Try to connect (just in time)

Authors Note to readers:

Unfortunately (those of you who follow the international news will be aware) massive flooding has occurred in my state of Queensland, Australia.

While this has also kept me busy due to my occupation, I have ensured I continued writing the blog. But beyond my control, one of the unfortunate side effects, was a complete loss of our telecommunications (Internet and mobile systems). This affected a section of the state of over a thousand kilometres.  Hence I was unable to post my written blogs until systems were back up

But once that permission to use the side gate had been obtained from the teacher on duty, by the student, the store ‘s exotic produce beckoned. The ‘home made’ pies (admittedly, far superior to the tuckshop ones, but then much more expensive as well), the pastries and cakes, (not available in the tuck shop either) and then the ice-creams, ice blocks and chocolate bars (definitely not on the tuckshop menu). But as mentioned, those who had the money, took advantage of the special permission, when it came to buying a lunch other than the tuckshop. Those who could arrived back with a variety of fancy fare, while we sat eating our regular cheese and Vegemite sandwiches and a banana, or most often an apple. They would then find a very prominent bench and spread out their feast. We ‘poor’ (or so they had decided we must be) couldn’t help it. We watched, somewhat enviously.

‘Imagining’ the flavours they sat there relishing. Imagining the mince in the pies was made from the most specially selected meat of carefully tendered cattle. No doubt raised on the dew-kissed grass in the warmest high country. Those cattle, daily brushed and individually washed to ensure the quality of their health. Escorted nightly to specially prepared quarters to slumber in peace (before being terminated to make the mince). And the gravy in those pies, not just a powder and water mix, but made with the succulent juices from the roasted meats, with flour carefully mixed in with a delicate seasoning of the finest herbs, blended to create a thick, delicious flavoured liquid accompaniment to the mince. And that was just how we felt about seeing them with a pie. I can’t go into the level of envy we felt when we observed them drawing out of large white paper bags, the glazed topped, cream filled bun, with a crowning dash of jam. And watching them bite into the softness….. (no I shan’t go into it. The memories are too painful)… well, you get the idea.

There were those who could go and those who couldn’t and, admittedly, some of the hangers on couldn’t have afforded it either if they weren’t under the ‘protection’ of the ‘rich’ (half the reason they were hangers on I suppose). If they bought ice creams, they bought the most expensive kind. If they bought ice creams, they bought real ‘ice creams’, not ‘ice blocks’ as was our usual circumstance when we were asked, “Do you want an ice cream?” We got excited briefly, “Ice creams! Yes please!” As we would stood before the freezers looking at the wonderful selection advertised on the panel, and eyes growing ever larger by the minute, we would instantly be brought back to earth as soon as we indicated anything above the cheapest ice block price. We would still appreciate what we got, even if it was just a simple flavoured ice water on a stick. An Ice cream was a very, very special treat. And we could expect that once in a blue moon.

(Continued tomorrow)