Dixie bash

Does anyone else use the term dixie bash to refer to washing up pots and pans?

It can’t just be people who used to go to our yearly ‘family camp’ at Alexandra Headlands in the 80s and 90s.

Anyone?

Goodbye, Pa

This morning I was listening to the philosophy of Alan Watts:

In music, one doesn’t make the end of a composition the point of the composition. If that were so, the best conductors would those who played fastest. And there would be composers who wrote only finales…

…and we thought of life by analogy with a journey, with a pilgrimage which had a serious purpose at the end – and the thing was to get to that end – success or whatever it is, or maybe heaven after you’re dead…

…but we missed the point the whole way along…

…it was a musical thing and you were supposed to sing or dance while the music was being played.

My Grandfather, Thomas Tipper Scarlett, sang and danced the whole way.

Things I learnt tonight

1. Dad doesn’t have a spare key for our internal back door.
2. Our ladder is at his house.
3. Our neighbours’ doorbell plays jingle bells.
4. Our neighbours have a ladder.
5. Burfit is braver than I am.

I am never, ever trusting that internal back door again.
Ever.