Diary Entries

To the Lost Haibun written for my father, on Anzac Day ‘They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old; Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun...’ In the years when he was able, on April 25th my dad pinned on his left breast his WWII medals including the Africa Star, tucked a sprig of rosemary in his buttonhole, then took the tram to Hobart's Queen’s Domain for the Anzac Day memorial service at the Cenotaph. There, diggers gathered to pray and remember comrades lost in battle, or dead after they returned from disease, grief or despair. Since my father died there have been many wars and countless deaths. This year there are no dawn services, no commemoration at Gallipoli in Turkey, no wreath-laying, no marches, no public ceremonies. We’re told we must commemorate at home. Light a candle at dawn at the end of our driveways. Recite the commemorative Ode ‘For the Fallen’. Play ‘Reveille’ on the radio. Some old soldiers are pushing a century. In this time of separateness they cannot march with their brigade in wheelchairs pushed by their granddaughters, or gather afterwards in RSL clubrooms to play two-up with old cobbers. ‘... and in the morning, we will remember them.’ sunrise gilds a teenage bugler suburban ‘Last Post’ . Posted on the private international Facebook group, Haiku in the time of Covid-19, April 25, 2020

Nature Where the flowers bloom And the rivers flow Where animals are born Where the fish swim The trees sway Autumn leaves fall The sun shining bright Grass filling the clearing Rain sprinkling from the sky In a non-polluted world.

We’re just finishing Week Four of ‘lockdown’. It’s a blue sky day here in Sydney- unusually warm for Autumn. The sapphire harbour is devoid of cruise and cargo ships, airplanes have been replaced with Rainbow Lorikeets, the normally chock-a-block road to the harbour bridge is lightly freckled with vehicles. It reminds me of the Sydney I grew up in. It was a simpler, slower time where kids ‘swam’ under garden sprinklers. Some say that ‘we’re all in this together’ but depending on your support and finances some are more ‘in this’ than others. Many of us have lost our jobs. Yet life goes on. My elderly mother broke her hip, my daughter had a Zoom birthday, my son’s far away. A friend of mine is constantly checking her temperature because she says ‘I have the worst combination of vulnerabilities- menopause and hypochondria.’ Despite our differences we’ve also shared a lot in lockdown- in particular the tides of emotion. At first, we were almost festive, like the entire nation was heading off on a camping holiday. But then very quickly anxiety grew. With the barrage of change and uncertainty people stopped acknowledging each other in the street- as though a shared smile could spread the virus. Today we’re smiling again as there’s talk of easing restrictions. But there’s also talk of an oncoming economic depression. Seems we’ve endured the python section of the game only to now face the quicksand. But as yearning grows to get life back to normal some are also wondering just how great that ‘normal’ was. For many it seems that this stressful, confusing, financially uncertain period has been such a rare period of connection that it reminds us of a time we didn’t know that we’ve been missing ever since we were kids under that sprinkler.

Writing has been a consistent presence in my life for more than twenty years, along with reading, a lifelong habit, and running, which I have been doing on average five times a week for forty years (with occasional forced breaks due to injury). I have run in many cities in Australia and overseas. My favourite running locations include Wandsworth Common in London, along the Swan River in Perth, and several places in Melbourne, including the Birrarung (Yarra) River and Princes Park near my home. As a result of the corona virus ‘lockdown’ several of my favoured activities have stopped. But not the running and writing, which go hand-in-hand. Each of my quarantine days begins or ends with a run, bookended by writing and reading. If I did not run, the reading would continue, but the writing quickly dry up. In recent weeks my running track by the river had been as quiet as ever. As I run, I am most often alone, listening to birdsong, taking in the scents of river tannin and thinking about the writing work waiting at my desk for me to return home; a story, poem or essay I mull over as my body and mind thymically connect. My running at Princes Park has become a different, slightly chaotic affair. Even with the practice of social distancing, park runs have become a crowded affair. Many of those stuck indoors for much of the day, having taken the prime minister’s advice that it’s okay to exercise, seem to have chosen Princes Park as the place to be, even if they have never exercised before. While I’m presently happy to share the park with them, I do hope that when the lockdown ends that some of my park companions decide to curtail their newfound habit.

I think I’m actually thriving in this lockdown time. I have loved getting stuck into some outstanding creative projects – sewing curtains, my first patchwork project, did some artwork, catching up on making some photo books and currently I’m making some poppies to display for Anzac Day I’ve also been busy Zooming around keeping in touch with my choir, church, book club, various volunteer groups as well as family and friends– so much so, some days I feel a little Zoomed out! My choir managed to keep our usual rehearsal time each week and also made one of those virtual choir videos. During the term break I ran a music trivia quiz night – two rounds of questions covering questions from Mozart to Dance Monkey. We even had a virtual supper break after round one where smaller groups joined a breakout room for a bit of a chat with a glass of wine, or cuppa in hand. One of the more innovative virtual activities I’ve been doing is assisting a friend who is holding cooking demonstrations for international students at one of the Sydney universities. The students, many of whom have lost their jobs, have received food packages designed to last for 4-6 weeks, with the need to only add some fresh vegies. The students Zoom into my friend’s kitchen to watch her demonstrating the meal of the week. While cooking she gives tips on how to make economical meals and how to get the most out of the ingredients. My job is to manage the Zoom chat room while her hands are busy chopping or stirring – feeding to her any questions or comments by the students, and keep the conversation going. Now back to finishing some of those other projects before the outside world tempts me out again!

Dear Diary, It's been around a month since the coronavirus was declared a pandemic and have been in quarantine. I have stayed at home and obeyed all instructions but it has been difficult. School is now online and I prefer it this way. I don't have to wake up as early to catch the bus honestly, most of the time, schoolwork is accomplished in the comfort of my bed. I got bored and I found a new passion; rapping. I love it. So today, I decided to write a rap about Coronavirus. This is it: Coronavirus, COVID 19 It's a lean mean killing machine They say school might be back, I don't know if that's good or bad All I wanna do is work from bed but the world around me, it's all in red. Coronavirus Symptoms: headaches and coughs, Everybody ending up in hospitals The doctors trying to give you masks and supplies But I know that there are some people who sit home and cry. There's always been hatred, now it's all love and care We all have something in common, something to share But we have our heroes doctors and nurses, Risking their lives, they're doers, not Sayers. Coronavirus has brought us all together, it shows us what really matters. Me and my fam in quarantine, Living our best lives if you know what I mean We are all in isolation, time for new creations, think outside the box, and heal in your relations. Write a story, do a dance, get fit and take a chance. Time for humanity to shine, time to say ours, not mine. Stop saying why, when and how. God's in control, so don't worry at all. This is a real problem we need to fight it, So let's find this cure, United.

Amongst all the assorted madness of the crisis, I think many of us have found the silver linings and often how the simple nature of our lockdown lives brings a reminder of the past and sometimes it’s a simple casserole dish that used to be Mum’s. This orange enamel number was responsible for every stew, casserole and pot roast that was consumed in our family home until it absconded with me to the North Melbourne sharehouse in the early ’90s. One of the culinary hits that I used to make for the boys in those days was an adaptation of a sweet-and-sour chicken recipe that Mum used to make. She favoured the Sunbeam electric fry pan over the casserole dish when she mixed chicken thighs with soy sauce, diced onion, a can of pineapple pieces and carrot sliced with a vegetable peeler. My version ditched the chicken for a three-dollar tray of supermarket sausages and added a can of chopped tomatoes and curry powder instead of soy sauce. This ‘sausage stew’, plonked on the table in the old orange casserole dish, never failed to impress and achieved legendary status during the golden age of Frente. On Monday night, I drew heavily on those days of frugality when I pulled out the old orange banger and the recipe got a ‘plant based’ makeover, the sausages replaced with a tin of beans. The sorry looking arse-end of a pineapple got the call up and I also added a splash of vinegar before serving it up with some brown rice. Michelle took one look and said, “This looks a bit ’70s” (which was the whole point) and then happily devoured the whole plate. It was comfort food reflecting two wonderful parts of my life. Alas, the kids thought it tasted shit. It’s a strange world we now live in.

I am going quite well so far in my self isolation. In my late 70s I guess I am in that danger zone but consider myself fortunate to be in good health and with a reasonable degree of fitness. Last week I prepared my veggie beds for the winter crops. Then, out of the blue, came the Brush Turkeys who dug them up as soon as I turned my back. They are very laid back birds. Just sauntered off at a leisurely pace when I chased them with a “see if I care attitude”. I found an online hint that they don’t like teddy bears. I only had a large panda bear but hung that on the fence and it has worked even though my son said it looks like he has been crucified. 10 days now and they haven’t been back. I also did some sewing and made three face masks from leftover Japanese material using copper bonsai wire in the nose section. I now have masks which match my kitchen blind! Just read that copper will kill a virus particle in a matter of seconds. Going for walks this week has been a pleasure. The amazingly clear skies remind me of the New Zealand South Island where there is virtually no pollution. With no rain forecast, I have been painting the weatherboards around the roof edge, only those I can reach from a small step ladder with an extension pole. I enjoy cooking and I am trying to be more adventurous. Today I plan to make a seafood pie with salmon and prawns and an eggless chocolate cake from Jamie Oliver’s TV Show Keep Cooking and Carry on. So life goes on. Really missing my family, and things like catching up with friends for lunch or a coffee.

The Virus The virus is spreading. But we are the light We’ll get through this together. We must check on the elderly. Self-isolate. We must look after each other We’ll stop the spread. Don’t worry about a thing We will pray for light. We need our smiles most in the pandemic. Smile!

Good news, the dress came in the mail today, it fits well. Woke up early (crazy early) as I have been struggling to sleep lately. Went downstairs and worked on some Modern History notes. I felt terribly sorry for Tsar Nicholas II. Just how long can you ignore urgent signs of a collapsing dynasty? I say, I feel sorry for him, but he was a bit of a buffoon. Afterwards I went back to bed and slept for three hours. Woke up and had the first meal of the day, in the afternoon! Hmmm, proceeded to go back to bed and watch Netflix shows; tis' a lame existence. Sudden thought, HOW DOES ONE SIGN OFF IN THEIR DIARY???? I'll have to find out. Namaste