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Irene Waters
Irene Waters 19 Writer Memoirist
I began my working career as a reluctant potato peeler whilst waiting to commence my training as a student nurse. On completion I worked mainly in intensive care/coronary care; finishing my hospital career as clinical nurse educator in intensive care. A life changing period as a resort owner/manager on the island of Tanna in Vanuatu was followed by recovery time as a farmer at Bucca Wauka. Having discovered I was no farmer and vowing never again to own an animal bigger than myself I took on the Barrington General Store. Here we also ran a five star restaurant. Working the shop of a day 7am - 6pm followed by the restaurant until late was surprisingly more stressful than Tanna. On the sale we decided to retire and renovate our house with the help of a builder friend. Now believing we knew everything about building we set to constructing our own house. Just finished a coal mine decided to set up in our backyard. Definitely time to retire we moved to Queensland. I had been writing a manuscript for some time. In the desire to complete this I enrolled in a post grad certificate in creative Industries which I completed 2013. I followed this by doing a Master of Arts by research graduating in 2017. Now I live to write and write to live.
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Wordless Wednesday: Window in the Sky
Cee’s Odd Ball Photo: Mother of Pearl
I loved the way the sun catching the creamy white tiles showed their origin as being mother of pearl.
A psychedelic world.
An odd ball world.
In response to Cee’s Odd Ball Challenge
99 Word Flash Fiction: Playing Safe
This week over at Carrot Ranch Charli has given the task of in 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that involves a children’s game or rhyme. You can create something new or go with something traditional. You can write with a twist, humor, menace or glee. Hop, skip or jump wherever the prompt leads you.
Naturally I immediately thought back to my own childhood and the games that we played. My parents were of an era that thought there were girls games and boys games. My brother was allowed to do all those considered dangerous. He could go off into the countryside on his bike. I wasn’t allowed to have a bike. The most dangerous thing I got to do was walk the fence. This was great fun and gave us both a lot of balance practice as the fence was old and rotten so it swayed dangerously as we walked nimbly on the thin strut that ran along the top. We loved lying in the honeysuckle and sucking on the sweet contents. The vine was so strong we could stretch out as though we were in a hammock.
We also used to play cowboys and indians, with me in the part of Annie Oakley. Tying the baddie to the old chimney was a definite no no. That was far too dangerous, so much so that I ran away from home to avoid the punishment that was going to be meted out to me. This taught me don’t run from home with your hairbrush.
Another of my favourite games was hopscotch. This I played at home and at school, along with knuckles and elastics. Marbles and yo yos I played at home but at school these were the domain of boys. Hula hoops was a great favourite until the school banned them.
Playing Safe
“Mummy. Can I play billycarts at John’s?”
“No Joanie, it’s too dangerous.”
“How about bike riding at Heather’s?”
“No too dangerous.”
“Swimming at Robbo’s?”
“No. His parents are away. Can’t you think of something to play here?”
“How about Hula hoops? “
“Hula hoops are fine.”
Standing at the kitchen window, her arms covered in suds, she watched with joy the two little girls gyrating their hips and arms as the hula hoop spun round. As a blood-red film made the window opaque she lost sight of the girls. She screamed. She hadn’t thought of the staple that could sever a carotid.
If you want to join in Respond by June 23, 2015 to be included in the weekly compilation.Rules are here. All writers are welcome!
Silent Sunday:Guarding the Sheep
Weekly photo Challenge: All the colours of a rainbow
As I mulled over whilst in the shower what photos I could present for the weekly challenge to show Roy G. Biv (all the colours of the rainbow red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet) knowing I didn’t have a particularly good rainbow photograph my eye lighted on a wool thread artistic piece we have hanging on our wall. It seemed the obvious answer to fulfil the requirements although I can’t resist and the rainbow has gone it too.
The beauty of this rainbow is that we got two for one. Perhaps the possibility of two pots of gold. The other suggestion was a gallery which as a whole would give the entire range of colours.
In response to Weekly photo challenge
Skywatch Friday: 19th June 2015 Noosaville 4.21pm
Floral Friday: Not your normal coloured hibiscus
Thursday’s Special: Street Portraiture in Vietnam
The peanut seller was happy smiling for a photo particularly as we stocked up on peanuts afterwards.
The pollution meant that some portraits were hidden behind masks that were an attempt to filter the air that was being breathed. We commented on the pollution and were told that it wasn’t pollution, just the time of year. When the winds come it blows it all away.
The amazing item to note on this photo is that the face of the man looks calm and serene. This is no effort to him and his mate hidden at the rear. They have loosely lashed a handlebar extender to enable steering and it is an easy run up the street. You might have to double click to full size to be able to see this clearly.
Street peddlars take no notice of us walking by.
In response to Yvette’s guest challenge for Paula’s Thursday’s Special.
Friday Fictioneers:Family Dinner
Marcia beamed at her children. She loved these dinners. What did it matter if she wished Sophie would wear clothes that covered her bosom more and that Angus would drink less. Peter and Donna made a lovely couple. Soon she’d be a grandma. Her heart swelled with pride and joy. She smiled at her husband, Roy. “Love you” she mouthed.
“Pass the salt down here, please.” A voice boomed.
Angus, drunk, obliged. The salt fell like snow from the chandelier making the two worlds converge momentarily. Conversation below ceased.
“We have to move,” Marcia said. “She’ll clean the chandelier tomorrow.”
Join in Friday fictioneers writing 100 words of flash over at Rochelle weisoffields where you can access other entries via the blue frog.






















