The PR Blog

Cats have been a part of ocean going ships since time immemorial being needed to keep the rat population under control. 

I love Cats whether they fly through the air or doze at our feet, they are always ready to take flight or stand and fight. Are we? 

The most famous one of course was Matthew Flinders’ cat which has been the subject of a book of the same name.

The ship’s cat has always been a favoured mascot among the crews of warships except submarines.

In 1942, my late Uncle was a metallurgist in Papua New Guinea. At the height of WW2 , he was living in the jungles of one of the hotbeds of the conflict. Unable to serve in the War due to being deaf ( years of working in a goldmine in New Zealand) he served in his own way by doing his bit and carrying on.

I always remember with great excitement going down to Mechanic's Bay in Auckland where a big Flying boat was due to land  on the water.    We were there because my mother's brother was due to arrive back from the war torn area of New Guinea .   He was a metallurgist , and had walked out of the jungle with others to safety.   

It is so sad that we have forgotten some of the  really terrifying things some of our relations have gone through.     Not just our servicemen but civilians that worked in places that we couldn't even imagine.

Some years ago, Shaydee and I went through some family archives   I think you might call them that . Pieces of paper and  so often sent to the bin. My late husband spotted it and rescued it.   Had he not looked and said " This is worth saving. "  it might have been lost forever.

That is how we stumbled on this .    I have to wonder how many more things like this lie buried in a box of memories?   

We seem to have an outbreak of mental health issues throughout the world. Yelling “allah hu akbar “  is not terrorism, apparently it is a mental health issue. Running in to a shopping centre and stabbing women and babies is not an act of terrorism - it is a terrifying act, but not an act of terrorism. Apparently there is a difference. {sarc}

People murdering others, massacres carried out – mental health issues.

There are people whose brains have been addled by drugs and they have mental health issues. Or addled by religious zealous or fanatical indoctrination. Or addled by greed and the desire for power. 

Which makes me wonder if it is time to re open the asylums and get those pesky people who commit terrifying acts ( not acts of terrorism you understand  - heaven forbid) off the streets and into the asylum that they seek so much? Because it seems to me that we are turning our nations into gigantic open air mental asylums and we, the citizens and taxpayers, are funding terror. 

In our homes, our streets, our shopping centres and our places of worship. 

Imagine this: 

It is the 25^th April, and a German man and his wife from Munich are taking a motoring holiday to the South of France. They pass through the northern French city of Amiens. 

They observe much gaiety among the populace and are wondering what it is all about. 

They pass through the city and 15 km down the road they approach a small town. 

On the outskirts, they pass a cemetery which has a sign “Adelaide Cemetery”. 

Says the man, " that is not a French name. What does it mean? " 

It was about 30 years ago when I was living in a tiny town in the Channel Country. I was married to the local copper. We had only arrived in the town of 30 residents a few weeks before..... we still didn't have a handle on how to " fit in " with this isolated and unusual community of people.

We were coasties: people who came from a far distant place that never knew about things like kangaroo shooters, feral pigs and opal mining.

In fact, in those days, I knew nothing about life in the Australian Outback. All I knew was that my husband was a policeman and he had applied to become an officer serving a remote community in one of the most extreme places in Australia. Where walking across the road could make you collapse from heatstroke.

I was in for a rude awakening. A baptism of fire. Literally. It was high summer and the heat was extraordinary. 

Many years ago, about half a century in fact, I played netball with my friend Mary.

She was my best friend and a nicer, sweeter girl you would never meet. We played netball in our primary school team.

In spite of her goodness, she was a lousy netball player. It would not have mattered if she was nice, or not nice. The fact that she was pretty hopeless at netball was indisputable. 

So you may well be asking: why is Shaydee writing about a game of netball in these troubled times? Surely we have more important things to consider right now? 

And yes, you would be right. So here is the story about a game of netball and how it still resonates all these decades later.