evoked was a mixture of beguilement and distress. Although the sight of someone on stilts was exciting, it was also somehow just wrong. That memory started me thinking about the other recurring dreams I’ve had–and there have been several, aside from the naked at church/school/work dreams and the forgot to study for finals/go to class all semester/show up for work dreams.
wild persimmons
For me persimmons have always been a marker, a sign that it’s finally Fall. There are two persimmon trees on my parent’s farm and, growing up, I loved their short-lived fruit. Like blackberries in the Spring, the fruit seemed to appear overnight, take forever to ripen, and then disappear just as quickly, rotting in the sun or picked away by animals. But there was a moment of luscious, juicy fruit. And that moment was when the relentless Texas Summer had finally softened, when school had been dragging on for months, when Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays were in sight.
If asked, I’d probably say I’m a cat person. They suit my personality with their independent, even indifferent attitudes. I also like fish. But even as I say this I have one dog asleep at my feet and another curled up next to me in my chair. They’re not my first dogs, but the first in a very long time. The first was Bitsy. And I almost don’t even count her. She was a present from my parents, a companion in case I was lonely when my sister started kindergarten. Bitsy and I….well we weren’t close. She wasn’t one of those dogs, like Nana, that assumed the position of child guardian. More like “don’t leave me alone with that child or I can’t be…
When Robin and I go away somewhere, we take beautiful photographs … well, mostly, he does, while I point out things that would make nice photographs, then assist him with comments like, “not that rock, this rock!” and “hurry, you’re losing the light!”. We end up with lots of scenery, rocks, shells, and wildlife pictures, with a few of us in the mix, looking sometimes goofy, and other times mercifully attractive – from a certain angle and a certain light.
One more reason Sandra is my best friend is that , when she goes on holidays, she brings back photos like these, which make my inbox smile, and which offer great gift ideas for that special someone in your life who already has (almost) everything.
The Cthulu Shop storefront, San Antonio, Texas
So it appears that Cthulu has opened a shop! I was concerned that the cult monsters would be out of work, with the economic problems in the U.S. the past few years.
My husband, Robin, and I have been celebrating our 7th wedding anniversary over the past week. The highlight was his booking a few nights for us at a cottage by the Gippsland coast, near a place called Morgan’s Beach. We set off from Melbourne on Tuesday afternoon and reached our destination about three hours later: a rambling farmhouse, in the middle of a pasture, at the end of a dirt road. Perfect.
Side note: I noticed when we were leaving on Friday that there was an old axe leaning on the woodpile stacked at one end of the front porch. My husband had been coming and going from that pile of wood for three days, as the fireplace was our only source of heat. I realised he had left the axe outside throughout our stay. Can you imagine? It’s like he’s never fantasised about our being attacked by an axe murderer in the middle of the night in a remote country house. Clearly, he has seen far fewer horror movies than I have. I felt compelled to explain, just in case this comes up on future holidays, that we really should have brought it inside. To his credit, once I mentioned it, he grasped how it might be seductive to roving psycho killers in the area. Also, we reasoned that, if the axe were inside with us, then we would be armed and ready for the demented bastard. (Before you label me an hysteric, remember that Australia is notorious for its serial killers).
But I digress …