DECEMBER. HOLIDAY READING.

 I haven’t found myself a holiday book yet.

 I was considering the possibilities when he handed me his red Xmas shirt.  His favourite festive shirt, he said, with a big stain on it.

I asked, what did you spill on it.  The laundry door loomed open so I took the shirt and flung it expertly through the door where it landed onto a growing pile of linen on the bench. I said I will fix it. Later.  He raised an eyebrow, at my tone perhaps, collected the paper and wandered off outside to read, until the cricket started on tv. After festive occasions the men often head for the lawn or the cricket.  I closed the laundry door and left the porthole of the washing machine yawning in anticipation.  It can wait. 

Finally I had cleared away the several days clutter of Xmas dishes, bowls and cutlery. Stuff.  I attacked paper serviettes and topped up the bin with many unused. Actually that quite annoyed me because I had found them abandoned, crumpled, under a chair, anywhere. Who wanted them anyway? 

The Xmas wrapping papers. Hmm. These can also wait. I stroked and flattened some. A daughter always gives beautiful paper.  I may want to keep them.

Next I called out loudly to ask the son if he had walked the dog. He obviously couldn’t hear.  Try again later perhaps. A teenage princess in frayed blue shorts and headphones strolled in and patted my shoulder.  Easy mum. She wafted sweetly by. To the fridge probably.

I and the messy shirt bloke, had received a book voucher to share. For both of us.  Aha yet another example of a daughter with taste.  As he seems to have time to spare he had promptly selected his book and tells me he will use $32 of the $80 so I can use the rest.  

Later with all the deathly domestic duties done, I too checked my book options.

Hmm I note one at $20 ($19.99).   His book is $32. These would work out so we negotiated this, and should I select another at at $30 we will just pay the extra.  This gives me my two books. Yea.  These online vouchers are fun.

Well that is the clean up done as we wind up the year.  We are content, we have books, a lovely purple potted hydrangea, home grown boysenberries from another daughter and champers from the son. Kids with taste, don’t you love ‘em.  

 I will have time to read. He has time to check the score. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. 

 I will close with my party piece which is my impersonation of Mansplaining. 

Many a man walks into any room, and says Who Is Out?  Or What’s The Score?

Lucky us, biggish family, biggish pleasure.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR.

Ring in the new year  2023.

Welcome to all LIBBY library lovers, bloggers, readers, writers.

Borrow a book and share your story.

DECEMBER 2022. OPEN / HUNGER TOWN

Often the books I am reading are chosen on impulse.  Sometimes I find a way to link them when I write my book blog.  Humans often have common endeavour.  Mine is to recall which books I read.

2022 DECEMBER. 

A tennis player and a political cartoonist. Opposites. Talented.  Both from the poor side of town, both with dominating fathers, both with a lot to learn.

1928. HUNGER TOWN. WENDY SCARFE. 

🥣

Port Adelaide is the setting.  Wendy writes an important history of depression days in Adelaide. Includes social unrest and protests in Victoria square.The ‘nearly twelve’ girl worked in a dockside cafe called Chew It (Spew It) an actual title perhaps or just the food description.  It was were tough everywhere in HUNGER TOWN time. No money to spare so she was sent to work.  

The young girl, Judith, was raised on a coal hulk, and perchance learned to read. 

No one had time or money to encourage her education. One day she met an older man called Joe in a place called a library.  He became a mentor and she rapidly learned about borrowing books and developed her love of literature. Her first real ambition was to read all this small library’s books via the alphabet, she knew her abcs. 

She could also draw and became a talented political cartoonist. It didn’t just happen.  She had observed the surrounding ongoing mind numbing poverty which made communism seem interesting to some. Her husband Harry was one who found communism an exciting idea, an education indeed.  

Their love and life journey was optimistic and adventurous, closing with a trip to Spain with her multi lingual art teacher friend to find her beloved idealistic Harry.

🎾

1990s. OPEN. ANDRE AGASSI.  

Raised in Las Vegas, Agassi became a mega sports star in tennis, a sport which he claimed to hate.  His journey to stardom would necessitate winning an OPEN. In 1992 after many early teenage contests he won Wimbledon. He was young and his main rebellion was the rock star pink hairstyles he flouted and which the public adored.  The irony of this true tale was that he became bald.  After much anguish he tossed it away, a wig we never realised he wore.  A brave move, iconic. 

The coach who had endlessly told him hit harder, longer and stronger was his motivated determined father who had ruthlessly supervised his development.  In the desert surrounds of Las Vegas he had bountiful flat dry hot space where a poor kid could slam balls for practice.  Endlessly. 

The book bounces with his memories of coaches and gruelling practice routines.  He is a natural writer. Add to that the tough lessons learned in competition with other established tennis superstars, many of whom he defeated. There is a big Pete who features a lot and was for Andre the man to beat. Beat Pete was the goal. These days, love and commitment with Steffi and their children gives personal happiness.

Andre has jumped the net to reach his place in the tennis Hall of Fame. EIGHT OPENS and countless small but significant wins paved the road to success.  Fame is an achievement dependent on facing and overcoming a challenge.  

Life will always toss balls too hard to return.  Slam ‘em back.

Both characters in these books did well. As did the authors. ⭐️⭐️