Moira
Limerick on Winter
There once was a speedy young sprinter
Who ran all his races in winter.
When we asked him why,
He smiled and said, "I
Work summer as a window tinter."
Mirror, Mirror
I'm not sure that I like my mirror. It is an old ornate piece that reflects everything in my bedroom. Like most of my furniture, it's antique and probably very valuable. It's large and oval with a frame of carved mahogany and it stands beside my dressing table. When the ceiling light is on it reflects from it and brightens the room. It is however rather gloomy when I turn it off. The mirror and the dressing table are beside the narrow window that looks out over the gardens of the old building in which I live. My bedroom has thick velvet curtains that can be drawn across it when I wish.
I've owned the mirror and the dressing table since childhood. I remember, when I was a young woman, using it frequently for the purpose of checking that my face looked just right. I loved my mirror then. It told me I was young and beautiful and, like the fool I was, I believed it.
Before going out to a ball or a dinner, I would look at myself and admire the image reflected there. Carefully I would adjust the neckline of my gown, and then I would turn sideways and admire my profile. Oh, those were the days! I remember them well.
Now the mirror does not tell me any such thing.
It is, in fact, one of the most useless items I possess. I can stand before it and see everything in my bedroom reflected in detail. But I cannot see myself reflected in it. You see, since the age of thirty, nearly two hundred and fifty years ago, I've been a vampire.
Twenty First Birthday Party
When my brothers turned twenty one, they had a big party. At the time, of course, twenty one was regarded as a coming of age. One could legally drink in a hotel and also vote. They had been able to drive for several years and owned a small car between them. Now of course twenty one is less meaningful, but back then it was Big Time! The party was held at the hall at the church we all attended. I can't remember about theirs, but I do know that nine years later when my 21st was held at the same church hall, it was a 'dry' affair. This was not due to any teetotaller rule in the family, but was a church hall rule. At the time it didn't bother anyone.A family friend made their cakes. She was the neighbourhood cake maker, come to think of it. And she was very good at it. She made two very large cakes, each in the shape of a key. That was fairly normal for a 21st celebration cake. But hers were individual.
One of my brothers was a keen photographer. So at one end of the cake was a tiny toy camera set up, taking a picture of the scene at the other end, a couple of little dolls dressed in their best.
The other played cricket, so his cake had several players, along with a tiny set of stumps and a bat my dad had made. As a matter of fact, afterwards Mum and Dad kept some of the ornamental pieces off the tops of the cakes for many years. I remember this as when Mum moved from her unit we found the bag containing at least one of the tiny dolls and also the cricket set when tidying up her belongings.
In case you hadn't yet realised, my brothers are twins. One is married to a twin. And no, they did not have twins!
When our sons came of age, it was their eighteenth birthdays that were celebrated, on a smaller scale but with as much enthusiasm and pleasure.
But they were NOT 'dry' parties!
The Lair of the Boogie Man
The little girl loved visiting her grandparents. They lived in a tiny wooden house in the country, and they had an enormous back yard!Behind the house was a gravel path leading to a massive old golden wattle tree. Over the years its heavy branches had bent until now they enclosed a space as big as a large room. The little girl always called this the Blue Grotto. Here was a great place to curl up with a book and read. Beside the house were lavender hedges, and her grandmother picked the stems to make lavender bags to keep their clothes sweet smelling. She wound them with ribbons, blue and pink and mauve.
Beyond the wattle tree was an orchard, with plums and peaches and apples and all other sorts of delectable fruits. But between the wattle and the side fence was a place she never visited.
It was the lair of the Boogie Man.
Never go that way, her parents had told her, and her grand parents had stressed this to her. If she dared cross between the wattle tree and the side fence, it was certain that the Boogie Man would come along and grab her - and who knew what he would do to a small child? They never described this creature - he was simply The Boogie Man, to be feared and avoided at all costs. He was the only snake in this childhood paradise.
In the other direction from the side of the fence, there were walkways covered in trellis where berry bushes grew. Close beside the house were her grandfather's sheds. Here he grew all kinds of plants, and stored his gardening gear. There were pine trees here, and their fallen needles covered the ground.
Beyond the walkways was the dunny, a tiny wooden building that never smelled very nice. Beyond that stood a wire and post fence with a gate. Sometimes she was allowed to go beyond this gate, carefully holding her grandfather's hand.
In front of the house were chicken coops, a clothesline with props and woodsheds. A narrow path led to yet another gate and beyond that was bush. She loved to play up here, making cubbies with branches and finding flowers for the table. Sometimes when her grandfather had been out shooting, he would come back in this gate with a couple of rabbits dangling from a stick. Her grandmother made the most wonderful rabbit stew!
When the whole family, including her elder brothers, visited, sometimes the boys would take their own rifle down to the gate post past the dunny, and they would take pot-shots into the bush there. Occasionally one or the other would help her so she also could rest the rifle on the wooden post, sight into the trees and pull the trigger. But the loudness of the report and the recoil of the rifle deterred her. She much preferred sitting in her Blue Grotto reading. In spite of the closeness of this place to the lair of the Boogie Man, she did not fear him. He could not come out and grab her, not unless she foolishly went near his lair. And she would never do that. Never!
It was not until she was a teenager that she realised that there was of course no Boogie Man waiting for unwary children to come within his reach.
Her parents and grandparents had told her this scary tale to ensure she never ever went near the old well, surrounded by soft insecure ground and a great source of danger.
Even greater danger than a Boogie Man!
Lissa's Friend
She touched the small box in her pocket and smiled. Nobody else knew about Lissa's treasure. She had found it as she was walking home one afternoon from school. It had been lying on a smooth patch of sand near a bridge. Treen River was crossed by several bridges and Lissa varied her route to and from school to avoid monotony. After all, she got enough of that at school!Her find was not large, about as big as a paperback book, and she was surprised no one else had picked it up first. It appeared to be made of a strange light coloured metal but was nowhere near as heavy as she had anticipated. It looked like a small flattish box.
On its front were several dials and buttons labelled in some language that most definitely was not English. She tried pressing one or two but nothing happened.
She shook it but it didn't rattle. Instead it emitted a sound somewhere between a giggle and a laugh.
"Don't do that, it tickles!"
"What?" Lissa nearly dropped the box in her fright. "Who said that?"
"Why, I did, of course. You shook me. It tickles."
Lissa blinked rapidly.
"Um - you can talk?"
"Obviously. Now, be a good girl and put me down, will you. I hate heights and I'm getting dizzy up here."
Carefully Lissa placed the strange speaking box onto a patch of grass and sat down beside it.
"Who are you? What are you? Are you inside that box?"
"No, silly. I am this box. Actually I am a computer. But my owner lost me. He kept popping in and out of this dimension and accidentally managed to leave me behind." It sounded sad. "He'll never be able to come back for me so I suppose you own me now. What is your name?"
"Lissa. Do you have a name?"
"Yes, but I don't think you could pronounce it. You can give me a name yourself if you like."
"All right then. I'll - um - I don't know what to call you. I'll think of something later on."
Lissa put her new treasure into her pocket and walked on, smiling.
At last she had a friend.
Winter
It was supposed to be winter, but we were on the other side of the world. I was only a little child and didn't realise how different it would be.
Winter to me meant snow, skating and riding a sled down white hillsides. It meant a hot crackling fire, soup and hot pudding. It had been winter when we had all got into that plane, and no one had told me that when we would land it would be suddenly summer. I was frightfully confused.
Picture me, a little girl standing in the middle of the airport arrival lounge. I wore a beanie, a scarf, mittens and a woollen coat. My legs were encased in thick stockings and my feet in boots. I clutched my teddy bear tightly to my chest.
Around me, my parents and brother and sister were similarly dressed. Then, as we realised we no longer had any need of these thick warm clothes, we pulled them off, stuffing them all into bags.
Finally, dressed in the bare minimum required to be decent, we grabbed our luggage and went out into the bright December sunshine of Australia and into a new life.
Winters we would see again, but not the snow and ice of home. There would be clouds and rain, thunder and lightning, but never the freezing days and nights we had known. And never again would I be able to skate on the frozen village pond. But then, never again would I require so many layers of clothing to keep me warm. Never again would I suffer from chilblains. And never again would the water freeze in the taps.
We had come from winter to summer, and I liked it. Still do, after all these years.
Be Careful What You Wish For
It was a perfect sunrise, even for a Monday. Susannah sat by the window and watched as the sun slowly rose over the horizon and the sky lightened. Later on, she knew, it would brighten to a brilliant shade of blue. No sign of clouds anywhere.A perfect beginning, she thought, to what should be a perfect day. Today she would turn seventeen. But it wasn't a perfect day, far from it.
She came down the circular steps that led from her bedroom floor to the kitchen. Crossing the room, she whisked off the cover from the cage where her elderly parrot Kinks sat huddled on its perch. Susannah was seventeen but she thought Kinks might be a hundred and seventeen.
"Good morning, Kinks." Susannah wandered around the kitchen, finding cereal milk in the cupboard. She fetched orange juice and poured it into a glass and toasted herself. "Happy birthday, Susannah!" She refilled Kinks' dish with a handful of mixed grains and her mouth twisted slightly. "It's a shame there's no one else here to share it with. It's a bit sad I have only a parrot to talk to."
But it was all her own fault and she knew that now. Too late.Six weeks before, Susannah was competing at a swimming carnival. There she caused her relay team to be disqualified. If she hadn't had such bad luck, they would all have been wearing gold medals. But they had nothing, and she had only a black cloud of self pity and misery. She was reprimanded by her coach. The others of her team all saw it as her fault and hadn't hesitated to let her know. They called it as sheer carelessness while she called it bad luck. Her team mates were angry and disappointed and felt totally let down. She was not popular with anyone. Finally, unable to take any more, Susannah stormed off.
Eventually she found herself at the local funfair, wandering aimlessly. Her eye was caught by a gaudy sign: Madame Tarrot - Wishes Granted.'Wishes granted!' she thought bitterly. If only someone could take her back to the moment before she had plunged into the water for her disastrous leg of the relay. But here she was likely to find only a charlatan - probably some shrivelled old woman smelling of cheap brandy.
"Hello, my dear." Somehow the woman knew she was there, and lifted the curtain veiling the entrance to her tent. "Do you want to come in and tell me what's wrong?""What's wrong? How do you know there's something wrong?"
The old woman smiled unpleasantly. "People only come to me when there is something wrong, or when they want something. You look angry, so I guess it's the former."
Susannah scowled. "It wasn't my fault and now everyone is blaming me." Unwillingly, she found herself being ushered into a tiny tent. It was stuffy and smelled, but the old woman settled herself into an armchair and indicated for Susannah to be seated. And then she couldn't help herself. All her resentment and bitterness spilled out in an angry diatribe against her companions, her coach, her parents, her teachers - everyone. Everyone except herself.
Madame Tarrot looked at her steadily.
"You lost the race and even worse, you were all disqualified. I'm sorry."
"Could you send me back to do it all over again? Maybe this time they wouldn't pick on me."
"No. No, I'm afraid not. I cannot change the past, but the future is another matter. What do you wish for? But be careful, before you wish. Once you say the words it can not be changed. "
"What do I wish for?" Susannah thought for only a few seconds - a foolish move, as she later realised. "I wish, Madame Tarrot, that there was no-one around to nag me and tell me to practise and try harder all the time. I wish no one was moaning and whinging at me and blaming me for what happened. I just wish everyone just go away and leave me alone."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!"
"If that's what you wish for, my dear, then that's what you'll get. Goodbye." And she disappeared.
And so did everybody else.