Diary of a Flood Survivor

Thereis a bittersweet facility that Facebook throws up each day whenever I log in.

The memories from as early as a year ago to even 10 years ago.

I love the photos of the kids when they were little, or a holiday we’ve been on.

It’s so easy to relive some great memories whenever these pictures come up.

This year, however, I am getting memories of how our house looked one year ago, and obviously, it was not pretty.

ter and conversation to their cruising experience, but when she meets his son, Captain Richard, sparks start to y.

Nothing is ever simple in the game of love, however, as another male passenger makes himself known to Rose who seems to hold a very close connection to her late husband.

To add further complications, the captain’s daughter comes onto the scene with her autistic son but is very protective of her father and becomes quite jealous of the relationship between Rose and him.

It doesn’t help that Rose has experience with special needs children and is able to communicate well with her son.

Annie Chandler-Cummings continues on with the family of four women who have captured the hearts of her readers through the Flower Quartet series.

It is also available online for purchase through shawlinepublishing.com.au fngers and have everything back to normal, there are actually some aspects we haven’t rushed to fx.

I was telling hubby how a photo of our very raw kitchen came up on Facebook, that is, all cabinets with gyprocked and plastered walls, but nothing put in place.

It got us remembering how we had to clean out our mud flled, mouldsmelling home and how we wondered if we were ever going to be able to make it a cosy place to live again.

The conclusion we came to was, it IS possible to make a comfortable home again, even when it seems an impossible task.

The kitchen looks a million bucks from the frst photo and is the way I’ve always wanted it to be.

But these memories are also a reminder of the emotions we went through and how much we still have to do.

While it would be lovely to click our

As an example. When we started to get deliveries to the house, we had no house numbers, as we lost our letterbox (the frst one falling victim to a mountain of discarded rubbish ) so I found some bandaids and put the house number on what was left of the front door panel.

Those bandaided numbers are still there, despite now having a brand new letterbox and metal numbers placed on it.

The bandaids feel symbolic of a time where we had to use our ingenuity to get ourselves back on track. We are still using that same ingenuity today whether it be organising builders, sourcing affordable materials or just learning to live differently.

Little steps

BYfar the most repugnant and rodentlike people I’ve ever met are those who throw their dead weight around in the form of being a bully. The term doesn’t really do justice to the gutless geese that they truly are. That said, bulls might be forceful, but they’re not meagre minded and don’t mistake talking tough for being the real thing.

Your classic bully is the one who relies on numbers, the ‘support’ and cheap laughs of dimwits, they rely on appealing to a brainless gaggle of compadres; the followers who are actually more despicable than they – because followers remain stunted through an abject lack of self-worth and awareness to call out the insecure antics for fear of being the next victim.

It is suggested in countless studies that as many as one in three adolescents are bullied by their peers; call it picked on, stirred, or teased, whatever you like – the outcome is the same – inflicted distress that is avoidable if those doing the actual bullying had better home lives and influences. Or as Dan Pearce once said, “People who love themselves, don’t hurt other people. The more we hate ourselves, the more we want others to suffer.”

In hindsight, my own childhood was quite blessed in terms of not copping too much flak for reasons deemed worthy of ire; but ironically, the most I was ever picked on by so-called friends was after I became school captain in primary school. It was like I had a sign “fair game” stuck on my back; but I learned a lot about jealousy, and how sometimes criticisms

Dawe