99 word flash fiction: Toilets

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

Toilets have long been a preoccupation of mine. I tell of my toilet life in an earlier post which has some great toilet pictures. Well great if you happen to like toilets. And then there is my toilet memoir.  A point to take note of when trying to teach children. Following this was Snapshots (sans photo), yet another toilet piece. However all my pieces are humorous, light pieces of the toilet obsessed person.

There  is a more serious side to toilets which is the reason that something to do with toilets became the topic of this prompt given to us by Charli. World Toilet Day. Amarnaik tells us that “daily 620 million Indians are defecating in the open. That’s half the population dumping over 65 million kilos  of poo out there every day. If this poo continues to be let loose on us, there will be no escaping the stench of life threatening infections, diseases and epidemics.”  He says “It’s time to take the poo to the loo.” To read more of his facts and stats go here. Even more sobering when you consider that this is just India. What about the rest of the developing world. See more at UNICEF and also see more at Anne’s where she also has many links to other articles.

We may laugh at our many styles of thrones,

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

and we might complain about the seat being left up — but at least we have them.

Sobering in another way is my flash for today.

“Don’t wait.” June said, already entering the toilet block. Overcome by the stench of ammonia she gagged as she engaged the latch. The opener broke in her hand. There was no way out. She waited. The reek of stale urine was nauseating so, balancing on the toilet, she propelled herself, legs straddling the stall’s dividing wall. She hesitated. The odour’s source was now visible. She slid down the wall, feet flailing trying to find the toilet. Her feet slipped on the wet seat, entering the bowl with a sickening crack. No escape, she waited for rescue and an ambulance.

 

 

 

 

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Shadow Shot Sunday: Pelican shadows

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

In response to Shadow Shot Sunday

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Silent Sunday: Alone

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Angular

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

(9 photos) Angular- the weekly photo challenge asks  us to show “what angular means to you.”  What angle would I take for this challenge? This was easy I thought – I love buildings with their roofs showing different angles. I started scrolling the archives and came across these mining structures take at Delpratt’s mine in Broken Hill. They demonstrate angles of all sizes 90 degrees, 45 degree. I changed my mind and decided scaffolding would be my focus.

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

However, I could not find those wonderful bamboo scaffolds that are common in Asia but in my search I came across the farmhouse we lived in at Bucca Wauka. An English cabinet-maker  built the house which featured wood and angles both inside and out.

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

And yes. The angle of the ladder changed one day and he came off the roof landing on me where I was gardening below. He was lucky he didn’t come off the other side.

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

And though the rounded head pokes through you might think “that isn’t an angle” I can assure you that head has more angles than most I know.

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Skywatch Friday: 21st November 2014 Noosaville 6:22pm

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

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Floral Friday: Inside Margaret Olley’s House

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

(13 photos) Margaret Olley (1923 – 2011) is one of Australia’s better known local artists. She was born in Lismore then moved to Tully in North Queensland to a sugar cane and beef cattle property. This eventually led to her being sent to boarding school in Brisbane – Somerville House. Here she was lucky to have as an art teacher Caroline Barker who learnt her trade from McGovern. She was talented and had won a scholarship to study  art in London. Margaret Cilento was also a pupil at the school and Caroline took her two gifted students and gave them special instruction.

Margaret went on to art school and supported herself by painting theatre back drops. This created a hate of canvas and as a result she always painted on board, usually rested on her knee. She was lucky meeting an arty/theatre crowd and in 1946 Donald Friend persuaded the shy Brisbane girl to have a solo exhibition. She sold well and from that point didn’t look back.

She did a large number of  portraits  but she didn’t paint anyone but herself (not because she was narcissist but because she didn’t need to pay the model and she was constantly experimenting) and she never sold these paintings. She started with landscapes but soon discovered a love of interiors and still life. She was a very painterly painter.

Friendship was the most important thing in her life and she was a huge benefactor to the arts . She was considered the most knowledgeable person in Australia regarding the value of art works and spent much time travelling and visiting overseas galleries.

In 1948 she was invited to a party that she was to go as a duchess. She bought a parachute from army surplus and made a dress. Dobell  painted her in this dress for the Archibald Prize. 14,000 people visited this painting in the first day of showing which put Margaret Olley firmly in the limelight. Margaret was again the subject of the winning Archibald prize in 2011 painted by Ben Quilty.

She bought the Duxford Street, Paddington cottage in 1964 initially living in two rooms. This became the backdrop for her painting. She particularly loved the yellow room as this was the room she and her one love  Sam Hughes whom she met in 1973 lived until his death in 1982.

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

She loved flowers and objects and from the interior of her house it would seem that nothing was ever removed. On her death the interior of her house was painstakingly moved from Paddington to a recreation of the building in the Tweed River Regional Gallery. What a pleasure it was to see inside this incredible woman’s life. Around me I could hear sighs of horror at the clutter. Perhaps because I am a poor housewife and  a hoarder I didn’t see it as clutter but as good placement of her bits and pieces that was, for me, asthetically pleasing.

 

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

© irene waters 2014

I thought given her love of flowers and the abundance of them in these rooms Margaret’s Interior was a suitable choice for Floral Friday.

Posted in Floral Friday, musings, photography, travel | Tagged , , , , , , | 14 Comments

Six years old again

Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist:

For archive Thursday, (as Thursday has become for a while anyway), is another early post of mine. I found this interesting because I had forgotten about this part memoir, part fiction piece.. I’ll leave it up to you to work out what part is fiction, The story would have to be classified as fiction. It supports my theory that a lot of fiction has an element of memoir.

Originally posted on Reflections and Nightmares- Irene A Waters (writer and memoirist):

1962.6 Irene 6thbirthday

Suddenly I was six years old again. I had forgotten how it felt and fifty years later the feeling came flooding back. The unbridled joy followed by the knowledge  an emptiness and longing was to follow. The indecision as to how I would tackle the problem.

Transported back to childhood, I remembered each Monday. Pocket money day. Unlike my brother who banked his, I visited the Popular Cafe. They had the best lolly selection in town. Leaving early for school on these days I ensured that I had enough time to make a really good choice of sweets. Sixpence bought a lot in those days. I had to deliberate on whether to buy one all day sucker for a penny or maybe get six mint leaves, which I didn’t like quite as much. The four for a penny musk sticks were a definite must, as were the milk bottles. The sherbet, with…

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