Mae fy mab, Seth

Dyma mae fy mab Seth – here is my son Seth

Mae e ’n un deg naw mlwydd oed, nawr – he is nineteen years old now.

Roedd e n penblwydd am mis Chwefror dau deg wyth – It was his birthday on February 28th

Mae fy mlog yn hwyr achos mae fy chyfrifriadur wedi cael yn firws ‘da fe – My blog is late because my computer had a virus.

Ond, fe gwnaethon ni yn dathlu! – But we did celebrate!

Fe aethon ni allan ar ginio – we went out for dinner

Fe fwyton ni ’n Little Creatures neuadd bwyta yn Brunswick – we ate at the Little Creatures Dining Hall in Brunswick.

Rydyn ni ’n wedi teimlo yn soffistigedig – we felt very sophisticated.

Mae fy merch Priya yn diflas, tipyn bach – My daughter Priya was a little bit bored.

Mae hi’n anodd i body yn ifancaf – It is difficult to be the youngest

Pen bywydd hapus, Seth!

My Welsh Class ...

I am studying Novel Two at TAFE this year and, I must say, it is nice to be back among my fellow writing wannabes. Sadly, the subject is on a Tuesday night, at the same time as my Welsh language class.

Now, I am not Hermione Granger. I cannot be in two places at once so, for one year only, Welsh will have to take second place. I will not give up on the language entirely. I have an iPod and audio lessons from BBC Catchphrase and the Rosetta Stone language program.

I will not fall behind!

In an effort to reinforce my progress, I am going to publish some of my lessons. Now I know this may alienate the majority of my readers (you know, my husband and my brother), and confound others (that’s you Fiona). But fortunately it will not seriously impact my blogging income ;-).

In the past, when I have put Welsh on my blog, I have had it corrected by my teacher, beforehand. But seeing as I now have no, official, teacher, you will see my linguistic skills in their pure and unadulterated form.

If anyone out there would like to correct my work, please leave a comment in the comment box.

Otherwise, be prepared for awe.

I am currently studying: gwers saith deg dau (that’s lesson 72 for the uninformed) It is: trafod y teulu (about the family). My prose may get tipynbach (a little) repetitive. But overlook that and – gollwch i ti, (lose yourself), in the poetry (or butchery) of the language.

Dwy enw Lisabeth – my name is Elizabeth.

Mae fy ŵr enw Andrew – my husband’s name is Andrew.

Roeddwn ni ‘n briodi am dau deg pump blynyddoedd – We have been married for twenty five years (Andrew that is your cue to make a loving comment).

Rydyn ni ‘n cael yn plant pedwar, dwy ferch a dau fab, gyda i ni – we have four children, two daughters and two sons.

Mae fy mab hynaf enw, Jack.

Mae fy merch hynaf enw, Phoebe.

Mae fy mab iau enw, Seth.

Mae fy merch iau enw, Naomi Priya.

I think you can work that out. Here are some clues: enw = name; hynaf = elder; and iau = younger.

See, Welsh is easy!

Mae Jack ‘n dau deg pedwar flwydd oedd – Jack is twenty four years old. Mae ei wraig enw Vanessa – His wife’s name is Vanessa.

Rydyn ni ‘n byw o Canberra – they live in Canberra.

Mae Phoebe yn dau deg un flwydd oedd. Mae hi’n ddi-briod. Phoebe is twenty one years of age. She is not married.

Mae Seth yn un deg naw oedd a mae Naomi yn un deg pedwar oedd– Seth is nineteen and Naomi is fourteen. Mae nhw yn ddi-briod, wrth gwrs! – they are not married, of course.

Mae fy Mam yn byw o Adelaide – my Mum lives in Adelaide.

Mae fy mrawd yn byw o Malawi, canolbarth Affrica, gyda ei deulu – My brother lives in Malawi, Central Africa, with his family.

Mae fy Mam daeth yn Gymru yn wreithiol – My Mum comes from Wales, originally.

Mae fy mrawd a i fi gawson ni ngeni yn Loegr – My brother and I were born in England.

Roedd ein Tad yn Saesneg –My Dad was an Englishman.

Fe symoddon ni yn Awstralai ym mil nawr chwech nawr – We moved to Australia in 1969.

Are you confounded?

Yes, so am I!

Mostly by the mistakes I'm certain I have made.

But I am going to put this on my blog anyway.

I hope some of my Welsh class take pity on me (an exile for the arts) and respond with corrections.

Hwyl

Lisabeth

A prayer for the still warm earth

Oh God, we are shocked by the fires that swept through areas of our state, indeed our nation.

As we sit in the comfort of our lounge, watching a flickering TV screen, we experience a roller coaster of emotion.

We feel gratitude for the roof over our heads. We feel horror at the way people have died. We ache for those who have lost everything. Words can't express the sorrow we feel for those who have lost dear friends and family. Because in our anguish, we need to feel something bigger than ourselves, we come before you on our knees.

For those who have lost people they love, we ask for comfort and a time to grieve.

For those who have lost their homes, we ask for material benefits.

For those who are even now fighting for their lives, we ask your blessing.

For those facing a long and difficult recovery, we ask courage.

For those who have only been affected from afar, we pray generosity.

For those frightened by own narrow escapes, we ask peace.

For those who may have unwittingly contributed to the damage, we ask mercy.

For those who have knowingly caused harm, we ask justice.

Lord, we cry out over the still warm earth, and ask you to hear us.

Is there something wrong with me?

I am writing a feature article. Anyone who knows me will already know this.

I have been talking about it, and thinking about it, ordering books and articles and reading about my topic for months.

This week I started writing. You know that moment, when you suddenly realise that all those thoughts, feelings and inspirations, suddenly need to be trapped, like rare butterflies and pinned to the page.

Anyway, like I said. It was time to begin and no amount of, pencil tapping, mind-mapping or finger flexing was going to improve things.

I spent half of Tuesday writing an introduction (crystalizing what I wanted to say).

I spent all of (and I mean all day) Wednesday banging out a first draft. It is woeful, of course (first drafts always are), and finally scribbled a conclusion after lights out (a-not-tonight dear-I-have-a conclusion-to-mull-over sort of affair).

But as I sat alone in my room today, ready to hammer my rough ploughshare into a sword, I had a clarifying thought:

I don't have to do this article, I thought.

It probably won't be accepted.

And ... I certainly won't get paid for it.

The sun is shining, the birds are singing. I could be shopping, or having lunch with friends. At the pool or the botanic gardens or the museum or the movies. Playing draughts, or skittles or monolpoly.

But I am not.

I am doing a 2,500 self imposed essay … and I am enjoying it.

Do you think there is something wrong with me?

The North Wind ...

This is possibly carol is sung to the dreariest tune in the world.

But the words are nice.

The North Wind is tossing the leaves,
The red dust is over the town,
The sparrows are under the eaves,
And the grass in the paddock is brown;
As we lift up our voices and sing
To the Christ-Child the Heavenly King.

The tree-ferns in green gullies sway;
The cool stream flows silently by;
The joy bells are greeting the day,
And the chimes are adrift in the sky,
As we lift up our voices and sing
To the Christ-Child the Heavenly King.

Have a Good One

Corbett Family Christmas Letter - December 2008

It is that time of the year again. A moment to reflect on the year that has passed and to somehow convey, in a manner that does not send the reader to sleep, where we are at, and what we have been doing. It is customary to make such an epistle breezy and self-congratulatory, to pick out highlights and to celebrate achievements. This year, as any other year, there have been many such events. There have also been some difficult moments: times that have brought us to the conclusion of 2008, with slightly less cheer than we might have hoped. But let’s start at the beginning …

Jack and Ness moved to Canberra in January, where Jack took up a graduate position with the Department of Prime Minister and Cabinet. It has been an exciting year to be in Canberra. He was able to participate (in a voluntary capacity) at the 20/20 Summit. He also stood on the lawn during the Prime Minister’s historic apology to the Stolen Generations and took part in a community cabinet in his old home town of Adelaide. Jack has been offered a permanent position within the Office of National Security and, although enjoying his work; he is still toying with the idea of doing a Phd, eventually.

Ness has tackled the move with her usual drive and tenacity. She landed a temporary job within the Attorney-General's Department the day after arriving in Canberra (trust Ness) and has since been offered a promotion and permanency. Ness has enjoyed the challenge of playing soccer for Belconnen United and won the Player’s Player and Most Improved awards this year. She is also looking forward to being a bridesmaid in her sister Heidi’s wedding in January.

I have always told my children, by all means go away to work, but make sure you live somewhere interesting so that I can come and visit. I am not sure if Canberra exactly qualifies, but we did enjoy visiting them earlier this year.

Phoebe turned twenty one and celebrated with a big party. If you want to see photos, they are on my blog at: http://hannercymraes.blogspot.com/2008/09/phoebes-21st-birthday.html She has also completed her second year at university. Phoebe achieved reasonable marks in all subjects but, just between you and me, her interest was somewhat eclipsed by her growing friendship with a young man called, Andy. On a less exciting note, she has continued to experience back pain since her tobogganing accident in Switzerland. She therefore decided to have the plates removed from her spine in November. The operation went well but she is still recovering.

Seth turned eighteen this year and started driving. He also did year twelve. It isn’t easy doing VCE when your older brother and sister both got high scores. He is no academic slouch, however, and has given it his best shot. He also had a good time in the process. There are photos of him dressed up for his final day of school on my blog:(just in case you hadn’t noticed, my blog is a serious hobby). We get the VCE scores on Monday and then begin the process of applying for universities. He is planning to take from study next year and to work for a few months, before travelling overseas with Phoebe.

Naomi Priya has had a difficult year. It is as if she has read a book called how to be a rebellious teenager and applied herself diligently. I am not going to go into the finer details of her misdemeanours (no, you won’t even find them on my blog). I will only say they have angst, expensive mobile phone calls, heavy eye-liner, and a change of schools. Andrew and I have found the most difficult aspect of the whole experience is our divergent reactions. It feels like we are being torn apart.

Apart from the trauma of a hellion fourteen-year-old daughter and a wife who in her middle age has developed self-confidence and opinions, Andrew has had a great year. He now works pretty much full time from home. He has made a number of trips overseas with work but has still managed to fit in some recreation. He has hiked frequently at Wilson’s Promontory, has continued to cycle long distances, his most recent achievement being to complete the Great Victorian Bike Ride. He also led a small group for our Church, Heathmont Baptist and had his last year on Vermont Secondary College council. He and Monique have continued to make music together but on a smaller scale. You can check them out on: http://www.myspace.com/andrewmonique


Liz continues to attend Welsh language classes (although her knowledge retention is less than brilliant). She has also enjoyed a successful year studying Novel at TAFE (technical and further education). She has started writing reviews for a magazine called the Historical Novel Review and has been invited to submit a feature article to their magazine, Solander. She has been doing an extra day per week at the library since June, which as allowed her to contribute to the City of Boroondara youth blog.(there’s that word again). She enjoyed being involved as a volunteer in the Melbourne Writers’ Festival and spoke for the first time at a Balwyn library book talk. The extra library work ends next week (yeah!) and hopefully, teenage issues aside, she will finish the re-write of her novel in 2009.

We will celebrate Christmas 2008 at home with the Canberra Corbett’s, Paul (whose Mum is Liz’ Godmother) and, of course, Andy:-) My Mum will not be joining us for Christmas as Ian and Wendy are home from Malawi. But the Rev. Dr. (latter is a newly acquired title) Ian Dicks and family will join us, afterwards for a beach holiday in Port Fairy.

Well that is it, the year in brief. I trust you also have many things to celebrate and that you have managed to find your way through the obstacles that 2008 and has thrown in your path. My God Bless you with a continued assurance of his presence in 2009, and the grace to honour his precepts.

Love as always
The Corbett family

Georgiana: woman of flowers

Georgiana: woman of flowers
Libby Hathorn, Hachette, 2008, $17.99 AUD, pb, 298pp, 9780733609169

Georgiana Molloy and her husband, Captain John Molloy, were among the earliest settlers of the remote Augusta region in the colony Western Australia. The novel begins in 1839 at the time of their arrival in Western Australia. It finishes with Georgiana’s untimely death in 1843, following childbirth.

Running parallel to the story of Georgiana and her growing family is a fictitious tale of the poorer, less educated Summerfield family. The narrative is told in a lyrical, omniscient voice that shows the varied hopes and aspirations of each family. The stage is set for a compelling read when we learn that Will Summerfield, and his sister Charlotte, are living in fear of their mother’s second husband the brutal Thomas Summerfield. The lives of the two families are loosely interwoven and there is potential for the story to build to a satisfying climax that it never quite achieves.

Georgiana Molloy was a pious young woman and Libby Hathorn makes a concerted effort to reconcile the evangelistic fervour of Georgiana’s Christian faith with her, otherwise, gentle demeanour. There is reference to a book called Peace in Believing from which Georgiana is said to have derived considerable inspiration. We are not, however, given insight into what aspects of the text particularly affected her. It is therefore difficult to develop any empathy for her convictions.

This is a worthy novel. It portrays the struggles and triumphs of early settlers in Australia and their attitude towards the aboriginal peoples of the region. It also illustrates the significant contribution Georgiana Molloy made to the study of the region’s unique flora. The narrative had a strong biographical feel and would therefore be suitable for young adult readers who enjoy life history, rather than those who want a compelling story.