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attina-the-responsible · 3 years

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How to Tell Your Family You’re Moving Across the World According to Mermaids ~*~ [Merfam]

In which Attina and Panic make a big announcement...[takes place at the beginning of the summer.]

@arista-the-musical, @aquata-the-champ, @alana-the-brilliant, @melody-the-unwritten, @panicked-nights

[tw -- none]

ATTINA: Attina had cooked a nice salmon and tofu (for the veggies) dinner for everyone. It was almost easier to wrangle everyone now, because there were so few of them. Andrina and Adella were such big presences that dinners felt so small without them. But, she’d already called them both and told them that she was moving. It had been nice to slide into it that way, but they were also the oldest. She had no idea how the rest of her sisters were going to react.

It was nice to have Panic there for moral support. And her dad, of course. Who was aware that tonight was going to be the night.

Attina was not nervous that they were going to be angry with her. She was actually nervous of the opposite. That people would want her to leave. That they would tell her that why did it matter, why was she making a big deal of this?

She waited until the dinner was winding down. One of the sisters actually got up to put her plate up because Attina was procrastinating.

“Wait—“ she barked, when the sister stood. “Uh, please, sit. I, er—we—“ she glanced at Panic. “Have something to tell you.”

Attina took another breath. “PanicandIaremovingtoAustralia.”

AQUATA: Aquata almost choked on her salmon. “Australia?” she repeated.

This was the thing: Aquata was learning to let go of the idea that all of her sisters would stay in the same place forever. Especially after talking to her at the wedding, Aquata now understood that this wasn’t just a phase for Andy and she probably wasn’t coming back. And even though Adella had gotten the brunt of Aquata’s crisis about the family splitting up, Aquata had eventually made her peace with it.

She maybe expected Tina to leave, eventually, especially since she didn’t have her wedding in Swynlake. But Australia?

She coughed and cleared her throat, her expression going neutral. “That’s a long bloody plane ride.”

ARISTA: Arista chewed on her tofu, happy to just sit among her family. Dinner nights were always so lovely. It was how they all caught up on things. (Well, at least the ones who were still in town).

Her brows shot up, Aquata had a point. It was a long plane ride. “Australia? Like forever?” Australia seemed pretty permanently away from Swynlake. But she trusted her sister to not make decisions unless she had already thought it over like a million times. “You think you’ll be near where Jake’s from? Maybe he can give you some pointers or teach you slang.” She tilted her head, trying to think back to all the weird things she’d heard her sister’s boyfriend say over the years.

ALANA: "Australia?!"

To be honest, Alana had a moment of fear. It struck her suddenly and she looked at the dinner table, at the empty seats where Andrina and Adella once sat. She felt something twist in her gut, but then she looked at Tina and that twisting feeling transformed into a swell of pride.

"Ohmigosh that's so great!" she exclaimed. "Wow, more excuses for me to visit."

MELODY: Well, that was far. Was the first thought as Melody digested the news. She wasn't all that surprised though. Each of the girls were moving on in their own way she wondered who would be next truly.

But this wasn't supposed to be sad. Not at all. "When are you planning on moving?"

PANIC: Panic watched everyone's reactions grimacing ahead of time almost expecting for it to go terribly. Though it wasn't that bad not yet. "It's a long plane ride for sure but we're planning on getting a big enough place you guys can all visit whenever." Panic offered leaving Tina to answer Arista because really who knew especially with school.

"Toward the end of summer, we need to be there by Late August so we want to settle in a bit."

ATTINA: Attina hadn't announced something like this since...well, since her pregnancy. And she'd done that one on one, because as much as she insisted on these dinners and everyone sharing their lives with each other, she always found it a little overwhelming to be the focus of the attention.

It was nice to have Panic there to help her, because she was trying to untangle her tongue while all her sisters and cousin stared at her. She knew it must be shocking and probably felt like it was coming out of left field and she felt herself about to word vomit everywhere a bunch of excuses.

Panic corralled everyone first and Attina shot him a grateful look before nodding.

"Yes, late summer. I will, uhm, I'm--I accepted an PhD studies offer at the National Australia University in Canberra for Marine Biology. It's not near Jake's, unfortunately." She had already looked that up, because of course she knew where her sister's boyfriend was from. "But, I'm sure he can give us plenty of pointers."

AQUATA: Aquata was stunned.

Andy had always been a loose cannon. Adella had always wanted to get out of Swynlake from the beginning. But Tina? Tina, who basically ran Whosits and Whatsits, who went to every community event, who had a house here and friends and, okay, probably a lot of bad memories too, but who seemed more a part of Swynlake than anyone else?

It was like one of those moments when you were a kid and realized the teacher didn’t sleep at school. Attina had her own life. But.... Australia was really far.

Aquata didn’t really know what to say. She didn’t want to make a scene, or be the unsupportive one (again). But for someone who liked plans and routines, who liked being able to keep track of everyone, it was a lot to process.

“Congrats, Tina, that’s cool,” Aquata said flatly. She needed to go for a swim. She looked at Panic and smirked. Humor was a little easier than being sincere. “Better be a mansion. I’m not getting on a twenty-hour flight for any old cottage. Or maybe I’ll just swim there. Probably faster.”

Aquata made a face to show she was joking, because she didn’t want to freak Attina out, but honestly, it did sound like a fun idea.

ALANA: Alana was still processing this. First Andrina had left, which seemed like a given and honestly, Lana had been surprised it hadn't happened sooner. She missed Andrina so much, her absence like a loose tooth she kept on prodding with her tongue. Adella had left second, which hadn't been a surprise either; she'd already left once the first time and she'd never wanted to stay in Swynlake. She had big dreams and a little town in England didn't exactly lend itself to them.

And now Attina --

Maybe this had been coming from the beginning. Maybe Attina dreamed of things too, dreamed of the ocean and helping save it. Maybe it was obligation that had kept her trapped in Swynlake, that obligation growing into fear and spreading across the rest of them. Maybe that's why Andrina had broken away, why Adella had always dreamed of bigger things. Maybe it all went back to Attina and the fact that she had stayed in the first place, instead of leaving.

Alana always wondered why she was working in a shoppe when she had a Master's degree.

Alana didn't know what she'd do without her big sister. It was one thing for Andrina and Adella to go off -- but Attina?

She wasn't sure where to look. Looking at Attina might make her cry. Looking at Aquata might make her scared. So she looked at Arista, who was soft and smiling and with a deep breath, Lana tried to relax herself.

(She wondered, briefly, if she would ever leave Swynlake; she'd thought about it a lot as a teenager but now... well with her own place and her own life separate from the legacy of her family, it didn't really bother her as much. She wondered, out of all of them, who would go and who would remain).

"Oh my gosh, do you have a new place picked out already?" asked Alana. "Is it by the beach? Please tell me it's by the beach."

ARISTA: Arista, of course, was sad to see any of her sisters go. But she knew they all had to do some exploring of their own some time. She had left for a time to find perspective and where her music came from. Andy had left to grow and spread herself far and wide so she could experience everything the world had to offer. Adella had dreams that were outside of Swynlake. And so while she had been sad for those instances, she was happy for them because she knew they were becoming who they wanted to be most in the world.

And though the sadness over Tina hit her heart particularly hard as Tina had been the most patient and the most kind to her growing up (they of course were not without their fights as seen over the last couple years) but Arista knew that Tina had put a lot on hold and been through so much in town that it only made sense that she too at some point would want to find something different out there. And that didn’t mean they were losing her. They were just gaining distance while she became an even brighter version of herself.

She looked between her sisters, they all has their respective reactions but one thing was clear, they loved their sister and wanted to see her happy in their own ways.

She smiled softly, her voice matched her smile as she looked at her eldest sister, “I think you really deserve this, Teens.”

MELODY: Melody sighed softly but nodded, this was good. The degree was amazing. And it would be good for Attina and Panic, she was sure of it. Or at least she hoped. Just like she hoped all the others girls were happier doing whatever it was they were doing right now.

It felt lonely in a way, seeing everyone move on but making her life more steady here. Would she be like them too one day? Would the rest of the Triton's be like that?

"Congrats Tina. That's going to be such a cool program. " None the less Melody would take each day by day and today was Tina and Panic's day.

PANIC: Panic nodded giving the girls all a smile, a brief glance over to JEFF too. "We'll be near the water and no little cottage don't worry. Though maybe not a mansion big." Panic grinned with a raised eyebrow in Aquata's direction.

"Enough room and good scenery, it'll be worth the flight." Reaching over Panic gave Tina's hand a small squeeze. This was going a lot better than expected and part of him wondered if it was because some of the others girls had left. Strangely enough this was more common than you would first think.

ATTINA: No one was yelling. Everyone was smiling--some more reserved than others. The air was a little stilted, awkward, and nervous, but...no one was yelling. That let Attina know, more than anything else, that this was the right decision. She had let out the breath she was holding and managed a tentative smile herself.

There were little tears shining in the corner of her eyes, but she nodded, squeezing Panic's hand back when he reached for her.

"Yes, of course. You are all welcome to visit, at any time. And we'll all FaceTime and text. It will be like I'm not really gone at all."

"We'll miss you too, Tiny, but don't worry. You're going to do brilliantly," Daddy said, reaching over to squeeze Attina's shoulder. She smiled over at him. "Your mum would be proud."

"Daddy," Attina said, those tears trembling--much more closer to falling. "You must promise to keep me informed of everything. I'll miss you all so much."

#bdrparista #bdrpaquata #bdrpalana #attista #aquatina #atlanta #mersisters #merfam #bdrpmelody #melina #bdrppanic #siren #featuring triton #how to tell your family you're moving across the world according to mermaids #;-;

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anthelid-day · 4 years

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A holiday and birthday I’ll never forget.

We went to the coast to visit family despite warnings that we should reconsider our travel plans. There was a free highway with no fires in the area and, as it was Christmas and our families were on the coast, we found our way down the alternative and long route, meeting friends in Cooma along the way. The usual route was closed due to bushfires.

Christmas was a success and we were all having a great time! There was some smoke from the bushfires up north so we stayed inside but anticipated clearer weather to take the kids swimming for new year.

The night before New Year’s Eve, we noticed an orange glow in the sky and smoke. The RFS app showed a fire had started at Badja outside of Numeralla. It looked so far away at the time. We went to bed with the thought of swimming the next day. My birthday was on New Years Day. After we’d go for a swim we’d bake the cake and prepare the food and board games and get ready to do the tradition we do every year. We were to go outside, watch the new year end and the new year begin, start my birthday cheers and a dark male is to walk through the house before we re-enter. So when we went to bed, we imagined that that was going to be our New Years Eve.

The fire looked so far away.

I woke up at about 5am or 5:30am and looked at my phone. The RSF app told everyone in Cobargo and Coolagolite to evacuate towards Bermagui. We had my mums partner in Coolagolite and so I immediately called them to wake them and told them to get out of there. They raced right over to ours. I went to wake my mum to let her know what was happening. Just then a knock was heard on the door. I go outside to find a woman with a hose, she’s frantically waking everyone. “Cobargo is on fire right now. People are coming here. We might have to run next. We just need to wake everyone up.” I looked up to the sky and there was nothing but darkness with a deep, red glow. Burnt leaves and ash fell from its darkness. I open my RFS app to look and the fire had actually grown so much in a few short hours, it was practically at our doorstep.

A new notification comes in at that moment instructing Bermagui to evacuate to the beach. The Surf Life Saving Club was the evacuation centre so we decide to make our way there. We pack up the car and wake the kids. We tell our oldest that we are off to watch a sunrise and that worked well because skies are also shades of red and orange during a sunrise. We didn’t want to freak her out yet. Our son is a baby so his only concern was his bottle. We’d eventually have to tell our daughter the truth when the daylight doesn’t come after the sunrise but for now we had to get them out as calmly as possible.

The streets were lined with cars and people. Emergency vehicles passed by us occasionally. “Look at all the people here to view the last sunrise of the year!” I said. “Why are there nee-naws, mummy?” “Well even emergency services enjoy a sunrise!” I countered. She seemed happy with that answer.

We’d also come to the coast with our guinea pigs as we had no one to babysit them in Canberra at the time. So we were carrying a baby, our bags with the things we needed, a tired toddler, the toys she wanted to bring to view the sunrise with, blankets to keep warm (we had learned that it can actually get very cold when the smoke is so thick it blocks out the sun and it’s warmth like it’s midnight), food for the kids and a giant carry-cage with three guinea pigs. We checked ourselves in with the volunteers and then collapsed on some grass outside, still maintaining that we were “watching the sunrise”. When I told her the truth later, she calmly asked her questions and then went off to play with her new Barbie Ambulance. She dreams of being a doctor one day and the thing folds out into a doctors office. It’s a real hit.

Sitting on the lawn and trying to feed a baby who was suddenly aware that he was in a loud space, he cried while my daughter tried to calm him and my husband and I silently fretted, wondering if other family members were safe. My husbands grandparents live near Batemans Bay and the fires were escalating there. My mother sat in the grass with her partner at another location convinced things would be fine while I’d occasionally yelled at her via text to get up to the SLSC to check in. I just wanted to be sure that everyone could be accounted for. She’d tell me not to worry and we’d see each other later. It had begun to rain lots of ash and leaves so we took the kids, the guinea pigs and all of our stuff inside.

Finding and collapsing on a miraculously free couch inside the centre, my husband settles the kids while I go out to get some space. Crowds in these situations make me feel like I’m in a small space and I had to step out periodically to calm down. On one of my excursions out I took a video of the evacuation that’s blowing up on my TikTok and some photos that ended up being in a news article later that morning. People on TikTok who had family in the area wanted to know the situation and I’d spend the rest of the day informing them of what was going on. There’s something about being on the scene and letting people know the situation that makes me feel like I should have possibly been a reporter. So begins a moment of existential crisis before I notice I’ve got ash and burnt leaves in my hair and I head back in.

We remained at the centre until mid afternoon when we were told that those with residences and accommodation within the town were cleared to go home. We were relieved! So on New Years Eve, mid afternoon, we went home, settled the baby down for a nap and started planning the next day. The baking we could do while we wait this thing out. I plugged my phone in to charge and the power went out moments later. Baking was suddenly off the table.

The fires had knocked out the electricity. But we still had reception. I sat in the car to charge my phone there and was responding to comments to let people know the situation. The sky turned this incredibly dark red and then went black. It was about 5:15pm and we lost reception. That meant no internet as well. I go back into the house. “We have no power and no communications. We have no way to let those worrying about us in the outside world know that we are okay and we can’t check on those who we are worried about in Batemans Bay.” I said. The word at the time was that they may not be able to restore power until the weekend but they actually couldn’t for an entire week.

On top of that, the petrol stations were all closed and our tank didn’t have enough to get to a town an hour away that had no guarantee of petrol. The radio repeatedly told people to leave despite no guarantee of petrol and that wasn’t realistic for us. We were to stay put until the petrol stations open and do our best.

We sat in darkness with some torches, playing scrabble, watching the world outside get darker. The quiet was very unusual. There were no birds singing, no crickets or frogs and the town was closed off. No one could travel so there were no cars. There was nothing. Just silence with an apocalyptic view. When the smoke accumulated enough to create its own thunder storm, it felt like we were dropped right in the radioactive badlands of Fallout 4 with a more reddish hue. The blue skies and turquoise waters we paddleboarded on were a distant memory all of a sudden. It was freezing. Of course, I only packed summer clothes.

New Years Day arrived and my family was trying to celebrate my birthday the best we could but with such wide windows built for a view, the apocalyptic view outside and the reminder that a fire was by our doorstep drowned any feeling of joy. We were scared. I kept thinking about a week earlier, looking at the map and seeing nothing of concern and racing down to see our families. How could we stay away from our families for Christmas? But here we were a week later. There was a road briefly open to Tathra and it was nose-to-nose for hours. Cars slowly lined the main road as frightened tourists and residents fled with their things. Destination - Bega, Cooma, Canberra. And we stayed and watched with our nearly empty tank. “You wouldn’t want to be in that with a baby.” Mum said. She was right.

Our baby is bottle fed and so we’d make the trips up to the SLSC to get boiled water to make bottles with and for some coffee. I found a spot of reception and quickly let my friends know we were okay via Facebook before it dropped out again. They had been worried. Without communication, no one knew the full extent of the situation. Night time was hard because the baby wakes and the bottles had to be heated with whatever hot water was left in the hot water system and it barely warmed a bottle. We couldn’t shower or only jumped in for 30 seconds so we could save the hot water.

Without power we couldn’t cook and our fridge wasn’t going to refrigerate anything. We kept cool some milk the best we could and stocked up on canned goods. We ate baby corn and sardines, fruit and anything else we could get from the supermarket. The supermarket remained open with shelves that were emptying fast. It reminded me of abandoned supermarkets in Fallout. A lot of Fallout happening, I thought to myself. The staff worked while not knowing if their houses were still there. In a neighbouring town they had to close the supermarket as people began walking off with trolleys full of stuff and looting upon hearing that there was a problem with transaction processes. “People have got to eat” a friend later would say. People were trapped and scared with limited food to give their families. Things were bound to take a turn. Some days later the supermarket in Bermagui would be closed due to being understaffed as people fled or staff defending their homes. Thankfully the SLSC has donated food to give out.

The day after New Year we were all on edge. The smoke stayed thick, the kids were scared, the toddler hated being stuck inside and the baby was scared from the smell of smoke. Our throats and eyes hurt. Coffee was limited. My husband and I went to get some hot water when a neighbour said there’s a line at a petrol station. As we went past we saw the tanker. Oh my gosh there’s a tanker!! We got some hot water, I passed a bird in a cage, dropped the hot water off at home and raced to the line.

We were around the 100th car in line. My husband waited in the car while I went up to grab us coffee while we waited. I passed by the bird again. It had a note that it belonged to a Cobargo resident and the person who had dropped it off couldn’t find the owner and couldn’t fit it in her car so begged that someone feed it and give it water at the centre. It sat there with it’s cover and a box of its food, tweeting at anyone who passed it. I took the coffee back to the car and raced up to the centre a final time. I was going to evacuate with that bird. The volunteers didn’t really know how to look after it and, with everything going on, couldn’t have the time to give it what it needed.

A news station had found its way into Bermagui to show the line to the petrol station in their segment and had reported that the petrol was free. People began getting news that they had free petrol as those who overheard the report started to tell the line of cars. It wasn’t free though, and you had to pay in cash. Thankfully we did have cash on us, a rare thing for us. We wondered about those who had none, what they’d do if they were told they had free fuel only to find that they had to pay - and had no cash on them. I later corrected the news channel on my Twitter, disgusted at the irresponsible reporting.

It took 3 hours to get fuel while we waited for the generator to work at the station, then raced home to grab the kids, who mum was watching. There was a window of opportunity to escape and we were taking it. Mum took the opportunity too. She grabbed petrol before the pumps ran out and then fled to my brothers place in Bega. She’d stay there several days until she was allowed to go home.

Our drive home was slow. There were jams at several points and the smoke was so thick we had to close the aircon entirely. We watched as small fires still burnt so actively under trees and people cried outside the smouldering rubble that used to be their home. Animals sat in paddocks with burnt legs and we knew they’d likely be shot later. A lone alpaca sat on blackened paddocks and I hoped it wasn’t burnt, it’s fluffy face looking on to the distance as if it already knew its fate. Our baby cried for his bottle but they went cold in the traffic jams. There was nowhere to heat it until we met up with our friends in Cooma, the ones we met on the way down a week earlier. We fell through their doors looking worse for wear as they made us coffee and gifted us shortbread. We fed the kids and stretched our legs. We got home after 9 hours. My husbands family didn’t want us to worry and filled our shelves and cupboards with food and turned the aircon on to give the house clean air. We sat on our bed in an unchaotic house and wondered if we really did just go through all of that.

Mum was able to go home this past Wednesday and they switched the power back on. Mum was glad the place wasn’t looted as there were looters in the area. The fires brought out the best and the worst in people. While we were raising money and donating, others looted the cars of those who had already lost everything. When in Bega my mum, at one point, hid under a bridge with my brother for hours while it rained live embers. An old colleague of my brothers took them in until they could go back to my brothers place.

When we got back home to Canberra, I started the search for the birds owner and found her after a big community effort. She had gone to Melbourne for Christmas to see her daughter and her neighbour looked after the bird. The owner had lost everything. Her house and all her belongings and important documents. It would take a while to get back on her feet and so I’m watching her bird for her while she does so. I felt so sad to hear that she lost everything. What we went through was so small in comparison. We had a home to run away to and my mum got to go home to her house. But this bird and his owner have lost everything but each other and their dog. The bird gets along with our guinea pigs. They all chirp together while sitting inside waiting for the smoke in Canberra to die down. It’s really very cute.

It’s been very emotional. I have been crying at odd moments. We’ve seen a lot. This past week my husband and I have been struggling with how everything was supposed to be normal again. He’d go to work and I’d look after the kids and do my hobbies except it’s smokey outside and we have P2 masks on whenever we went out and the house is taped up to keep smoke out.

We are still processing a lot but I think typing it here helps in that process. Thank you if you read all of this. I will be resuming the bug photography soon. There’s no real conclusion yet and that’s because the fires rage on. There won’t be a real conclusion for a while yet. I guarantee it’ll remain devastating. We’ve lost lives and wildlife. We’ve lost treasured places and homes. Pets die from respiratory distress from being left outside. Stock are being put down from being injured in the fires. So we all cry from time to time while trying to do our best daily.

Much love,

Anthelid-Day

#nsw bushfires #bermagui #cobargo #evacuation #australia #australian bushfires #nsw #south coast #fires

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clrecrossing · 4 years

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July 22 1/2

I received a letter from Hans. It was a tasteful note reminiscing of his time in New Hope and the antiques he’d found. He thanked me for always being open to listening to him and that my joy was exquisite. He included a picture of himself so I would remember him. I’m so glad we shared all that time together.

I found out that Sterling had actually come down to visit! He’s been having a lot of fun going out on his adventures. He told me that most recently he’s been freefalling. Getting as close to the ground in a dive as possible before spreading his wings and catching himself is apparently intoxicating. I’m glad he’s enjoying himself so much.

The painting I bought from Redd turned out to be real. A success for me! Even better, the archelon fossil that Blathers has been working on for some time is finally completed. The ancient turtle is so weird!

Canberra’s designing again. She said she wants to do a black to gold gradient with some white trim. It sounds like it’ll be interesting when she finishes.

I worked at the cafe again today. I did a lot better this time. Croque complimented me on my coffee. Brewster actually complimented me as well and gave me a gift. It was great!

Rodeo approached me to ask me to get some signatures for a petition he was passing around. I couldn’t read it, but I agreed to look and see who I could find who would be interested in shining. I headed again out into the weird.

I encountered a horse spirit who seemed like they might become a unicorn. They were very giddy about signing the petition and felt super important about being asked.

I ran into a very stylish duck who was happy to throw her support into Rodeo’s petition.

A pink racer yokai I ran into was very weird to talk to. I didn’t get most of what she said, but I did get her signature at least.

A cat spirit was very content to finish off the petition and then cuddle against me. I was lucky I managed to brush her off onto someone else so I could get back to New Hope.

Rodeo thanked me for the help with the petition and offered me a brownie for the help. It was nice.

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wavemaker9 · 5 years

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avi asked for char heights yesterday so real quick before bed

Audrey and Kylee were 5'9, i found a note on it that vaguely alluded to that height being used and immediately that felt like it clicked. the note also mentioned that audrey usually looks taller than kylee because audrey wears heels because business attire. a site said that australians usually wear higher heels than global average, but canberrans wear the lower side of the country (reminder, i tend to picture austin/audrey from canberra area and kyle/kylee from sydney area, unless related in which case i’ll pick depending on context or just say the two parts of the family lived that far apart while still in australia).

i think for fancy occasions, she'll go for a 3 inch. for every day stuff, 2 is more likely with the occasional 3 if she wants to seem taller to appear more intimidating. for job shit, more likely to wear flats, or wide kitten heels and then change to flats right before/after the job. kylee actually also seems taller than her actual height a lot of the time because she'll wear a lot of boots with a thick soul that add a little height from there, but the same is probably true for kyle and maybe even austin/toni depending on the vague heels the dress shoes they wear have, so. For toni, i checked to see if he had an official height from teh series to base off of and i'm not seeing anything so sky’s teh limit. average height for spanish men ages 18-34 is between 5'9" and 5'10", so probably around that height. i kinda wanna lean towards 5'10" because that keeps 5'9" from being too crowded. 5'9.5" might also work but i'll probaby round to 5'10" for ease. average height for spanish women between those ages is 5'5.5", so i'd probably just round up to 5'6" for carmen. I think she leans for the higher heels unless, again, doing something that's for a job, usually seen in 3 or even 4 inch heels. it's about fashion and making a statement, y'know. if she needs to wear flats, she'll wear those ones that have like a wide flat heel on the back, like one that's only an inch or so if that. practically never wears full flats. but usually she can run and fight surprisingly well even in heels and she's also not afraid to just take her shoes off midfight or whatever if that were needed as well. so, only noting heel differences higher than an inch

Kyle - 5'11" Austin - 5'11" Toni - 5'10" Kylee - 5'9" Audrey - 5'9", though shoes can make her look up to 6', 5'11" average Carmen - 5'6", though shoes can make her look up to 5'10", 5'9"/5'10" average

also bonus, i think i said doug was 6'. summer's i /think/ 5'10". my first instinct was to make her taller than kyle, then to make her the same height, but i liked her being that inch shorter but still a menacing force for him sometimes. also of course friendly reminder nationverse summer can change her appearance however she wants so while she tends to be 5'10" around kyle, she probably lets herself be a little shorter around toni though sometimes leans to same height or higher as a show of force when she thinks he's not respecting her properly, and also definitely makes herself suddenly Very Tall the one time ivan comes out to talk to her alone.

#ignore this #the thief kid #the suit kid #the boss kid #amusing muse musings #crossovers! unlimited crossovers!#crossovers gta edition

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dftgrftgh · 3 years

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newstfionline · 3 years

Text

Saturday, August 14, 2021

Census shows US is diversifying (AP) The U.S. became more diverse and more urban over the past decade, and the non-Hispanic white population dropped for the first time on record, the Census Bureau said Thursday as it released a trove of demographic data that will be used to redraw the nation’s political maps. The figures show continued migration to the South and West at the expense of counties in the Midwest and Northeast. The share of the non-Hispanic white population fell from 63.7% in 2010 to 57.8% in 2020, the lowest on record. White people continue to be the most prevalent racial or ethnic group, though that changed in California, where Hispanics became the largest racial or ethnic group, growing to 39.4% from 37.6% over the decade, while the share of white people dropped from 40.1% to 34.7%. “The U.S. population is much more multiracial and much more racially and ethnically diverse than what we have measured in the past,” said Nicholas Jones, a Census Bureau official. The share of children in the U.S. declined because of falling birth rates, while the share of adults grew, driven by aging baby boomers. Adults over age 18 made up more than three-quarters of the population in 2020, or 258.3 million people, an increase of more than 10% from 2010.

Migrants find themselves stranded abroad by new US policy (AP) Shortly after crossing the border in south Texas with her 5-year-old daughter, Karla Leiva of Honduras found herself on a chartered U.S. government flight, learning midair that she was headed to the provincial capital of Villahermosa in southern Mexico. Authorities there put her on a bus to Mexico’s southern border and on Thursday she sat on the patio of a migrant shelter in a remote Guatemalan border town. Her swift expulsion through three countries was part of a highly unusual partnership between the governments of the United States and Mexico that the Biden administration hopes will deter migrants from returning to the U.S. border. The U.S. government has intermittently flown Mexicans deep into Mexico for years to discourage repeat attempts, but flights that began last week from Brownsville, Texas, to Villahermosa and Tapachula, near the Guatemalan border, appear to be the first time that Central Americans have been flown to Mexico.

Britain’s first mass shooting in more than a decade leaves 5 dead, plus suspected gunman (Washington Post) A 22-year-old gunman who posted YouTube videos filled with despair and self-loathing is suspected of killing five people, including his mother and a 3-year-old girl, in the first mass shooting in Britain in more than a decade, police said. Thursday night’s shooting rampage in the seaside city of Plymouth, in southwest England, stunned the country, which has some of the toughest gun laws in the world. Police confirmed that the suspect, identified as Jake Davison, held a license for the gun used. There was no immediate, clear motive, police said.

Italy may have seen Europe’s hottest day ever (NBC News) Europe may just have seen its hottest day ever. A temperature of almost 120 degrees Fahrenheit was reported in Sicily on Wednesday and, if verified, would be a record for the continent. The 48.8 degrees Celsius (119.84 Fahrenheit) temperature was recorded by Sicily’s agriculture-meteorological information service, SIAS, at the Syracuse station on the island’s southeast. The hottest verified temperature on the continent is 48 degrees Celsius, or 118.4 degrees Fahrenheit, in Greece on July 10, 1977. The high temperature reading came as a heatwave is baking parts of the Mediterranean and contributing to massive wildfires that have killed dozens of people.

Turkey combats Black Sea floods, death toll rises to 27 (Reuters) Emergency workers battled to relieve flood-hit areas of Turkey’s Black Sea region on Friday, as the death toll rose to 27 in the second natural disaster to strike the country this month. The floods, among the worst Turkey has experienced, brought chaos to northern provinces just as authorities were declaring wildfires that raged through southern coastal regions for two weeks had been brought under control. Torrents of water tossed dozens of cars and heaps of debris along streets, with bridges destroyed, roads closed and electricity cut to hundreds of villages.

Troops Rush In (Independent UK, CNN, ABC News) U.S. troops in Afghanistan kept the Taliban at bay for two decades. It was America’s longest war. In the 1990s, the Taliban captured Kandahar, Afghanistan’s second-largest city, after claiming the country as an Islamic state. They were forced out when U.S. troops invaded in 2001. On Thursday, Taliban fighters again took back that strategic southern city. Kandahar is the birthplace of their fundamentalist Islamic movement, and the 12th provincial capital out of the country’s 34 that the militants have seized in their week-long campaign. The initial U.S. projection for when the country’s capital of Kabul might fall under Taliban control was six to twelve months. A recent military analysis said Kabul could be isolated and captured in 30 to 90 days, but that timeline appears to be accelerating. There are also credible reports that the militants are executing Afghan troops who’ve surrendered. Taliban leaders have denied the accusations, but last month CNN obtained a video showing 22 unarmed members of an Afghan Special Forces unit being executed while trying to surrender. The Taliban now controls two-thirds of the country. The rapidly deteriorating security situation prompted a decision to send 3,000 troops back in to help evacuate personnel from the U.S. Embassy in Kabul. The Pentagon said one Army and two Marine infantry battalions will enter Afghanistan within the next two days to assist at the Kabul airport with the partial evacuation. The embassy has a staff of 4,000, including 1,400 Americans. Great Britain will also send 600 troops into the country to help support British nationals as they leave. As Western powers line up to leave, it’s difficult to overstate the tragedy of a situation where thousands have been killed, millions have become refugees, and trillions of dollars in resources have been burned only for Afghanistan to end up where it started 20 years ago.

Afghanistan’s rapid collapse is part of a long, slow U.S. defeat (Washington Post) The collapse seems so sudden. In the space of a few blistering summer months, Taliban forces have swept across much of Afghanistan. But the writing has been on the wall for a long time. As my colleague Craig Whitlock has revealed with his award-winning reporting on a cache of internal U.S. government documents scrutinizing the failures of the American war-making and nation-building efforts in Afghanistan, successive U.S. administrations recognized that the Taliban were not going to be easily vanquished, that the Afghan state was weak and riddled with corruption, and that muddling through without a coherent strategy was still preferable to admitting defeat. “The interviews and documents, many of them previously unpublished, show how the administrations of Presidents George W. Bush, Barack Obama and Donald Trump hid the truth for two decades,” Whitlock explained. “They were slowly losing a war that Americans once overwhelmingly supported. Instead, political and military leaders chose to bury their mistakes and let the war drift.” “The turning point came at the end of 2005, beginning of 2006 when we finally woke up to the fact that there was an insurgency that could actually make us fail,” one administration official later told government interviewers. “Everything was turning the wrong way at the end of 2005.” Almost a decade later, at the end of 2014, Obama attempted to hail the end of the American military mission in the country after years of counterinsurgency, declaring in a statement that “the longest war in American history is coming to a responsible conclusion.” But U.S. officials knew that there was little end in sight and the Obama administration, Whitlock reported, “conjured up an illusion.” Then came Trump, who loudly called for an end to costly U.S. military entanglements abroad. But he authorized an intensification of aerial bombing campaigns against Islamist militant targets that, according to one study, saw Afghan civilian casualties increase by about 330 percent. Biden, a veteran of the Obama years, now owns his own moment in Afghanistan’s tumultuous history, a tragedy many years in the making.

Australia capital’s lockdown until no more virus (AP) Australia’s capital Canberra will remain locked down until there are no more COVID-19 infections in the city, a government leader said on Friday. The Australian Capital Territory, which comprises Canberra and two villages, locked down for a week after a man tested positive on Thursday.

Processed foods (Food Dive) A new study published in JAMA found that 67 percent of U.S. children and teens’ diets come from ultra-processed foods, up 5.6 percentage points compared to the levels seen in 1999. Most of the increase came from ready-to-eat meals, which rose from 2.2 percent of daily calories to 11.2 percent of calories. Interestingly, consumption of sugar-sweetened beverages like soda actually took a pretty considerable dip, falling from 10.8 percent of calories in 1999 to 5.3 percent in 2018.

A stranger helped a Jamaican athlete get to his Olympic race. He won gold. (Washington Post) As a star hurdler, Jamaica’s Hansle Parchment is familiar with overcoming barriers. But he was unprepared for a different kind of obstacle: getting lost in Tokyo on the day of his Olympic race, and rapidly running out of time to get there. The 31-year-old athlete posted a video this weekend on Instagram explaining how panic turned to hope after he met a “good Samaritan,” a volunteer working at the Games, who ultimately gave him money to take a taxi to the correct venue—where he won a gold medal in the men’s 110-meter hurdles on Aug. 5. Parchment, with gold medal in hand, went to find the stranger who had gone out of her way to help him—to thank her for helping him when he needed it the most. Parchment found Trijana Stojkovic, who was volunteering at the Olympics, telling her, “You were instrumental in me getting to the final that day.” He showed her his gold medal. “Really, you got this?!” she replied. Jamaica’s Ministry of Tourism has since invited Stojkovic to the island. Jamaican officials branded Stojkovic a good Samaritan and said an “official invitation” from the minister of tourism had been extended for her to visit.

#headlines #news

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lucymacculloch · 6 years

Text

Love, From

You’re at the beach and you’re wearing your dead grandmother’s blue raincoat. For once it’s the tourists that have dressed for England’s pretence of summer, so while the people with British accents are walking along the port in jeans and long coats, the voice that sound American to you but you know are Canadian are talking about shorts were a mistake and whether they should buy longer pants. You’ve heard that it’s supposed to rain later.

You finally understand why English people like Australian beaches. You were waiting for the sudden glitter of blue and a blur of golden sand, only to realise that the sea had already been trickling past the train for five minutes, its dark blue only distinguishable from the grey shore by its resting boats. So far, you have not seen a single wave.

You can't remember what an overcast day at a Sydney beach looks like. You haven't even been to the beach in five years, and how un-Australian is that? You wonder how the water would look now if the sun was brighter and the sky was bluer. Before you got to the coast, the train windows had cut Norfolk into ready-made postcards of trimmed hay with rounded trees and fields of yellow flowers. It was quaint - diorama worthy, with pulled cotton hanging from fishing line as clouds above pig figurines held in paddle-pop fence pens - romantically and fancifully rural. And then the colours had lost their saturation and the clouds had grown, until you had arrived at the station and were met with only an absence of colour.

Ok, you're not actually at the beach yet. You are a fifteen minute walk away from the actual shore. Apparently, England builds houses near beaches instead of building carparks. Ten minutes of explore has revealed that your first impression of there being fuck all to do in a small port town was accurate. There are three arcades, all two minutes away from each other, as well as one of those spirituality shops that sells mood rings and quartz stones and smells of lavender. There are two cafes but only one fish and chip shop, whose takeaway boxes sit in the laps of almost everyone sitting on the boardwalk. You smelled the oil from the chips before you smelled the sea salt itself, and now they mix together with a bit of tomato sauce and vinegar thrown in. You have no idea why anyone would put vinegar on chips, but at least they don't call them fries here.

Another store, more toy shop than tourist centre has a write rack of postcards sitting out the front. You twirl it around, scanning them more out of obligation than interest. You've been writing about postcard for years (it seemed like an underused metaphor for something meaningful at the time), but it didn't occur to you to send one until your mother emailed you asking you to. Not to her, but to both of your great aunts, one of whom you've never met but hope to receive part of an inheritance from. You got your mother's most recent email yesterday, this one containing a self-diagnosis for Asperger's syndrome and how it differs between men and women, only you read it as Alzheimer's for two minutes. Same difference. You'll ring her this afternoon when it's 1am over there because you know she'll be awake and it will save you from replying.

The last postcard you received was from Jasmine. She handed it to you a week after she'd gotten back from New York, the edge at the top starting to split. You found it again only recently, when you were doing your annual room clean. You read it and it made you sad, but right now you can't remember what it said. You think the photo on the front was blue. You're not sure where you put it, but it's probably safely in a box. Or it went into recycling. It's hard to tell what you've done, sometimes.

Jasmine is ten minutes late, as you both expected her to be. Either that or you got the wrong time, or the wrong place. Or the wrong date. It doesn't matter if you did: just take sixty or so photos of the beach and its colourful houses, the bunting hanging above the street for zero reason that you can see, and a bright cone of gelato, and post three out of four of them on Instagram and the two hour trip will have been worth it. You might even have left before it starts to rain. The wind smacks your hair into your face and it feels like straw. It's been more of a lost cause than usual, as has your face with its constellation of red mounds. You're suddenly aware of how soft the flesh on your arms is, how when you press against it you can barely feel the hard bone. Your stomach doesn't feel soft at all, just unavoidable. You're wearing your mother's jumper that's supposed to be two sizes too big for you, but it doesn't feel big enough. You want to draw your hood up, rest the wool over your face and sink into the warm dark. It's only midday; you've been awake for four hours at most. This is why you don't go out.

Jasmine is on her phone when you see her, leaning against the town map. You still expect her to dress in bright floral patterns, but she's just wearing a blue shirt and dark jeans - something you would wear, have been wearing for the past two weeks - with her in the low ponytail she wears when she's working. At least she didn't straight it. Her lipstick is nice, fuchsia, but you don't know how frequently she wears makeup and if it means you should have made more of an effort, too. She's more happy than tired, and you wonder if that's still a rarity for her. You've started to drift towards her when she sees you, gives more of a nod of recognition than a smile, and you both stop for a moment to see if one of you will go in for a hug. Neither of you do.

The how are you's last about four minutes before food gets brought up. Ten minutes ago you wouldn't have been able to eat anything other than fairy floss; would have needed to feel the sugar granules dissolve one by one, feeling the sticky grit on the ridges of your fingers for your throat to accept anything at all, but now you're desperate for one of those takeaway boxes becoming transparent with grease. Jasmine just shrugs, and you know she'll try to get a salad.

Your mum talked about how chip oil was better here, so you think that the chips might melt a little more smoothly on your tongue, not hot enough to burn but still warm, soft. Jasmine asks about your trip just as you're licking the salt and tomato sauce off of your fingers. You start to answer as you wipe the grease from your fingers on your grandma's raincoat. You can feel the words starting to pile up at the back of your throat as you run out of script.

- How was Canberra? Did your team win? How is your boyfriend? You ask. She waves off each question like they're nothing.

You want to get her talking. After all, you only have two stories to tell and she's already heard them, years ago. You are no longer looking at her, eyes drifting to edge of the dock where people, families mostly, are dropping their lines into the water to catch crabs. You suddenly remember just how busy the dock is, the surrounding voices returning in a jumbled rush. Overhead the seagulls flap their wings, swooping to perch on the flag mast of a boat. You comment that they seem better behaved here than in Australia. Jasmine murmurs in agreement.

A crab plops into a bucket overlaid with a sticker of a smiling cartoon crustacean. The water has a yellow tinge and the crabs are sitting on top of each other. Further on, a boy hold a crap up to his sister, finger and thumb wrapped around the middle. The crab barely moves its legs and the girl only tilts her face away from the boy's teasing. Their parents watch from the sidewalk, smiling. Eventually, he puts the crab down, where it immediately shuffles to the edge of the dock and falls off.

- You been crabbing? Jasmine asks, eyebrow cocked.

You shake your head, and both of you turn away from each other again, looking out to the sea.

- Rob used to take me fishing, occasionally. When I was a kid. I wasn't very good. I could never bait the line. I forgot about going, actually. What about you?

Jasmine tilts her head like it's an answer.

The takeaway box on your lap is no longer warm. The smell of salt is stronger now and there's a hint of salt though you know it's from the plastic bags of bait. A boy of about ten is sitting with a fluorescent orange net, barely moving as he waits. He looks up and he's wearing a bright pink wrestling mask. You and Jasmine turn to each other with bemused smiles.

Eventually you both decide to get coffee, only Jasmine gets a chai latte and you get a hot chocolate, trying not to feel too childish next to her, pulling the sleeves of your jumper over your hands and pressing them against the warmth of the mug. Jasmine starts telling you about a movie she saw recently that you might like, actually, and you nod and smile into your mug and hope you look attentive and sophisticated enough as melted marshmallow sticks to the corner of your mouth, the dip in your top lip. You're trying to talk about a TV show you like when you let slip a do you remember when and she nods, and you quickly fill in the silence with a badly-told joke.

You're somewhere between walking to the bus stop and down to the shore when Jasmine stops outside one of the shops, twirls a rack of postcards around her finger as she tilts her head.

- Should I get one for Libby? she asks.

You shrug, come up next to her and pick up a few, showing her to the ones you deem pretty enough. Most of them are blue, or pale green.

- I never know what to write on them, Jasmine says.

You don't either.

- Just stick a 'wish you were here' or 'love from' on them, you reply.

Jasmine puts the postcards back and says she'll buy one in London.

You don't end up going to the beach. Instead, Jasmine catches a bus to go back to her hotel and you think you should hug her to say goodbye but you don't, just brush your shoulder against hers and wish her a good trip. She waves to you as she gets on the bus but doesn't sit by the window. Two days later will she post a photo on Instagram of her and another friend you used to know who happened to be in England at the same time as her, and sadness will settle over you like a worn blanket. But only for a few minutes. In the meantime, you walk back to the edge of the dock and peer over it, picture yourself falling to the bottom like one of the captured crabs. Nearby, the boy in the wrestling mask rustles a crab out of his net, dunks it into his bucket. You feel one, two, drops of rain splash your face and pull your hood up as you walk back to the station.

#short story #fiction

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unkindnessofone · 7 years

Text

Primal

This is a long one. There will be a part two. It’s the first story like this I’ve posted in a long time and I AM VERY NERVOUS. Fingers crossed. I hope you enjoy.

The time on his phone seemed impossible. Ashton could not believe that his two year old boy had cried for over an hour straight without any interruption. He started as they left his grandparents place and continued the entire car ride to the penthouse they were renting while in England, visiting Simone's parents for her their anniversary party. At one point, between his boiling red face and the volume of his squealing, Ashton wondered if there was actually something medically the matter with Connor. He had his tantrums before and some teary eyes here and there, but this was completely off the charts.

Ashton panted as he embraced the silence in their makeshift home. Had he really made it out alive? All he was thinking about was how much he would love a cigarette even if he gave up smoking years ago, a decision he made around the time Simone was expecting Molly.

"Now that he's cried himself to sleep, I'm opening that bottle of wine." Simone half laughed at herself, despite how serious she was, as she cautiously shut the door on Connor's room. She placed her hand on the small of Ashton's back in front of her and snuck by. "Thanks for the help." She was used to handling those moments by herself, but Ashton was always very hands on when he wasn't in the middle of a tour.

Simone took his soft smile as 'you're welcome' and then moved to the kitchen. She loved her children, but a glass of wine in the middle of the afternoon might have been her first love. She and Ashton had talked about waiting to open the gifted bottle tomorrow before going out, but Simone felt she needed it now.

Checking his phone again, Ashton followed behind. He didn't favor wine like his wife did, but their fridge was full of beer. Once he made it to the kitchen, he noticed Simone had already left for the balcony, leaving the bottle of Shiraz on the counter for when she had room in her glass for another round.

Ashton cracked open a can and went to head to the living area. As much as he needed the break from nonstop travelling and performing every night, he found that after a weekend of rest that his body was full of music to release. It was innate inside of him. With Connor out, he excused himself to sit fiddle on an acoustic guitar for a while.

"Hey Molly Moo, do you mind if I play around in here?" He asked his oldest as she had set up shop on the very expensive glass coffee table. She had her stuffed Hammerhead Shark laying on its back as she fumbled with her red plastic stethoscope, ready to check for its make believe heartbeat before performing surgery.

"Nope." Merrily, she peeped and shook her head. She had sat through the whole car ride with her screaming brother without complaining or even groaning in exasperation. As soon as they arrived back at the apartment, Molly just excused herself from her frazzled family to her room where her toys were and then went to play on her own. People always commented that she was a good big sister, but Molly was also very good at knowing how to disappear. Her parents lives were so large and on display that it was an incredible ability to be able to go unnoticed sometimes. She was chatty, but sometimes she only really wanted to talk to herself.

Ashton placed his drink can on a side table before turning a lamp on and grabbing the guitar by its neck as it was resting on the leather couch's arm.

He maneuvered it over his lap, but instead of placing his fingers properly on the right frets, he found himself just staring at his little lady. She had her flaws, but right now, Molly seemed perfect. A living and breathing mini Mary Poppins, practically perfect in every single way.

Luke had his hands full with a most stubborn and fearless Penelope Hemmings always one second away from running into traffic or forgoing her life jacket. He now had two twin baby boys that left him without any free hands to crack a beer, strung a guitar or even just run his fingers through his hair. Michael, who seemed to always pretend he was the most fun loving Dad and Uncle, also had to keep his eyes on his kids. He had Emmeline who needed to get her way and be the centre of the Universe at all times and Iden, who really just wanted to follow his sister like a shadow into all her schemes and productions. Calum was a brand new Dad too and even though Daphne seemed to rarely cry or make any noise at all, the bassist was still brand new to the whole "this life depends on you" thing. It truly made Ashton appreciate Molly. He pulled out his phone to take a picture of his daughter as she adjusted her glasses before proceeding with surgery. He had forgot that he didn't have the sound off and accidentally called her attention to him, her blond hairs stray from her ponytail flying behind her as she looked up.

"Ah, you caught me." With a sheepish smile, Ashton admitted. He looked over the picture quickly before resting his phone down on the side table by his drink.

"That's okay." Molly shrugged and put her stethoscope back in her ears again. "What are you going to play?" Curiously, she asked without even looking up from her stuffed toy's tummy as she dragged her fingertip over it - just like a real surgeon.

"Going to try to write." Ashton shared, placing his fingers on the strings and strumming across to see how badly the instrument needed to be tuned.

"What about?"

"I don't know yet. Got any ideas?" Keeping his focus on the guitar, he engaged, asking her as a joke. Connor had exhausted Ashton of all his ability to interact, but Molly, when not wound up, could always entice him. When one child was sour, the other was always sweet. That's just how his babies were.

"Hmmm..." Molly stopped dragging her finger scalpel over the shark and tapped it against her chin, rubbing her lips inward together to help produce a thought. "You said you got to write from your heart." He had told her that once at dinner when she was picking his brain about his job. The girl was always looking to learn. "My heart is full of animals and you, and mum, and Connor even when he is crying." She rattled on to give him ideas. Instead, Ashton was completely amused. She was his perfect girl. For as long as he had her, he was convinced things would be okay. “What's in your heart, Daddy?” Innocently, she asked before returning to her very important shark surgery.

The kettle was screaming to be removed from the stove top. Ashton was only a single step away, but he didn't even register the noise. He didn't so much as flinch to adjust his glasses from slipping down his nose. He, just like his world, was still as he stared directly across the kitchen at his tablet, propped up and playing different headlines. Both his dogs began barking at the stove, Rocco even jumping at Ashton's legs, but the man still couldn't be moved.

"What is going on?" Simone, with a violet face mask on, rushed out of the main floor bathroom of their Australian home and hisses as she entered the kitchen. She had a thousand things to accomplish today before her upcoming trip to England and the all the chaos coming from the kitchen was not helping her focus. She tightened her bright red robe around her body and shut off the stove as soon as she entered the room, even reaching around her husband to move the kettle to a different element. She remembered now why she was always the one to make tea.

"What happ - " Nearly chuckling, Simone was ready to poke fun at her husband when she turned around and saw the same screen he was entranced by. Stunned silent, Simone joined Ashton in pausing all her senses before the screen changed and their view was replaced by an advertisement for toothpaste. "We have to go." Simone jumped right out of the trance and into her businesswoman role.

By the time Ashton snapped out of it Simone was already back in the bathroom and washing off her face mask. He only realized then that he was standing naked still in the kitchen. When Connor recently gone on tour and Molly away with her friends in Canberra for the last week before school started again, Ashton and Simone were relaxing naked in their house like they used to when they first bought it together as newlyweds and even how they spent their first year of Molly's life, hiding away from their busy worlds like hippies, comfortable and happy.

Ashton heard his phone buzzing on the counter by the tablet. It had been going for minutes straight, but he headed upstairs instead to throw on the first clothes he could find. A thin and wrinkled plaid shirt and a pair of Koala grey shorts. When he made his way back down, Simone had her hair pinned back at both sides, a thin rose patterned sundress on, and her purse over her shoulder. She had just hung up her phone and was ready to jump out the door.

"Skye is going to come get the dogs." She informed her husband in a huff, typing madly on her phone. Ashton had only ever seen her like this when she was in a cab between meetings. "I got us on a flight. We need to leave now." Simone tossed her phone into her purse and looked up at him with narrow eyes. "I just texted you your boarding pass." She moved by him to head up the stairs. She needed her passport and phone charger. "Can you call the lawyer?"

"Simone?" Staring forward as if she was still in front of him instead of six steps away Ashton mumbled. He heard her fast pace halt and he checked over his shoulder to see her looking down at him, both of them finally catching their breath.

"It's going to be okay, honey. We will work it out." Simone tried to promise. The fear and heartache was evident in Ashton's eyes. He looked completely lost, a newborn alien waking up on planet Earth.

Usually, Ashton was a pillar of strength. The year Simone's holiday collection was rejected by every department store, he convinced her to take it with stride. When her father was diagnosed with prostate cancer, he was her rock. When it came to his kids though, Ashton was a puddle. He was instantly overemotional and couldn't think straight when one of his babies was in distress. He was pretty much useless when they were small and getting their shots at the doctor's office.

* * * * * * * * * *

The flight to Canberra was delayed by forty minutes, adding more time for Ashton sit still on the plane and drive himself crazy. He kept wondering how this could have happened. The news barely gave him any information beyond "Molly Irwin, daughter of famous Aussie rock star and beloved jeweler arrested this morning with four other Bond University students." They said the story was developing, but so far Ashton was starved for details. His own lawyer barely had sent him any worthwhile messages besides the right police station his daughter was being held at. In order to pass the time, Ashton just stared at her mugshot that was easily found with a quick Google search. Even his own mother had texted it to him when they were on their way to the airport. She looked like his Molly, frizzy hair, playful freckles, and hazel eyes that were a shade he had only seen in autumn leaves before, but Ashton just couldn't understand how this was his Molly. She was the good girl. She was studious, sharp, and mindful. He had worried about car accidents, heartbreak, and anxiety attacks, but he never even considered his daughter in an orange jumpsuit with stretched open eyes.

He looked over his shoulder over and over as he fidgeted during the flight, but Simone was calm. She had channeled her dismay into work ethic, a trait she had given to Molly, and was focused on answering emails for work. It helped right now for one of them to still be calm.

"The silver lining in all this is we got to go on one last little getaway before the end of summer." Simone mused as they walked through the airport, both of their eyes rushing around to find a car rental sign. She smiled at herself and reached for Ashton's hand to hold as they cruised. She knew he needed comfort over amusement. They knew each other like the back of their hands. Grace and Michael had always been touch and go, Luke and Cagney had their dark period, but Ashton and Simone were always in sync. Before one another, they laughed deliciously at the thought of soul mates.

"Ash?" Her accent sticking out more so when she said his name, Simone peered up and leaned forward. His eyes were glassy and the sight made the knot in her stomach tighten. She squeezed his hand twice and brought up both their knuckles in order to kiss his. "Do you want me to go get her? You could find somewhere to hang out." Who knew how long they would be waiting for her to be released anyway? Neither of them had any experience with this process. Simone kept it to herself that she imagined now they would be helpful to their friends when March or Emmeline were inevitably arrested.

"No." Stoic, which was not a usual trait for him, Ashton replied instantly. "I got to be there." Though he didn't know if that was for him or Molly. He still didn't know how his daughter was. Was she scared? Had she been hurt?

****************************

Together, still holding hands, Ashton and Simone cruised slowly through the parkade looking for their rented hatchback. The last thing either of them wanted was to bring attention to themselves.

"Finally." Simone hisses as she dropped Ashton's grip and began to walk and wrestle with her purse to pick out her phone that she could feel buzzing. "Hello. What do you know?" She answered with haste. There was no time for small talk. "It's Craig." Tilting the phone away from her mouth, she mentioned to Ashton prompting his eyebrows to lift. He leaned down and tried to hear her lawyers voice through the bottom of her phone. He couldn't make out a single word though and impatiently waited for her to fill him in. "Okay, okay." Simone nodded along, driving her husband nuts. "Of course." She waved her free hand through the air in a gesture to show how much she understood. "Ashton is with me. We both can do that." Without knowing what they were talking about, Ashton shot her an agreeing thumbs up and enthusiastic nod. "Thank you, Craig. We appreciate it." Simone stifled her tired sigh and hung up politely.

"What do we know?" Anxiously he almost jumped at her before she began to walk forward again, texting rapidly.

"Grace says we should get snacks and coffee. The wait at the station could be hours and all cop shops have notoriously bad coffee apparently." Simone shared.

"How would she know?" His face scrunched together in tight puzzlement.

"Her mom was arrested a couple times, I think."

"Hey! Why didn't she text me?" Ashton hadn't forgotten about the matter at hand, he only realized then that Grace Clifford hadn't said a word to him in weeks.

"She thinks you're taking Michael's side in the divorce." Simone finally put her phone away in her bag and smiled lightly, almost barely at all. She noted how her comment made Ashton's brows meet in the centre and raised her own in return, "Aren't you a bit?"

"Maybe. I don't know! What did Craig say?" The two of them had talked about the Clifford's impending divorce a couple times, but for now they had bigger truths to handle.

"He told me why Molly's been arrested and is being fine five grand." Even though Simone had been living primarily in Australia for two decades, she still had to do the math to Pound Sterling. "It's the most Molly reason I can ever imagine." She muttered, annoyed more than anything else.

Ashton's mind went blank. There was no Molly reason to him that would lead to her being dragged away in handcuffs in trouble with the law. His perfect angel could not have done anything wrong.

"She was protesting the demolition of a park here."

"It was probably peaceful." Letting out a large exhale of relief, Ashton excused his daughter.

"She tied herself to a tree for three days." Suddenly, it made sense to both Simone and Ashton why she hadn't returned their most recent texts. "It was something to do with saving the wildlife that calls the park home."

The pair made it to the car, Ashton heading to the driver's side. Simone stood still at the trunk though, gaining his attention.

"Should we even be going to pick her up?" She asked, sounding defeated.

"Of course!" Ashton shouted. "Why wouldn't we?"

"I don't know. She's an adult. If she's going to be making choices,l like this, she can deal with them on her own."

"Simmie, she was protesting. She didn't rob a 7/11." Ashton leaned against the car and argued. He couldn't believe they weren't in agreement on this.

A silence shone between them. Ashton kept his gaze tight on his wife's face as she looked down at her sandals in deep thought. She didn't know what the right thing to do was.

"I always knew her passion could get her in trouble but I never thought she would be stupid." That was not an adjective anyone had ever used to describe Molly Irwin before.

"I'll tell you what," Ashton stepped closer, reaching out his hand to hold hers. It was his turn to be comforting. "Next time, we won't board the first flight. We can leave her in for a day." He tried to make her smile even if they both knew he was lying. He would never make an hour before springing into action.

"Alright." Deeply inhaling, Simone agreed. "Let's go get our criminal." Ashton kissed her softly and let go of her hand in order to send them on their way. Somehow, he felt a touch calmer knowing his daughter hadn't accidentally murdered someone even though his stomach was still a tangled mess of yarn knots.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Oh no. The worst was at that hotel in Houston, remember?" Simone stuck up her finger and recalled. As the second hour of waiting at the station started, Simone and Ashton had taken to recall the worst coffee they had ever had instead of wishing they had gone to pick up coffee and snacks like their friend suggested. It occurred to them that one could leave to pick some up while the other waited for Molly's release, but neither were willing to risk missing their daughter. "I was pregnant with this little troublemaker and I was only allowed one cup a day and you made that swamp water sludge in our room." She reminded him, causing a smug grin to spread on his face, while she helped herself to a bite of his chocolate bar from the vending machine.

"It wasn't that bad. Your taste buds were compromised." Just like he defended it had the time, Ashton said. "The worst was at the gas station in Manchester."

"When?"

"You were debuting a counter at their Selfridges out there. I was bringing you a coffee like the incredible husband I am."

"I don't remember." Shrugging, Simone mused before hanging her head back and groaning. "What do you say to your kid when they are released from police custody?" She asked the unforgiving lights hanging above them.

"I don't know. I mean, I like that she's standing up for what she believes in." Ashton babbled, finishing his treat. He didn't notice his wife's eyes sliding over to look him over in a most unimpressed fashion. "I just want to make sure she's okay."

"I just wish she wasn't arrested." Simone sighed before a rush of loud footsteps caught her attention and she watched a masterpiece of a young man approach the desk in a hurry. He was the very definition of a beefcake. Tall and thick, but sturdy. In fact, Simone was positive she had seen a palm tree with a trunk as thick as his thighs last time she was in Las Vegas. He looked concerned even with a charming smile. She sat up straight and observed him as he talked to the officer at the front desk while stroking his very stubbly chin.

"I think that guys a Wallabie." Sounding more Australian than usual, Ashton noted while looking the guy over along with his wife. Truthfully, Ashton knew he was. The team was having a pretty good year. "He's a hooker. Flynn O'Malley." He informed his wife. Neither were saying it, but he was very fit.

The rugby player had barely sat down when he had to rise up again, heading to the hallway. As Ashton watched him, he spotted Molly heading out and he jumped onto his feet so quickly that he nearly knocked off his slip on sneakers. She was still his Molly, all limbs and her thick hair tamed into a Dutch braid, frizzy from days without shampoo. Suddenly nervous, Ashton waved at his daughter as she picked up the pace. He slid one hand into his pocket and let fingers fidget freely. Simone was gathering their mess and her purse, ready to leave.

"Wha..?"

As quickly as they had feasted their eyes on their daughter, she had disappeared. Flynn O'Malley's arms wrapped around her shoulders and his massive biceps devoured her head with one bite. Her body hid inside of his. At first, Ashton told himself to remain calm. Nothing good could come from him losing his cool. Besides, he could be a great friend. Miles Hemmings was an athletic guy and he and Molly were always very close in a most platonic fashion. However, as soon as Flynn's chin dipped and his lips went on top of what little was left of Molly's head, Ashton forgot all about keeping his heartbeat at a normal pace. From behind his specs, his eyes jumped open and he took off charging towards his daughter. He had half a mind to just shout, 'Unhand her!' across the room. Ashton couldn't believe he wasn't his daughter's one phone call or that she had a boyfriend that she never told him about. They had always been best friends. How could she have secrets from him? How could she not have reached out to him for help? What else was she keeping from him?

“I brought you a change of clothes.” Flynn mumbled like his mouth was full of marbles as he dragged his hand over Molly's head.

She was just about to thank him again when Molly noticed her parents just inches away. She waved cautiously and tilted her head to the side. Automatically, as if she was a toddler again, she stepped back from Flynn.

“Hi. What are you guys doing here?” She had seen them once in the summer, but she had hoped somehow this would be something that she might not have to mention.

“Well, when your daughter's mugshot is all over the internet, naturally you jump on the next plane to Canberra.” Sarcastically, even if she did sound more posh above all else, Simone mused and wrapped her daughter in a hug. “Are you alright?” She grabbed Molly's face in her hands and looked her over. “Are the birds alright?” Judging by the font on Molly's wrinkled shirt that read 'PROTECT OUR BIRDS', the question was warranted.

“I don't know, Mum.” Molly shrugged and answered in a voice the size of a raindrop. She kept sheepishly trying to catch her father's eye contact, but he was in a daze. He was always looking either at his shoes, Flynn's arms, or just off in the distance.

“I'm Flynn. It's so great to meet you guys finally.” Flashing a smile as big as the rest of his body, Flynn interrupted the mother and daughter and extended his hand. He directed it at Ashton who did his best impression of a high school mean girl, looking at it and then looking away. “I had no idea you guys would be coming.”

“Hello.” Simone took his hand and gave it her best business shake though she assumed to someone as strong as him it felt like a wet spaghetti noodle. She had thought that Molly was seeing someone else, a boy in one of her science classes by the name of Moe, but Simone figured it was best to not bring that up in front of both Ashton and the muscle man. She knew that Ashton was currently trying to survive this moment in his own personal Twilight Zone.

“Ashton, this is Flynn.” Simone turned her back to the two younger adults and locked her teeth together, giving Ashton a look that silently said, 'Speak, please'. “He's Molly's friend.”

Before Flynn correct her, Ashton finally decided to jump into the conversation, “What do you think you're doing getting arrested in Canberra, huh?” So much for hugging her and being supportive. It happened so very rarely, but Simone flinched every time it did. Ashton had snapped. “Do you know how disappointed your mother and I are? And you don't even call us? You call some rugby dirtbag.”

“Whoa - “ Simone went in to stop him. She moved between Molly and Flynn, putting a hand on her daughter's back as a gesture of support. It had been Ashton who talked her out of laying into Molly and now, here he was, doing just that. “Molly just - “

“Do you think a bunch of fucking birds would risk arrest for you, huh?” Ashton was out of his body. He didn't even hear himself or how silly his question actually was. “Do you?”

Molly couldn't remember the last thing her father raised his voice at her. In fact, she was positive it had never actually happened. Sure, when she was a kid and they were walking across the street, he would whistle at her to slow down or wait for him on the other side, but that was hardly the same thing. If she hadn't just been in a holding cell with a woman who had a neck tattoo that had 'money before hoes' misspelled on her neck, she might have been shocked, but Molly knew her Dad very well. He had been her best friend for all of her life. This was so out of character for him that Molly knew that it was an adult man equivalent to a temper tantrum. He was hurt because she was growing up and forgot to tell him.

“Personally,” Cool as a July breeze in the morning, Flynn spoke up without any hesitation. He had taken head on tackles from people twice the size of the Australian drummer and who liked him far less. Flynn wasn't what he appeared to be at first glance, but he also wasn't easily spooked. “I think Molly's passion is very cool. When she told me, she was coming out here, I was a hundred percent on board. She's a someone who knows what she believes in.” He was surprised that Molly's parents didn't seem more proud. Of course, he didn't have any children to hypothetically bail out of jail and he didn't know how he would respond to finding out his daughter was seeing a professional athlete with eight years on her. “I would really love to take you all out for dinner.” Genuinely, he offered before reaching for Molly's hand and lacing his fingers between hers. “Molls has spoken so highly of you both.” That much was easy to believe. She always did worship her parents even if it made her an easy target to tease. It was why she had always been picky about who she spent time with. She wanted a love like her parents had. It couldn't just be lust or easy. It had to have a solid foundation that could remain concrete under any pressure or through surprise conditions. Her parents, to her, were jigsaw pieces that couldn't even be entertained for other puzzle parts. They were so clearly supposed to be sitting side by side, locked in place, and making a stunning picture. Molly was smart and she wouldn't just accept the first person to tell her she was pretty.

There was nothing, but silence coming from Ashton. He was finally staring at his daughter through his glasses, a look that was loaded and tight on her returning gaze. She was pleading silently for him to be nice, to give Flynn a chance, but right now, after Ashton's outburst, she really didn't know what reaction she would receive. This was the first time with him where she didn't know where she stood.

“You know, Flynn, it's been a really crazy day so far...” Simone started, watching Ashton as she began to spoke for them both. “I think we need to settle into a hotel and spend some time with Molly.” She nodded along, agreeing with herself as she was speaking as she was thinking. It was something that all of her years running her own business had taught her how to do without much effort at all. She could probably negotiate in her sleep at this point. “Maybe, a late dinner? Does that work for everyone?” She peeled her eyes away from her husband, trusting he wouldn't go on another tangent, and checked in with the rugby player.

“Absolutely. Ashton?” Flynn leaned in closer to Molly, feeling her hand tighten in his. She was grateful for how kind he was being and how much effort he was already putting in. This whole awkward situation felt like her fault. She had wanted to figure out her relationship with him before telling anyone, including her family. It had been embarrassing when she was ghosted by the last guy out of nowhere and she had to deal with her mom asking questions about him. It wasn't that she wasn't sure about Flynn, she was just protective of what they were building. Molly, for the first time in her life, owed a round of apologies and they were all to her favorite people.

“It's Mr. Irwin.” Glaring with such purpose that his eyes tightened into a squint, Ashton told him, finally extending his hand for a shake. He had always imagined he would be a cool dad when Molly brought someone she cared about home, but this had caught him completely off guard. He had no idea what was going on. Ashton had thought he was picking up his daughter, but instead he was standing in front of a stranger.

“I’ll text you in a bit.” Molly finally peeped as she watched the two most important men in her life pull out of their handshake. Flynn wasn’t used to his girlfriend being so timid. He knew her as the girl who threw his litter at him after watching him casually drop it in the parking lot. His favorite thing about Molly was how unafraid she was to be herself. He tried to understand that right now she was overwhelmed. He had never been arrested before, but he had been pulled over with his grandmum in the passenger seat.

“Excellent! Alright, let’s go!” Simone was dying to leave the station. She couldn’t wait to have faster WiFi, better lighting, real coffee, and some real time with her daughter to catch up on everything from the arrest to the handsome rugby player her father wanted to kill. “Look, your mugshot makes a great lock screen.” She flashed the front of her phone to her daughter as they began to walk away, but Molly was barely amused. She was too busy watching her father stroll ahead of her, not at all paying attention to her. She hadn’t meant to fuck up so royally. She didn’t call them because she wanted to be an adult. She didn’t want them to be disappointed, but she knew now that was what she had done. “It’ll be okay. A little shower, a little chat. We’ll work it out.” Simone pulled her daughter closer as they walked through the door Ashton was holding for them.

“Thank you.” Molly stopped to tell him, turning to let her eyes and weak chin plead for forgiveness from him, but Ashton just let go of the police station door and continued on his way. He had lifted the corner of his lips limply at her, implying nothing and everything all at the same time.

TO BE CONTINUED

#5sos imagine #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin story #ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin fanfic #5sos fic

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fumpkins · 4 years

Text

Canberra women awaiting crucial genetic information left in limbo as BRCA breast cancer test waitlist blows out to 12 months

Updated February 15, 2020 12:32:40

Photo: Bin Barnier and her daughter Jessica face anxious waits to undergo BRCA testing. (ABC News: Peta Doherty)

Bin Barnier had spent three decades caring for cancer patients when she received her recent diagnosis: an aggressive form of breast cancer.

Key points:

Wait times for breast cancer gene testing can be up to 12 months

BRCA test is now subsidised under Medicare and is usually free

Some women are opting for risk-reduction surgery before testing

As a support worker in the field, she knew how important genetic testing could be to help decide on the best treatment.

Her cancer is linked to mutations of the BRACA gene, so she was devastated when she was told she had to wait 12 months for the breast cancer gene test — often referred to as the BRCA test — which her surgeon had asked her to undergo.

Without the results, which indicate how likely she is to develop the cancer again, the Canberra woman said she felt unable to decide what to do.

“Psychologically, for myself, my family or for my future treatment … Do I have another mastectomy? Do I have my fallopian tubes removed?” she said.

“Waiting doesn’t help. To be really honest, I felt as if I’d had an opportunity stolen away from me.”

The BRCA test, which is now subsidised under Medicare and usually provided for free, has greatly improved how breast cancers are treated.

It has also brought peace of mind to many Australian women, who want to know whether they are genetically susceptible to the disease.

But many women must endure lengthy, anxious waits of up to a year before they can undertake the test.

Patients left in medical limbo

Ms Barnier’s daughter Jessica is one of them. She said she was “stressing a lot” about both her mother’s medical limbo and what the results may reveal for her, given the potential genetic link.

“It’s just one [more] thing you can take off the back of the families, as well as the person, obviously, who is going through it,” Jessica said.

Photo: Health Minister Rachel Stephen-Smith said that women who need this testing are triaged. (ABC News: Ian Cutmore)

“We need information, and that’s essentially what’s going to help the mental health of a patient.”

Robyn Smith, from breast and ovarian cancer support group Pink Hope, said it was crucial that women make informed choices about possible preventative treatments, such as mastectomies.

“It’s really important for anyone to have access to the test if they need it, so that they can make really good decisions about their health,” she said.

However, the ACT Government said it prioritised medical care to those most in need.

Health Minister Rachel Stephen-Smith said some Canberra women were tested in as little as two weeks after a request, depending on risk factors such as age and family history.

“What I can assure Canberrans is that people who need urgent tests in genetic testing are receiving those tests,” Ms Stephen-Smith said.

“If you are triaged as category 1, [someone] who needs this test urgently, you’ll receive it urgently.”

If you are not triaged, ACT Health said you could face a waiting period of up to 12 months.

Women opt for risk-reduction surgery

Photo: Sarianna Harvey opted for risk-reduction surgery before she had testing. (ABC News)

Sarianna Harvey, another Canberra woman, opted for risk-reduction surgery over a six-month wait for screening.

She said she was shocked at how long other women were forced to wait to have the test.

“Surgery is invasive. Like it or lump it, you’re putting yourself through a surgical procedure when it might be as simple as a blood test, but I didn’t know that.”

Ms Harvey said the health system’s treatment of women like her and Ms Barnier was wrong.

“To be told she [Ms Barnier] has to wait 12 months, I don’t know what’s going on … I don’t know where the priority seems to lie.”

Topics:

breast-cancer,

diseases-and-disorders,

health,

medical-procedures,

genetics,

canberra-2600,

act

First posted February 15, 2020 10:18:09

New post published on: https://www.livescience.tech/2020/02/15/canberra-women-awaiting-crucial-genetic-information-left-in-limbo-as-brca-breast-cancer-test-waitlist-blows-out-to-12-months/

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mysydneymemories-blog · 5 years

Text

Why Boomers can't talk about the 'R' word

One reason is a bloke who lives nearby. I don't know him well we've never got much past banal chats about the weather or footy but he hasn't had a job for a few years. I suspect he might have been "let go". Or simply retired. He appears a bit lost, like a man chasing things to do. His bins go out earlier than before. Takes his time over domestic chores. He grew a beard, too, which was a mistake. It's all grey. Makes him look much older than he is. Like a slimmed-down Hemingway. Seeing him, I've opted to keep shaving. Then there's the man I'll call Gary, with whom I worked over several decades. I left; he stayed. I caught up with him a while back. He said he felt under pressure at work and was taking medication for stress. The job was killing him. He had to get out. He did, months later. Then I saw him again at the funeral of another former colleague. He'd put on weight. His face looked puffy. Asked about life since escaping the office grind, Gary replied: 'I don't know what to do now. Wonder if I made a hideous mistake.' Asked about life since escaping the office grind, Gary replied: "I don't know what to do now. Struggle to find reasons to get up. Wonder if I made a hideous mistake." This felt like another warning. Was this what happens when you move from full-time work to no work at all, or bits and pieces of stuff you call work? Is this what retirement looks like? A financial guy had already talked me into a transition-to-retirement scheme. I'd focused on the transition, not the r-word. Skimmed over the bit where a payment was called a pension. But the fact was I'd gradually moved transitioned from a Monday-to-Friday job to a four-days-a-week-job, then to several smaller jobs, not all of which involved earning money. During the four-day phase, Wednesdays were mine. For dog walks. Swims. Shopping. Cooking. Stuff. I loved Wednesday. It was a peaceful island in the midst of a fast-running river I had to cross every week. A place to take stock and not answer calls. But maybe Wednesdays were special because of what came before and after. If I had a week of Wednesdays, things would seem different. I could end up with a bad case of the Garys. Perhaps I'm being unfair to him. It's possible he was just having a bad day at the funeral, which was a shocker. Too long, too many speeches, and a prevailing sense that we were there for a popular man who'd had a heart attack while riding his bike with mates. He was 51. Much younger than me. And still 14 years off what used to be set in stone as retirement age. That's how it was: you hit 65, retired, went off and played golf or got a caravan. Or a Winnebago, like Jack Nicholson's character in the 2002 movie About Schmidt, which explores what happens to Warren Schmidt after he retires from an insurance company. Early scenes show Schmidt counting down the last hour of employment and enduring awkward speeches at his office farewell. Then he's hit by a double-whammy: the sudden loss of his wife and a lack of purpose. He takes off, alone, in the Winnebago, in what becomes a kind of oldies' road movie. It makes poignant viewing now. Nicholson's last film came out in 2010. Since then, rumours have swirled about his health. In 2013, he told Vanity Fair he didn't consider himself retired, just less driven. Appropriately, About Schmidt came out the year Nicholson turned 65 the age still linked with the r-word. It's actually an outdated historical construct.

Appropriately, the film "About Schmidt" came out the year its star, Jack Nicholson, turned 65 the age still linked with the r-word.Credit:Alamy In Australia, a government-funded retirement pension dates back to 1909, when it was paid to men from the age of 65. For women, the magic age was 60, from 1910. These pensions, to support ageing victims of tough times from the 1890s, included income and residency tests. They didn't represent a crushing burden for the government, as just 4 per cent of the population was over 65. Life expectancy was about 55 for men, 59 for women. Today, by contrast, about 15 per cent of Australians are over 65 and life expectancy has leapt to about 80 for men and 85 for women. For any budget-conscious government, that represents plenty of potentially costly retirees. And they can be a cranky lot. Hence Prime Minister Scott Morrison's backdown late last year on the Abbott-era plan, from 2014, to increase the pension age from 67 to 70, starting in 2025. Steady increases in age eligibility would have seen it hit 70 by 2035. This was portrayed as a move by penny-pinching politicians to force honest folk to scrap retirement plans and work until they dropped. Doing his man-of-the-people impression, Deputy PM Michael McCormack told Sky News: "If you're a tradie or a brickie or a shearer in rural and regional Australia, you don't want some suit in Canberra telling you you've got to work until you're 70." Absolutely not. Labor didn't protest about this as much as might have been expected, because it was under then prime minister Kevin Rudd in 2009 that the pension age was lifted from 65 to 67 (from 2017). Rudd's treasurer, Wayne Swan, acknowledged the move would never be popular, but justified it by saying Australia faced a "demographic time bomb". An estimated 22 per cent of the population will be over 65 by 2057. The Council on the Ageing (COTA) says 7.9 million Australians, almost a third of the population, are currently aged 50 or above. Of these, 29 per cent of those still working think they'll never retire. Not surprisingly, it also found that "the expected age of retirement increases as household income level decreases". The importance of financial security becomes clear when I type the words "Retirement in Australia" in the online catalogue for the local library. The first entries include books about the future of property investing and keeping your self-managed superannuation fund simple. These books, not to mention Enjoying Retirement, The Retirement Living Handbook and Women and Retirement ("Challenges of a new life phase") are also popular. Most are already out on loan, with at least one reserve in place. Which is understandable. It makes financial sense to borrow a book instead of buying it. And libraries are popular with older people. Then again, how old is old?

Hillary Clinton was 69 when she ran for the US presidency in 2016.Credit:AAP Turning 50 is the first tipping point, a convenient age for headhunters making shortlists shorter, or managers trimming staff numbers. It's when you're over 50 that you start to receive brochures about investments, superannuation choices and that once-faraway place called retirement. Not 60, when you may find yourself eligible for a Seniors Card (a tad embarrassing, but fabulous for cut-price public transport). Or 67 (thanks, Mr Swan), when perhaps you'll put your hand up for a pension. It's 50. Ridiculous. Ken Rosewall was still winning matches in tennis tournaments in the early 1980s, just a few years shy of 50. And the three main contenders in the 2016 US presidential election Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders were aged 70, 69 and 75 respectively. None are considered retirees.

Donald Trump was the oldest person to assume the office of US president, being 70 years, 220 days at his inauguration.Credit:AAP The retirement age, incidentally, varies considerably around the world. In Japan, which has the world's highest average life expectancy (just under 84), incentives may be offered to people to postpone a state pension until 70. In Brazil, the average retirement age is 56 for men, 53 for women. Brazil has generous pensions and a debt crisis. In France, the retirement age has been moved from 60 to 62; in Germany, it's 65 and seven months.

Royal Commissioner Kenneth Hayne. Just as the pension age is less fixed than it used to be, so is the concept of retirement. The titular character in About Schmidt struggles to adapt. All those years behind an actuary's desk were not fun, but what now? And why is it that some capable people still face compulsory retirement? Kenneth Hayne, who turns 74 in June, demonstrated impressive vigour and acuity heading the recent banking royal commission. He was able to take that on because he was deemed too old to continue sitting as a Justice of the High Court. Hayne had to retire from that job in 2015. Since a constitutional amendment in 1977, members of the Australian federal judiciary must retire at 70. The last judge not affected by this provision, having been appointed in 1976, was Justice Graham Bell. He retired from the Family Court of Australia in early 2015, aged 78, and took a swing at the new law on the way out: "These days, 70 is equal to 60 or 55 Judges should be able to go on till 80 provided they pass a medical inspection They are sent out to pasture too early."

Ruth Bader Ginsburg serves as a Justice of the US Supreme Court at age 86.Credit:AAP Three of the nine serving Justices of the US Supreme Court, including the legendary Ruth Bader Ginsburg, 86, would be gone if the US had a similar law. Here, it means that Geoffrey Nettle, who became a High Court judge in 2015 at the age of 64 (the oldest-ever appointee), will hit the mandatory retirement age in late 2020. He will serve a maximum term of just under six years, which seems a waste of a fine legal mind. It's possible we've been looking at all this the wrong way around. Instead of designating a retirement age, perhaps the question should be: how young can you get away with it? The devotees of a mantra called FIRE Financial Independence, Retire Early are reshaping ideas of what early retirement looks like. Forget your 60s; their goal is to bail out in half that time, or, in the case of J.P. Livingston, in your 20s. Instead of designating a retirement age, perhaps the question should be: how young can you get away with it? "I retired in New York City with just over $2.25 million when I was 28," she says on her website, The Money Habit. "I wholeheartedly believe that anyone can retire decades earlier than their peers." The secret, she says, lies in financial planning. (Luck and a solid financial base also help.) The FIRE movement started in the US but has since spread globally through myriad blogs and websites. A father figure is Jacob Lund Fisker, a Danish former nuclear astrophysicist, whose Early Retirement Extreme blog began in 2007. Fisker summarises his philosophy as "a combination of simple living, anti-consumerism, DIY ethics, self-reliance, resilience, and applied capitalism". The baton has now been passed to Peter Adeney, a Canadian. Writing as Mr Money Mustache, Adeney's ideas about very early retirement, which he achieved in 2005, age 30, gained so much traction that The New Yorker magazine profiled him in 2016. "Retirement, in his hands, is a slippery term," Nick Paumgarten wrote. "It doesn't mean playing golf or sitting on the porch. It is merely the freedom to do what he wants when he wants He disdains the idea of spending another minute of his life in a cubicle in order to afford a dryer or a Tesla." The profile described Adeney using a woodworking vice to squeeze limes. His wife, Simi, was quoted as saying: "I've gotten used to it all, but he's a weird dude." Maybe too weird. Last year, a Guardian article about the FIRE movement noted Adeney's influence but reported: "He and his wife divorced recently." Apostles of FIRE have firm ideas about what life should look like and it doesn't include employers. (Children are seldom mentioned, either.) Many have come from the financial or technology sectors and are resting on a solid base. It takes money to make money, or even save money. And as appealing as the idea of ditching a boss in your 30s may be, the question, even more daunting than for someone in their 60s, is the same: what's next? As nice as the idea of ending work in your 30s may be, the question, even more daunting than for 60somethings, is the same: what's next? For J.P. Livingston, "a successful and happy retirement is about changing chapters rather than one static image of constant adrenaline and adventure". But Fisker could be running out of steam. In February, he diverted blog visitors to Bertrand Russell's 1932 essay In Praise of Idleness. Russell is an unlikely poster boy for early retirement. He died aged 97 and was still writing into his final years. Anne Moore would love to follow suit. A social scientist and entrepreneur, she tells me from her Sydney office how she started a software business "at 57, mid-career". Later, she founded PlanDo, which offers career coaching and advocates embracing the idea that careers are no longer linear starting with a junior role and ending at 65 with farewell handshakes. She talks of the much-hyped "gig economy". "People don't retire any more," she argues. "They are working into their 70s." Or longer. Like many women, Moore juggled different sorts of work with raising a family. She thinks the random, disjointed careers familiar to women may become the norm for everyone. Retirement, she insists, "was never, ever on my horizon. I come from a working-class background and always had a strong work ethic. Just as the idea of being a young stay-at-home mum was never attractive, it never occurred to me that I would retire." Work, she says, can inform a sense of identity; can even be noble. The quest is to find work paid or otherwise that is purposeful and fulfilling. And it means thinking about work in different ways.

ABC newsreader Ian Henderson was happy to retire at 65.Credit:ABC Despite the rigidity applied to judges, ideas about retirement are, as Moore suggests, becoming more fluid. And I'm not the only one who resists the r-word. ABC Radio's Jon Faine recently announced that this year would be his last behind the microphone in Melbourne. He told a caller who rang to lament his pending departure, "I'm not retiring. I'm just going to be doing other things." Faine, now 62, says of his decision to move on: "Inside my head it is very important. I hope to still stay engaged, useful and busy, but not in an all-consuming job like this." I've heard many people ranging from cricketer Mitchell Johnson to former Victorian premier Jeff Kennett express variations of the same sentiment: once you start talking or thinking about retirement, you've already gone. We all thought Malcolm Turnbull was gone when he was deposed as prime minister last August. He even suggested he might go quietly. Then he went to New York. When he returned in October, he declared: "I'm not engaged in politics any longer. I'm retired." Hmmm, maybe At least Turnbull didn't shy away from the r-word. Another who didn't was Faine's former colleague Ian Henderson. Late last year, at the traditional age of 65, the Victorian TV newsreader declared that after 38 years at the ABC, it was time to embark upon "a long-hatched retirement plan". A key component was "a bush block; a couple of acres to play with". He calls me from there to discuss his new life. He'd talked of retirement, he says, because it was something people could grasp onto and understand. "I was informed partly by memories of my own father, who retired at 65," says Henderson. "He was a commercial traveller, a Depression boy; got one job and stuck with it. By the time he got to retiring, he was very much over work. I think he saw ahead a golden age that was perhaps not quite realised ... His idea of renewal was to build a dream home, something he did twice. He withdrew from the community, became quite isolated. To me, that was something of a cautionary tale." I was conscious that I needed a few things to fill the void; occupy myself. But it's also good to survey the horizon, see what's out there. At the bush block, Henderson says, "there's no shortage of projects; [my wife] Susie and I are consumed by them." So too, their adult children. There's a tiered organic vegie garden. And he's taken up baking bread. "I was conscious that I needed a few things to fill the void; occupy myself. But it's also a good idea to survey the horizon and see what's out there." Since he left the newsroom he's been spotted back at the ABC, doing some work for Catalyst. So has he un-retired? No. "When I stopped, I did not rule out dabbling in other projects. But I was not looking at a second career. My criteria for new things are that they are interesting, worthwhile and fun." The Catalyst project, which involved chatting to centenarians with a strong sense of purpose, ticks all those boxes. I'd thought he might fit the old stereotype of retirement: out at 65 to play golf. Hendo loves his golf. A knee problem, however, has restricted his time on the course since he stopped reading the news. Still, he declares himself "soooo busy there often aren't enough hours in the day". Later, he sends a photo of his tomato plants. With a caption: "My Babies". Some women like Sally, whom I've known for more than 40 years choose to reshape their lives. She did this once before, moving from the corporate world to a career teaching English as a second language at a high school. She stopped doing that around the time she turned 60. "If pressed, I would say that I'm retired in one sense of the word. But I'd rather say I'm just living in a different way. I've not withdrawn but restarted." I'm retired in one sense of the word. But I'd rather say I'm just living in a different way. I've not withdrawn but restarted. She expands on the theme: "I still derive an income, but not through recognisable activity what some call work. My income tax statement looks different. I still have goals and monitor my own performance. I am making different types of connections with people whom I wouldn't call colleagues or friends, but who share similar interests. I describe myself as 'occupied' rather than busy, because busy is a state I was constantly in as a teacher for 13 years. "I occupy myself now with activities which are of my choosing, including new activities for fun and out of curiosity. I have time now although I haven't fully capitalised on it yet for listening to more classical music, reading more widely and broadening my exposure to culture." She's working on a family-history writing project. She's tried ballet. ("It's meant to be an absolute beginners' class, but no way are they all beginners. Especially that 11-year-old with her hair in a bun, a pink tutu and pointe shoes!") And she's considering a beginners' hip-hop class. "I am having fun and have absolutely no regrets." American futurist Glen Hiemstra addresses the "what next?" question in this way: "The first quarter of the 21st century will see a great reinvention of the third phase of life, away from classic retirement and towards something like 'life fulfilment'. The end of retirement and beginning of life fulfilment may be a kind of liberation." Or, as an ad puts it: Shouldn't your retirement be the start of something new? Sure. But what, exactly? There are all kinds of possibilities and no simple solutions. In search of answers, or perhaps just some interesting questions, I enrolled in philosophy classes early in my not-retired life. I ended up doing two terms, which seemed like enough when Rudyard Kipling's poem If was wheeled out for inspiration. The classes taught me the value of pausing; of taking time out, even for just a few minutes, to dwell on the moment. And I liked the notion that anxiety can simply mean thinking about the future. Wondering, and often worrying, about what may lie ahead. I never told the Tuesday-night tennis guys that, for much of one year, my Wednesday nights yes, Wednesday, once my special day were occupied pondering topics like The Power of Beauty. I have lunch with Michael the lawyer in the city, not far from his office. He can't recall me losing my cool over his repeated jabs about "retirement". That's not surprising: it was some time ago. It also confirms that the incident meant more to me than him. He agrees the concept of retirement has changed dramatically since we both started working in the 1970s. It's something he's pondered, too. A few years ago, he was politely nudged out the door of the big law firm where he'd been a partner. Experience can matter less than billable hours. He faced an unsettling period that left him convinced he wasn't ready to walk away. So he sucked it up and moved on. Talked to people. Got offers from smaller, more flexible law firms. He's doing fine. When he insists on buying lunch, I protest, politely, then wonder if he reckons I can't be earning much in my new life. Stop it, I tell myself, you're being too sensitive again. Later, I send a thank-you message and can't resist two last questions. Can he imagine retiring? And what would that look like? "No," he replies. "I think 'retire' will likely exit my and others' lexicon. We will all just gradually wind down work, tennis, our social lives and everything else, until we fade away." I tell him I hope this will be no time soon. "Fading away" is another type of transition; something more unsettling than what we've known. Perhaps we can keep talking about this at tennis again next Tuesday night. To read more from Good Weekend magazine, visit our page at The Sydney Morning Herald, The Age and Brisbane Times. Most Viewed in Money Loading https://www.smh.com.au/money/super-and-retirement/welcome-to-the-minefield-that-is-21st-century-retirement-20190409-p51c98.html?ref=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_source=rss_feed

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Brisbane Matilda Trip- January 14 2017

So I haven’t written a review before but I haven’t seen or heard too much about the Brisbane Matildas so I thought somebody might be interested in hearing about my wonderful show experiences. WARNING- this ended up being a very very long and detailed post!! I was lucky enough to see the show a few times in Sydney but it’s been almost a year since I saw my last show (Sydney closing) and I was having Matilda withdrawals. So in November I booked a trip to Brisbane with my mum to see the show again. It’s quite a trip to Brisbane for me- a 5 hour drive from Canberra to Newcastle to meet my mum and then a flight to Brisbane- so I booked cheap restricted view seats in order to be able to afford to see two shows. My mum had seen the show with me once in Sydney and had not particularly enjoyed the actress’ portrayal of Matilda in that performance. She’s quite critical and hadn’t enjoyed the stoic, expressionless take on the character. I was definitely hoping she’d enjoy the show a bit more this time around because I wanted someone to be as excited about the show as I am. The Matinee performance featured Annabella Cowley as Matilda, Ethan Beer as Bruce, Alice Lowther as Lavender, Reuben Rivalland as Nigel, Caliese McEachern as Amanda, William Todd as Eric, Romme Williams as Alice, Emma Cobb as Hortensia and Zac McCulloch as Tommy. All the main adult cast were on except Rachel Cole was on for Mrs Phelps. I’ll start by saying that our seats for this performance weren’t great which I knew in advance. They were on the far right of the stage and about a third was obstructed from view. That being said I wasn’t bothered by it and we were only about 6 rows back so we had a close view of all of the front of the stage. However being school holidays there were lots of young kids in the audience and it was a bit noisy. I had a 4-5 year old girl behind me and she struggled to understand most of the show. She was constantly asking her mum questions and although she was super cute she was pretty loud. At the end of the show, just before the Wormwoods and Rudolpho rush in Matilda is standing quite close to the front of the stage on the right looking out over the audience. The little girl comes out with “Mummy, why isn’t she waving at me? Why isn’t Matilda waving at me?” It took all my might to hold in my laughter it was so sweet but I’m pretty sure the entire audience (not to mention the performers) could hear her. Annabella was very good. I can’t work out exactly how to describe her portrayal of Matilda. She was fearless but a little bit aloof and softer than some I’ve seen. I personally really enjoyed her version of Quiet (my favourite song in the show) and some of her line deliveries were particularly good. She did stumble on a few of her lines and although her accent was quite good it was a bit forced and I could see her concentrating on it for most of the show. I’d love to see her again a bit further into the run to see what she would add to her performance once the accent comes more naturally. Ethan Beer as Bruce was the stand-out of the other children. His monologue before Bruce was the clearest, and best-timed/articulated that I’ve heard. His vocals in Revolting Children were excellent and his dance moves were outstanding. I was really impressed with him. There were no other real standouts amongst the kids in this performance. When it comes to the adult cast I always leave feeling awestruck. I know I’m biased but I feel like we are incredibly lucky to have these talented performers in the show. Elise McCann is such a warm, soft and gentle Miss Honey and you can really feel the connection she has with each of the children. Her voice is also beautiful. Marika Aubrey is faultless. Seriously I can’t imagine seeing anyone else as Mrs Wormwood she’s just so incredible. For me Loud is a song that I think could be quite annoying but she sings it with the perfect mix of spoken lines and variance in volume, inflection and tone that it’s supremely confident and patronising without going over the top or being screechy. James Millar also never fails to impress me. His comedic timing with line delivery, paired with his physical comedy skills are so brilliant. I think he gets more laughs out of the audience each show than the other cast members combined. This was my first time seeing Rachel Cole as Mrs Phelps and I quite enjoyed her portrayal although quite different to Cle Morgan’s. Rachel’s Mrs Phelps has a very endearing, and in my opinion, convincing Irish accent and comes across as much more child-like and excitable than Cle’s. She just seems so enthralled and amazed by Matilda and her stories and she seemed to interact with Annabella a lot more which I enjoyed. Overall both my mum and I thought the performance was very good and we were excited to be going back to see the evening performance. Although I had tried not to see or hear too much about the Matildas before going I had listened to a recording of Venice and I hoped to get the chance to see her. When I walked into the lobby of the theatre for the evening performance and saw Eva’s name on the screen I’ll admit I was slightly disappointed... that feeling did not last long. After seeing 5 different Matildas in 6 performances (and numerous other musicals) I have to say that I have never experienced such a powerful performance. I feel so privileged to have witnessed this show. It was absolutely phenomenal!!! Besides Eva the evening performance featured the same adult and child cast with the exception of Exodus Lale as Bruce. The audience for this performance was so much better than the one earlier in the day and right from the first lines of miracle they were involved. The whole show was filled with laughter, applause and cheers and it really changed the energy and the atmosphere in the theatre. The same child cast I hadn’t been particularly impressed with were so much stronger and energetic and every cast member on stage fed off the audience’s enthusiasm. It’s amazing how much the audience’s interaction and attitude can influence a performance (for better or worse). Our seats for this show were also better. Although billed as restricted view I could see 90% of the stage and we were only 3 rows back with no seats in front of us. Those seats had been removed to allow for the stairs to the stage that the performers enter and exit by so we got a very good view of James Millar as the trunch during the Bruce scene where he pauses to declare chokey as the second part of the punishment. I could have literally reached out and touched him (I didn’t of course in case you were wondering). From the moment Eva rose from below the table in Miracle I had a sense that the performance was going to be strong. There was just something about the way she carried herself and she had such a determined look in her eyes. Right from the outset it was clear that there was no vulnerability to her Matilda and neither Eva, nor her Matilda lacked any confidence. A few things about her Matilda became apparent in the first couple of scenes and it made me incredibly excited to see what she’d do next. - Her British accent was effortless and flawless. I very much enjoy the sound of this accent and I’m so glad the Australian production decided to teach it to the girls however it doesn’t come naturally to all the Matildas and it can sometimes be distracting when it’s obvious they’re concentrating so hard on not dropping the accent. It’s such a big ask and I find it so impressive that they’re able to do it at all. Eva’s accent was so natural that it enhanced the performance for me instead of detracting from it. - She was very responsive and reactive to everything that was going on around her. Even when she wasn’t the main focus of a scene there was not one minute on stage that she wasn’t completely present as Matilda. This made her Matilda incredibly easy to relate to. - Her face and eyes are incredibly expressive and her ability to show exactly what she’s feeling through facial expressions and actions is the best I’ve ever seen. It was difficult to take my eyes off her because I felt so invested in her story and how she was feeling. - Her line delivery, timing and the choices she made in portraying Matilda were incredibly well thought-out, considered and natural. I also found some of her choices unique to her which is always interesting. No line was ever rushed, felt contrary to her chosen portrayal or mumbled and as such nothing felt out of place or false. It was very easy to follow the story in this performance. Ok so now to all the details. So many line deliveries and choices were unique from what I’ve seen so far, and in my opinion, perfect that I almost want to describe the entire show. Her Matilda was angry. At the beginning of the first act it was very subtle, bubbling below the surface and only noticeable in small expressions and the intonation and tone of some lines. By the beginning of the second act it was more pronounced, but never exaggerated or over the top, shown in a few clenched fists, a clenched jaw, and some very scathing and pointed looks. This built very strongly and cleverly right up until The Smell of Rebellion where you could see the anger written all over her face and it just boiled over into “big, fat bully” and “Quiet” when she just couldn’t control it anymore. Every Matilda I’ve seen has practically shouted/yelled/declared indignantly the “I’m a girl” lines. Eva instead very firmly and evenly states “I’m a girl”, giving the impression that she’s said it so many times in her life that she’s simply resigned herself to the fact that her father is never going to acknowledge that she’s a girl. There’s also a very subtle hint of anger and frustration in her voice about this. Naughty- the part on the shelf was the strongest I’ve seen largely due to her facial expressions. Her ninja moves were also very sharp and strong which is something that fits my personal preferences. The only thing that could even remotely be considered a mistake on her part happened during the first library scene. There was a slight hesitation from what I imagine was a lapse in memory but she ad-libbed so quickly, and resumed the correct dialogue so seamlessly that I would have had no idea if I wasn’t so familiar with the show. When I spoke to my mum about it during intermission she had no idea what I was talking about. In the scene at the Wormwood house, where Mr Wormwood tears up the library book, Eva’s facial expressions and acting choices were so good. Instead of just sitting silently she chooses to open her mouth to appear as if she is about to talk back to her father but she gets silenced when he rips the book from her hands. She then goes from looking shocked and appalled, to looking downright incredulous when her father acts like an idiot (especially when he slams his face against it and shakes it in his mouth) and can’t even work out how to ruin the book. Rachel Cole’s more child-like Mrs Phelps really complemented Eva’s Matilda who seemed like the adult in all of their scenes together. She was so enthralled and enthusiastic about the stories. Eva’s stories were inspired- her intonation, tone, volume and facial expressions changed so appropriately that you couldn’t help but be sucked in by them. Quite a few of the other Matildas I’ve seen have been caught up with the accent, a bit rushed/mumbled or seem to be concentrating so hard on remembering the words and accompanying actions that it’s hard to stay in the moment. With Eva I couldn’t wait for the next part they were so expressive and engaging. Her reactions to Mrs Phelps’ interjections and interruptions were also played differently from what I’ve seen before. Her “I don’t know, not yet anyway” was quite drawn out with a slow and considered “I don’t know” like she was surprised by that and a 2-3 second pause before the “not yet anyway”. You could see her really trying to think about it and work out what might come next, like she was just as interested to know as Mrs Phelps, but she just didn’t have anymore. It felt very realistic. And all of her exit lines “Bye Mrs Phelps see you tomorrow!”, “yeah I’d better go” were also delivered differently. They’re often played for laughs but Eva’s deliveries were very serious. You got the sense she was very much trying not to burden Mrs Phelps with the reality of her situation. There was also a heartbreaking hint of sadness, especially after Mrs Phelps declares it “must be nice for a child to be so wanted”. She held her face and tone even (with slight forced positivity) during her “Yes, wonderful. Goodbye Mrs Phelps” but after she’d turned around her face dropped, her shoulders dropped and there was deep sadness in her eyes. I felt like crying. You could just see the weight of the effort for such a little girl to be so strong all the time against all the bullies in her life. Her delivery of “Mrs Phelps, It’s just a story” was also quite unusual. Mostly I’ve seen Matilda appear quite incredulous that Mrs Phelps could think it was real, or it’s played for laughs. Eva didn’t do either of these things. Instead she calmly and slowly said, “Mrs Phelps?” with a questioning intonation. It came across as very concerned, trying to make sure she was back in the present moment, and led into a reassuring “it’s just a story”. She spoke to Mrs Phelps in a very similar manner to how a mother might speak to a frightened child. It was interesting and quite effective given Rachel Cole’s Mrs Phelps. It might not have felt so believable with Cle Morgan’s portrayal but I obviously haven’t seen this and I wouldn’t be surprised if she adapted her delivery to suit. In the playground scene when Lavender introduces herself you can see she’s very confused and not quite sure how to take such a happy, bouncy, outgoing child. You can practically see her thinking “Who is this kid and why is she talking to me?” She starts to soften after Lavender declares her her best friend after the success of the narcolepsy scene. Another thing I really liked was her reaction just before the “biggest hug in the world”. Often I find that after Miss Honey explains her plans for the selection of books to challenge Matilda’s mind there’s just an uncomfortably long pause. While I know what’s supposed to be happening in Matilda’s head it’s mostly not very clear and the pause seems to stretch out too long. Eva’s eyes, however, initially showed some confusion- it was obvious she wasn’t used to such kindness and didn’t really know what to do. Her expression then changed very slightly, it was almost a twitch, and I don’t really know how to describe it… gratitude perhaps… and then she launched herself into Miss Honey. She managed to convey in this performance what has been lacking in most others I’ve seen. Now I should probably also mention Exodus Lale as Bruce at this point because he matched Eva in his strength in this performance. They are an incredible pair together. His Bruce is very funny and his timing and expression in the Bruce monologue was great. He also did something I’ve never seen before. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve always sat straight on to the stage and haven’t been able to see it but just after he’s sat in front of the cake he looked around the classroom and mouthed “help me” with an incredibly desperate/pleading expression to a few of the other kids. I thought it was funny and very clever. His delivery of “thank you” after the Trunch appears to be letting him off the hook was also different- very incredulous but obviously relieved. Overall the strongest Bruce performance I’ve seen and I was overall very impressed with the two Brisbane Bruces I saw! Ok I promise I’m up to the last few points. Eva’s quiet is one of my favourite renditions I’ve ever heard and certainly one of the best 2 I’ve heard live. The first part of the song is incredibly strong and angry, her face, her voice and her hands/arms (forced trembling) all show how much she’s struggling to contain it and her articulation of all of the words is very clear and controlled. All of this anger builds up to a very strong, clear and controlled belt. The second part of the song is strong but incredibly smooth and beautifully sung. It seems effortless. I wish I could listen to it over and over. Her delivery of the “Am I strange?” line was also very unique. It was delivered fairly slowly with the “strange” spoken very softly, almost whispered. It gave me the impression that she was a little bit in awe of her powers and slightly scared of the way her overwhelming anger had manifested. It led to the next exchange with Miss Honey being quite sweet and you could see how much they cared about each other. It became quite a powerful scene for their relationship and fed very nicely into what is the most interesting My House scene I’ve witnessed. You can just see everything Eva’s thinking and the lines are so well timed with her taking in her surroundings and also processing what Miss Honey is telling her. You can practically see the moment she understands how Miss Honey sees her small, modest house as her sanctuary. She’s also very focused on Miss Honey during the actual song when they’re sitting side by side… there’s no wandering eyes or moments with no expression on her face. The “but she’s got everything that’s yours” is almost pleading as if she knows Miss Honey is going to be averse to doing anything about it. She’s practically looking into Miss Honey’s eyes, trying to read her and understand her, for quite a bit of the song. As a result the two characters interact quite a bit more and I felt more of a connection between the two in this scene than I have before. During the whole show she only made three choices that didn’t really appeal to my preferences. I felt she emphasised the “shiny, white scarf” a bit too hard in the first part of the story. It was very slow with a pause between each word. She did turn to Mrs Phelps and look her directly in the eyes at the time- almost as if to make sure she didn’t miss what ends up being a key part but I would have preferred it to be more subtle. She also played the “could have heard a fly burp” for laughs a little bit which just isn’t my preference. I like the line delivered seriously as If she doesn’t realise that her story could maybe be funny. She also exaggerated the “That was badgers, it was a program about badgeeerrrrrsssssss” line and drew out the last badgers quite long. Marika Aubrey’s adapted response of “same thiiinnnggggggggg” with the same drawn out delivery and tone almost makes me like it. And Eva’s expression of sheer disbelief when her mother days “Russians are nocturnal you know” was just priceless. Well you’ve made it to the end. I think you can see how much I enjoyed the performance and my mum was completely blown away. She couldn’t stop talking about how amazing Eva was and she doesn’t believe the show could ever be done any better than that. Regardless of personal preferences her performance is so strong, and so totally present that you can’t help but appreciate her brilliant performance. She’s truly incredible. It was also lovely in bows to see her smile after seeing only negative emotions during the show. The whole crowd also loved the performance and rose to their feet for a standing ovation but it happened while they were turned to acknowledge he orchestra so she did this delightful little bounce and giggle when she turned back around to find everyone on their feet. She practically skipped off stage in joy. Every single performer on stage for this performance was absolutely on the top of their game. So if anyone is lucky enough to see Eva as Matilda be prepared for a phenomenal, and emotional, show.

#matilda in oz #matilda #matilda the musical #annabella cowley #eva murawski #matilda brisbane #qpac

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justfollowmyhansel · 5 years

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All the World is a Stagedoor — July 6th

After the show, where I'd gotten some of John's glitter on my hands and transferred each piece carefully onto the sticky side of the gaffer tape, I went down to stagedoor. Unlike Canberra, there was a bright, lit-up sign announcing that THIS was the stagedoor. And that this was where you were supposed to queue.

There were no Hedwigs that night, but there was a blue haired Yitzhak, dressed in almost perfect replica of Miriam’s look. Outside of the blue hair that is. I wanted to jump into conversation with one of them, be able to share this experience with someone, but they all seemed very involved in their own happiness bubbles.

We waited outside for maybe ten minutes before a woman with black coifed hair and a flowy yet punk rock vibe came over and asked if the small, gathered crowd was there for John. A few people said yes and she said they were trying to get him to meet people back upstairs where the merchandise booth had been set up. It wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been in Canberra, but I wasn’t going to protest.

I thanked the woman, Sam, for letting everyone know where they should be and for moderating the event a little. It was unspoken, but I feel understood that I appreciated that she was watching out for John in a situation where however unlikely, people might become the bad sort of weird instead of the delightful.

Sam recognized me from Canberra and said that she had photos of me with John on her phone. We chatted a little bit more, with her asking where I was from and why I had come to Australia for a concert. I told her about seeing John in Japan, how I'd been a big fan of his for awhile now, how David and I had been emailing a little after the last show and David had said that I could meet John privately at some point, but not Sydney. We talked about how the front row hadn’t sold at all. She thought that it was very strange and I mentioned that for me, it was unbookable. Just fully unbookable. She said that made sense and that with certain shows, possibly because of the angle for the seating. I admitted that the angle from the second row had been a little steep, but it was definitely worth it to see John up close. She asked my name and when David came over with the fans she had just sent upstairs in tow, Sam made Sure that David saw and recognized me. “You remember Hansel.”

David gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. He asked if I had liked the show, I said I loved it. He asked if l liked the new songs, I said I loved them. Especially hearing Angry Inch. I said that when I saw John in Japan, the shows were always amazing, but Angry Inch was always where it’d kick off just a little bit more. David said he was still trying to set up the meeting, he hadn’t actually asked John yet and was planning on asking the next day. And “well, you see why you couldn't meet up in Sydney?”

We went over my schedule briefly and he remarked that I ended up having the same travel schedule more or less as John, even down to leaving Australia on the same day. I remarked that given the show dates, it had only been logical. I added that John had added the movie premiere for Japan only a week before the trip and it had cost me like $500 to rearrange my plans, get tickets, get hotel accommodation…. So this time I'd planned smarter, staying an extra couple of days just in case. It was probably the most expensive movie ticket I’d ever buy, but it was worth it.

Everyone went upstairs and again, I chatted with Sam, chatted with David, with the merch guy, who I teased about not being able to get his luggage closed after repacking all the left over t-shirts. I chatted with another fan who had worn a Lena Hall t shirt that John teased her about and she told me about her girlfriend and squared me away on how to pronoune Brisbane. (Briz-bin.)

Again, I was dead last.

“Hello..again~~❤,” John said, greeting me with a smile. I beamed back as my brain struggled to full process that this was actually happening. That I was for real interacting with John instead of dreaming or daydreaming about him. Immediately after acknowledging me, John pulled me into a big hug, where I was allowed to remain more or less for the rest of the interaction, sometimes switching to him having one arm wrapped around me for photos, more often with both of mine around him.

“You were in Canberra?”

“Yes. And I'm going to all the shows. And I went to Japan last fall. So Korea?”

“Don't go to Korea,” he warned.

“Why not?”

“It won’t be like this, I'll need a translator.”

“You needed a translator in Japan and you were brilliant.”

We continued to chat for the next few minutes where he mostly asked me questions about myself, about my life. I volunteered information about myself and mentioned that I had thought Ataru was a wonderful performer.

The interaction couldn’t last long enough. It could have just as easily been twenty minutes as five with how absolutely entranced by him I was. We parted and soon I found myself wandering around the area near the Opera House absolutely in a daze that this whole thing was even happening.

After an obscene amount of time spent walking around, I walked back to the train station and headed back to the hotel. Later undressing and getting ready for bed happy in the knowledge that John knew who I was and for some reason liked me well enough to have a short conversation with.

#travel diary #Australia Travel Diary #australia day 4 #sydney travel diary #sydney day 2 #sydney stagedoor

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rachelisnotatwork · 5 years

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Week 8: in which we get rained on a lot and drop into NZ for the weekend

The week started...pretty grey and cold. We had a day to explore Alpine National Park, which thankfully has a lot of its big views visible from the car because it wasn’t very inspiring to get out of it. What all the tourism brochures neglected to mention about Alpine National Park (and in fact all of the Snowy Mountains region) is that there was a huge forest fire in 2003. This is part of the ecosystem etc, but it leaves a lot of Mountain Ash corpses sticking up, bleached white, above the brush. That plus the thick, grey cloud diminished the beauty of the view somewhat.

This was also the only time we’ve been at significant altitude in Australia. This meant snow (moderately exciting) but also high winds, which meant getting out even briefly at the viewpoints was somewhat unpleasant.

Since it was not actively raining when we reached the top, we decided to go on a walk from the weirdly named town of Dinner Plain. The walk was also fairly weirdly named; A Room with A View. The first thing we viewed was an enormous black snake, that was waiting patiently to cross the path in front of us. This was a bit surprising as there were patches of snow still around in the mountains and my limited understanding of snake biology is that they don’t like the cold. This one seemed pretty happy though. We think it was a red-bellied black snake, which is venomous, but only in a probably lifetime of miserable health complications after an ITU stay, rather than an instant death way like most Australian snakes.

The path was also really badly signed so we were quite pleased to find the eventual view point. The views were pretty good and from there we realised that we had done the circular walk the wrong way (there were actually arrows on trees but you could only see them from the other side). Did make it easier to find our way back though.

Our Airbnb had a tin roof and Marcel casually commented it would be nice to have heavy rain because he liked the sound of it. He probably regretted that statement, and I definitely did, when it teemed with rain overnight. The sound on the sloping tin roof, a few feet above our head, was not dissimilar I imagine to being stuck inside a coffee grinder. Not much sleep was had.

Alpine National Park is continuous with Kosciuszko National Park, which is just over the border in New South Wales. We had booked a night there, so headed out into the relentless rain the next morning.

Now Marcel was feeling rather guilty still about his corvid murder of the week before, and saw an opportunity to redeem himself. The rain had brought out a number of eastern long-necked turtles into the road, and every time we saw one Marcel would stop the car, turn around, drive back, get out in the pouring rain and move the turtle. He was feeling pretty good about this...until he drove over a magpie that decided to pay zero attention to the oncoming car.

I have always been keen on visiting the Snowy Mountains as they are home of the silver brumby in the Silver Brumby books I loved in my childhood. Unfortunately so thick was the mist and the heavy rain that we didn’t see much of it.

Weirdly though when we descended into our town for the night, East Jindabyne, the sun appeared. We decided to try a little walk in a low area of the park called Sawpit Creek.

It was beautifully sunny and there were lots of adorable wallabies around.

Feeling optimistic about the weather we decided to head back into the park...only to find if we went even a small distance up in altitude, the thick clouds and rain began again.

We abandoned it and headed to our airbnb for the night. A proper storm came on so we could watch lightening across the lake. That and the sad face of the random cat that appeared by our screen door. Now I know cats in Australia are terrible invasive predators...but this one was super cute. So we let it inside and fed it cheese.

The next day we had hoped the weather would be better locally so we could explore the mountains. It was not. Never mind we thought, we are driving to the coast where there are some beautiful beaches, the weather must be better there so we will just enjoy them for the day. The forecast for there was also teeming rain.

So in utter desperation for something to do to fill the rainy day...we headed for Canberra. Now Canberra is not the world’s most exciting capital. The National Museum there is pretty decent though. We ignored the opportunity to pay to see the visiting exhibit featuring “treasures of the British Museum” and instead went to the free galleries. Which whilst not particularly cohesive on the history of Australia featured cool things like a mummified Tasmanian Tiger head, a collection of glass eyes and spear heads made from wine bottles. It passed the afternoon well.

Fortunately the next day dawned gorgeous. After a week of pretty much solid rain it was blue skies and sunshine all around. Unfortunately we only had one hour to look at the best of the local beaches in Jervis Bay (we picked Hyams) before we had to head to Sydney.

After a run in with an annoying question talking parking warden, we finally made our way to Esther’s flat, dumped what must have been an alarming amount of stuff at hers and dropped our filthy car back at the airport (sorry Hertz).

We then headed back into town. Earlier in the day I’d been talking with Marcel about how Australia was fine for a visit but I didn’t like the population’s right-leaning stance and casual racism. He said he didn’t think they were that racist. As we walked by the harbour bridge through the botanical gardens, we found ourselves calling the police as a man screamed racist abuse at non-white tourists, spat in their faces and hit one of them. No joy there in being right. Also the police were extremely tardy on bothering to turn up despite the fact that area of town must have had a lot. Despite this we enjoyed a lovely dinner with Esther before heading back out to the airport for a night in an airport hotel.

The reasoning for this was that whilst we were in this part of the world we might as well “pop” to New Zealand. It is a 3 hour flight from Sydney to Auckland, but that is a lot fewer hours than it is from London and it is a lot cheaper.

So on Friday we headed off to New Zealand. After the customary lengthily grilling at the flight counter about onward flights (really tempted to ask how often people, with hand luggage only, who are citizens of a rainy island with so-so social benefits, illegally emigrate to other rainy islands with so-so social benefits) we headed off.

We arrived to find… it starting to rain. Luckily it held off for a bit that evening so that we could go to a night market and stuff ourselves full of weird food including bubble waffles with our hosts Anita and Pete.

The next morning it woke up...beautifully sunny. Which was unsettling as this is NZ and it likes to rain on us in NZ. I did however remember that New Zealand sun= basically like shoving your body into fire and slathered myself with factor 50 before heading out. We meandered in the warm sun down to a market for breakfast, on to a chapel on top of a hill (never realised before how hilly Auckland is. Too hilly is my brief conclusion) and then after meeting up with Kate, we wandered slowly along the sea front, stopping for drinks, before we got to a Breton galette place about 10km down the shore.

After stuffing ourselves, we waddled slowly back home. To find that no matter how thickly you slather on the suncream, NZ sun finds some way to chargrill you, and my forehead and patches around my neckline were pretty much maroon.

The next day we’d planned to go to a place called Piha beach. The weather forecast suggest it would be cloudy but wouldn’t rain there until the mid-afternoon. We had brunch. The sky gloomed ominously. We headed to the beach. It started to spit cold rain into our faces pretty much the second we arrived. I would have thought this was our standard NZ curse, but this was the second time the exact same thing had happened to Anita, so I think she was our Jonah of that trip.

When we got back to Auckland, Marcel and I decided to head over to Devonport, a little village suburb of Auckland that you can get to by ferry. We confirmed our suspicions that Anita was definitely the jinxed one when we enjoyed lovely sunshine all afternoon whilst a dark cloud glowered over Auckland.

In the evening, reunited, we headed out for Mexican, and then to an ice cream store called Giapo that did weird flavours. Now I thought you’d just go in and order your weird ice cream. But no. Instead you are admitted in your pair/group/alone to stand around a small table, whilst a server brings out a selection of their favourite ice creams for you to try and discusses each one. I imagine it similar to being at a wine tasting, only more socially awkward as none of us were expecting it and weren’t really sure how to praise ice cream in an appropriate manner. I did ended up going for one of the ones our server had introduced but I hadn’t thought of, guacemole with strawberries. The ice cream was delicious. The corn nacho crumb that it was coated in I was less keen on.

We ended up finishing the night (and the week) watching The Meg, a gloriously terrible Jason Statham shark movie, whilst all shouting at the screen. Hilarious fun and reminded me of long-ago weekends down in Dorset.

Ways I thought I might die in Australia this week: fairly minimal as the rain prevented us leaving the car much. Perhaps just an apoplexy of wrath from the rain refusing to shut up as it banged down on our tin roof earlier this week. Oh and falling off a steep mountain pass in our car. And getting bitten by a surprisingly cold-tolerant snake.

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brisbanecollection-blog · 6 years

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Why are there peacocks roaming the streets of Canberra?

Normal text sizeLarger text sizeVery large text size The first time it happened, I assumed I was hallucinating. We were 38 degrees and five hours into the move to our new apartment in Canberra, and the day was already running at the corners. But the second time, I pulled over the car. The peacock who had caught my attention watched me suspiciously from the footpath as I dialled the RSPCA. That's when a man stuck his head over a nearby fence. "Don't worry, darling," he laughed. "They're locals." It's the mystery that's long prowled the streets of Canberra's south - just where did the rogue peacock pride of Red Hill and Narrabundah come from? In the decades the birds have roamed wild, attracting admirers and vexing rangers, theories about their origins have come thick and fast: The peafowl were released when an old zoo closed down on Mugga Lane.They escaped from an embassy after an unknown diplomatic incident.They were the star acts of a travelling circus that came to town.They're the only surviving offspring of a crack team of tactical peacocks that defected from Russia during the height of the Cold War.* According to the Canberra Ornithologists Group, Indian peafowl are an introduced "escapee" rarely sighted in the ACT, yet reported as far afield as Pialligo and the National Library in Parkes. This year, the birds drew international attention after the ACT government proposed (and then quickly dumped) a management plan designed to get rid of them. And I decided it was time to get to know my neighbours a little better. Andrew, Second of his Name Susannah still cries when she talks about the first peacock. He was known as Andrew (after the politician) and Henry up on Brockman Street but to Susannah, a long-time Narrabundah local, he was Harry.

Harry was well-known in Narrabundah for many years before he was killed in a hit-and-run. Photo: Supplied. Her son Rowan found him on their doorstep one afternoon in 1992 after school. The family rang the ACT government, the RSPCA, even the embassies down the road. No one knew where he had come from. So they took him in. "He lived in our backyard for years until we got a dog, then he moved into the front yard and from there he sort of became the whole street's," Susannah says. After the 2003 Canberra bushfires, a juvenile male and two females moved into the area. There were rumours that a little clutch of peafowl was also frequenting a nursery in Pialligo. "Then it happened; not long after the other birds came" Susannah says. "A carload of youths came tearing down the road one day, they lined Harry up in their sights, mounted the curb and they killed him." A neighbour who witnessed it all buried the bird, still with his full train of feathers, in his backyard and thestreet held a wake in Harry's honour. Loading "We wore peacock colours," Susannah remembers. "A local artist had taken a video of Harry mating with a female that same morning he was killed. He waited all that time to mate, he was always calling, honking, for a partner." That Christmas, when a little brood of chicks appeared on the street for the first time, Susannah knew Harry's line of Narrabundah peafowl had begun. Fowl play So where did Harry come from? And was he really the first peacock? Local birdwatcher Geoffrey Dabb thinks not. A few months before Harry appeared, he'd spotted another peacock on Green Street and tracked the bird back to Marymead's children's centre, which kept animals at the time. Though the charity says peafowl haven't been seen at its Narrabundah site for many years now, Geoffrey says in the '90s the bird would often abscond from the centre in search of food from generous locals. "It would return to Marymead but it always escaped again," he says.

Some locals complain about the Narrabundah peafowl's noisy breeding season. This image will appear in Canberra artist Mick Ashley's 2019 calendar. Photo: Supplied Locals recall how Harry, who was not believed to have come from Marymead, and the Green Street bird would honk at each other, sometimes streets apart, as they made house calls in the neighbourhood. It was also around that time that Geoffrey spied more birds in the gardens of a caravan park on Narrabundah Lane, before dogs chased them deeper into the suburb. The zoo theory But the most common theory about the peafowl, told by locals, the RSPCA and even the ACT government, places them in town and at large even earlier still. Transport Canberra and City Services said it was most likely the birds escaped (or were set free) when the old Mugga Lane Zoo closed in Symonston in the late '80s, though a spokeswoman admitted the evidence was anecdotal.

There have been several attempts to get rid of the peacocks. Photo: Melissa Adams I tracked down the former owner of the Mugga Lane Zoo, Terry Thomas, who tells a different story. While he confirmed he kept peafowl at the zoo, he said the birds were already loose in Narrabundah by the time the zoo eventually closed (under different management). "I was asked to see if I could catch a couple of them, in about 1982," he said. He didn't have any luck but admits he's always wondered what happened to the animals at the park, which he sold in 1989. A diplomatic incident? Back in Narrabundah, sunset is now "peacock hour" for Lyn Smith, who has lived in the suburb for almost 50 years. Each evening, when the light sinks down behind the hills, the birds will appear suddenly on footpaths and in gardens. "They definitely didn't come from the Mugga Lane zoo, they were around from the late '70s," Lyn says. "And it wasn't a circus either, the ones that came to town back then never had peacocks."

Geoffrey Dab tells the story of a rare white peahen (pictured) known as "White-ney Houston" who became something of a local celebrity before being killed by a fox. Photo: Geoffrey Dabb Other long-time locals who spoke to The Canberra Times agreed. If there was once,on an otherwise quiet Canberra afternoon, a daring peafowl break-out from the daily grind of circus performing, I havent found a record of it so far. But Lyn has her own story to tell me. Back when she was in her first decade of life in Narrabundah, there was a rumour about one of her neighbours. He was a diplomat on a posting from a country Lyn can't remember now, and he was known to own a brood of peacocks. When he left, the local legend goes, he released the birds into the neighbourhood. I call embassies in the area. Many have since moved but no one remembers keeping peafowl. Associate Professor Phillip Cassey at the University of Adelaide, who has researched feral peafowl populations on Kangaroo Island, says he wouldn't be surprised if the diplomat story was true.

A peacock grazes on the lawns of St Aidan's Court. Photo: Melissa Adams "These are very charismatic birds, associated with elegance, they're almost a curiosity," he says. "We often see them, perhaps more as backyard animals than pets, but that's where they come from, or zoological gardens and rural properties." These are very charismatic birds, associated with elegance, they're almost a curiosity. Associate Professor Phillip Cassey The trail starts to go cold. I call Tim DeWan, a long-time Narrabundah local and the architect of the social media campaign to stop a peafowl cull. "It's just so Canberra, isn't it?" He laughs. "Peacocks in the suburbs. Maybe we'll never know." 'Majestic disco chickens' While their history remains cloaked in mystery, this year the birds' future looked almost as murky. In April, the ACT governmentput out plans to rehome or euthanise the peafowl colonies, citing concerns they would spread to the nearby Red Hill reserve as well as long-standing complaints about their noise, "temper" and even - ahem - droppings. The draft plan considered everything from shooting the birds to an expensive form of sterilisation, before settling on a catch, rehome or euthanise approach. Two earlier trapping programs in 2013 and then 2015 were largely ruled as failures. In an "overwhelming" response, more than 400 submissions to the plan were lodged with the government. About 233 wanted the birds to stay, while 60 wanted them gone for good. Another 118 didn't pick a clear side, opposed to euthanisingthe birds but many in favour of rehoming. The government has since gone back to the drawing board, in talks with locals about formulating a new monitoring program. Geoffrey and other close observers of the Narrabundah colony report the birds remain small in stature, likely due to inbreeding, and the number of chicks sighted each year is low.

Narrabundah residents Geoffrey Dabb and Gretel Dabb feed the Peacocks in Narrabundah every afternoon. Photo: Melissa Adams Professor Cassey says the risk to the native environment from peafowl is fairly minimal. "They're nowhere near as damaging as other [birds], it's more a nuisance thing ... but we have to be careful that pets don't become pests ... because so often that's how biosecurity threats develop." In the case of the Narrabundah peafowl, which often fall prey to foxes or cars, Professor Cassey says the real surprise was how long such a small population has lasted. "They seem pretty resilient."

A mock-up of signs proposed by the local community to help warn drivers about peafowl pedestrians. Photo: Supplied To Susannah, one of the peafowl's local "guardians", that's no mystery. Every Christmas since the one they lost Harry, she says something wonderful happens on Wylie Street. The peafowl come bearing gifts. They go from door to door, from safe house to safe house, she says, and introduce their new chicks to the locals. "They know which houses are safe, it's amazing. "They're part of our history here and we love them." *I might have started this rumour. Do you know more about the origins of the Canberra peafowl? Get in touch and help us solve the mystery: [email protected]. You can also find me on Facebook and Twitter. https://www.brisbanetimes.com.au/national/act/so-why-are-there-peacocks-roaming-the-streets-of-canberra-20180620-p4zmjz.html?ref=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_source=rss_feed

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