What's on?

If you're looking for me this weekend I'll be here:


Tonight I'll be watching this:



Tomorrow I'll be seeing this. Oh joy!!



Anybody recommend any of the others?

Doughnuts...er...donuts...

So it is official.

You absolutely, totally, utterly, and completely cannot read Robert McCloskey's Homer Price without eating doughnuts.

'Why?' you might ask.

Good question, but if you do then it is clear that you've never read Homer Price.

You need to.

With a Lexile grade of 1000L and six not too long preposterous tales, Homer Price is great for your developing reader, but it is delicious fun at any age.

In Australia you can get it from Borders for $18.95.

Devour yours with doughnuts and coffee soon.

Mmmmmmm. Yum.

All work and no play...

You can click the mosaic to enlarge.

For we are an overwrought generation, running to nerves as a cabbage runs to seed; and every hour spent in the open is a clear gain, tending to the increase of brain power and bodily vigour, and to the lengthening of life itself. They who know what it is to have fevered skin and throbbing brain deliciously soothed by the cool touch of the air are inclined to make a new rule of life, Never be within doors when you can rightly be without.

Besides, the gain of an hour or two in the open air, there is this to be considered: meals taken al fresco are usually joyous, and there is nothing like gladness for converting meat and drink into healthy blood and tissue. All the time, too, the children are storing up memories of a happy childhood. Fifty years hence they will see the shadows of the boughs making patterns on the white tablecloth; and sunshine, children's laughter, hum of bees, and scent of flowers are being bottled up for after refreshment.

Charlotte Mason Home Education p 42

Just lately we've been running to seed like the cabbage. Sometimes life gets too busy - too overwrought - and unlike those mums who at least have the reprieve of the hours between 9 and 3.30 in which to get things done, even homeschool has been shoved in around the edges of the other...um...stuff. Somehow we struggle though. Maths, tick. Reading, tick. Copywork, tick. Memory verses, tick. Science, tick. Phew! That's the important stuff done!!

Or is it?

I suppose you know the proverb, All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. It has been around since James Howell wrote it down in his Proverbs in English, Italian, French and Spanish back in 1659, after all, so you've probably heard it once or twice. The Egyptian sage Ptahhotep said it too, back in 2400 BC, only his version was more wordy and not as much fun as it were:

One that reckons accounts all the day passes not a happy moment. One that gladdens his heart all the day provides not for his house. The bowman hits the mark, as the steersman reaches land, by diversity of aim. He that obeys his heart shall command.

Our school days recently have been more the work than the play bit. And that's not on, because a Charlotte Mason education without the fun is totally missing the point of it all really.

I didn't have time for a picnic on Tuesday morning, but the weather dawned fine and sunny and 26°C after weeks of temperatures in the 30s and 40s. When there was a day like that in Miss Mason's time a bell used to ring declaring a suspension of regular lessons in lieu a nature walk. If she could do it so could we.

We went for a picnic.

Now I'd love to say we cancelled lessons, but that would not have brought peace - it would have increased our stress levels considerably in fact - but I don't think we felt like we were doing school.

We inspected the amazing deposits of amber sap that gathered along the branches of the trees and glistening congealing in the sun. We looked at the scars in the bark. Nature study, tick.

We lay around reading our books. Reading, tick.

We sketched the long pendulous gum leaves surrounding our picnic area. Nature notebook/art, tick.

We talked about the explorer, Major Thomas Mitchell who had passed by on the 7th July 1836 as he filled in the map of the south-east of Australia for the first time. History, tick.

We identified birds and bird calls. Natural history, tick.

We walked and walked and climbed and walked and scrambled our way to the top. Physical education, tick.

We discussed the old dead redgums and brighter green regrowth. Ecology/botany, tick.

Mostly though, we worked on storing up memories of a happy childhood. Fifty years hence I hope Jemimah will see the shadows of the boughs making patterns on the fallen tree trunk table. I hope she will see the sunlight glowing through the amber jewels. I hope she will remember the close time with mummy, the joyous al fresco meal, the hum of bees, and the scent of eucalyptus. I hope that she will remember that her school days were peaceful and happy.

We did maths when we arrived home. Nothing else. It can all wait for another day.

As Ptahhotep said,

He that obeys his heart shall command.

Preparing for corporate worship

Beautiful image by Felipe Galindo from here.


Okay, it is story starter time. I'll start the tale and you tell me what happens next, okay?

Ready?

It is the Sabbath. The kids, dressed in their Sunday best, hair recently combed, have just finished Sunday school. Together you enter the church building and sit down in your regular pew. Well, actually the one in front. Visitors are sitting in YOUR pew. The gall of some people. Honestly!

Quietly you bow your head and pray, preparing your heart to approach the throne of grace. The minister enters and you raise your eyes to his. The service has begun.

As you settle in your seat to listen, your school aged children...

• Open the snack you've prepared.
• Start colouring in the Bulletin.
• Start chatting.
• Ask for a lolly.
• Read their novel.
• Turn to check out the congregation - especially the family sitting in YOUR pew... Unbelievable. The cheek of some people. Truly.
• Start arguing.
• Prepare to daydream the hour away.
• All of the above.
• Actually, you don't know, because your kids always sit with their friends down the back.

Is this your family?

Do your children actually worship God each Sunday morning, or do they merely suffer through the service until it is time for a cuppa and a biscuit in the hall at the end?

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these. Matthew 19:14 NIV

The kingdom of heaven belongs to children. Does not our worship service? Doesn't their active participation in our service bring glory to God? Are they not important to him?

In our peaceful home we strongly believe that it does. We believe that as Christian parents we have a responsibility to teach our daughter what it means to worship God. We want church to be something that she looks forward to - a highlight of her week - not a duty to be suffered through every Sunday in silence, week after week; year after year.

One of the best ways we have found to achieve this is by preparing for corporate worship beforehand. If you take a look at our weekly timetable, on Friday mornings you'll find a little subject called sermon prep. It's more than that, of course, but that's what we call it.

Our church distributes the Orders of Service sometime during the week and we use the time allocated to this subject to work our way through Sunday's services step by step.

First we play 'Spotto'. Using the bulletin, we read the title of the sermon. We then look at each psalm and reading in turn, trying to identify why each has been selected. As Jemimah hears an appropriate verse she yells 'spotto!' If she misses one I get to yell it instead! Familiarising ourselves with the passages in this way significantly improves our understanding of the message when it is preached.

Sometimes neither of us can find a 'spotto' phrase. In this case we look again after the sermon. 20/20 hindsight and all that...

Next we sing through the psalms, checking that we know the tunes and practicing any alto parts we may have learned.

Thirdly we discuss families and individuals that need particular prayer, anticipating their inclusion in the intercessory prayer time during the service.

Finally we pray ourselves for these people, asking also that he will prepare our hearts for the worship services on his Lord's Day.

Sermon prep is an opportunity to talk about why gathering together is important. It is something that we as Christians look forward to, but it is not necessarily fun. It is a time to give thanks to God - to glorify and enjoy him. It is also an opportunity to talk about what is going well and what we should look at altering.

Which brings me to me to my ending for the Story Starter scenario. I'll be brief, because I know each family will be different here, and it was really our sermon prep subject that I wanted to talk about, but this is what we do.

In church we sit together as a family. We rarely invite other kids to sit with us because the temptations are too great when friends are nearby. On the few times that we weaken - after a sleepover for example, we invariably regret our decision.

We do not eat and we do not read books. We do allow Jemimah to colour during the sermon alone - provided she is listening. Daddy checks this with a quick narration question after the service. The question tests comprehension of an easier part of the message or a practical application. Generally she does impressively well, so for now the colouring stays. In later years we will introduce a worship journal.

There is no colouring during the rest of the service and we expect participation during psalms, readings and prayers. She enjoys putting the family offering into the collection plate, but does not yet receive an allowance of her own to contribute. We have discussed tithing during sermon prep.

Finally Jemimah participates in our greeting and morning tea rosters. She particularly enjoys welcoming people at the door at the beginning of the service along with Mummy or Daddy or Grandpa. Washing up after morning tea is not quite so much fun. Mind you, I'm inclined to agree with her here! Shhh, yeah I know - teaching by example and all that...

So this is us. I only need to look around our own congregation...only at the families in front mind you - I wouldn't dream of looking back at the family sitting in OUR pew - to see that all families are different and have different requirements and expectations of their children. What about you? How would you finish the story starter? Would sermon prep work for you? If you think it might then do give it a try. It is one of the most successful parts of our week.

For more ideas on guiding your children into the joy of worship, Robbie Castleman's book, Parenting in the Pew is well worth a read. I borrow this one from our church library on a regular basis for a quick reread.

Wilderness Orphan

I am, in general, not a fan of anthropomorphised talking animal tales. There are exceptions, of course - The Magic Pudding; The Muddle Headed Wombat and Blinky Bill to name three in pretty quick succession, but generally I prefer books where the creature, although assuming a personality and becoming the book's protagonist, retains its animal behaviour, dignity and nobility.

In Australia, one of the best of this type of literary animal story is also one of the oldest of its type - Dorothy Cottrell's Wilderness Orphan, which was written back in 1936. We read it as a free read in AO3.

Even a child who does not particularly enjoy natural history type books will learn much from a well written animal story like Wilderness Orphan - the way the infant kangaroo won't drink unless it is upside down, for instance, or that a kangaroo cannot kick well unless it can embrace the thing it is kicking. But Wilderness Orphan is more than just an educational book about kangaroos - it's a story about the cruelty of animals by man, of the bewilderment that comes from that betrayal, and of a wild animal's need for independence and freedom in the wild. It is also an excellent story.

Chut is first lifted from his mother's pouch by a lovely waterway in Queensland. Not long afterwards the hunters arrive and Chut is left alone.

His mother lay still in the early light. For Chut there was neither shelter nor food, and his long legs were still wobbly with babyhood, his little black hands uncertain of their movements.

As he sat, unhappy and shelterless, in the flood of light, a great shadow swept across the dust as a big wedge-tailed eagle passed overhead.

Chut called to it - at least it was life...

Chut is rescued by one of the hunters who takes him home as a pet for his young wife. Life is happy there.

There was soft green grass to roll in and trailing pepper trees beneath which to play. In short his world was very satisfactory - save for one thing.

That thing was William Mutton.

William the bumptious lamb harbours a deep resentment at the loss of his baby's bottle to Chut, and is determined to have revenge.

Through William, Chut learns to fight.

When the drought forces the kindly hunter, Tom Henton, to sell Chut to a trainer to buy feed for his starving sheep, Chut's ability to 'box' results in him put into one of the second-rate travelling tent shows that travelled through the Australian outback towns in those days.

Chut is persecuted, tormented and tortured by Shorty McGee his new owner. He is left without water and food. His companion is killed. Finally, desperate for water, Chut takes revenge on his tormentor and escapes. Heading for the country where he was born, where he was happy, and where he was free, Chut is pursued by dogs and men.

Will he make it? Will he reach the tall bleached silver Queensland grass? The white spider lilies around the cool sweet water? The grey moth's wings in the moonlight?

Will Chut ever really be free?

Will he ever be happy?

Wilderness Orphan was made into a film named Orphan of the Wilderness in 1936 by Ken Hall.

You can see clips from the film on the Australian Screen website here. The first two clips are rated G and are delightful. The third is rated M and shows footage of a Chut thirsty and tormented in the boxing ring. I found it distressing, and the scene is likely to be the cause of a ban on the film in England for alleged cruelty to animals. Watch it yourself before showing it to kiddies.

Blog Frog

There's a fascinating conversation happening in the Peaceful Community on our children reading books with adult themes. Do pop on over and have a read. What's your opinion?

When are your kids old enough for adult themes in books?

Also, I've just started a discussion on comics. What do you think of them? Do tell.

Perhaps you might even like to start a discussion of your own on something fascinating. Like whether you use a dryer or a clothes line, or something equally important...

Twaddly telly and good books

Gidday.

It has been a busy week. I'm tired and when I'm tired I can't think of anything profound to talk about. Which is why you haven't heard anything particularly inspiring from me since...well, actually, I can't remember when I actually wrote anything of value. Since then, anyhow. I'm working on a couple of vaguely interesting posts. One's on etiquette and the other's on scientific writing. They are interesting, I promise, but I don't seem inclined to look at either of them right now.

Jemimah has a house guest this weekend. They managed to stay up most of last night, and are tired and grumpy this morning. They are currently blobbing in front of GO channel on the teev. It's a new channel full of nostalgic old faves like Marine Boy, Josie and the Pussycats, Flinstones, The Jetsons, Scooby Doo and Get Smart. All blasts from my past and quite good fun. Well, I think so anyhow. Hubby thinks it is twaddle and he's probably certainly right, but he's off at a Men's Breakfast at church this morning, and while the cat's away...

Anyhow, nostalgic telly. My mum totally disapproved of the Flinstones when I was a kid. She hated the way Fred was portrayed as a bumbling idiot whereas Wilma was strong and clearly the real head of the family. We ignored her (my mum, I mean - nobody was game to ignore Wilma, least of all her husband) and watched it anyway. Nowadays I feel the same about the bad values of The Simpsons, only I'm a bad mummy and won't let Jemimah watch it. Funny how I'm still okay about the Flinstones, although I was pleased that Jemimah understood my mum's reservations with the show when I talked to her about them.

I was such a square-eyed kid. My general trivia knowledge of 70s TV is terrific - I watched them all. I was talking about this with my sister last night. My parents were a generation ahead of their times. Mum worked full time, raised a family full time, was hugely involved with church, and managed to have a life as well. I actually think she did a pretty good job. Look how wonderful her kids turned out? I mean, hey! Look at us!! We did, however, have little (!) too much freedom, and much too much television. Nowadays we watch almost none, as if to make up for the excesses of my youth, but I still get all gooey about my childhood favourites and am prone to getting somewhat over-excited when I see Jemimah enjoying the same shows as I did. I Dream of Jeannie and Bewitched, for example...despite the fact that the women ruled the men in both of those shows as well, in addition to doing lots of other things I totally do not approve of. Ooh, I can see you all shaking your heads at me right now, and deciding I'm a bad influence on you...and a bad role model for my daughter as well. Surely some of you feel the same way about chilhood telly... Anyone? Shucks.

Porky Pig's on now. He just said, "I know when I'm beat...I acquiesce." Bad grammar and a word like acquiesce in the same sentence. Hmmm. Now Bug's Bunny's being shot into space in a rocket. It's too small for him..."I usually take a size 36," he says. Chuckle. Still love it.

You'll be somewhat relieved to hear that we're reading some quality literature. It's all in the balance, surely? Our family read-alouds currently include the following:

• Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll
• Men of Iron by Howard Pyle
• Charlotte Sometimes by Penelope Farmer
• Wilderness Orphan by Dorothy Cottrell
• English Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs

We're adoring them all. There is a skill involved in selecting books to read together CM style in short chunks. They need to be different enough from each other that there is no risk of getting them confused. Hubby read 1984 and Brave New World at the same time, and has them forever entwined in his brain. We've done particularly well with this selection, I reckon. A great mix of old and new, Aussie and international. I'm planning of reviews of both Wilderness Orphan and Charlotte Sometimes sometime soon. Wilderness Orphan, the story of Chut the kangaroo formed the basis for Ken Hall's film Orphan of the Wilderness which had the notorious boxing kangaroo scene that resulted in the film being banned in Britain. You can view it here if you're interested, but I don't recommend it. It is sad and cruel. The book's not though. It's great.

I'm reading Stravinsky's Lunch by Drusilla Modjeska. It is a wonderfully rich and engrossing book about the lives of two Australian women artists, Stella Bowen (1893-19470) and Grace Cossington Smith (1892-1984). I can't put it down. Jemimah is back reading another story about Bonnie and Sam in Horse Crazy! by Alison Lester. She says it's great. She's also enjoying Asterix and the Goths. Don't know that you call that reading, but it is good for French culture. Hubby is reading The Marriage you've Always Wanted by Dr Gary Chapman, author of The Five Love Languages. You can never work too hard on your marriage in our opinion. I'll be interested to hear what he's thinking of this one. (My love languages are Words of Affirmation and Quality Time. His are Acts of Service and Physical touch. Sure makes life interesting. What are yours?)

Jemimah and I are reading Arthur Ransome's Swallows and Amazons for a bedtime read-aloud and The Princess and the Goblin by George MacDonald, Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder and Seven Little Australians by Ethel Turner for school. Lulu la Tortue by Antoon Krings is our French story.

A little twaddle on telly this morning's not going to hurt us too much...is it?

Hubby's just phoned to say he's on his way home, so I'll press the Publish' button. No editing the choppy unconnected sentences. No correcting repetitive words. No picture.

Sorry.

I'll write something of value next week.

Literacy Lava 4 is coming!

Susan Stephenson is passionate about helping kids read, write and create, and it shows, not only in her blog, The Book Chook, but also in the pages of her free digital magazine for parents, Literacy Lava, which she publishes quarterly.

The next issue of Literacy Lava will be published on March 1, 2010 (Australian Time). You'll find the link at The Book Chook on that day, or you can access the archive of earlier issues right now on Susan's website.

Susan says:

In the fourth edition of Literacy Lava, you’ll find ideas for nurturing creative thinking, ways to use magazines with your kids, ideas for raising book-loving boys, what to do if your child is not into writing, how to encourage your child to love reading, ways to promote inquisitiveness through hands-on learning, how to help kids make connections through story extensions, and all about getting kids to tell stories through movie-making. Don’t forget to check out the Online Extras page, and the Activity page for kids.

The thrilling bit for me is you're going to recognise one of the contributors to the upcoming edition. Can you guess which is my topic?

Whoopee!! I'm so excited!!!

Satoru Aoyama

Satoru Aoyama, Yamanote Line (2003)

I am in love with this man's exquisite embroidery. Who'd have thought a train could look so beautiful?

You can read more about him here and see his work at Mizuma Art Gallery in Tokyo if you'll be there anytime soon. Sigh. If only...

Goodbye Ruby Hunter

Aboriginal singer/song writer Ruby Hunter died this morning.

On pancakes

Mr. Judson, did you ever taste the pancakes that Miss Learight makes?'

"'Me? No,' I told him. 'I never was advised that she was up to any culinary manoeuvres.'

"'They're golden sunshine,' says he, 'honey-browned by the ambrosial fires of Epicurus. I'd give two years of my life to get the recipe for making them pancakes. That's what I went to see Miss Learight for,' says Jackson Bird, 'but I haven't been able to get it from her. It's an old recipe that's been in the family for seventy-five years. They hand it down from one generation to another, but they don't give it away to outsiders. If I could get that recipe, so I could make them pancakes for myself on my ranch, I'd be a happy man,' says Bird.

"'Are you sure,' I says to him, 'that it ain't the hand that mixes the pancakes that you're after?'

"'Sure,' says Jackson. 'Miss Learight is a mighty nice girl, but I can assure you my intentions go no further than the gastro--' but he seen my hand going down to my holster and he changed his similitude--'than the desire to procure a copy of the pancake recipe,' he finishes.

"'You ain't such a bad little man,' says I, trying to be fair. 'I was thinking some of making orphans of your sheep, but I'll let you fly away this time. But you stick to pancakes,' says I, 'as close as the middle one of a stack; and don't go and mistake sentiments for syrup, or there'll be singing at your ranch, and you won't hear it.'

O. Henry The Pimienta Pancakes

To read the end of this delightful classic pancake story by O. Henry, click here.

Then, without checking a dictionary, define the following words:

• monologist
• saleratus
• obmutescence
• beeves
• palfrey
• soliloquised
• obsequies
• similitude

Actually, do it before so you don't read them in context first.

How did you go? I managed three...

I have writer's block

I can't think of a thing to tell you. Nada. Rien.

In the mean time, here's a look at some of my books. I can think of nothing I like more than sticky beaking at people's bookshelves. Hopefully it will keep you entertained while you're waiting for me to think up something profound to say. If you click on the pic you should be able to read some of the titles even. Woopee!!

Is there anything you'd like me to talk about perhaps?

The Runaway Bunny

Don't the beautifully simple but profound words of Margaret Wise Brown's The Runaway Bunny remind you of David's in Psalm 139?

Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,

even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.

Psalm 139:7-10 NIV

Isn't it comforting to know that whatever we're doing and wherever we are, he is there with us, loving us, protecting us and guiding us in the way we should go?

I like that.

Don't forget to tell your kids.

My most beautiful book

This is the most beautiful book on my bookshelves. It is bound in deep red watermarked silk with gilt illustration on front and spine, and is illustrated by Charles Stewart.

It is a magical cover for the most magical of children's books - Mistress Masham's Repose by T. H. White.

She saw: first, a square opening, about eight inches wide, in the lowest step, which she took to be the ventilator of a damp course - but there was a path leading to it, trodden in the fine grass, a path for mice; next, she saw a seven-inch door in the base of each pillar, possibly also connected with the damp course - but, and this she did not notice because they were nearly as small as match heads, these doors had handles; finally, she saw that there was a walnut shell, or half one, outside the nearest door. Several walnuts grew in the park, though none were very close. she went to look at the shell - but looked with the greatest astonishment.

There was a baby in it.

T. H. White, Mistress Masham's Repose 1947

Our heroine is ten-year-old Maria. Maria is the heiress of Malplaquet, an enormous house in the wilds of Nothamptonshire, which was about four times longer than Buckingham Palace, but was falling down. It had 365 windows, all broken but six, fifty-two state bedrooms, and twelve company rooms.

Maria is an orphan. Her guardian, the Rev Mr Hater, is an odious man. The vicar has appointed Miss Brown, to be her governess. Miss Brown is worse than odious, she is cruel.

Both the vicar and the governess were so repulsive that it is difficult to write about them fairly.

It is strongly believed that Mr Hater has a Rolls-Royce and spends much of his time in London, while Maria lives in her ruin of a house on sago and other horrors.

It is hardly surprising that Maria often escapes the confines of her life by spending her time in the overgrown wilderness that was once the estate's manicured gardens. One glorious June day - the first of June, in fact -Maria discovers something remarkable. She discovers the descendants of Gulliver's Lilliputians - a people so tiny that they eat the leg of a frog, instead of turkey, for Christmas dinner. They are living on an island in her garden!

Maria has two friends - Cook, whose speech is refined but tangled. Like this:

Alas, my poor Miss Maria, thought Cook between her nods; alak, my dowsabelle. But Rule Britannia is my motter, and while there is life there is hope. Supposing as which her old gentleman was lucky enough for to lay his hand upon her nest, according to the Scriptures, before them tryons has her imbrangled, which is what we must imprecate the Almighty Powers for the accomplishment of before the expiration of which, I wouldn't be surprised but what there was some of them eternal hope-springs for the deliverance of whom, not with the aid of them Glorious Shiners which we wot of. Dearie me, dearie me. I'm sure I didn't hardly have the heart to darn her little stockings...

-and the professor.

He was a failure, but he did his best to hide it. One of his failings was that he could scarcely write, except in a twelfth-century hand, in Latin, with abbreviations.

...He would dream of impossible successes: imagining that the Master of Trinity had referred to him by name in a lecture...

White speaks of the professor like this:

The professor was busy with Camb. Inuv. Lib. I(I).4.26 and was stuck on the first leaf with Tripharium. He had looked it up in Lewis and Short, to no avail, and had also tried to verify it in a charter-hand manuscript called Trin. Coll. Camb. R. 14.9(884), where he had found Triumpharion, partly scratched out. This had made confusion worse confounded.

He motioned the retrieving puppy to his soapbox absently, as it slunk into the cottage with its tail between its legs, and observed: 'It says Huius Genus Thipharium Dicitus, but the trouble is that a part of the line seems to have been erased.'

'I came about something terrible.'

"Murder?"

"It might be,' said the puppy, blushing all over.

'Whom have you murdered? The Vicar, I hope. The word has evidently proved a stumbling block to other scribes, who either evade it by omitting the sentence, or make wild guesses, or, as in this case, resort to some erasure and to complete obscurity.

"He was an unpleasant man,' he added. 'I never liked him much.'

Together Maria, the Professor and Cook must protect the Lilliputians from the clutches of Mr Hater and Miss Brown and then live happily ever after. How to they do it? Aha, you'll need to read the book to find out!!

Can you see that Mistress Masham's Repose is not your usual children's book? Can you tell that this is the type of book that transcends age barriers and works as well at 8 as it does at 80? T. H. White assumes an intelligence amongst his readership that the usual eight year old is not going to have. His allusions to artists, designers and authors expects a general knowledge of extraordinary breadth, but these, instead of making us feel foolish when we do not know something, make us feel wise when we do. This is such a clever book.

I first read Mistress Masham's Repose in 1990 in my 20s. It remains one of my favourite books. When I finished reading it aloud to Jemimah and her Daddy last night I felt sad that it was finished, but so glad that I had passed on the legacy of this beautiful book. At 8 there were many passages that Jemimah did not understand, but at 28 she will understand a little more and at 48 even more. She will read it again, I'm sure of that.

So that's my most beautiful book. What's yours?

Reading like a grownup

Yep, that's Marilyn Monroe. The blonde. She's a beautiful woman, isn't she? Yes, you're right again - she's reading James Joyce's Ulysses. Have you ever tried to read Ulysses? I have. I've never finished it though. Ulysses is difficult - have a look at it here, if you want. The book totals about 265,000 words from a vocabulary of 30,030 words - including proper names, plurals and various verb tenses. Despite this, it is regularly included in lists of great books. Ulysses is a classic. One day I shall read it.

I put this photo here because Marilyn is often dismissed as being a dumb dizzy blonde. Which make me think I should tell a blonde joke, except that being able to read Ulysses is not a joke. Clearly, Marilyn read like an adult. Better than many adults.

Last week my good friend Susan the Book Chook, an ex kindergarten teacher and passionate advocate for children's literacy wrote a post on her blog about whether we should be encouraging reluctant readers to read books at their grade level or whether it is okay for them to read easier books provided they're enjoying the experience. Pop over and have a read. Go on - I'll be here when you finish...

Clearly Susan and her many erudite colleague commenters feel that it is more important that a reluctant reader enjoy reading easy books than it is to have her reading books at her 'appropriate' grade level. I agree with her. To me the battle we have is not to teach our children the mechanics of reading but rather to give to our children the love of reading that will follow them throughout their school years and into adulthood and beyond. It is so exciting when a child catches the 'reading bug'. To prevent a reluctant reader from reading the books that she enjoys would be lunacy...in my humble opinion.

That's all very well, as far as it goes. But is it okay for children to continue to read below their grade level? The Book Chook points out that as adults we often do. We're reading Alice in Wonderland at the moment. Charlotte Sometimes, Swallows and Amazons and Mistress Masham's Repose as well. Now these are all fantastic books, and I am enjoying them very much, but they are Jemimah's reading level. They're not adult level books. Take a look at this list of classic books and total how many you've read in each of the three lists. How did you do? Have you, like me, read far more of the Children's and Young Teens' list than the Adult list? Does this matter?

To me it doesn't, but the reason it doesn't matter to me is that despite the fact that I often read and enjoy children's books, if I want to read an adult book I can. I can read anything I want to.

Clearly Marilyn could too, and that's what I want for my daughter.

Sadly there are children and adults who will always struggle to read for one reason or another. These people will never be able to read Ulysses. For most of them that won't matter a bit. Provided you can read the newspaper, use a bus schedule and understand health related information you'll get through life just fine. The concerning thing though, is that according to the 2006 Adult Literacy and Life Skills Survey, only 54% of Australians can. Does this matter?

To me it does. It matters a lot.

To me it means that we do need to encourage our children to reach their appropriate grade reading level because if they never reach that level they'll never reach adult literacy, and according to the ABS survey that translated into a median weekly income of $298 for people assessed at the lowest level compared to $890 a week for those with the highest level of prose literacy. Now I know that's mercenary, but I chose that indicator because it's measurable and it shows us one thing - being able to read well as an adult matters.

Back to reading grade levels. They're not arbitrary, they're not. Grade levels are there because they're an indicator of what an average child is able to read at a particular stage. If your child is not there yet it doesn't matter. What does matter, I believe, is aiming to get him as close to that level as you can.

How do you learn to read better? By reading more books. Remember the 95% rule? I spoke about it in a post recently and you can read about it in Ruth Beechick's A Home Start in Reading. The 95% rule that says that a child should be able to read 95% of the words on a page with ease for him to enjoy it. How do you discover this? By counting! Count 100 words. If there are more than five that the child doesn't know then the book is probably too difficult for independent reading. Works for adults too, by the way. Most of the books your child reads - say 80% - should be at this level - even if it is below his grade level. These are the books that he will enjoy reading, and that will build his confidence as well as his reading skills. We want our kids to learn to love reading and it is independent reading that will help them to do that.

To improve reading, though I also encourage Jemimah to read books on her instructional reading level - one where she'll miss say 5-8 words per hundred. These are the ones she reads aloud to me so that I can help her not to get too irritated when she encounters difficulties. Reviewing vocabulary helps with these books as does narration after each chapter. We read instructional books each day as part of school work.

I believe a child should never be made to read a book that is on his frustration level. If that is his grade level then he shouldn't be reading at that level...yet.

So that's my opinion. Does that mean I disagree with the Book Chook? Yes? No? Maybe? Do you disagree with me perhaps? Clearly many of the Chook's commenters would. Hopefully though, many of them would also agree with me, because I think we're on the same page. We all want our kids to enjoy reading - now and into the future. If the books they need to achieve this are below grade level well so be it. It's just that I want to encourage you to keep aiming for that level. Because eventually I want my child to be able to read Ulysses. I want her to read like a grown up. Just like Marilyn Monroe.

Which brings me back to that blonde joke:

Two gorgeous blondes were walking home form a party one night. One blonde turns to the other and says, "Which one's closer - London or the moon?" "Duh," says the other scathingly, "Duh. Can you see London from here?"

Sorry.

To informally assess your child's reading level try this. I keep this in my Homeschooling Folder (which I'll share with you one day!) and test Jemimah once a blue moon just to ensure that things are on track.

Mapping

The peculiar value of geography lies in its fitness to nourish the mind with ideas, and to furnish the imagination with pictures. Herein lies the educational value of Geography.

Charlotte Mason Home Education p272

Maps must be carefully used in this type of work - a sketch-map following the traveller's progress, to be compared finally with a complete map of the region; and the teacher will exact a description of such and such a town, and such and such a district, marked on the map, by way of testing and confirming the child's exact knowledge. In this way, too, he gets intelligent notions of physical geography; in the course of his readings he falls in with a description of a volcano, a glacier, a cañon, a hurricane; he hears all about, and asks and learns the how and the why, of such phenomena at the moment when his interest is excited. In other words, he learns as his elders elect to learn for themselves, though they rarely allow the children to tread in paths so pleasant.

Charlotte Mason Home Education pp 275-6

Did you know that there are oil wells around modern Baku in Azerbaijan? Jemimah does. She learned it the way Charlotte Mason suggests, in the course of her reading about the adventures of Marco Polo. As she heard about fountains that flowed with dark oily liquid - oil that bubbled from the earth instead of water, her interest was excited, and this piece of otherwise boring geography was brought to life just as Miss Mason told us it would be.

When Marco Polo in 1264 visited the Azerbaijani city of Baku, on the shores of the Caspian Sea, he saw oil being collected from seeps. He wrote that "on the confines toward Geirgine there is a fountain from which oil springs in great abundance, inasmuch as a hundred shiploads might be taken from it at one time." Is that interesting to you? It is to my daughter.

As Jemimah records Marco Polo's journey each week on her map, her knowledge of physical geography increases as an incidental side effect of her study of the remarkable travels of a man through the entire civilized World of the 1200's. And remarkable it was - so fantastic that many considered it a fable, but it was true.

Then, again, geography should be learned chiefly from maps. Pictorial readings and talks introduce him to the subject, but so soon as his geography lessons become definite they are to be learned, in the first place, from the map. This is an important principle to bear in mind. The child who gets no ideas from considering the map, say of Italy or of Russia, has no knowledge of geography, however many facts about places he may be able to produce.

Charlotte Mason Home Education p 278

Our study of geography through maps has had its ups and downs...as any good topographical map should have. Actually, that's a gag. Rather a good one though, in my own humble opinion. What I started to say is that sometimes we do this better than at other times. Our study of the Great Lakes in AO1 using an outline map was great- partially, I believe, because we were learning the shapes and names and features of the lakes not the surrounding country and so being able to colour the bodies of water made their shape stand out better. Using an outline map of the world to mark the travels of Trim and his master, Matthew Flinders, went less well. In hindsight, I think the sheer magnitude of the journey resulted in too much colouring and other busy work. Likewise, our mapping of Del and Bushbo's journey around Australia on another outline map was pretty uninspiring.

Our most successful mapping exercises have been our own. Plotting our travels on a map is terrific fun - whether the journey has been international or domestic. Jemimah loves plotting our route on a map as it happens, forecasting when we will arrive at the next town, and telling us what we should be able to see through our car window as we travel. Our country road atlas is fun for this.

The way I see it, the correct map is integral to our enjoyment of physical geography. Finding the perfect map for Marco Polo was a challenge. Ideally I wanted something old looking. Preferably Mediaeval. Maps can be expensive too, and I didn't want to spend too much. My hunt finally brought me to Zetta Florence in Brunswick Street.

You can see the maps we chose above. Jemimah is pointing our Marco Polo's route marked in black. (She asks you to please notice her new ring as well.) It is called a General Map of The World, by Cavallini & Co., and believe it or not, it is wrapping paper. It cost me a whole $7.95, and it is just perfect. As you can see, it highlights Africa, but also Europe and Asia - just what we needed. I'm telling you this because you can buy these maps online. There are maps of Australian states, European cities and countries and more, all at the same low price. The quality is excellent too, with a nice grain to the paper and just the right weight to be robust enough for youngsters but not too hard to roll and store. I thoroughly recommend them.

If you don't need them for mapping, they look wonderful framed on the wall as well.

This is the stylish Paloma Contreras' living room as shown on the pages of her blog La Dolce Vita. I'm sure you'll agree that her Cavallini & Co. maps look like they cost an awful lot more than just $7.95 each!!

Thinking of blackberries

Once upon a time Milly-Molly-Mandy found some big ripe blackberries on her way home from school. There were six great beauties and one little hard one, so Milly-Molly-Mandy put the hard one in her mouth and carried the others home on a leaf.

She gave one to Father, and Father said, "Ah! That makes me think the time for blackberry puddings has come!"

Then she gave one to Mother and asked what it made her think of. And Mother said, "A whole row of pots of blackberry jam that I ought to have in my store-cupboard!"

Then she gave one to Grandpa, and Grandpa said it made him think "Blackberry tart!"

And Grandma said, "Blackberry jelly!"

And Uncle said, "Stewed blackberry-and-apple!"

And Auntie said, "A plate of blackberries with sugar and cream!"

"My!" thought Milly-Molly-Mandy, as she threw away the empty leaf, "I must get a big, big basket and go blackberrying the very next Saturday, so that there can be lots of puddings and jam and tarts and jelly and stewed blackberry-and-apple and fresh blackberries, for Farver and Muvver and Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle and Auntie - and me! I'll ask Susan to come too."

So the very next Saturday Milly-Molly-Mandy and little-friend-Susan set out with big baskets (to hold the blackberries) and hooked sticks (to pull the brambles nearer) and stout boots (to keep the prickles off) and old frocks (lest the thorns should catch). And they walked and the walked, till they came to a place where they knew there were always lots of blackberries - at the proper time of year, of course.

Milly-Molly-Mandy Stories Joyce Lankester Brisley

That's now, you know, the proper time of year. For blackberries, I mean. We look forward to it every summer, and not only for the delicious rewards that Milly-Molly-Mandy''s family list above, although I must say they do help. We delight in the brambling itself (showing our Scottish roots by the use of that quaint term instead of the rather more proper English blackberrying). There is something inherently satisfying about collecting wild food. We find the same with mushrooms in autumn, and nettles in spring. Wild fennel and prickly pears are good as well.

Of course, foraging for blackberries (along with nettles and prickly pears) requires preparation. Prickle protection preparation. PPP. My father calls bramble bushes lawyers (because their stiff, cruel thorns grab hold of you and won’t let go until they’ve drawn blood.) This is no time for your Gucci. Know also that despite your PPP you will get pricked. They're lawyers, remember. Take bandaids. Once you get home, rub all the red looking areas with tea tree oil to prevent infection. It works a treat.

We also find that plastic take-away containers, though less romantic than a wicker basket, are the best containers for blackberries because once you get more than a few centimetres of fruit it tends to crush under its own weight. Take more than you need. We always meet plenty of curious onlookers eager to join us, and they need containers as well. We met a wonderful couple visiting from Thailand last weekend.

So now we have blackberries. Kilos and kilos of blackberries. We've already eaten them fresh with sugar and cream. We've had them with pavlova. Tonight we're having blackberry clafoutis. You'll find Jemimah's blackberry and apple crumble recipe along with my jam recipe in last year's blackberry ramble. We'll make jam this afternoon.

The rest we've frozen. They'll last all year that way...well...until they're gone, anyhow. I think Father's blackberry pudding sounds marvellous. Grandpa's blackberry tart sounds good as well. What do you think of when you think of blackberries? Do share!

I've also started a discussion about foraging for wild foods at A Peaceful Community. Pop over there and tell us what you collect! I'm keen to make our community work. Will you help me?

This photo is here because it is one of the nicest pictures of my husband that I've seen. Doesn't he look wonderful? Sigh, looking at him here makes me all squirmy inside...

Wombles and Moomins

I was a Wombles girl myself.

The Wombling Song

Mike Batt

Underground, overground, wombling free,
The Wombles of Wimbledon Common are we.
Making good use of the things that we find,
Things that the everyday folks leave behind.

Uncle Bulgaria,
He can remember the days when he wasn't behind the times,
With his map of the world.
Pick up the papers and take them to Tobermory!

Wombles are organised, work as a team.
Wombles are tidy and Wombles are clean.
Underground, overground, wombling free,
The Wombles of Wimbledon Common are we!

People don't notice us, they never see,
Under their noses a Womble may be.
We womble by night and we womble by day,
Looking for litter to trundle away.

We're so incredibly, utterly devious
Making the most of everything.
Even bottles and tins.
Pick up the pieces and make them into something new,
Is what we do!

Underground, overground, wombling free,
The Wombles of Wimbledon Common are we.
Making good use of the things that we find,
Things that the everyday folks leave behind.

The Wombles were ahead of their time – recycling vegetarian environmentalist greenies, and I loved them. They were terribly, terribly British. Orinoco’s dream shop was Fortnum & Mason...oops, I mean Fortune & Bason. Great Uncle Bulgaria’s read The Times. The Serpentine and of course Wimbledon Common were the settings for their very delightful adventures. Oh my! I get this pleasant little feeling inside just telling you about them.

I tried reading Elizabeth Beresford's original books to Jemimah recently, but they didn't go down very well. A bit twaddly, to be honest, although I had a bit of a nostalgia trip out of them. The videos were more appealing, and I must admit that the TV series takes prominence in my fond memories also, although I did read (and still have) the books.

Not so the Moomins. While I was a Wombles girl, my Beloved was a Moomins boy.




In contrast to my little nostalgic memories for the inhabitants of Wimbledon Common, Jemimah's Daddy has a fondness for those from Moomin Valley, and his eyes nearly bugged from his gorgeous head when he caught sight of the Finn Family Moomintroll by Tove Jansson in Readers' Feast just before Christmas. Imagine my Beloved wanting to buy a children's book that I'd never heard of. Preposterous!! I bought it of course.

Now there are three Moomin lovers in our household. In fact, today we are in mourning because yesterday we finished the last chapter. What shall we do? Our lives are bereft. Meaningless. Empty. It helps that there are more in the series, I suppose, but right now we are wallowing in a mire of depression. Actually, we're not. I wonder why I wrote that?!!

The Moomins. Twaddle they are not.

The Finn Family Moomintroll is great as a read-aloud at seven, and it continues to inspire at fifty. Which is almost where Jemimah's Daddy is. It is delightful. It is whimsical. It is cheerful and chubby like the Moomins themselves. The Moomin family are furry troll-like characters with round white faces and big noses that make them look sort of like hippopotamuses. They're nice. And they love each other.That's cool. They celebrate their 65th anniversary in 2010, which means that they've been round since 1945. Phew. And they're still keeping us enthralled.

I love the way Moominpapa and Moominmama are kind and caring and easy-going. Fun and yet tough. They are parents who discipline their kids when they deserve it. The characters in this book genuinely seek to bring out the best in each other. They are kind and good, but not sickeningly so. Their friendships are good friendships.

When Moominmama sees what she thinks are a pair of mice scurrying into her cellar she sends someone up with a platter of milk for them. Then she makes up two very little beds. When the Snork Maiden's hair is burned off her friend, Moomintroll tells her he likes her better without it. When the Muskrat gets into a rage and wants to leave to be by himself, Moominpapa asks whether he should send up some furniture and food. When Snufkin goes away on a journey alone they are sad but respect his wishes and wonder whether he will be coming back.

In the Finn Family Moomintroll, the Moomins find a big hat. But it is no ordinary hat. It is a magical hat, and it belongs to the Hobgoblin...

You've gotta get hold of this book to find out what happens next, because...well, because I recommend it. I say it's a goody no matter how old your kids are - no matter how old you are.

You can get an idea of what the books are like by reading the introductory story of the Moomins, The Little Trolls and the Great Flood online. Don't dismiss the series if you don't like it though, since this is is often considered Jansson's weakest work and it is still worth giving the rest of the books a go. I really can't imagine that anybody could dislike the Moomins. We love 'em.

So now I'm a Moomins girl too. I still like the Wombles, mind you, but I like the Moomins better. Sorry Orinoco.

My Fairy Godmother

Oliver Herford

So I have a Fairy Godmother. Wow. Who'd have guessed? Would you like to meet her? Okay, okay, patience, girls. First the story of how we met...

As you know because I told you all, I was feeling pretty blue about the problems you were having with my blog. Some of you. Some of the time. You all know intermittent problems are the hardest to fix don't you? Just look at my dishwasher. Did I tell you it has broken down again? This time it was mice. Inside the sealed cupboard space that you can't access from inside the house. Or from any other place actually. The mice found a way though. They can get anywhere. How do they do that? Anyway, the mice'd chewed through the tubing and the nice dishwasher man has taken it away to fix. The dishwasher I mean, not the tubing. The builder is sealing the cupboard space too, so the mice can't get in and do their mischief again. Blech.

So where was I? Oh yes, my blog. I was feeling the same way about my blog. Meh. It was all getting a bit hard, to be honest. I love to write. I love to keep in touch with you all. But I am a Luddite. I was born in 1963, for goodness sake. That makes me old enough to be your mother, some of you. Can you imagine your mother blogging? And no, Richele, my mum doesn't read mine. Good job you girls do, coz my friends and family don't. Not even our family who live in far flung parts of the world like France and Canada and Wales and Scotland. They don't read it either. Why is that do you think? It is not that I have blue funks very often. In fact, I think I'm pretty even tempered. What's more, my hubby agrees. That is saying something!

So yesterday I did. I blue funked. And I told you about it. I blogged about my problem and then I sat here wondering what to do next. Possibly I wrung my hands and rolled my eyes. I'm not sure about that. What I did do, was to give an anguished cry of despair into cyberspace. More precisely, into Twitter. One tiny little tweet with the tag: #savvyblogging. Do you know it? Try it some time.

Within minutes, I had met the most wonderful lady. My fairy godmother. Did you know, this lady who I had never met before spent all yesterday morning - which was actually Wednesday night where she lives - working on my blog for me? For nothing? And do you know, she fixed it? Well, yes you do, coz you can see that. She did. From the other side of the world. For a stranger.

Wow.

So now the introduction. Her name is Dee. She blogs at Start Dreaming. She's a homeschooling, reading, gardening, God fearing, crazy coupon loving mummy. And she fixes blogs. Well, she did mine. Yesterday. That's her modest little comment at the bottom of yesterday's post. The one that says, "Woohoo! Great job!" As if it had anything to do with me. Which it didn't. This is all about Dee.

If you felt like it you could hop over to Dee's blog for me and tell her how much we appreciate what she did. If you feel like it. I've already told her of course, but I think she'd feel good if you told her too. You'd make me happy too. Dee's just started a blog meme called Why I love.... This week is about being pregnant. Which I haven't been for such a long time I've forgotten what I loved about it. Perhaps you remember. Aussie Therese certainly would! Brandy would too. Perhaps you might like to link up.

So my fairy godmother fixed my blog.

My beloved fixed my blue funk too, and I'm happy again. I'm so blessed to have him.

I am blessed to have met Dee.

I am blessed to know you all too. Thanks for putting up with me.

Your friend Jeanne. The Luddite.

Cinderella

Cinderella

She spins and she sways to whatever song plays,
Without a care in the world.
And I'm sittin' here wearin' the weight of the world on my shoulders.
It's been a long day and there's still work to do,
She's pulling at me saying "Dad I need you!
There's a ball at the castle and I've been invited and I
need to practice my dancin'"
"Oh please, daddy, please!"

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh I will dance with Cinderella
I don't wanna miss even one song,
Cuz all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone

She says he's a nice guy and I'd be impressed
She wants to know if I'd approve of a dress
She says "Dad, the prom is just one week away,
And I need to practice my dancin'"
"Oh please, daddy, please!"

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Ohh-oh ohh-oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't wanna miss even one song,
Cuz all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone
She will be gone.

Well, she came home today
With a ring on her hand
Just glowin' and tellin' us all they had planned
She says "Dad, the wedding's due six months away
And I need to practice my dancin'"
"Oh please, daddy please!"

So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
'Cause I know something the prince never knew
Ohh-oh ohh-oh, I will dance with Cinderella
I don't wanna miss even one song,
(even one song)
Cuz all too soon the clock will strike midnight
And she'll be gone

Steven Curtis Chapman

I'm having a blue funk

My blog is getting me down. Well actually, it's not - it is the trouble I'm having with it that is making me fret. Did you know I even woke in the middle of the night worrying about it? Argh! It's only a hobby, right?

It's not though, is it? Those of you who blog will agree, I'm sure, that blogging quickly becomes more than 'just a hobby', and becomes a meeting place for a group of like-minded friends.

Friends. I absolutely love my little group of followers. There are 73 of you. Like wow! You make me feel loved. And wanted. From my faithful commenters I get words of encouragement, one of my love languages. I suppose it is my history as a bullied kid that makes me crave approval, and yet never quite believe it when it comes, and I get excited afresh as every comment arrives in my inbox.

Anyhow.

Apparently some of you can't see my blog properly. I believe the posts are right down the bottom somewhere. I wish I knew what that looks like, but you see it formats correctly for me on each of the computers I use on a regular basis. They're all using IE8. It is hard to fix a problem you can't see. In fact I haven't a clue what to do. Susan from Kerugma - a very wise woman, our Susan - tells me that something in my sidebar is too big. But what? I haven't added anything for ages!

The problem is that if you can't see my blog you won't want to visit. Now those of you who know me will probably persevere for a little while (I am worth it... aren't I?), but new readers probably don't even scroll down to see what's here. And why should they? There are lots and lots of blogs out there. Which is why I'm constantly amazed that anyone would want to read my humble offerings anyway. Honestly.

Sorry, blue funk showing there.

Lots of you have told me you have this problem before, back when it first happened at the beginning of this year. The problem is, I was in Melbourne then, and was unable to do anything to even investigate the problem since we are only on dial-up there, and it is very expensive and slow. I can't even find the comments now. I need to know what operating system and browsers are having this problem. I remember that Jillian told me that her computer had the issue and her son's didn't. Or vice versa. something like that anyhow.

Now Sylvia tells me that she is having trouble commenting as well. Argh again. Will this just not go away? I do have my head buried deep in the sand.

So please, can you help me? Pretty please with sprinkles on? I need to to tell me if you have either the formatting or commenting problem or, horror of horrors, both. Then I need to know what browser and operating system you're using - whether you have a problem or not. Finally, if you can fix it for me I shall love you forever!!

I have set up a discussion in The Peaceful Community for this, hoping that the broader blogfrog readership might just hop to my aid. If you would prefer not to comment there for some reason, then just comment on this post as usual. I need to keep the replies all in one or two places to have any hope of getting to the bottom of this perplexing issue.

And it is perplexing. To start with, a blue funking Jeanne is not so very pleasant for the rest of my family. And I'm feeling very down in the dumps indeed.

Which my beloved will discover if he looks at my blog. Which he doesn't. Not often anyhow.

Does your hubby read yours?

Just curious.

Very, very funny...

...but not for the kiddos coz there's a couple of adult bits at the end. Don't know why they need to do that.



I saw it first at Meet Me At Mikes.

What would you have chosen?

...if you'd been at my book club last night?

The ginger and peanut biscuits?

The pavlova served with fresh cream and strawberries macerated in sugar and just a little bit of Cointreau to bring out their sweetness and flavour?

The raspberry and chocolate cake?

Or the moderately healthy (but only in comparison to what you saw above) tomato and basil salad drizzled with Parmesan infused olive oil and balsamic vinegar and topped with feta served with a bit of pesto and a King Island Double Brie?

Perhaps you'd have stuck with the clichéd Aussie bar snacks of salt and vinegar or BBQ chips or peanuts, and a Hahn Light beer, served first to tie in with the book's location in a seedy Sydney pub. Don't worry - we had champagne as well...and tea and coffee served in my Royal Doulton tea set to follow. Such fun being able to use it for a crowd!

Here's the book itself, The Glass Canoe by David Ireland. I blogged about it here. Featuring in Australian Classics - 50 great writers and their celebrated works by Jane Gleeson-White, the book is not an easy read, but difficult books make for the best book club discussions, in my experience, and last night was no different.

My book club members are an erudite bunch with two current school principals and the wife of a retired one as well as two English Literature teachers, a couple of other teachers, and a smattering of dummies like moi. The best discussion of the night centred around whether The Glass Canoe was appropriate for Year 12 school students. Scheduled as part of the NSW HSC syllabus in the early 80s, the book was called 'pornographic' by parents, and caused somewhat of a furore before being withdrawn. I can understand why! Maybe this is another reason why I homeschool my daughter - so that she is not exposed to books like this before she has the life experience and maturity to deal appropriately with their subject matter. Pleasingly, the general consensus last night was that the book was inappropriate for 17 year olds, although we all thought that the book fell short of the definition of pornography as a depiction of erotic behaviour intended to cause sexual excitement. (Oh what is this post going to do to my Google searchers?) Our local school principal cited her principal (!) concern as the tone of hopelessness that pervades the book, feeling that right to the end there appears no way out for this group of marginalised Australians. I felt glad to hear her opinion.

What do you think? Are 17 year olds old enough to deal with adult themes of sex, drugs and alcohol? When do you introduce these subjects to your children? Ever? Is it appropriate to shield them from the darker side of our fallen world, or does this cause problems later? What's your opinion? What's your experience?

I'm going to set this up as a discussion in The Peaceful Community. Feel free to answer here or there or both. I am enjoying the input from people outside my usual blog readership over there, and they way the discussion continues long after the post is forgotten. On the other hand I don't want to destroy the wonderful comment chains we often find here, so I'm treading cautiously so far with this community thing. Hop on over and have a look around if you haven't already. There are discussions on books for Ancient Egypt, Bible reading plans and children's books. I've also started a discussion asking for help in solving the problem with my blog's formatting. This is really getting me down, to be honest, and so if you would jump over there and give me some details I would really appreciate it.

Finally, I've some photos of the flowers from last night. I really enjoy readying our peaceful home for guests, and the garden put on a nice showing last night. Enjoy!

A froth of pink roses - Rosa Ballerina and Rosa Clair Matin

A spray of Clair Matin decorates the kitchen bench.

Rosa Pierre de Ronsard on the wall in the link

A little arrangement of gardenia sweetly scents the bathroom