Tweaking Madd - Volume 1 Issue 3

David clifford photography

Issue 03

Tweaking Madd Magazine is an online collaborative eMagazine by Communications students studying through Open Universities Australia.

index

contents Editor’s Letter.............................3 Extract........................................5 Meet The People......................6-7 Multiculturalism.........................7 Coach Woody Hayes...............8-9 Vivid Colours............................11 Supporting Kevin Rudd............12 Don’t Procrastinate...................13 Depression...........................14-15 Short Story Comp Guidelines...16 Unsung Heroes.........................17 The Day You Left Me...............18 The Medallion..........................19 Studio: Fade In (part 2).......20-21 Fergus and Alice..................22-23 Dating Sites...............................24 Elizabeth Two......................26-27 Mum’s Corner...........................28 Night Spell................................29 Film Review..............................30 Food Recipes............................31 Book Review.............................32 Toenail Clippings......................33 Find-a-word..............................33

CONTACT US Editorials...

Contributors Editor...

Cheryl Van Hoorn Assistant Editor...

Manisha Kumar Production Manager...

Michelle Jenkins

tweakingmadd2012@gmail.com

facebook...

https://www.facebook.com/groups/238459382898809/

twitter...

@TweakingMadd

Blog...

http://tweakingmadd.blogspot.com.au/

Proof Reader...

Tracy Ellison Others...

Alan Taylor Diane Connor Carolann Davis Cyra Alcock Anne Champion Alison Payton Christina Fox Tami Brow Elleran Field-Lagan Kathy PK Thompson Kylie Coulter Matthew Thompson Rhonda Salmon Carolann Beardmore Tony Jenkins

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EDITOR’S letter Hey guys and welcome back for another edition of our magazine, Tweaking Madd. This edition will centre on the many aspects of multiculturalism.

Multiculturalism is a term that is used often and is often over used. Australia is a country that has been built on the back of immigration, both voluntary and involuntary. Many people view the entire process with a rather myopic perspective and sadly with a poor past history of racial tolerance to back it up.

From our earliest incarnations as a country right up to the latter part of the twentieth century the country was first conquered and developed a conqueror’s mentality. A result these predecessors showed a distressing disregard for those who were different. Fear ruled.

The white Australia policy is case point and arose in response to the complaints of the miners in the gold fields who believed that the rapid influx of the mainly Chinese immigrants chasing the dreams of wealth were stealing the opportunities of the Australian miners.

It was a stain on our history that was not repelled completely until the 1970’s.

Australia, originally forced through circumstance to build its identity with convict labour and a select few free settlers who vigorously chased John Macarthur’s dream and built an economy off the back of the sheep.

However the small community of free settlers and freed slaves realised that unless there was means of expansion from the coast NSW would wither and die. There was simply not enough space for the country to survive. It was apparent that they would need to find a means through the impenetrable maze of the strange mountains that threw a strange blue mist toward the end of the day.

With this goal in mind Henry Lawson, William Wentworth and John Flinders strapped supplies to horses and their bodies and set out with haste and with the dreams of adventures in their hearts seeking expansion of the colony.

It took years and it took several attempts. But nothing worthwhile is ever achieved without trials and they persevered. Eventually with the assistance of indigenous guides they found a way through to the plains of Lithgow, Bathurst and beyond. The country of NSW opened up to them.

And it was here that their dreams and their efforts were vindicated.

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There was amazing farming land, not only fit for the further development of sheep but for farming in general. The trio knew that they had found the pay dirt they were looking for an Australia expanded.

Australia continued to be a penal colony for many years but the wealth of the country and strong, sound economy that was result of export and farming led to the country’s ability to achieve federation in 1901. Federation made Australia into a nation itself and no longer a penal country. Australia was still part of the crown but had become an entity unto itself and due to this earned the right to its own governance.

The Australian culture and nationality was evolving. A short 14 years later Australia’s national identity was consecrated in the bloody sands of Gallipoli.

The journey of nationhood would not have been successful without the aid of vigorous immigration despite the odd case of the white Australia policy. To a large degree immigration built this country; the dreams and the drives of new comers to our shores in search of a better, brighter life and the prospects of a freedom and riches that were not possible in their country of birth.

- EDIT O R ’ S LETTE R

It also taught the world to be more cautious of threats from other countries.

It is a curious sensation watching this fear within our society. I remember when the Tampa entered Australian waters and the country collectively held its breath as the government deployed the Australian Navy to shadow and then boarded the ship. Australia saw a threat to our country. I saw a bunch of scared, lost and sick people looking for a home where they would be free of persecution. Work was uncomfortable.

For at least a two week period of time I avoided people like the plague as the dire predictions of what these refugees would bring to us were outlined. I felt out of step and out of touch with my fellow man.

A bare six weeks after the Tampa 9/11 happened. Like the rest of the world I watched in fear and with a great deal of heart ache as those buildings came down. I remember waking up the next day thinking it was a dream. I turned on the television but it was on every channel. I went and sat by my kids and cried for the world that they would be facing and the fact there was not a damn thing I could do to stop it.

People called vindication for the Tampa after 9/11. It was a good job that we did not allow them in. If we had look what happens. But does this play out?

There is talk about assimilation. What is assimilation? And is assimilation a direct contradiction to Multiculturalism?

The aim of assimilation is for those who settle to our shores to ‘become Aussie.’

My mother grew to maturity in a country with the white Australia policy and I noted a generalised cultural discrimination from people from her generation. It was something that was ingrained, they were raised with. It is still taking time in its departure from the collective psyche.

But multiculturalism in its nature is about the interaction of different As a child I noted that it was Greeks cultures bringing about something and the Italians that came here chasing a beautiful and new. What Australia has dream. My best friend as a child was of gained from the multiple cultures that Greek extract and often went to visit the have blessed our shores has led to great country of his parent’s origins leaving and varied colours in our world. The me with wonderful pictures of olive food, the fashion, the expansion of trees and a tamed wilderness that was knowledge and the passions this country formed of a beautiful country with a is built on. Immigration has taught us to wonderful culture. be far more than we were.

The hangover of the white Australia As Australia moved into the 80’s the policy has left us a little reticent about immigration debate became about welcoming new cultures but we have the influx of refugees that the world gained far more than we have lost. received from Asia. We ate the food but were challenged within the focus of Cheryl Van Hoorn assimilation of our cultures.

Since 9/11 there has been an influx of refugees from the Arabic states.

9/11 served as a lesson of distrusting foreigners especially those of Middle Eastern extract. t w e a k i n g m a d D i s s u e #003 — j u ly 2012 03

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- EXTRACT

EXTRACT

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A pot of tea.

hen I think of my cultural background I think of a well brewed pot of tea.

For the English it is almost as defining as the concept of that of mateship in Australia. There is an art to brewing a good pot of tea. It never, ever involves the use of tea bags and involves seasoning the pot. A new pot will not give you the rich flavour that an older pot does.

Preferably the pot should be china or metal. The tannin from the tea leeches into the pot adding flavour to every brew and increasing the potency of the tea. There is even ritual surrounding the whole process of serving the tea. In that my family didn’t give a fig.

By now you have probably guessed that I am of English extract. In the post WWI years Australia recognised its need for more skilled labours but was still reluctant to scrap the white Australia policy, a hangover from the gold rush where Asian’s background flocked to Australia lured by the idea of a new life and quick riches. Post WWI the call went out to countries of English speaking background and my Grandfather with my Grandmother in tow and my mother who was still a swaddling babe swapped his commission with the Royal Navy and transferred to the Australian Navy.

When they hit our shores my mother was three months old.

Like many before and after they came to the lucky country in search of a better life in a country that gave them wide open spaces and streets that their children could play on.

Initially they settled in Stanmore and my Grandmother took in boarders to supplement Grandad’s Navy penny and my mother’s first memories were of strangers roaming the house and my Grandmother working from dawn to well past nightfall. She also recalled the creepiness of the building itself so it was with relief when they moved to Allawah when Nan and Grandad had saved enough to buy a house, something that would not have been possible in England with its inflated housing prices and scarce accommodation post war.

I think that the thing that I remember the most would be the sense of family. The origins of that family did not matter; they were the group of people that were in my sphere of being who cared for me and who loved me and who constituted a family.

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Blood had a little to do with it but it was not the whole thing. Often we had and still do people who are not of direct linage but are just as much family as the blood ties. It came down to spending time together, to being together for each other and for just having a good time.

Predominately Sunday’s and Christmas day were the important ones. Every Sunday we would enter the phase of real family where we would congregate at my Grandmother’s for an afternoon of Cribbage, beer and for Nan, cooking sherry.

In summer it would be sweltering and we would run under the sprinklers. Later we would discover that the people next door who had a pool would allow us to go for a swim in summer which made going to Nan’s even better. In winter it would be cold but we would be warmed by the spitting fire in the hearth. After an afternoon of food and an excess of beer the flatulence was as astonishing in its richness as it was in its depth of odour and melody: lighting an open fire could be termed as an extreme sport.

The beer would flow through the afternoon. My Grandmother would sit at the card table beer at her left hand and play. My cousin asked her once if she drank the beer.

Her reply to that she did not, she was a lady and she sat there and the beer just evaporated. It was one of the great myths of my childhood I liken to not drinking from green straws so that you did not fall pregnant. I believed her for years. It was only when I caught her drinking from the glass that my illusions were shattered.

In terms of multiculturalism it is not something that I have ever really actively thought of. Our family was our family and there were certain traits and conditions that were bought over with them but as a family the task of assimilation has been made far easier as my family immigrants were from the mother land and were white and spoke English. We blended seamlessly into the fabric of this nation and we by and large took for granted our culture as this country’s culture.

Cheryl Van Hoorn

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4 t h JULY

- MEET THE P E O P LE

MEET THE PEOPLE Cheryl Van Hoorn Cheryl was born in Australia more years ago than she cares to remember. She is married with two teenage sons with a few surrogates as well.

Quiet often it is not surprising to wake up in her house with two or more strange children sleeping in various places.

Cheryl began her working career at McDonald’s Kings Cross which she found interesting in the extreme. Some of her greatest friendships have arisen from this period of her life.

Cheryl entered the University of Sydney as a mature age student studying a Bachelor of Applied Sciences, Nursing. She matriculated in 1991 and commenced work at Prince Henry Hospital where she was to meet her future husband and the father of her children.

Around the time of the birth of her second child Cheryl experienced an onset of pain throughout her body and she has since been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and Mixed Connective Tissue disorder.

For the last ten years Cheryl has been a stay home mother and dealing with her disorder. She is currently studying a Bachelor of Communications with a double major in Film and Creative Writing.

Manisha Kumar Currently residing on the Gold Coast, Manisha lives with her lovely husband and two boys. She will be studying Bachelor of Arts (Professional Writing and Publishing) at Curtin University and is looking forward to the new challenges. She enjoys eating, reading and writing in her spare time and entering writing competitions all over the world. She placed Third (3rd) in the Western Pennsylvania Romance Writers 2010 Annual Bump in the Night Competition. Manisha’s aspirations are to one day open up her own publishing company. Her favourite authors include Maya Banks, Lori Foster, Lora Leigh, Jessica Shirvington, Kresley Cole, Becca Fitzpatrick, Victoria Dahl, Lauren Kate, Richelle Mead, Hannah Howell, Jennifer Rardin, Suzanne Collins, Christopher Pike, Rachel Cain, and Susan Elizabeth Phillips.

Alan Taylor Alan left school at 16 and studied signwriting, mixed with design. When the industry moved from hand-painted signs to computers, Alan switched careers and entered IT. After working in IT for 20 years and staring at server event logs became a bit of a chore, Alan decided that his creativity wasn’t being exercised, so he decided to try his hand at writing.

He loves reading thrillers and his spare wardrobe is full of books which he decided he’d better not add to, so he went to Kindle instead. Alan lives in Sydney with his wife and no cat or dog.

Michelle Jenkins Michelle joined the Tweaking Madd team in December 2011 when they were looking at publishing the first issue. The ever so enthusiastic student, she was thrilled to be involved in digitally producing such an exciting project. Michelle is studying towards a Bachelor of Internet Communications through Curtin University. Her background is in administration and she fondly remembers learning to type on an old Canon electric typewriter which her mother had brought home from work when the company upgraded to their very first computers. Fast forward twenty odd years and now she has a whiz bang Mac with all the bells and whistles....studying web design. She married to her child-hood sweetheart, has two children and lives on the Central Coast of New South Wales.

Christina Fox Known to her close mates as Cricket - is originally from Ohio but now calling Adelaide home since September of 2000.

With her daughters Kendria and Alisha, along with Alisha’s husband Tyler and their new daughter Elizabeth all back home in the USA, becoming a published writer has been a lifelong dream and it was time to fulfil that promise Cricket had made to herself all those years ago when she put her life on hold to have a family. Growing up in a rural farm community reading and writing became a way of escaping boredom. Cricket was almost always found with a journal or notebook writing about events happening around her or what was going on in the rest of the world. Now along with new life experiences and a fresh voice it’s time to explore her new life with her husband Phil of eleven years and life in Australia.

Kathy PK Thompson PK is a long-time student who started studying in 2005, because she needed something to do to get her out of bed in the morning. Depression, Anxiety (social and general), Fibromyalgia, Carpel Tunnel Syndrome and a number of other health problems means that she can only study one subject at a time, and since PK has changed her degree goal since starting, it is still a few years before she is finished. Digital Scrapbooking is her main hobby outside of study, and took it up at the start of 2010 as a hobby that didn’t require physical strength. PK doesn’t work for money, but does volunteer work for the Anglican Diocese of Rockhampton, looking after their website and being editor of their monthly publication. (What does PK stand for? That depends….)

Tami Brow Tami is studying for a Bachelor of Arts in Professional Writing & Editing, alongside a Bachelor of Accounting She is married with 3 children and enjoys movies, music, reading and of course studying. Her goal is to be able to one day write a novel.

Tracy Ellison Tracy is a stay at home mum of two little boys who are two of the greatest parts of her life. Besides having a diploma in Interior Design and Decorating, a diploma in Professional Proofreading, Editing and Book Publishing, she is in her second year of earning her Bachelor’s in Arts, along with studying for my diploma in Creative Writing. She loves reading and writing for her kids, trying to keep her two dogs (but not succeeding) out of her garden and watching movies. Any other free time she manages to get is spent thinking of ways to redecorate her home.

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- m e e t t h e p e op l e

MEET THE PEOPLE Carolann Beardmore Carolann is 37, married with 2 children aged 5 and 2 and isn’t working at the moment,. Her previous employment includes Administration and Retail management roles with several companies; most recent was Assistant Manager for Dick Smith Electronics.

In her spare time she writes book and movie reviews for this magazine and loves the experience. She loves challenges and the best challenge, other then university, is to sit here and be able to analyse a book or movie and write about it.

Words cannot express it; it is the best feeling. Professionally she is working towards her BA of Professional Writing and Publishing Degree at Curtin University, through Open Universities Australia.

She is also currently working on her first novel ‘Forbidden.” This is about a young man who was adopted into a family and fell in love with his sister. Her interests, of course, would be writing, but she also loves reading, watching movies, media studies and the process of making films and television.

multiculturalism: what does it mean to you?

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Image courtesy of Facebook page or me, as I had found a piece through my journey of research for my unit, I discovered a piece where it showed what the ideal world would be like. We all live together, alongside each other without any hindrances. But in reality, this is not the case. We live in a world of diversity and differences. We benefit from the wide cultures that our country has exposed us to. We are a welcoming country and accept many from across the globe and live next door to each other.

New immigrants are integrated into our country without prejudice, but the community has prejudices that they have to deal with. We have refugees who come and are segregated until they are ready to be processed for either integration or deportation.

In most cases new immigrants are integrated into the same areas which help them adjust appropriately and timely. I have noticed an influx of new immigrants in my neighbourhood which gives some indication on how they are helped to integrate into communities.

I think having a wider range of cultures within our society helps us to learn and gain new skills and understanding of different worlds that we may not be exposed to. They provide a new language that could help us and introduce foods that we may never have had the opportunity to try. We as a society can benefit a great deal from the new Australians, but the most important question to me to ask is: are they interested in learning a great deal from us?

I am a big believer to love the country you are in. I love Australia and am open to new immigrants and what they have to offer. The only gripe I have is for those who come to our beautiful country and don’t appreciate all its diversity and culture that Australia has to offer.

We would like to know what Multiculturalism means to you…let us know by email at tweakingmadd2012@gmail.com Tracy Ellison

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4 t h JULY - C O A C H W O O DY HAYES

COACH WOODY HAYES

ayne Woodrow Hayes was born on the 14th of February 1913.

I knew him in my lifetime as Coach Hayes. Heck that is what everyone called him. “COACH” I even call myself a Coach Hayes kid. A lot of you out there will totally get that. I was raised during the era of this coaching. I learned what football was from him, well my Dad teaching but watching Coach and the boys every Saturday afternoon in the fall. I learned fast about that “TEAM UP NORTH” (Michigan University, in Ann Abor, Michigan) and how it was a dirty word in our house. I learned what team work and loyalty was all about. Coach was kind of set in his ways but he got the respect he deserved. In my opinion it was Coach Hayes that brought Ohio State in to the power house college football program they are today.

Sure, there were ups and downs in any program but Coach was able to keep proving himself. It wasn’t until 1968 when the next Nation Championship season came along.

It was in 1972 at the age of 9 when I really began to get the whole idea of OSU, football and everything that goes with it, a meaning of tradition that I could understand. It was just a way of life I guess; only way I know how to describe it. Saturday afternoon was in front of the television or near the radio. It’s that way now, even with living in Australia, I am up at all hours to listen to the games and cheer the boys on.

With living overseas it’s my real connection home, my connection to who I am. From 1972 to 1977 brought a series of things that would not be achieved by any other school. The biggest one involved the winning of the Heisman Trophy. It’s given to the one player considered to be the best college football.

(Brownlow Medal) Only twice in the history of the award has it been given to the same athlete.

OK….I hear you asking why is that so special, for one reason…….Archie Griffin is the ONLY Running Back in the history to win the award back to back.

I can remember being in Junior High School in the gym for some reason and it getting announced over the speaker. There was a big cheer when that happened. Once is quiet the accomplishment for sure but to this day NO player in college football has ever done it twice.

Woody actually started his coaching career at Denison University in 1946 and after three years there headed to Miami of Ohio until Ohio State University came taping on his door in 1951. Woody was tapped to be the 19th coach of Ohio State. Those first years were rough going, not many wins, but getting established as a young coach. It wasn’t until 1954 that the first of the successful years began with a perfect season of 10 wins, from 10 games played with a trip to the Rose Bowl which also brought the first of the national championships.

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Traditions continued along the way. Facing that school up north as Coach called it every November was the one game that became more pressure filled, more important each year. There was almost always the Big Ten title and a trip to one of the major bowl games riding on it. It was a normal season in 1978; a 6 and 2 season would be sending us off to the Gator Bowl. Coach Hayes was known for his temper getting the better of him at times, and in the bowl game against Clemson it did. In the fourth quarter, with the pass intercepted by the Clemson player….

Coach lost his temper and grabbed the player by the scruff of the neck and hit him. There would be major fallout from what took place and it would cost Coach Hayes his job. On that day the end of an era took place, after 238 wins, 72 lose and 10 ties the 19th Coach of the buckeyes was no longer.

OK…WHY did I just tell you all of that….So, I could really tell you about the night Coach Hayes passed away. March 12, 1987 the evening news lead story of the day was about his death.

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- C O A C H W O O DY HAYES

COACH WOODY HAYES

I hope I have given Coach Hayes the respect he has earned from me, I find myself with tears in my eyes, remembering a really good time growing up and learning about tradition, pride and respect. Kendria and I were part of something special that night in the shoe. The appropriate words I think have come to mind, the last few of lines of Ohio State’s team song from Carmen Ohio: The Season Pass The Years Will Roll Time and Change will surely show How Firm Thy Friendship OHIO Ohio was in mourning. We all knew that Coach wasn’t well but no one knew it wasn’t his time.

OSU had made an announcement that was totally unexpected. They were opening up the horseshoe (where the Buckeyes played their home games) for those who wanted to come and pay their respects to the Coach. You have the very rare opportunity to actually step on the hallow turf of the shoe and I was not going to pass up a rare opportunity. I rugged up my 4month old daughter Kendria and headed out for what would be an experience I would not forget.

I would explain later on to her how special that night was. Walking to the 50 yard line on that dark evening was eery and unusually quiet; you could feel the footy gods where there, the special surrounds gave me goose bumps. They were running a video on the big screen that night, reliving some of those really special moments in Coach’s life.

Christina Fox

I remember there was a black ‘O’ hat, just like Woody always wore, Flowers, one single candle. I can’t even put into words all these years later, what it was like to be able to stand on the 50 yard line of a place I had seen on television, with so much tradition. I picked up Kendria from her stroller and turned her around so she could see where she was. I told her how special this place was, about the man on the screen who was a wonderful man who taught all of Ohio what it was like to be PROUD of where you were from. There was a news crew there that night, they were reporting on and off all evening about what was going on. They ask me if they could use Kendria in a shot and I told them sure. From what I remember the reporter talked about how people were coming to pay respects, all ages, those who understood and those who would learn in years to come who this man was and the tradition he created.

They showed Kendria in my arms as they went to a commercial.

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4 t h JULY

- V I V ID C O L O U R S

VIVID COLOURS, VIVID SARIS AND DECADENT SWEETS - THE FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS he name “Diwali” translates into “row of lamps.” Diwali consists of the lighting of small stone lamps filled with oil to signify the triumph of good over evil.

Families leave the lamps on all night and make their homes pure to make the goddess Lakshmi feel welcome.

Firecrackers or sparklers are lit in order to force away evil spirits. Diwali is a time where we share sweets and snacks with family and friends.

While Diwali is popularly known as the “festival of lights,” the utmost important religious meaning is “the awareness of the inner light.” Central to Hindu philosophy is the claim that there is something beyond the physical body and mind which is pure, infinite and eternal, called the Atman.

The celebration of Diwali as the “victory of good over evil” is referred to the light of higher knowledge ousting all ignorance.

With this emergence brings compassion and the knowledge of the unity of all things.

Just as we celebrate the birth of our physical being, Diwali is the celebration of this Inner Light.

Manisha Kumar

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P 4 t h JULY

- SU P P O R TING KE V IN R UDD

SUPPORTING KEVIN RUDD

hil and I were just relaxing one evening in 2010, when my phone started going silly. I usually turned it on silent in the evenings and would check it when I felt it necessary. This particular evening it became necessary. Twitter became abuzz with the news that things in Canberra, at Parliament House were on the verge of a major change.

Every ten minutes for the next TWO HOURS my phone message tone kept going off. By the time we went to bed we knew the news that the rest of the country would be in total shock to get, Kevin Rudd would no longer be the Prime Minister of the country. Phil and I just couldn’t believe what was happening. Everything was great; we had been the only country in the world to STAY OUT of recession during the Global Financial Crisis. Everything had been done to discredit him and convince others that someone else was better for the job.

We jump ahead to tonight. The country is in a bigger mess now then we would have been with Kevin still at the helm.

WE have a Carbon Tax that no one wants, a Mining Tax that has those in the industry who are screaming that it will do more damage and ruin jobs and a so-called Prime Minister whose numbers are sinking faster than the Titanic.

With regard to the Mining Tax, those in the industry are screaming that the tax will do more harm than good, AFTER they said they would be prepared to pay more. Kevin and Twiggy Forrest had worked out a deal and it would have been something that everyone was happy about BUT, the information of that meeting never came to light UNTIL NOW. ON the Carbon TAX, at first Julia Gillard swore up and down that “THERE WOULD BE NO CARBON TAX UNDER A GOVERNMENT I LEAD.” Weeks later that promise along with pretty much anything else she promised has been BROKEN. NO taking the time to explain, NO taking the time to listen to voters. She has lost the trust of a nation.

WHY have I told you all of this, to really tell you this story………..It’s about a group of people on Facebook who have one thing in common. That is to see that Kevin Rudd is returned to the office of Prime Minister of Australia. We, the Ruddites (as we call ourselves), want to see Kevin back where he belongs, because he was NEVER given the chance to prove himself.

The two pages on Facebook are dedicated to one main objective and that is the fact that we won’t rest until Kevin is back where he belongs. Both pages have well over 1,000 like-minded people on each. Phil and I enjoy our time on those pages with other like-minded people with the same objective. People are tired of the struggles and all, the major frustrations with this current government.

ready for a female PM and that has become true. Kevin is still very well liked and gets a rock star welcome no matter where he goes. Time after time what was put out there as truths about how he was to work with or what he said has been proven to be false.

Kevin tried again to challenge for the leadership in February.

He had seen enough and it was time to take back the job that was rightfully HIS. The Ruddites kicked into high gear to back Kevin all the way, by writing to each member of the House of Representatives and the Senate, to return Kevin to his rightful place. Many sitting members received OVER 1,000 emails from members in their seats urging them to vote for Kevin. There were some who would not listen to those outside their electorate, Kate Ellis is one of those who comes to mind. She gave an interview, in which Kevin was to have said all these nasty things about the PM. It came out later that Ms. Ellis took what she had heard OUT OF CONTEXT, and accused Kevin of saying what she had heard. There are many more stories out there I am sure of that. There were even rumours of bullying with the threat of pre-selection being taken if votes didn’t go Ms. Gillard’s way.

We, the Ruddites, got our voice heard. The newspapers a couple of weeks ago published an article about us and the support that we give to Kevin and his family. The press is starting to listen to what we have known all along. Joe Hildebrandt had a major temper tantrum this week, and it was about a lot of things that we have known for ages and now things are getting said. I know this might be all over the place a little but the general point is this.

It’s been a year since we have joined the pages and we still believe in Kevin; he is really the right man for the job. We the people trust him and want him back where he belongs and we are refusing to give up until he’s there. I am originally from the USA and never really had an interest in politics until now. Here, the sitting members are so much more accessible than back in the States.

Just want to give Brad and Katherine a BIG SHOUT OUT for all the work that they do on keeping the pages going and the passion there. The pages wouldn’t be what they are without them at the helm. They have given us a place to go, share our views and thoughts and not be scared to do so.

WE have built wonderful friendships with many of those on the pages and can’t wait to meet them face to face and share a beer.

As Phil says, and it is quite simple:

OK, I can hear you going WHY? Let me try to answer that question for you……………………

“REINSTATE THE MAN NOW!”

Kevin always took the time to explain things, no matter how complex things where;, he would break it down in such a way that those working in big business to the little bluecollar guy paying a mortgage would get what he was talking about. He wasn’t afraid to answer the hard questions and put in the hard yards. We have gone digging and know in our hearts that things would get worse, that Australia was NOT

Christina Fox

12 t w e a k i n g

m a d D i s s u e #0 0 3 — j u ly 2012

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Y

4 t h JULY

- P R O C R ASTINATI O N

DON’T PROCRASTINATE IN ADDRESSING YOUR PROCRASTINATION ou know what I’m saying don’t you? Oh yes you do! If you know procrastination, then you know how to deceive yourself.

Assignments are here and exams aren’t too far behind and procrastination drools at its chance to sow its destructive seed and feed on its victims desire to avoid. AVOIDANCE IS YOUR ENEMY. Let’s face it; procrastination is a pain in the buttocks. Why? Because when you finally sit down at your freshly cleaned desk, the last on a long list of recently cleaned things such as the bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, yard, front veranda and even the neighbour’s driveway – amazing how much we love to clean when avoiding school work –even then you’ll want to find something, anything, that isn’t the important task at hand. And as your eyes scan your computer screen, your brain panics about the difficult, impending work and so it throws you hundreds of juicy thoughts about bicycling, knitting, feeding the cat, reading a fiction book, clipping your toenails, putting your clothes in order of colour and size, writing a blog about procrastination? Your brain doesn’t want to work, but it’s not your brains fault.

So, grudgingly, you pull up a new word document; oh the pain of a blank piece of ‘paper’. You sigh melodramatically feeling the heaviness of every word to be typed. You look at the thick stack of text-books to your right, and Google Scholar on your screen and you begin to feel drowsy.

Coffee! It’s going to be a long night, right? You’ve left everything until the last minute; you will definitely need and deserve a coffee. Thirty minutes later you’re watching Friends re-runs on television with your flatmates or family, smooth-tasting coffee in hand you sip eagerly and suddenly you freeze, glance at the time and jump from your couch frantically heading back to your computer. You feel so guilty for forgetting about something so important and yet, whether you like it or not, this is all coming from you.

Punishment: Seriously, you need consequences for actions that don’t work towards your goal. For all the time you spend procrastinating, take that time away from pleasurable activities you like to do; reading, watching television, etc.

And maybe instead of a consequence involving avoiding the things you like to do, your punishment could be to read more widely on the topic you avoided writing about in the first place. If you leave your assignment late enough your punishment will simply be a reduced mark for late submission or ‘na’. Another consequence could be to restrict internet or mobile phone usage. The best way to make sure this happens is to get your partner/friend/flatmate involved.

Make a deal with them and make sure that the rewards and consequences are always enforced.

2. Stop Thinking about It. Small Amounts We are an overthinking society. I want you to ignore your thoughts, your feelings and just start typing. Just type anything. I don’t care what it is. Type, type, type. You don’t need your thinking mind to type. You don’t need your feeling mind to type. Only type for five minutes and then I want you to take a five minute break. And then do it again.

No thinking, just doing. No worrying about how you feel, just typing. Type, type, type. Just do it - finger to keyboard.

I bet those feelings of dread don’t come back this time. This time you write on the topic, but you’re only writing what you want to write whether it be the intro, body, conclusion, references or title page. Write the best part, the part you’d enjoy most. Stop after five minutes and take another break.

Start again.

The reason you should employ this technique is because the brain responds to reverse psychology. We often think about a task in terms of a mountain. For instance ‘I’ve got to do all this work in this amount of time? I can’t do that! It’s too much.’ Incorrect; it isn’t too much. What’s too much is your unreasonable expectation to get it done in one sitting, in limited amounts of time. Answer: You only let yourself do five minute increments at a time. Even when you want to You might be thinking, what is wrong with me? Why is this keep typing, you stop. If you have any ideas while on your so hard? It’s just an assignment, what’s the big deal? Having break about the assignment, you jot it down in short form just completed an Honours degree in Psychology myself and with a pen and paper. No Computer. Your break should be also managing my own business, procrastination is a tough away from the computer. No Facebook, Twitter, or Youtube. one to beat. But you can beat it at its own game. Here are two tips that work: Once in a flow state, you can increase your increments to fifteen minutes. Keep your breaks to five minutes maximum.

1. Reward and Punishment Eventually you can increase your writing time to an hour.

Reward: Completing an assignment has rewards. It’s hard If you get any feelings of dread, you instantly bring the to believe but there are; for instance, you are one step amount back to fifteen minutes or five minutes, again. closer to your educational goals. Do you think you’re going to remember the pain of attempting this assignment five This is a great tactic; try it, it really works. years from now? The problem is, you’re associating your assignment only with pain. There will be pleasure also. You I’ve taught students and clients about outsmarting and are going to learn new information. One day you’ll apply eliminating unhelpful procrastination from their lives. this information. Your marks all count towards your final Once it’s gone, the relief is priceless. Only you can make grades. How do you ensure you’ll get a good mark on the the decision to act and get back in the driver’s seat. So assignment? Research thoroughly, spend time revising. don’t procrastinate on eliminating procrastination, get to That’s it. Don’t start the night it’s due, start two nights addressing it now. before it’s due. First draft the first night, second draft the second night. Self-efficacy is another reward – that feeling Kylie Coulter that is simply ‘I can do this!’ Think, ‘the better my mark on the assignment, the better my final grade’. You should also give yourself rewards. See a movie if you get it finished before say 8pm. Or go to a theatre production, go out for dinner, catch up with friends or go shopping.

Reward yourself.

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t w e a k i n g m a d D i s s u e #003 — j u ly 2012 13

4 t h JULY

- DE P R ESSI O N

DEPRESSION

a great grey fog fills my brain a huge black cloud covers my eyes a really heavy mist surrounds my face

i will get better i am going to get better i hope i’ll get better

it feels like i have a giant wet blanket thrown over me yet i want to curl up under the blankets

this is just a setback and you can’t have a setback without having first made progress

my body feels incredibly heavy yet it is the same weight as it was last week i cry over anything even spilt milk

things will get better they have to they will get better won’t they?

i don’t want to see or speak to anyone yet i have to or they’ll seek me out

Coping

there are no voices only yukky thoughts i am frustrated and annoyed and i need to release this energy yet i can’t go outside alone why me why anyone why does it even exist don’t try to tell me to snap out of it it doesn’t work don’t try to push me out the door i’ll go but the next day i’ll be worse don’t judge me just love me i don’t know how but i know i will 14 t w e a k i n g

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i feel cold yet i am physically warm i feel dead yet i am definitely alive i feel like i am asleep yet i know i am very much awake i feel bored yet i have heaps that needs to be done i feel alone and yet there are so many others like me so many others who are incredibly sad so many others who cry for no reason so many others who don’t know how to get through the next minute let alone the next hour or day what is depression it is all of these feelings and more everyone who deals with depression deals with different feelings and emotions on a daily basis everyone who deals with depression copes with it in their own way everyone who deals with depression needs the love and support of their family and friends Follow us on Twitter

4 TH JULY

- DE P R ESSI O N

DEPRESSION

how do we survive i can’t speak for everyone but i can speak for myself when i am at my lowest i take life one minute at a time i take life one feeling at a time i take life one tear at a time one tear now means i might not break later one tear now means i might be able to smile to greet someone one tear now means i might be able to talk to someone on the phone one tear now means i might just get to sleep tonight why do i cry i cry for lost chances i cry for lost opportunities i cry for chances never to come i cry for many reasons most are unknown i cry for reasons that are purely selfish i cry for reasons that should make the whole world cry i cry because i can’t stop crying then i stop i have to stop because i cant breathe i have to stop because i have no more tissues i have to stop because my eyes are dry and no more tears will come i have to stop because there is no milk on the floor

i pray for love i pray for the chance to live without depression i pray for the chance to live life without fear fear of crying fear of collapsing emotionally fear of not coping fear of being alone yet i know that i am never alone there is always someone there to hold my hand there is always someone there to listen to my deepest thoughts there is always someone there to love me and to protect me from harm He is always there He will keep me safe He knows why i am here He will guide me through the darkness and into His marvellous light Kathy PK Thompson

then i smile i smile because my husband tells me he loves me i smile because my cat gives me cuddles i smile because the fish are chasing each other i smile because there is no milk on the floor then i pray i pray for peace Find us on Facebook

t w e a k i n g m a d D i s s u e #003 — j u ly 2012 15

4 t h JULY

- SH O R T ST O R Y C O M P ETITI O N GUIDELINES

SHORT STORY Competition Guidelines Open Prompt.

Word Limit: 1500 Entry: Free Contest Deadline: 31st August, 2012 Judging is based on quality of writing and originality of idea. Top two (2) winners will be published in the next quarterly edition of Tweaking Madd. Entries must be in English. A small number of words or short phrases in other languages is permitted.

GUIDELINES: 1. Your story must be fiction 2. Arouse our appetite with a title. It will be the only thing typed above your story in the

body of your e-mail. No title means a lower technical score for not following the guidelines 3. At the END of your story, please type on the left hand side the following information: • Your name • Your e-mail address; you may submit more than one to be on the safe side.

• Word count—this does not include your title, name or your personal contat information.

We use MS Word to verify the word count of your story. We will destroy your personal information after we no longer have any use for it. We will not share your information with any other person or company 4. We do not accept attachments 5. Use Verdana 14 pt type or Plain text. If your e-mail provider doesn’t have the option of Verdana or plain text, you can use Times New Roman or Courier New. Just make sure the text is black (no fancy colours please) and readable 6. The best way to submit your story is to type your story in the body of your e-mail 7. We accept only one submission per title. We accept only one submission per email.

DISQUALIFIERS: 1. Turning in your submission LATE! That means we would have received it AFTER midnight, 31st August, 2012.

2. We will reject any submission that MS Word counts over 1500 words. THIS DOES NOT COUNT THE TITLE OF YOUR STORY OR YOUR PERSONAL CONTACT INFORMATION AT THE END OF YOUR STORY. Please send your entries to: Manisha_kumar@hotmail.com.au

16 t w e a k i n g

m a d D i s s u e #0 0 3 — j u ly 2012

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4 t h JULY

- UNSUNG HE R O ES

UNSUNG HEROES

Some people may not think of us as heroes, But when we think about it, we choose to do it And by making that choice we know that if we die young We can become a hero in someone else’s eyes.

Our family and friends do not always understand But they realise that it is our choice to give someone else life.

Sorrow fills my family’s heart For the day they dreaded has come For now I am no longer with them.

But they realise that my death was not in vain For they know that part of me will live on in others Because I made the decision and I chose to donate.

As another night of dreaming ends We often wake and hope that this may be the day That we see our lives going on.

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But we often feel guilty when we hope that someone else will die So that we may have a better life again.

As another moonlit night draws to a close I wake and know that someone, Someone who I will never meet or know, That someone has become a hero in my eyes For a part of them will now live on in me.

As my family enters the room We realise how emotional we are For we are feeling both sorrow and joy.

Sorrow for the loss of someone Who is now a hero, But joy, for I now have a new chance at life.

Matthew Thompson

t w e a k i n g m a d D i s s u e #003 — j u ly 2012 17

4 t h JULY

- THE d AY Y O U LE F T ME

THE DAY YOU LEFT ME

The day you left me, I felt like my world was going to end Six weeks before my wedding How could I go through with it?

You were meant to walk me down the aisle Instead, I was going to your funeral The day of my wedding arrived You weren’t there I missed you terribly It was incomplete without you I still felt as if my world was going to end Five years later, my first son was born You were there I sensed your presence I saw you in his eyes I felt you in my heart Ten years have passed I still miss you I still sense your presence I still feel you in my heart But I no longer feel as if my world is going to end Tracy Ellison

18 t w e a k i n g

m a d D i s s u e #0 0 3 — j u ly 2012

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I

felt her before I saw her. My medallion tingled on the base of my neck. I saw Marcus standing in the middle of the alley way staring at something. There was steam coming from the underground vents, rubbish littered the sides and the stench was overpowering and sharp. There was little light coming from the clubs back light. I could feel Marcus on my right, rigid and strong, the power he was emitting was blinding but nothing compared to what else was in that alley way with us.

4 t h JULY

- THE MEDALLI O N

THE MEDALLION

“You have interesting friends; I think you should meet some of mine.” Her gaze solid and still on Dylan, I turned my head to the mouth of alley I saw four figures running towards us, and boy were they ugly. Big beefy guys, their clothes ripped, long, black scraggy looking hair, sharp brown eyes but their mouths, their mouths were sown shut, crisscrossed with twine. I tried to scream but the sound got lodged in my throat, I saw Marcus reach for me, but before we could make contact I was lifted off the ground and flung hard across the back wall.

“Dylan” I said as I watched him take a step to the side. My eyes left him and looked to see what had caught his attention, leaning on the wall in front of him; was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.

She stood there smiling at me, her red lips plump and full, high cheek bones, with clear, creamy complexion. Her red long hair down to her waist with gold streaks weaved through it. She stood at five ‘five. She wore a black leather biker jacket, Black leather pants that looked like they were painted on and black leather five inch boots. This chick sure loves her leather. I noticed there was a six inch dagger strapped to her right leg. Badass bitch.

I felt my head slam on impact and I was seeing stars as I landed on the ground with a loud thud. I groaned, my head spinning, pain shooting through every part of my body, I was sure something had to be broken; there was no way it wasn’t. I could taste coppery blood in my mouth as I opened my eyes to the battle that was going on around me. Marcus and Alex were fighting the immortals. They were focused, landing blow after blow as they positioned themselves between me and the goons. Parts of my body I didn’t know existed burned with pain as I watched Alex fight like a soldier in a super natural war. He was magnificent.

“Where the hell did he learn to fight like that?

I heard Alex swear behind me, I don’t know when he Marcus’s speed and strength was enough to take two got there but was grateful for the extra person. of the crazy chicks goons out. I turned my head to

“Hello Serafina” her voice purred at me, search for Dylan, he was on the floor, Zariel’s dagger instantly putting me on alert. protruding from his shoulder as I watched the blood

“How do you know my name?” I said realising pool around him; he was bringing up blood and his there was something strangely familiar about her. body convulsing. Zariel was kneeling by his head,

“I’m just an old friend of your father’s.” whispering something in his ear as I was slowly and her eyes trailing over me. “You are your father’s agonisingly dragged my body towards them, I tried daughter, the resemblance is uncanny.” to scream again but I ended up chocking on my own blood, I felt it trickle down the back of my throat as I watched her, realising that something was very I watched her place her hands around his neck and wrong. with a quick flick of her wrist, she had snapped his

“Hello Marcus, how lovely to see you again.” neck.

Her eyes taking in Marcus, malice dripping of every word as she pushed herself of the wall I heard the snap from where I lay helpless. I watched

“I can’t say the same for you Zariel, you can’t as his body went limp and I felt a part of me die. have her; she is protected” The numbness, the cold, our life together flashed before my eyes, his smile, his fears and triumphs, His voice icy and strong, as I dared to turn around everything that our life had meant. His dreams of the I saw his eyes, his intense emerald green eyes. I future were taken away, I still didn’t know why. looked back at the girl; she was smiling even brighter Zariel turned her head and smiled at me; she ripped as I looked at her emerald green eyes, oh my God. the knife out of his shoulder and wiped the blood on

“That’s right little one, Marcus and I related his clothes. by blood, did he not tell you?” she started to walk

“Don’t worry; he’s in a better place now”. The towards Dylan, the power crackling all around her, world went dark. so strong the light flickered above our heads. I took a step towards Dylan and felt Alex grip my arm and Manisha Kumar pull me back.

I watched Zariel move towards Dylan with the deadly step of a vicious hunter.

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t w e a k i n g m a d D i s s u e #003 — j u ly 2012 19

4 t h JULY

- STUDI O : F ADE IN ( P A R T 2 )

STUDIO: FADE IN (PART 2)

B

y now you’re probably beginning to wonder what is going on or at least are curious about what is so different about Studio’s leg. Well as I mentioned earlier when she was a little baby she was in an aeroplane that crashed into the snowy mountain tops where Pud lives. Pud tried to rescue everyone on board, but after rescuing Studio the impact of the crash caused an avalanche that swept the plane and everyone in it down the mountains before Pud could get to them. Studio had been badly injured, her right arm was amputated in the crash at the shoulder.

Pud drawing on his experience as a surgeon – and scientist amongst other things; did the best he could and replaced it first with a fork when she was small, and then with an old desk lamp he had lying around when she got bigger - you know the ones that have a joint half way down like an elbow?

Over the years he modified it and made things for Studio to attach to the light socket so she could use it like any normal arm or hand. Her left leg was badly fractured below the knee. Pud put it in a cast to help it heal but it never did. Eventually it stopped growing, and then it started to shrivel and had to be amputated to save Studios life.

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Pud solved this by fashioning a prosthetic lower leg for studio out of a large barbecue spatulahence Studio normally only wore one boot.

Studio’s right ear and part of the skull surrounding it was also shattered into tiny pieces like a mirror that had been dropped from a rooftop in the crash. Pud didn’t have anything that would substitute for an ear lying around his tiny little cabin. He knew that fixing the injury to Studio’s skull was perhaps most important because of how the skull protects the brain. He tried and tried and tried to think of something that would work. It had to be slightly curved. It had to be strong. The lid of a cooking pot was too flat and the pot itself stuck out too far. Sitting listening to music on an adapted car stereo - in door speakers and all, late one night as he watched baby Studio sleep he had an epiphany. He spent the rest of the night pulling apart his treasured speakers and reinforcing Studio’s skull and ear area ever so gently with it.

In the village they picked up all the supplies they needed and proved Studio’s theory right, they did indeed manage to carry twice as much as Pud would have had he made the journey on his own.

The weather was starting to turn bad by the time they were finished, so they decided it would be safest to stay the night in the village. Getting one of the locals to let them stay with them for the night, however, turned out to be a problem. Pud had a local family he normally stayed with, but they made it clear they wouldn’t allow Studio in their hut because they thought she was cursed. All the other locals hid behind their doors and drew their shutters closed and pretended they weren’t home when Pud knocked on their doors. The trader eventually took pity on them and let them sleep on the floor of his trading hut on the assurance they would enter when it was dark and leave before sun up, and if any of the locals saw them - they would leave immediately.

It was a long cold night that night, and sleeping on a cold hard floor made it even colder and longer and neither Pud or Studio got much sleep. Pud and Studio woke early. As they had slept on the floor of the traders trading hut, they had nowhere to cook or make breakfast, so they quickly packed their things and started back to the cabin. It was well before morning and they moved in silence as they reflected on the events of the day before.

Studio spotted her missing boot just outside the village, but didn’t bother to pick it up. Why bother, she thought to herself, everyone in the village has seen my foot so there is no point trying to hide it now.

The journey back to the cabin seemed to take forever to Studio.

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4 t h JULY - STUDI O : F ADE IN ( P A R T 2 )

STUDIO: FADE IN (PART 2)

She wasn’t sure if it was because of the heavy packs she was carrying, or because she couldn’t wait to be in familiar surrounds and as far from the village as possible, but she felt like she had been walking home for ten times longer than the walk to the village had taken. Just when she thought she could go no further, the cabin came into sight in the distance giving Studio the boost of energy she needed.

Once again she took off in front of Pud - not quite as fast as the last time though her heavy packs slowed her down quite a bit, with a set determination to get home as fast as possible.

Because she wasn't used to carrying such a heavy load, her burst of speed didn't last very long and Pud managed to beat her back to the cabin.

He was already putting away supplies by the time Studio fell in the door in a huffing, puffing, unable to move exhausted mess. Pud helped her get her pack off as she slumped to the floor.

“Well that makes one thing certain,” she managed to squeak out between huffing and puffing..

“What's that? You don't want to go back?

Because I did warn you, you know?” said Pud frowning.

“No, not at all,” she said, her breath returning.

“I'm going to grow my hair.”

Pud looked shocked and slightly amused.

“You're what? Are you sure?” he asked trying not to laugh.

This was a big deal for Studio. When she was little Pud kept her very hair short, almost bald, because he didn't know how to care for a little girl's hair. So short in fact that if she had have lived in society many people would've thought she was a boy. When she was about six years old she found an old photograph of Pud's family and in it the girls and lady had long hair, so she decided to grow her hair too. It grew and grew, problem was her desk lamp arm made brushing it difficult and so she couldn't be bothered to brush it and brush it, and the cold air and snow and moisture and sticks and twigs from playing outside got in it and it ended up like a bird's nest. Pud tried to get the knots and mess out quiet a few times but she wouldn't let him touch it, and hair conditioner wasn't heard of in the village where he got supplies. Until one day the mess of her hair was bigger and heavier than she was and she begged Pud to cut it all off because it was hurting her neck. She swore black and blue that day that she would never EVER grow her hair again.

Studio looked at Pud determinedly.

“Yes. I'm sure. Well half of it anyway. I'll grow half. That will be enough to solve the problem definitely.”

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She began helping Pud unpack the supplies with a stern look on her face.

“Oh and you're right - I'm not going back..that is until my hair has grown.”

Pud laughed.

Time went by and Pud made all the trips to the village to get supplies on his own. Pud would often look out of the cabin to see what she was doing and see Studio practising walking, and trying to talk her hair into growing faster. Once he even caught her trying to pull it out of her head in an attempt to hurry it up.

In time Studios hair began to grow and as it did her confidence returned. She also found that having a long plait down the side of her head over her speaker ear not only made it completely unnoticeable, but also provided it with protection against the cold and the wind. When she had short hair the metal would often get so cold that it would give her the worst ice cream headaches you could ever imagine, although she had never in fact eaten ice cream.

Elleran Field-Lagn

t w e a k i n g m a d D i s s u e #003 — j u ly 2012 21

F 4 t h JULY

- F E R GUS AND ALI C E

FERGUS AND ALICE: THE STORY OF THE DIRTY WASHING CURSE ergus the fairy liked to blame the sprites. The sprites of course blamed Fergus. In hindsight it did not really matter the end result is what counted. But in reality targeting the Sprite Royalty was not the wisest choice. And the panty raid definitely blew. Fergus chose to forget that panties were sacred to Sprite Royalty. Sprites are vain and wilful and like their practical jokes. They are also proud of their Royal Family and their nickers. As for the Fairies, of Irish extract they were pragmatic and honestly could not see the fuss with St Patrick riding the Emerald Isle of snakes but good on him anyway, he engendered national holidays from that and there for the Fairies were grateful.

A sort of quiet heroism pervades this world that the creatures of the nether world are charged to protect for it creates magic. Fairies are charged with the protection of these people but it is most often women that draw the attention. A child of potential is born and a fairy assigned to guard.

Fergus was a seasoned fairy and had had two previous charges. He took his job seriously and found it hard when the ward reached the age of emancipation-50. Whilst in preparation for the day of his next bonding Fergus was travailed by a small run of practical jokes from the sprites. Invisible wires appeared out of nowhere trapping Fergus when he went to fly. This was annoying and painful. There was the misdirection of his mail and there was the subtle moving of things in his quarters. With no proof he appealed to the Royal family of the sprites and to those on high but with no result. Sprites themselves tended to look upon these things as good form.

The lodgement of these complaints was to be Fergus’s saving grace later on.

So Fergus held his head high for the best of it and swore quietly to himself in his quarters.

The day of the bonding arrived and Fergus was present in his full official dress; green tights and red tailored jacket with gold trim. The affiliates of the fairy world stood tall and informed Fergus that this one was different.

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She would stand as a bastion through some of the worst times and stand tall and it would be Fergus’s charter to field the small girl child through life.

Her name was Alice Jane.

They did their thing. There was waving of hands and incense burned along with blessings and words of wisdom. When it was time Fergus stepped forward and laid eyes on Alice Jane and was cored. The small girl child was alert and staring at him with lively interest. As Fergus moved his hand to make the ancient sign of blessing over her that would bond him to her the small child grasped his finger. They all felt it. A silent explosion ripped through the initiation room. This little one had power.

Fergus moved within his world and began Alice Jane’s instruction. As he did the pranking of the sprites continued. There was no small amount of jealousy within this. The Sprites felt they should be the guides and those on high felt that small children had quiet enough vim thank you very much.

It was clear to all that Fergus and Alice were tight. The potential power within babe was profound. The Sprites challenged about this at the best of times were galled that a fairy would have this amount of power at their disposal. So the sprites worked on making Fergus’s life difficult. The pranks increased and Fergus grit his teeth, trained Alice and took solace in ale. One night the plan of separation was implemented.

Fergus woke one morning to a splitting headache. Fergus stumbled out of his room with his head in his hands and found the lave. He splashed water on his face and bought himself to order as much as he could. He felt wrong. Noting it was raining outside he took inventory and decided that he must have drunk more than he had thought the night before. As he glanced in the mirror he gasped. His wings were gone.

His mind went straight to Alice. His wings could wait but she could not. He couldn’t fly but he could still shimmy.

Pulling on the thread between them Fergus shimmied to Alice. His fears were confirmed when he found Alice unwrapped and laying in the grounds of the Fairy palace. Not caring about the consequences Fergus’s first need was to get Alice out of the rain and wrapped warm.

With Alice safely ensconced Fergus set about finding his wings.

After a visual check to see they weren’t in his room, nor where they in any of the common rooms of the fairy realm he did what he did not want to do and stretched his senses.

Just like Fergus was attuned to Alice he was attuned to his body and his wings were part of him. It was a small matter to find them with his senses.

However by doing this he alerted the powers that be to his dilemma and loosing ones wings was a way of displeasing. He eventually found them in the kitchen over the pot of broth that was for lunch. He reattached them and retired to his room deeply embarrassed. He was also puzzled.

Only those of fairy blood and higher beings had enough magic to allow for this.

Fergus kept his head low and stayed away from ale. He knew who was responsible but due to the shame of his duty of care he was reluctant to make a complaint. He was a shamed fairy.

It threatened to overwhelm him until one day, after his time with Alice; he headed back to his quarters later than usual. It was then Fergus heard them.

The sprites. They were talking about it. His wings and Alice in the rain.

They were talking of things that he had not mentioned to anyone. when heard Fergal’s name it clicked into place.

Fergal was Fergus’s half-brother. Born of sprite and Fairy mating (an entirely different story). Suffice it to say that water was definitely the blood of the ages with Fergus and Fergal. They did not speak and they did not even like each other. Fergus had strong fairy traits and Fergal sprite and each was true to his nature.

It had been Fergal that had stolen his wings whilst the others placed Alice in the rain. It solved the question of how and the reason of why. Fergus fumed.

He wanted revenge and he would bet almost anything that there would have been tacit consent from the members of the Royal family for this level of magical mischief.

He went to his brother fairies. He explained and they were horrified.

They wanted to know why Fergus had not come to him before it had gotten to this point but he had his pride as he pointed out. They agreed. Then McCormac delivered an idea.

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4 t h JULY - F E R GUS AND ALI C E

FERGUS AND ALICE: THE STORY OF THE DIRTY WASHING CURSE At first they were all rather silent about it. It was big; it would take time to pull off and a little unseemly. But in the end they decided it was fitting.

So began a month of special diet preparation. And of planning. When the time came they stole as silent as possible into the palace, Fergus’s blood allowing them to enter.

They left the magic decanters timed for release at rousing hour and took what they came from. Then they retired to their quarters, happy with the job they had done but uncomfortable with the aftermath of the diet.

When the Royal family arose in the morning it was to two things.

Exploding bottles of methane that had been prepped on a diet of cabbage and beans for a month and worse still; no under wear.

Fergus and his fellow fairies had cooked for a month to bring about a smell that was rich and full and that took the entire palace. A further month was required to air out the quarters.

But the panties came back quicker.

The higher beings were stirred to intervene. When it became apparent that Fergus was at the centre and that his charge Alice was linked justice was swift. Fergus was expelled from the realms of the fairies and had the choice of living his life with Alice stripped of powers or a mortal life. He chose to stay with Alice. And Alice and her decedents were condemned to a world of never ending washing.

It would be impossible for Alice to ever reach the bottom of the laundry basket.

This may seem like a mild punishment but for those in the know it is a most frustrating thing to have a never ending dirty washing basket.

Fergus passed his days with Alice, happier than he thought he would be without magic and expired on the same afternoon that Alice Jane did at the ripe age of 105.

Her descendants still struggle with the bottomless washing.

Cheryl Van Hoorn.

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t w e a k i n g m a d D i s s u e #003 — j u ly 2012 23

4 t h JULY

- DATING SITES

DATING SITES

I

f you’re over 50 years old and single it can be a nightmare finding new friends or getting a date. Dating, the age-old game of finding a suitable partner to spend the rest of your days with has changed. We now look to the web and dating sites to find Mr or Miss Right.

With work commitments, single families, money issues and numerous other day-to-day life reasons we are not able to get out to do much socialising. Finding you are single again, can be a lonely experience when all your friends are still happily partnered. The friendships dwindle, and you move in different directions, so we look to the web.

There are so many different types of dating sites out there in the World Wide Web. You have the serious relationship sites, the lets hook up for the casual meeting sites, the very sleazy, lets look at web cam, or erotica hook up sites. However, all things have one thing in common; it is the coming together of people looking for someone, whether it is for love or sex.

All these sites have an array of people from all sides of life.

On all sites, you will find the scammers, the players, the desperado’s, the married, the serial dater and the poor soul that could not get a date if they paid for it. There are so many types that you have to weed out before you find at least one that is worthy of meeting for a coffee date or even a chat on the phone.

Looking at profiles on any site can tell you a lot about the person whether you are looking for casual dating or a relationship. Read a profile a few times before you make contact.

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The things you look for are what you are looking for in a person. Have they got children, what ages, have they left home or still under the same roof, do they want a relationship or casual dating, and what types of interests do you both have in common.

We all like walks along the beach but how often would we do this? The beach would be a perfect place to meet someone single, but if all the profiles that say they walk along the beach actually did that, it would be a crowded place. A profile does not have to be long with their whole life story on it but if it is interesting and well worded, less can often be more.

The photo is one of the trickiest of them all if they have one. I tend to leave them alone. If they want to contact me, well and good, but I want a photo upfront or they are deleted very quickly. With mobile phones, computers and digital cameras these days it is not hard to put a photo up in a profile and if they are not that computer savvy, well there is always someone that is, plus there is a help section on all dating sites to help with photos.

First off, let us look at the ‘beware of’ profiles. The scammer’s profile is usually cut and pasted from other profiles. Good job, usually the armed forces or a high up position. The photo is usually with a nice pleasant face.

Mostly from overseas but you do get some from here; well they say they are from Australia.

The scammer takes practice to get to know, the most obvious is the overseas male, in the forces and over the top loves your profile. They send you a message and it is full of praise for you and wanting to love you for the rest of their lives.

Then the message will give you a hotmail address where they would prefer you to message them. That is a big no-no.

The scammer wants your email address first off. Then when you have replied to a couple of messages they will get around to telling you the troubles they are having with a situation and would you help them out with some money. Lots of men and women have been caught out by this scam and it is costing people their life savings. Report these profiles straight away and move on.

The player: there are two types of players, the honest player and the dishonest player. If you not ready to find the relationship and want to go out and have fun the honest player could be a good solution, but be wary.

You have to be in the right place to handle what could end up being an emotional roller coaster. The honest player will tell you that he sees other women; he is usually nice looking and charming. Very confident and treats you with respect. He can be a good friend but if you fall for him, you have lost him. He will move on without a backward glance.

The dishonest player is looking for something casual; tells you that you are the only one he is seeing. Makes excuses for missing dates, why he did not return your calls; you will find holes in the stories that he tells you.

Mental abuse comes very close to describing this one. In the end, you find that he is married or has a line of women that he is doing the exact same thing to.

Rhonda Salmon

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4 t h JULY

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- MULTI C ULTU R ALISM

t w e a k i n g m a d D i s s u e #003 — j u ly 2012 25

4 t h JULY

- ELI Z A B ETH TW O

A

ELIZABETH TWO

27/01/1808

cool, serene summer sunrise, the kind that John Macarthur had only ever seen in Australia floated in on the discarded smoke of last night. It had been swift and brutal but in the end his will had won out. He had stood tall on the peak of land and watched with great satisfaction as the Governor; former Governor William Bligh had been man-handled into a rather small boat for the second time in his career. Macarthur had laughed as he had watched.

As the light shone stronger from the horizon, the straggling lines of convicts became clearer. He gave the signal and the men behind him cracked the barres and the smell of rum drifted into the air.

John could feel the presence of Elizabeth, his wife, his partner, his mainstay, in the void behind the rum barrels.

Stephen, John’s most trusted soldier, stood beside him. “Which one?” he asked. Responding to John’s signal. He knew one of the methods that John meant to govern by.

“Third one down.” John indicated after watching a man as he lightly touched the shoulder of the man in front of him in an ancient sign of friendship.

Stephen nodded and cracked the vial emptying it into the cup. When the third man stepped forward Stephen personally handed him his drink. The man drank it in one pull then shockingly dropped quietly to the ground. Murmurs ran down the group.

“SILENCE.” Macarthur’s voice cut through the morning. The line stopped and looked at him and Macarthur felt the power run through him. The economy of New South Wales, steeped in rum, was now baptised by fire and death and Macarthur meant to rule with it.

26/1/2012 - BENEFACTION

It was the 26th of January, 2011, Sanctity Day. Today they honoured the Great Man, John Macarthur and his wife Elizabeth. She was to be his partner, Elizabeth. In the two hundred years since their conquest the found members of the rebellion that had changed and shaped this nation were still very much alive within the people bred around this table. The Macarthur symbol was emblazoned everywhere; in the carpet, in the chairs, on the screens of the two televisions on the west wall.

John watched Elizabeth II from the head of the table. She had passed her eighteenth birthday within the last two months and as such by rights took the seat at his right hand. Tonight she would take her place in his bed.

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Elizabeth I had not survived; now his long wait was over and his spirits were high. Their predecessors, John and Elizabeth senior, stood at the other end of the table.

Her soft blonde hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back. The gentle waves coursing and defining the features of her face. She was beautiful and made to be his match in every way. But he was mindful of youth and as such John could read her anxiety through her face and the lines in her body.

As she had matured over the last several years he had spent the required time bonding and grooming her for the role she was assuming today. Her blue eyes rounded on him and he could see the lovely flush of roses in her cheeks and the trust in her eyes.

“Okay.” John looked around the table and waited out the rustling of papers as the board members became organised.

“Benefaction this year will be held at a community school.”

Genetic therapy, which had come directly from John Macarthur and his wife Elizabeth’s experimentation with Marino sheep, had been extended to ensure purity of the bloodlines in those from the original rebellion. Not one member of the board had been conceived or born naturally. They were made to run the country and its thriving drug trade. All forms of drugs were currency and for every drug there was a district.

“Bring up the screens. Elizabeth, come closer, this will be special for you. Which district, Stephen?”

“Two.”

Elizabeth felt ill. She had no wish to see this.

She had heard the stories. But this is what she was born for. With a deep breath she stood.

She met John at the huge screens. The screens resolved into a live shot of a school hall. Elizabeth took a deep breath and forced herself to watch the image. She felt John’s hand on her back; the warmth of his hand a panacea; her body programmed to respond to his.

On the screen was a large hall, crammed with an assortment of children; it was as run down and as dirty as the children in it. The only base relief being that of the white medics that moved at the head of the hall.

“There is a flag in isle four, three in.” Stephen pointed to the row in question. John pressed the com that linked him to the head tech.

“Deal with it.”

Elizabeth watched the two small children as the camera zoomed in. One young girl was almost bent over and in her distress she reached out a hand to the girl child next to her, grabbing at her hand.

The other child caught it and quickly squeezed it back. It was fast contact, over soon but not unnoticed. Neither child was older than ten.

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4 t h JULY - ELI Z A B ETH TW O

ELIZABETH TWO

After a beat the medic arrived in front of the second child, syringe of Heroine at the ready. The first child pulled out her portacath in readiness for benefaction. Dose administered, the medic slipped passed her, reaching the first child, now completely doubled over. Her distress disabled her from being able to pull out her portacath. The medic reached for it gently and then with a swift and practiced hand injected the drug. She went rigid and then her body dropped to the floor. Within a minute more medics arrived and removed the body from the room.

It was the shock that took Elizabeth’s breath.

She knew the stories. She had been raised on them.

Why was she so surprised?

John, catching her mood, steered Elizabeth back to a chair.

“You know it is necessary, Elizabeth. As Macarthur said, as it is done.”

“But they are only children.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes, but not the same as us. They never will be.”

To Stephen he said, “It is time for own benefaction.”

“She only wanted comfort.” Elizabeth said softly. John gave her a soothing pat on the back.

“It is benefaction time. Come, drink.” John handed her the glass of clear liquid. Each member now had a glass in front of them.

“To the Great Man what fathered a nation.”

John raised his glass high then drained it. The other board members raised theirs then downed the drink as well. The rush was unbelievable. Their own benefaction was a genetically enhanced mix that enhanced their strengths. John watched Elizabeth carefully. It was here he had lost the last Elizabeth.

She drank and her body stiffened briefly, then relaxed.

“Elizabeth?”

“John.” She held a hand out to him. With a sigh of relief, he reached out to the proffered hand.

Cheryl Van Hoorn

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4 t h JULY

- MUM ’ S C O R NE R

I

MUM’S CORNER t must be baby season! With six close friends of mine all suddenly expecting, I had to wonder was there something in the water? And if there was, I didn’t want any of it! After chatting with all of them, it reminded me of the first time I went into labour.

It was Monday morning, I had spent the entire weekend in bed with a bad case of the flu, and I felt like dying. It was also my due date (Did you know only 5% of babies are born on their due dates?) So what were the chances of me popping out this baby today? In my mind; none at all, I was so disgustingly sick that a hurricane could have wiped out all of civilisation and I still wouldn’t have lifted my head out of bed.

I started to worry about the fact that they were going to send me home because I wasn’t far along yet but all was well with being 6cm dilated she cheerfully told me that I would be having my baby tonight. I wanted to punch her in the face.

You can’t be so damn cheerful to somebody in so much pain.

It’s just not right.

They told me to strip down and hop into the bath that was in the adjoining room. All shame and privacy goes out the window when you’re giving birth. I was naked as the day I was born in a tub with people wandering in and out checking this poking that trying to give me gas which I eventually took mind you. Gas is cool. It made me lightheaded and happy.

I think it caused my waters to break because as soon as that 4 am on the dot and I started getting a rippling pain in my happened they yanked me out of my little heaven that I had lower back. I thought they were the good old Braxton hick’s created in my head, dressed me in one other hospital gown contractions. It was my first time on this merry go around that really don’t hide a thing and told me lie down on the and I had no idea. Yes I read all the books and watched all hospital bed. By this time my contractions we coming hard the videos I could get my hands on but nothing and I repeat and fast. I felt like I couldn’t breathe let alone talk. I didn’t nothing prepares you for the real thing. scream I didn’t yell, I didn’t tell my husband that I was I listened to hubby get up and get ready for work. This would going to kill him in his sleep. No I stayed quiet and tried to have been the perfect time for me to tell him about the pains remember how to breathe. that I had been having for the last 3 hours but of course I was in denial mode by then and just let him kiss me on the cheek and go to walk.

I got up and showered in hopes that the hot water would calm the unrelenting pains in my back. By 10am my mum rings me; she’s all happy and I wanted to tell her to shove off because; really I had a hard morning. When I told her what I was feeling she squealed like a little girl and told me to start walking around the house and to count the contractions. (I was carrying her first grandchild you see) I defiantly told her no and promptly hung up. I was sick; I had a headache, a runny nose, a temperature and I was feeling a little sorry for myself for being sick and there was no way that I was in that 5%. (So the little person in my head kept telling me).

By 12pm I was in the shower again crying my eyes out. I didn’t want to talk to anyone; I didn’t want to see anyone.

I hadn’t even called my husband yet. I was scared. I was panicking. There was no way in this world I was going to push a baby out of me. I kept timing but they were still about 10 minutes apart and I just wandered the house occasionally holding on to the walls for dear life as a contraction ripped through me. I guess I should give a quick run-down on my pregnancy; I was the expectant mother all the other pregnant mothers hated. I had no morning sickness, I gained 7kgs, I had no swelling besides my tummy, I could and did eat everything in sight and I could fall asleep wherever I put my head down. (Yes; yes I know total B*t*h right?)

Eventually they got me pushing. The pushing seemed like the hardest past as it seemed to go on forever. After what seemed like an eternity I gave birth at 11:45 pm. The nurse threw the baby onto my stomach and I was horrified don’t get me wrong it was love at first sight but I was still horrified. It wasn’t like the movies when the babies come out all clean and pink and they smell good. No he was ugly. His face was Let me just say up front, I paid my dues as the time went on. all squashed, he was purple and bloodied. I entertained a The pains were constant and getting stronger and I eventually moment of thought that ET must have kidnapped me at one called hubby to come home. I watched his face as he saw the stage and knocked me up. But once the nurse took him away discomfort I was in and it broke my heart. He did his best to and wiped my baby down and placed him in a miniature try and help me but the pain was sharp and agonising. version of my hospital gown, I fell in love all over again. He We made it to the hospital by 5pm. They ushered me into was beautiful and he was mine and I had worked damn hard a room and as I laid my head down on the pillow, I heard to get him. this ear piercing scream from the other side of the door. My husband paled and stood shakily as he walked to the door Manisha Kumar and cracked it open.

“I WANT THIS BABY OUT OF ME RIGHT NOW!” was all I heard as the nurse came in and smiled. I gulped and tried very hard not to start screaming myself. By that time I had already been in labour for 13 hours and I was exhausted.

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S

he watched him with open anticipation as she stood against the wall in the dark alley. The only light came from the stars burning brightly overhead. Ava could have kicked herself for allowing him to pick such a deserted area, but for some reason her heart fluttered instead as she tracked his every movement. Ava mentally shook herself from damn near losing her common sense. His sapphire eyes twinkled in amusement as the moonlight bounced iridescent beams from them, midnight black hair tousled as if he had just woken up, broad shoulders, lean waist and strong muscled thighs; he was every girl’s wet dream; and the bastard knew it too.

She said a silent prayer. Goddess give me strength.

“Funny bumping into you here,” his smile was enough to bring a lesser woman to her knees. Good thing she wasn’t a lesser woman.

“Yeah I’m laughing on the inside,” she said as she straightened herself. His eyes roamed her body, slowly, seductively, winking at her as if he liked what he saw. She caught sight of his fangs as she released the silver knife from its holster on her thigh and held it out for him to see. He tsked; shaking his head as he laughed; a deep rumble from his chest that had her nearly panting.

“Now now Ava, I thought we were going to play nice.”

A sigh left her lips; he had a point, but that didn’t mean she was going to trust him. She placed the knife back in place and stood her ground.

“Fine just tell me what I need to know and I’ll be on my way.”

He stalked closer.

“So you’re just using me?” He took another step. The need to take a step back was overwhelming, but she knew if she did he would take it as a sign of weakness. She stood straight, staring back at him with as much indifference as she could muster.

4 t h JULY

- NIGHT S P ELL

NIGHT SPELL Ava turned her head as four figures ran towards them and boy were they ugly. Big beefy guys, their clothes ripped, long, black scraggy looking hair, sharp brown eyes; but their mouths, they were sown shut, criss-crossed with twine. Ava saw Micah reach for her, but before they could make contact she was lifted off the ground and flung hard across the back wall.

Ava felt her head slam on impact and she was seeing stars as she landed on the ground with a loud thud. A groan escaped her lips. With her head spinning, pain seemed to be shooting through every part of her body, she was sure something had to be broken; there was no way it wasn’t. The taste of coppery blood invaded her mouth as she opened her eyes to the battle that was going on around her. Micah’s fangs were distended into sharp gleaming weapons ,his eyes burned a fiery red as he fought the immortals. He was focused, landing blow after blow as he positioned himself between Ava and the goons. Parts of her body she didn’t know existed burned with pain as she watched Micah fight like a soldier in a supernatural war. He was magnificent; strong and powerful.

She could feel the tension vibrate off his body in waves as he took out the last one.

His head snapped towards Ava; his chest heaving as he struggled to control the beast he had unleashed. He stared at her with trepidation, his eyes narrowing at the blood pooling around her mouth. She watched as his incisors retracted and his eyes changed back to their normal cobalt colour.

Micah was furious. His body was shaking from the adrenaline pumping through his system. His hands were clenched by his side and the urge to kill was overwhelming.

He watched Ava struggle to sit up, but he knew he couldn’t touch her just yet. He couldn’t hold her like he wanted to for fear of hurting her. He relaxed his muscles as he slowly walked towards her. He knelt down as he watched her struggle to stay conscious. He lifted her gently, cradling her He was close enough that she could feel his cool breath in his arms as he traced into his bedroom; the one place he caress her shoulder; her lips parted to say something but he knew they would be safe. Micah placed Ava gently on the had lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. bed as the first rays of the morning sun were peeking through the horizon. He removed her clothes leaving her in only her Her lips were plump and deliciously soft. Micah slid his hand singlet and panties. He cleaned her face and checked her behind her neck to keep her in place as his tongue tempted over for any severe injuries; he touched her hair, black tidal her luscious mouth. She melted against him and he knew waves against the whiteness of his sheets as he tucked her instantly that she had been wanting this just as desperately as in. Her face so young and innocent compared to his century. he had.

His life had blurred in and out of his mind; the good, the bad He had watched her closely and for too damn long not to and the ugly. He was loathed by many and liked by few; he want her; her long silky black hair, her dark as night oval stayed in the background always watching, always waiting. eyes and her curves that seemed to mould themselves into all He had welcomed isolation with open arms, only venturing the right places with him. He was aware of her body rubbing out when it was feeding time. But then Ava had come into against his; he swept over her lips with his wet tongue as he his sights and he couldn’t get away from her even if he tried. pressed herself harder against him, running his other hand It was like a magnetic force had pulled him towards her; it down her back to squeeze her world class arse. grew stronger the more he denied it.

Her breasts were crushed against his chest and her rapid heartbeat vibrated through his body; he enjoyed her softness as his pants tightened uncomfortably.

But he wasn’t about to complain.

He was about to do a whole lot more when his ears pricked up at a sound from the mouth of the alley. He reluctantly released her lips and watched as her eyes widened.

“Sweetness it’s time to fight.”

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He shouldn’t have kissed her, but now that he had, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. She tasted of everything good in the world, sweet and fresh and living. He was tempted to keep her very close to him.

Manisha Kumar

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4 t h JULY

- F ILM R E V IEW

Film Review

S

SOMEWHERE IN TIME

uperman the movie, back in 1978 was Christopher Reeve’s first successful film and after this, he was in high demand for movie roles. Christopher Reeve quotes from his biography Homepage. “As far as I’m concerned there is Superman and then there’s Christopher Reeve, and I’m not interested in having them merge. What I’m interested in is acting.” Then in the 1980 he took the lead role in ‘Somewhere In Time.”

The movie starts in 1972. Collier (Reeve) is celebrating his plays’ release ‘when an elderly lady comes up to him and says, “come back to me” and hands him a pocket watch’ (taken from Christopher Reeve’s Homepage, page 1).

After this it is eight years later and he is a screenwriter who is struggling to write his next play. He decides to take a trip, and while driving he stumbles on the Grand Hotel in Mackinac Island in Michigan. The Grand Hotel was built in the 1900’s and has all the grandeur of an upmarket hotel of that era.

When he checks in at the Hotel he meets Arthur, an elderly gentleman who asks if they have meet before. Collier denies ever meeting him but finds it a strange question.

While waiting for the restaurant to open for dinner, he roams the hotel and finds a room that displays the history of the hotel. While in the room he finds a photograph of a beautiful woman. The nameplate at the bottom of the photo is missing and he is captivated. He asks Arthur, the employee of the hotel who she is, he says her name is Elise McKenna; a famous actress who performed in a play at the Grand Hotel in 1912.

After that he becomes obsessed with knowing everything about her and he starts by researching her history at the local library. He comes across Elise’s former housekeeper. He goes to her and shows her the watch that Elise gave him as an old lady eight years ago. He learns that it is precious to Elise and she would not part with it. He also find a professor at his old collage, who is convinced that time travel exists and tells him it is all in the mind and if you believe, you can go back in time. He also finds in the attic of the hotel an old hotel guest book from 1912. He looks up Elise MacKenna and Richard Collier (himself).

“During the performance of her play she changes her lines to give her “man of her Dreams” speech and ends it with an “I love you” and directs this at Richard. During intermission he goes back stage and sees her pose for a photo. She looks directly at him and this picture is hanging in the hall of history at the hotel. Robinson has Collier abducted and he regains consciousness much later to find Elise and the company has packed up and left the hotel.” (Taken from Christopher Reeve Homepage, page 3).

He wonders ominously around the hotel not knowing what to do and he sits down on a seat on the veranda and you see Elise in the background walking up to the hotel to find him.

He hears her call out and they both run up to one another and embrace passionately before retiring to the hotel for a love scene. Later you see them have a meal on the floor of the hotel room planning their life together. Elise does not like his suit saying it is old and so he shows it off to her looking at the pockets and telling her how good it is. Then he pulls out a 1979 penny and begins to fade away as Elise cries out for him.

With this on his mind he sets off to find an old suit, and coins and cuts his hair to look the part of a 19th century gentleman.

When he gets back to his hotel, he clears his room so the only thing in the room is a bed and a cassette player, which he has recorded over and over again that he is in 1912 with Elise in the Grand Hotel.

Richard wakes up in the present. He retraces his steps he took with Elise and tries so hard to go back to the past with her but fails. In the end he falls into a coma-like state and is eventually discovered by Arthur. The doctor attempts to revive him; we see a light coming through the window and Elise coming toward him. He joins her for eternity.

He lies down on the bed and listens to the recording and after a few minutes his is transported to 1912. The room is different and he hears horses and carts go past on the road. He seems much relieved that he is in the past now and can pursue his quest to find Elise MacKenna. He then goes down to the lobby and finds young Arthur playing with a ball and visitors dressed in turn of the century clothing. He goes outside and sees near the river Elise MacKenna (Seymour), near the river he goes up to her and she says, “Is it you?”

Somewhere in time is a beautiful love story of two people destined to be together for eternity. I love the setting and the old costumes of that era. Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour’s acting were brilliant. For a movie that was released in 1980, the cinematography and the picturesque setting on the island was brilliant; a must see for fans of a true love story, set in time.

Richard also encounters her handler W. H. Robinson, (Plummer), who is unsettled by Richards presence. He threatens to throw him out of the hotel if he continues to bother Elise. Richard Collier is not bothered by this and asks her to take a walk; she agrees and the romance begins for them. At one point, Elise admires Richard’s watch and asks where it comes from and he replies, “It was given to me.”

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Information was taken from the website: http://www. chrisreevehomepage.com/m-sit.html Christopher Reeve homepage.

Carolann Beardmore

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4 t h JULY

- F O O D R E C I P ES

FOOD Recipes

CHICKEN & LYCHEE THAI CURRY Preparation Time: 10 mins Cooking Time: 15 mins Serves: 4 people Ingredients: 1tsp extra virgin olive oil 1 medium red onion, sliced 1 medium red capsicum, sliced 150g button mushrooms, quartered 1tbs red curry paste 1 cup chicken stock 500g lean chicken breast fillets, fat trimmed, cut into 3cm pieces 150g green beans, cut into 3cm lengths 100g snow peas 3tbs low-fat natural Greek yogurt 16 fresh lychees peeled and pitted (or canned and drained) 1 large green chilli, thinly sliced diagonally 2 green shallots, thinly sliced diagonally

Method: 1.

Heat oil in a wok, add onion, capsicum and mushrooms and cook, stirring, for 3-5 minutes or until soft 2.

Add curry paste and cook, stirring, for 1 minute or until fragrant 3.

Add stock and bring to the boil. Add chicken and simmer for 4 minutes 4.

Add green beans and snow peas and simmer for 3-4 minutes or until chicken is cooked through 5.

Stir in yogurt and lychees and cook for 1 minute or until heated through 6.

Serve on a bed of rice and sprinkle with chilli and green shallots.

Michelle Jenkins

INSTANT CHOCOLATE BURFI Preparation Time: 5 mins Cooking Time: 5 mins Serves: 4 people Ingredients: 1 tin of Sweetened Condensed Milk 1 cup Milk Powder 2 tbsp Butter 1/3 cup Cocoa powder / Chocolate chips 8 oz vanilla extract Method: 1 Melt 2 tbsp butter; add condensed milk, milk powder, cocoa

powder and mix 2.

Cook over medium heat until mixture becomes thick and leaves

the sides of the pan 3.

Add vanilla extract and mix 4.

Pour mixture in prepared greased tin and refrigerate for 30 mins 5.

Cut in desired shape 6.

Serve at room temperature Manisha Kumar

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- B O O K R E V IEW

BOOK Review THE WATSON BROTHERS LORI FOSTER

Genre: Contemporary Romance Length: 285 pages

A

s an avid reader of Lori Foster she is notorious for her amusing, sexy writing, and The Watson Brothers definitely live up to that reputation. Sam, Gil and Pete make up the trio and have enough sex appeal and charisma to make you need a cold shower after reading this book.

Three brothers encounter three very different women who change their lives and prove that love can truly overcome all.

In the first story “My House, My Rules,” you meet Ariel Mathers, sweet, head strong and very determined to have Sam Watson in all ways possible. While Sam struggles to hold onto his morals he can feel it slipping away as the heat and tension mount rapidly when they are thrown into a situation which lands Ariel in his house for a night where Sam quickly discovers that some rules are just meant to be broken.

The second story is “Bringing Up Baby,” Gil Watson discovers that a fling three years ago has landed him with a daughter. This story follows his personal struggle to come to terms with the idea of fatherhood and the new woman Anabel Truman who had cared for his daughter since the mother had gone. Although Anabel is not the type of person Gil usually dates or is attracted to, you can feel the closeness and passion arise as they go toe to toe to protect the one person they both love.

With the third and last story “Good With His Hands,” youngest brother Pete Watson decides that his friendship with Cassidy McClannahan needs to change into something more. With one very hot steamy kiss, things turn from fun to ‘oh so very naughty’ and they just may realize that what they were looking for all along, may have been in front of them the whole time.

I was left feeling a bit dissatisfied by the pace in which each relationship transpired. We are lead to believe that the men all knew the women previously and I have an understanding that being short stories they must move along as a greater speed then a full length novel. Yet I can’t help but to feel a little a bit cheated. The need to go deeper into each character and get a better insight into them was needed for me.

Manisha Kumar

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