Grass Green
Dec. 5th, 2011 02:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
todayiamadaisyYesterday was an Open Day at Flagstaff Hill, which is a model colonial village and museum, so all and sundry could come and look at their latest acquisition, a watch that survived a shipwreck. So that was exciting. Well, no. It was... something to do. That's more like it.
My mother spent some time volunteering in the tea-rooms at Flagstaff Hill earlier in the year. She decided after a few months that making cups of tea for people wasn't her cup of tea, so to speak. Also, the tea-room shifts were six hours, six-and-a-half during school holidays, working alone, usually without a break, which wasn't her idea of fun. Also, there was a hierarchy among the volunteers, in which the ladies who dress up and wander the village streets in full colonial regalia were top of the heap. Not only would they refuse to help clear tables or whatever during busy periods, they would come in and make themselves a cup of tea and drink it in the kitchen. 'And no-one else could get in the kitchen because of their big skirts,' said my mother. 'Silly cows.'
Anyway, my mother left, explaining all this in her exit interview. She was enormously gratified the following week, when she saw an ad in the paper calling for new volunteers in the tea-rooms, which mentioned that people would be working in pairs and for three-hour shifts. She's also been invited to the tea-room volunteers' annual breakfast, presumably so they can celebrate her achievements.
As we walked around the village, my mother kept pointing out all the other things she could suggest they improve, if only she still had a voice there. Somehow, I don't think she's finished with the village just yet.
Today I have been out doing Christmas shopping. A woman in Target said to her friend, 'All the grandkids are getting pool noodles this year.' She was carrying an armful of said pool noodles, at least ten, so presumably anyone else wanting pool noodles from the City by the Sea's Target outlet this year will be out of luck.
I enjoy the phrase 'pool noodle' very much.
Day 331. Sparrow on the door handle, Day 332. Today they put up the street decorations outside my office, Day 333. Run, run, as fast as you can, Day 334. Some of my mother's crystal bells, Day 335. Getting ready for vampires at Bunnings, Day 335a. Bird (and me) scarer, Day 336. Obligatory plant of the week, Day 336a. Ditto (this is my Christmas tree, still undecorated), Day 337. Ropes, Day 337a. Lower lighthouse, Day 337b. Garrison..., Day 337c. … manned by hobbits
My mother spent some time volunteering in the tea-rooms at Flagstaff Hill earlier in the year. She decided after a few months that making cups of tea for people wasn't her cup of tea, so to speak. Also, the tea-room shifts were six hours, six-and-a-half during school holidays, working alone, usually without a break, which wasn't her idea of fun. Also, there was a hierarchy among the volunteers, in which the ladies who dress up and wander the village streets in full colonial regalia were top of the heap. Not only would they refuse to help clear tables or whatever during busy periods, they would come in and make themselves a cup of tea and drink it in the kitchen. 'And no-one else could get in the kitchen because of their big skirts,' said my mother. 'Silly cows.'
Anyway, my mother left, explaining all this in her exit interview. She was enormously gratified the following week, when she saw an ad in the paper calling for new volunteers in the tea-rooms, which mentioned that people would be working in pairs and for three-hour shifts. She's also been invited to the tea-room volunteers' annual breakfast, presumably so they can celebrate her achievements.
As we walked around the village, my mother kept pointing out all the other things she could suggest they improve, if only she still had a voice there. Somehow, I don't think she's finished with the village just yet.
Today I have been out doing Christmas shopping. A woman in Target said to her friend, 'All the grandkids are getting pool noodles this year.' She was carrying an armful of said pool noodles, at least ten, so presumably anyone else wanting pool noodles from the City by the Sea's Target outlet this year will be out of luck.
I enjoy the phrase 'pool noodle' very much.
Day 331. Sparrow on the door handle, Day 332. Today they put up the street decorations outside my office, Day 333. Run, run, as fast as you can, Day 334. Some of my mother's crystal bells, Day 335. Getting ready for vampires at Bunnings, Day 335a. Bird (and me) scarer, Day 336. Obligatory plant of the week, Day 336a. Ditto (this is my Christmas tree, still undecorated), Day 337. Ropes, Day 337a. Lower lighthouse, Day 337b. Garrison..., Day 337c. … manned by hobbits