The Hunter and the Prey - a bush romance!

                                   THE HUNTER AND THE PREY

 

They say that a man has no hope when a woman is on the hunt.  “They always get their man” beleaguered blokes sigh.  It seemed a fair comment as Joy certainly had Kevin in her sights and tracked him until he finally surrendered.  Mind you he felt no pain.

 

I watched from the sidelines as the romance grew and flowered like a beautiful, scented rose in a garden of weeds.  No one manages to keep a secret in a tiny country town and the new man in town became a hot topic on a Summer day at the local pub.  “Nice looking bloke” the girls declared unanimously “a bit shy, but worth a whirl”.  The local fellas held their breath, kept their heads low over their beers and felt sorry for the poor innocent.

 

Joy had enjoyed a few flings, which in the beginning were quite exciting, but tiring of it all she now felt it was time to settle down.  And there was Kevin in his crisp white shirt, black tie, neatly pressed trousers and cleanly shaven gentle face.  A bit of a change from her usual choices, mostly wild and wicked blokes all fancy free and not at all dependable.

 

A few discreet enquiries came up with the new bloke’s history which she memorised much like a resume and decided that this time a settled, respectable man was the go.  The town held it’s breath as she moved in to have a closer look.  Dressed to kill in a skimpy mini sun dress, she executed move one at the pub.  The juke box pumped out rock and roll as she danced closer.  Kevin backed against the pool table and stared her down.

 

 “Not much of a dancer are you” she purred.  He smiled uncertainly and froze like a rabbit in a spotlight.  Move two followed swiftly “want to come to a party” she invited innocently.  He blanched then nodded.  “He’s a goner” the blokes in the bar groaned “game over”.

 

Everything moved at the speed of light and this little romance became a gourmet feast for the gossip mongers and bets were on for a speedy wedding.  Kevin was not as much of a push over as they all thought.  A cautious and often mistrustful man, he had been badly burned by a vicious money hungry ex wife and was not keen to front up for another trip down that road.

 

 

For a while they lived in separate residences.  Kevin laughingly christened Joy’splace Chaos and his Control, “too many crazies at your place” he stated firmly. Months later to the delight of the local lasses who saw victory in sight he finally moved in and cemented the relationship. The blokes prepared to pay up on all bets and put it about that Kevin was a lost cause, then the silly sap proposed. Joy was in girl heaven.  The invitations were printed, reception booked and the attendants were ready to search for stunning frocks when Kevin got cold feet.  “It’s off” he declared, and went fishing.   The blokes put their dollars back in their pockets and it looked like a win to them.  Broken hearted Joy left town with her girly mates and flew to Bali for some retail therapy and pampering.  Stalemate!

 

 

Months later Joy, a little more cautious herself and certainly older and wiser had decided being single was not so bad after all.  Her money was still her own and her life revolved around work and play.  Kevin was still around, but not as the sun in her solar system.  She certainly didn’t feel obliged to cook, clean and care for him, which in a way made for a much easier life. To add a little spice to the fruit cake a new bloke sidled into town and again the hunt was on.  This bloke was a little rough around the edges, spacey and full of that airy fairy esoteric rubbish.  “A change is as good as a holiday” Joy claimed while enjoying coffee and cake with him at the local café.

 

Kevin looked a little worried as he served customers at the local store, trying to keep his cool.  His woman was showing signs that she could be tempted to get serious about this weirdo.  The local blokes were a bit confused the odds were even and no one stood to collect on the bets.  Joy appeared to be totally besotted.

 

Unable to contain himself Kevin fronted up at her door demanding an explanation. “But you called the wedding off” Joy exclaimed.  “Well I’ve changed my mind” Kevin roared “the marriage celebrant is free next week to do the deed”.  Joy ‘ ummed’ and ‘aahed’ – “whatever” was her bored reply.  For the next few days she appeared not to have a care in the world and was certainly not exhibiting the symptoms of a besotted bride to be.

 

 

“It’s a non- event” predicted the local Tarot reader, so the odds swung again in Kevin’s favour “he must be out of his mind”, was the response of the local lads sure that he would do a runner for the second time.

 

Saturday dawned on yet again another perfect Summers day.  Not a cloud in the sky and warm as a freshly baked cake.  Speaking of which, Joy had produced out of nowhere a two tier wedding cake and there on top was a toe tapping bride, hands on hips staring down her run away groom who firmly clutched his fishing rod.  Kevin was early, waiting in the rose garden for his bride.  With a look of shock on his face he watched her stroll up on the arm of his weirdo rival.  Neat as a pin the fella had scrubbed up pretty well, beard trimmed and hair freshly washed and neatly combed. Joy took Kevin’s arm “say hi to my brother Tony” she smirked.

 

 

 

                        

 

 

 

 

Check out some children's poetry

Titles available

 

Dogs with Soul

 

 DOGS WITH SOUL 

The Boss called in to give us the latest news. Missy the cocker spaniel had been diagnosed with cancer by the vet and he— "the Boss"— had made the decision to have her put down. Unfortunately the little dog belonged to number one daughter. "Be prepared for tears when you see her," was his parting comment as he made his swift departure.

Both Shirley and I were saddened, both for the little dog and her owner.

"Poor Hugo," Shirley added. "He'll be so lonely."

"Who's Hugo?" I queried, thinking this was another family member.

"Hugo's the other spaniel, Missy's mate."

We both had a moment or more's silence for both the dogs.

This got me thinking about dogs having souls. When we were little kids we were lucky to live close to the head of the RSPCA in our town. Mr Peake was a very understanding and compassionate man. He accepted all the sick and homeless creatures we delivered to him and helped us prepare for funerals for our pets. We enjoyed the funerals so much that we buried and mourned even insects gone to God, including worms. We custom-made coffins, organized flowers and had processions with grieving mourners. Very Gothic affairs.

We all believed that animals would go to heaven, so thus they had souls. We also understood that when we arrived in heaven we would be greeted by all our pets. Those pets would be in perfect shape, no illnesses, all damaged body parts healed, whole, and in their prime. No adults disagreed with this philosophy. How could they add to the misery of a child grieving for a much loved and missed pet?

Not so the Boss. He has his own cut and dried points of view. So when Shirley asked how Hugo, the lone spaniel, was bearing up after the removal of his best friend, the Boss let her have it. "I'm fed up with everyone treating animals like they're human. Dogs are only interested in two things," he snarled, "eating and sex. Hugo's too old for sex and now he has all the food he can eat—end of story."

Shirley and I were pretty stunned by his aggro comments. I'd met this approach before in regards to native animals. The purists who were biologist, scientific types had a big thing about anthropomorphising, and demanded a non-emotional approach to any descriptions of animals. This often made a simple story for kiddies quite boring and dry. They also had no time for caring people who talked to animals as if they were human. The Boss is quite a scientific bloke, so I guessed he fitted into this category quite well. I also sensed a little guilt around the issue, as he made the decision to put the little dog down.

I tend to have an up close and personal relationship with all creatures. Ask Blokie how I talk to all life forms and often try to communicate in their own lingo. This can often lead to some frustration and embarrassment for Blokie if other humans are about. It is rather warming to note that he often has little talks with animals himself now. I guess this fits into the "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" slot. He tends to agree that animals need companionship or a mate, as do humans. I have yet to convince him on the soul issue, as this relates to "religious mumbo jumbo".

Meanwhile, Shirley and I decided that blokes must be a bit like dogs then. I bet lots of blokes would be quite happy on their own. No more sexual pressure and plenty of tucker.

Last night, after a lovely meal, Blokie was tucking into some yummy bikkies and a cuppa. They looked pretty good—

"Pass me a bikkie please, Blokie," I politely requested. He gave me a fierce look as he clutched the bikkie barrel to his chest, and I could see that I had little hope of gaining control of the bikkies. How happy would he be, like that little dog—all the bikkies he could eat and no competition for his favourite tucker. Though, on reflection, Blokie might be a bit like poor Hugo, missing his mate and just a tad lonely. Vale Missy. Let's hope she's in doggy heaven free of pain and with loads of her own tucker.

Taking care of business

Susie's Stories

                                 SUSIE'S STORIES

I am working on a selection of short stories - mostly about women - to be published in two years' time. As an introduction, here is one of them - feel free to comment.

 ***

HOW TO WASH YOUR UNDIES

When travelling, keeping up with the endless and often overwhelming array of laundry is very important to women. Blokes are not at all concerned about this, unless they run out of undies and socks. Just ask the nearest bloke about the reversal process to gain some clarity on this dilemma.

Most caravan parks have a laundry.  But, as women know, washing your underwear is more a daily consideration than a part of the major weekly wash.  Keeping up with a bloke involves a paper chase of socks, t-shirts and undies, often left in unlikely locations, strategically placed to make life more exciting for the love of his life.  The whole system falls apart when the cupboard is bare and the weather is turning very cool.

Solutions for these problems are naturally found in the shower block, where enlightened females compare ways of combatting such dilemmas.  Quietly showering one summery evening l eavesdropped on an interesting conversation.  "Nice hot shower isn't it?" commented the lady in an adjoining cubicle, to her friend further down the shower block.  "Yes," the friend agreed, "are you washing your undies?" This immediately had me hooked. "Yes l am," her friend answered, "and my t-shirt and socks." 

I was amazed by the collective washing ceremony being performed at any given time in all showers by women travelling around this big country of ours. Like the 100th-monkey syndrome, we were all latching onto this method of ensuring our underwear was clean and fresh each day.

I was very interested in the lady who took this a step further still by washing all her clothing while she shampooed her hair.+ For all caravanning and camping folk, especially those on a limited budget, this multiple usage of time and soap powder is amazingly resourceful. Imagine how many $1 coins can be saved by cutting back the weekly wash this way.

Throughout our travels l am constantly gathering sisterly advice from the 'grey nomads' we meet along the way. Like our mothers who helped us with advice on how to run our households effectively, these wandering goddesses are full of wonderful labour and money saving hints.

After all we are on the road to enjoyment and relaxation, not domestic slavery.  We all hope that we are escaping the endless drudgery of the vacuum cleaner and the washing machine, the mop and the iron.

Strangely enough it's impossible to convince the bloke that this is a wonderful idea. He still believes that womankind is addicted to cleaning, and that mankind helpfully creates the dirt and mess to aid her in her quest for fulfilment. There is simply no way he would wash his undies under the shower, when it's much more fun to plant washing in unusual places in the Bus, much more like an exciting treasure hunt.

Such are the differences we face as blokes and girlies. It is really 'too much information' when l pass on some of these wonderful travelling hints. Unlike fishing tips, housework is really on the 'let's forget it' list. It's important to remember that anything messy or unclean is invisible to blokes, though edibles such as chocolate are spotted easily and devoured instantly even when carefully concealed.

So, while l loiter around laundries and shower blocks, he checks out pontoons and piers, often coming home with tales of fishy catches. He does get to meet some interesting people from all corners of the globe, but then so do l. At the very least, by retirement age we will be well and truly clued up to this fascinating and challenging life style.

EMILY EMU CHICK

                                           EMILY EMU CHICK

Watch this space for the next book to be launched this year 2012.
Emily Emu Chick illustrated by Helen Leach of Halls Gap Victoria, is on the run!

A launch date has been set so mark your calendars for September 26th at the MOCO Gallery Halls Gap in the heart of the Grampians, Victoria.

I will again be touring the tiny country schools with the help of Librarian Linda in Tongala, and Librarian Kerrie Wilson in Stawell as part of The National Year of Reading. 
This relates to Emily's story as you will all find out when the book hits the shops.

Meanwhile Helen is having a well earned rest and l'm gearing up for the launch.

HOW TO LAUNCH A GOAT

                                                 HOW TO LAUNCH A GOAT

On Tuesday April 24th at the Tongala Library Mother McGinty's Goat was launched by Jenny Mustey,
Library Services Manager of the Campaspe Regional Library as part of the National Year of Reading.

Tied up at the front door of the library was Dory a very friendly, rose eating goat who welcomed all guests (many thanks to Dale for bringing her along).

Susie was later invited to attend the Goat Fair at Bendigo and is now well versed in all goat facts and at a pinch could rustle up a recipe for goat soap with the help of Victorian Goat Association members.

Hope you enjoy the photos taken at the opening - note that as a result of this trip Brian has found a vehicle perfect for book selling and accomodation while on the road selling books and promoting them.  It will be christened "the book mobile" and is yet to be sign written and converted to a comfy camper. Many thanks to Ken and Bev for all their help.

Our new home

A new location with plenty of inspiration -
After a wild and eventful trip from Tongala to Wonboyn Lake, just over the Victorian border into New South Wales, we have found a very special home.
It is so beautiful here with abundant wildlife.  The birds and animals are so interactive, showing no fear and pose for endless photos.  I watched Satin Bowerbirds in a tree behind our bus then a vividly blue male appeared to watch me enjoying a morning cuppa.  Will be gathering some little blue objects for him to decorate his bower!
"Mother McGinty's Goat" is with the printer now and l am working on the next story.
If the bus door is left open these friendly King Parrots come inside for a chat along with any of their little bush mates, the roos check us out while we sit fishing on the shore of the lake.

                                                                                         

All About Susie Sarah

INTRODUCTION

How lucky was l to be gifted with mild dyslexia as a child!  It gave me something to work with and overcome.

My poor eyesight ensured l needed to sit close to the front of the class and l was determined to work hard.  In the early 60's children were rewarded for their efforts with scholarships and l used mine for school books.

 

Reading and writing transformed from a battle to the greatest love of my life (l hope my husband doesn't read this) and l am still reading almost a book a day.

My parents were amazed when l pleaded to be sent to Ballarat High School when they sent my other sisters to a technical school - l simply had decided to be a teacher.  In those days the Teachers College was right next door to Ballarat High.  So close but so far away as l was unable to finish school.

 

Strangely now through my writing l am able to visit schools as an author and teach students how to write rhyming verses.  Sometimes l think life provides you with exactly what you need at any given time.  Certainly my writing has, and still does, give me wonderful opportunities to learn and grow.  I am meeting amazing people and living an enviable life style.

 

I am very fortunate to be surrounded by supportive friends, family and my best friend - my husband.  He continues to give me a firm boot up the bottom when needed as l tend to be a little too cautious.   He is often more energised by this 'book business' than l am, which is amazing.  He continually tells me "it's fun not hard work" which on reflection is spot on.  If he hadn't convinced my that l could make a go of this 'author thing' then l doubt l would have had the courage to give it a go.  How many of us really feel confidence in our own dreams when we often prefer to work hard to believe in the dreams of others.

 

5 THINGS I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT –

v  My husband Brian or Blokie as he’s better known. He keeps me on track and comes up with the best ideas for marketing and is my numbers man.
 

v  My camera – I love photography as you will note from the little photos throughout my blog.
 

v  A nice bulky note pad and heaps of pens.  I just can’t seem to use the computer on my first drafts.  Sadly my hand writing is impossible to decipher as my hand tries to keep up with the rush of words.
 

v  Cross stitch patterns – sometimes l lose myself in counting stitches and selecting colours.  I have enough wonderful patterns to see me out many times over.
 

v My fishing rod and fish smoker.  How can it be that l am hooked on fishing mainly because I’m a hunter gatherer who loves to eat the catch

Fund Raisers, School Workshops and Children's Book Workshops

   FUND RAISERS 

Playing Possum and Mother McGinty's Goat are  now available as a fund raiser for Pre Schools, Schools and Kindergartens.

Contact Susie on her e-mail address susiesarah@hotmail.com.au for details.

Books are available now for this offer for a limited time.  This is “The National Year of Reading” so get into the spirit of the occasion and make some funds for your local Pre School, School or Kindergarten.


WORKSHOPS

To contact Susie about School Workshops e mail her at  susiesarah@hotmail.com.au 

Primary School students in years 2 onwards will be shown how to structure a simple story.

                                         How to work with verse and rhythm.

                                         How to add illustrations.

                                                   How to format the story into a simple story book.

            WRITERS AND ILLUSTRATORS

     

Illustrators and Writers – both groups and individuals interested in contacting Susie for Workshops on

            “HOW TO PRODUCE YOUR FIRST CHILDREN’S BOOK”

can contact her on her  e mail address susiesarah@hotmail.com.au 

I read a myriad of  “How To” books before feeling courageous enough to start on my first book.  None really gave me all the info l needed and in reality it was a hit and miss situation.   Calling self publishing  ‘Vanity Press’ is a cruel put down of brave writers and illustrators who sink their savings into a product they truly believe is the best they can produce.

 We who self publish are members of the  ‘Courageous Press’.  If you choose the DIY publishing path, you can have total control of your work and how it is portrayed.  Every step of the production of your book is entirely your choice including the depth of your commitment.

 The Workshops are about the journey from manuscript and illustration to the printer, then on to the book launch and marketing strategy. 

    Susies Stories

IN THE BEGINNING –

I was born in Ballarat in 1955 and enjoyed a childhood of relative freedom.  I now know l was Dyslexic.  My problems with putting my shoes on the right feet were so bad that Mum bought me sneakers with Right and Left boldly marked on the front of the shoes.  I was pretty hopeless at sport and struggled with reading and writing, often writing words back the front. I  worked like a Trojan and finally learned  how to read and write.  Once I got the hang of it there was no stopping me.  I was writing poetry and short stories in Primary School but struggling with numbers.

My dream during Primary School was to be a teacher, and to that end I chose Ballarat High School as the next stepping stone.  Within sight, right next door was the Teachers College.

To get there l needed to win scholarships as my family were battlers.  I was keen to have a High School education and loved every minute of it.  Now l wish l had finished my schooling but in those days kids were often required to help out financially in the home.

Years later l had two opportunities to train as a Teacher but decided not to take them up thank heavens.  Both would have been disastrous.  Now I have the opportunity  to talk to children through my stories, and love reading at Pre Schools and Primary Schools.

Most of my writing is based on my childhood memories and wonderful experiences while living in rural areas and in the Australian bushland. My stories of native animals come from caring for and observing wildlife.  Many years ago I ran a shelter for injured and orphaned wildlife in the Grampians, a rich and rewarding experience.

Morning cuppa with a friend.

5 THINGS I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT –

v  My husband Brian or Blokie as he’s better known. He keeps me on track and comes up with the best ideas for marketing and is my numbers man.

v  My camera – I love photography as you will note from the little photos throughout my blog.

v  A nice bulky note pad and heaps of pens.  I just can’t seem to use the computer on my first drafts.  Sadly my hand writing is impossible to decipher as my hand tries to keep up with the rush of words.

v  Cross stitch patterns – sometimes l lose myself in counting stitches and selecting colours.  I have enough wonderful patterns to see me out many times over.

v  My fishing rod and fish smoker.  How can it be that l am hooked on fishing mainly because I’m a hunter gatherer who loves to eat the catch.