Sad Butterfly...

...for Knots in the String.

The Terrier and I were walking along the beach. It had been a quiet, deserted walk apart from a flock of ducks who waddled out into the gentle wash as we approached, riding the tiny swell to the manner born. No sooner had we passed than they paddled in and continued to grub along the waterline for whatever marine beasties the ebbing tide revealed.

The Terrier had found an oyster shell, as per, and was finishing the demolition as I deemed it was time to clip on his lead. Murphy’s Law kicked in. A slightly larger wave then normal clapped onto the beach, I grabbed the lead and tried to back swiftly away so that my runners didn’t get too wet and I watched in horrified dismay as my little i-phone slid out of my windbreaker pocket into the water.

It lay spread like a sad butterfly (it sits in a leather flip-case), face down as the wave ebbed back.

Dear friends, I’ll leave my language to your imagination!

Pulling the Terrier behind me, I retrieved it, wrapped it gently in my Liberty hankie and took off for home as fast as I could.

In the kitchen, I grabbed a knife to wriggle the phone out of its very tight cover, and then I wiped it over (honestly, so much care!), swiping the sand away and plugging it into the charger to sink everything into a bowl of dry rice. At the very least, I imagined I’d end up with cooked rice!

As I worked that afternoon, I heard muffled pings and it rang twice with calls. Breath soughed out. It seemed to be working.

But I had visions of it slowly dying as I headed to the city later that day and reasoned if it was going to die, to die immediately, as I was going shopping and could buy another phone before the weekend (we were off on a picnic).

Gosh, on reflection, how much cheaper was life when we all used a bakelite or plastic phone on the hall table? Are we really all so important that we need to cart communication with us?

But no. I think of Mum and what a lifeline my mobile phone was for her.

I’ve lost quite a few phones to water damage – at the beach, but mostly as the product of a bad habit.

When my mum became frail and when phones were sensibly much smaller than now, I made a habit of placing my phone in my jeans back pocket so that Mum was always able to contact me. That habit is even now engraved on my buttocks! So yes, in case you’re wondering, a couple of my phones have been dropped in the toilet as I pulled clothing up.

You may well laugh but it turns out I’m not the only one. I’m one in five. And when I’ve been into the phone shop, the chaps have cheerily told me that yes, lots do and that it’s mostly women.

Good-o. Nice to know.

My little (old) i-phone 5SE is alive and well. It’s not flashy and trendy, it doesn’t have brilliant photography, but it does what it’s supposed to do. It lets me stay in contact with those I deem necessary in my narrow life. I can listen to audiobooks, use Google and I can visit Instagram, use the Calm, Smiling Mind, Om and Air Rater apps. And it keeps a record of my steps for the day. Beyond that, I honestly need nothing else. I refuse to link it to my emails, to Facebook. It’s just a phone, that’s all.

I gather there’s barely any 5 SE’s around these days and so next time, I may have to move up a size. Not happy about that because it means a habit change – a bigger phone won’t fit in my back pocket.

Merde!

Given the state of the world just now and the fact that our own country has a referendum this weekend to give our First Nation a Voice, and that not even First Nation tribes can agree Yes/No, let alone others within our multiracial community, it seems banal to talk of less important things.

But perhaps in banality, we can relax a little, drop our guards and just be.

So this is how I spent My (banal and not so banal) Time:

1.     I mentioned last week the lack of response from an historical committee on L’île Barbe for my research for the next hist.fict novel.

One of our fellow substackers, Sabrina Simpson

contacted me to say that she had personal information on the island, should I be interested. Shortly after my excited reply, Sabrina kindly sent me detailed subjective observations of atmosphere (writers love this) and a collection of images which are such grist to my mill. How very generous she was, and I’m so grateful to her. And what serendipity in Substack!

2.     Clothes – OMG, how I hate shopping. But I needed stuff and so in between buying a new faux leather phone cover, I found some well-fitting white trews, a glaringly orange linen top and a navy knit polo (not sporty but very 1950’s Katherine Hepburn). I hope they’re classic enough to last for a few years. I need shoes too, but that’s another story. And my bargain for the week was a faux leather, pale butter-coloured, faux-Chanel jacket reduced from $A399.00 to $A19.00. I kid you not! A rare shopping day for me and conquered in an hour. By the way, faux is my word of the week.

3.     Gardening in the city. Pulling out Past-Their-Use-By-Date bulbs, storing them and filling the tubs with white annuals. My son visited the tiny space yesterday and commented on its tranquillity. I felt as if I had really hit my mark and was quietly thrilled.

4.     Wandering our coast garden.

The foxgloves are about to bloom, the viburnums are pictures of delight, and I even spotted dainty white epimediums hidden amongst lush foliage. The veggies are all being timely and as this is our fresh food-source, I’m content.

5.     Ballet. Facing away from the mirrors for our routine. Good for brain exercise and retention and I confess to utter exhaustion after the morning at the barre and then doing our routine in the centre. Somehow, I managed to drive myself home and that afternoon, I could have devoured a whole block of Haigh’s milk chocolate on my own!

6.     Pondering life and also doing a bit of navel-gazing as I consider turning 72 next week. I want to retain mental and physical energy and fitness and realise that it’s time to start writing that new novel, and that the tendons are ready for another blast of iontophoresis. Whatever it takes I’m up for it as long as there’s no surgery. Certainly my mind needs to sharpen up after making the second of two coffee spongecakes to join with cream and forgetting to put the flour in. Surprisingly, with whipped cream and coffee buttercream icing, the cake is not too bad.

Reading:

Kindle: Finished Fiona Valpy’s Sea of Memories. A lovely story.

Print: Katherine May’s Enchantment. In a week of more horrific war, it may be this book can take me to a state where I can become enchanted more readily. Certainly the wordage on the front cover is reassuring:

‘Reawakening wonder in an exhausted age…’

‘A beautiful offering of light, truth and charm in these strange, dark times…’

ABC analysis of Gaza/Israel.

2013 Guardian report on why we shouldn’t read/watch the news. Nothing has changed…

Listening:

Ben Kane as per last week.

Watching:

Alone Frozen. Repeatedly I ask myself why I enjoy these trial-by-tribulation programmes. I’ve yet to come up with an answer except that I’m not so brave and live a little vicariously…

SAS Australia. Ditto.

The Recruit. We binge-watched this and decided Series Two is definitely needed. We were left hanging off a cliff at the end. What a strange, witty, sometimes dark series.

Shetland- latest series. Dark, threatening and yet I still think the islands look like the knid of place a southern hemisphere islander might like.

All Creatures Great and Small - latest series. When the opening theme harks back to the original series (1978), I have a lump in my throat – such a great time in our lives, fabulous memories. No mobile phones in those days…

And so, friends, my phone survived its near death experience and I’m able to keep in touch with my family and stay close to friends. It’s such a privilege.

I get to speak, to use my voice. I get to listen.

Many aren’t so lucky…

Cheers.