Hidden under Linen (Prose)


past the table, folded napery
alongside the window, you sit
a Cafe, worn rustic floorboards
the solid against decorated lace
gazing deep in thought
I watch, glasses raised, across a room
full of bodies busy with their own

romantic encounters
secret liasons
a salute to erotic novelty ahead
presents itself, to my right
I can only smile
not knowing thoughts
of young lovers, legs draped
hidden under linen

you smile in my direction
a natural arrangement
of your features
the room quiet
for split seconds in time
as eyes meet

are you waiting for someone
glancing at me, the polite smile
traded between strangers
whose eyes met
at the same time
you, extravagantly handsome
I sit, as if on the edge of a desert
craving salt from your lips

©jmtacken Feb 25 2014

For knocked over by a feather

This is a little Post for Merby (as I have named her) at knocked over by a feather  If you don’t follow her – why not? She has brilliantly funny posts, every day life situations and informative. So hop over and visit if you haven’t already.

She was lovely enough to write a post on me on ‘Awesome Sunday’ see below:


As she mentioned in her post, whilst out one morning with Mr. S  I saw a painting of the Beatles in a shop window, I immediately thought of her (as she a Beatles nut) and took a shot on my phone. Sadly, I lost it somewhere amongst the blog universe, so I share it again today for HER, (as Mr. S and I went there for breakfast again this morning) not to the shop where they had the pictures ( because that would be too weird), but the Cafe next to it.

So Merby my lovely for doing what you did, this is a a small token of my gratitude in appreciation for what you wrote about me.

PS: Unfortunately they moved the painting, so it was really tricky trying to get a worthwhile shot, due to the window reflection and the street behind me 😦


2013-02-24 11.39.15

But I thank you from my ‘beaty’ thing for being so kind

Our Sunday Drive

There was a photo of the main street (20 mins from home) that was taken in the 1800’s. The spot is called Belgrave. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belgrave,_Victoria. The photo  (that no longer is on my post) and apologies for the clarity, was on a wall in a little cafe we go to for breakfast or brunch some weekends. It was a little difficult to actually stand on the bench seat to get a better shot without me being dragged away, hence the size and lack of close up.

This is how the street is now, (well it was)  ahh yes the empty can on the road says it all really…

The above left (can’t see it?) very hard to get shot is what Belgrave is renowned for – its steam train The Puffing Billy,  which shuttles, and puffs its way up the mountain full of people to Emerald Lake. Where everyone enjoys paddle boats and BBQ’s.

To your right (yep over there) is the inside of this little Cafe where the food servings are of enormous proportions.

This is the over-sized bacon & onion omelets Mr. S and I consumed (and yes there will be no dinner tonight!) Hmm believe me it was BIG.

It was a drive with incidence however, we were meandering up the winding hills seeking a destination (before we settled on Cafe above aptly named The Puffing Billy) when a dog ( a blue heeler cross ) started crossing the road. Without a word. Mr. S pulled over to the side and I jumped out. “Here boy/girl/whatever your name is”. “Now where’s your mum and dad”?

Luckily a neighbour came out from 3 doors up and said he is well looked after, but keeps escaping. The two of us then took 5 minutes trying to open the gate where “Denim” lived (thankfully he had a name tag with two mobile numbers), finally in the heat and flies buzzing round my head I let him in – no one was home. I checked around the side of the house, there was a bucket with water so I emptied and refilled. Locked the gate and we phoned the owners – no reply went to message bank.

Two minutes later about to get back in the car Denim was at my side again. “Grrr”, another neighbour was then called upon and asked if she had a rope, the only solution was to tie Houdini Denim in the yard. So that is what I did, made sure his water was there and went on our way an hour later. I got in the car smiling saying “Aren’t you glad I’m a dog lover”? Mr. S just nodded….

The owners finally phoned when we driving back to Belgrave saying thank you so much and asked us if we saw where he escapes from and that they have barricaded every spot they knew. Um no we didn’t, perhaps a little more investigation is required however….

Denim lives to enjoy another day and we were ablet to eat our somewhat late lunch.

Oh and this last pic (well it was) spotted in an art shop along the main street?  – This is for knocked over by a feather – Merby who is a Beatles nut 🙂

APOLOGIES to those who read and cannot get the gist for the lack of pics. I think I have solved the vanishing issues but sadly I have deleted them from my phone so I cannot re-enter 😦

My 60th Blog – Colour co-ordination versus free spirit?

Ok here’s the thing…. Yesterday we (my man and I) were out for a lunch..well technically breakfast in a lovely little Cafe in the hills. As we sat reading the Sunday papers and waiting for our big breakfast to arrive (which is served for most of the day) we glanced at a lady who had entered to buy a coffee to go. Now this particular lady would have been hmmm probably late 50’s or early 60’s? (that’s my guess at any rate).

On her feet were slip on clogs…then knee high socks…multi coloured

Now if she had say for instance worn a brown skirt it wouldn’t have seemed so…. but a red quite (flouncy) skirt with a charcoal grey jacket completed the ensemble…..  ???

Which lead  me to do this blog…should we not face the world colour coordinated, or shouldn’t we give a toss? Well I (though I may be struck down for saying so) give a toss, my mum always dressed me  in my younger years in coordinating colours. When I was 14 ( I think)  I vividly remember my bright lemon flared pants, with white strappy sandals, topped with my white shirt (sorry blouse) adorned with pretty yellow printed flowers…OK it was the 60’s. Oh and I had one of those choker necklaces…(couldn’t find a pic sorry as it was quite some time back). It was black had a medallion at the throat and 2 long strands hanging from it. I thought I was ever so trendy…though in hindsight it probably too should have been yellow.

My Pop (dad) still gets his clothes chosen and laid on the bed by mum (is ALWAYS) co-ordinated…we won’t think too much about the beige pants, brown shoes, fawn socks, tan shirt and brown jumper…please don’t spend too much time on that visual.

Anywho… I feel comfy when I’m coordinated, the fashion now states you can mix stripes with patterns, bright colours of every hue and pattern, but to me it’s.. well is just me?

How does a striped skirt go with a paisley top? How does a Polk a dot shirt go with a floral design skirt? I mean really?

Or am I being too anal retentive here?  Call it fashion… call it a new trend, but to me clothing articles must compliment each other, clothing & more so how it is put together must show that you still actually have your eye sight.

The end result was me looking across the table from my man whose eyes did roll as did mine and almost simultaneously the words from our mouths was ‘artist?”

What do you think?    Am I showing my age?

A little piece of Australia – Let’s get to know each other

1950’s…not that I remember it

Host to the Olympic Games in 1956, Melbourne was transformed in the years that followed. Buildings grew taller, traffic got thicker, and new arrivals brought new ideas. Many old buildings, with their stone gargoyles and cast-iron lacework, tumbled under the wrecker’s ball. The central city rang with the din of jackhammers. Glass and steel skyscrapers reached into the air — symbols of enterprise.

Immigrants from continental Europe brought their distinctive cultures to the city. New flavours were added to the arts. European-style cafes gave the city pockets of sophistication. But Melbourne was still a ‘9 to 5’ city. Hordes of cars from the suburbs jammed city streets in rush hours. As soon as offices emptied, streets were deserted.

Then – Aus Pop (1954): 8,986,530 Vic Pop (1954): 2,452,341



Readers I am sorry – Technical difficulties have meant the photos I keep putting on this post..disappear.

Hopefully this gliche will be rectified soon.

Chapter 3 1st Time Mum

After the Ultrasound as I was shaking uncontrollably, Garry took me to a nearby Café where I tried to regain some composure, both of us were absorbed in what had taken place and elated that in nine months time we would actually become parents. Like the majority, we had started as a couple, and then a married couple, and now we were going to be ‘mummy and daddy’. The implications were overwhelming, as we imagined and discussed, the pre-natal classes, the possible cravings at all hours of the day or night, the probable mood swings as new hormones bounced their way through my body. How much would a baby change our lives? Would we be able to survive it all?

The elation of being pregnant was also accompanied with equally powerful feelings of apprehension. As I got further into my pregnancy I waited anxiously and excitedly to feel “its” first movement. I enjoyed being pregnant, apart from the obvious weight gain and my natural concerns over what childbirth would feel like. How much pain I would suffer? Would our baby be normal? And how long would it take before I looked ‘normal’ again?  These anxieties were combined with a severe lack of sleep towards the end of the pregnancy, as the birth was due in the warmer months. Trying to find a comfortable position in bed supporting this huge bulge in front of me was near nigh impossible, as I battled with several pillows every night under my legs and tummy.

Early in November of 1982, usually after I had settled into bed for the evening, I began to experience some strange sensations, as if there were bubbles bursting within my stomach. Was it movement or just plain wind? How does a new mum describe this feeling to a woman who has not yet experienced it? Does this “bubble popping” happen to every mother-to-be? I found myself continually holding my stomach, waiting for it to happen again. The bubbles were not as noticeable during the day as I went about my daily routine of work and household chores, but they were obstinately there when I finally lay down in bed at night.

Around this time my boobs started increasing in size, which of course brought favorable comments from my husband. Normally a size 34, by five months into the pregnancy I graduated to a 36B bra. I finally possessed a cleavage; even I was excited! Meanwhile my weight skyrocketed from 56kg to 72kg, although my diet was healthy. There were those odd occasions when I allowed myself a doughnut, biscuit or bag of chips, because… well, I was gaining weight anyway and was now “eating for two”, as so many of my friends and relatives loved to remind me. I noticed my arms and legs were also getting larger, along with my tummy which was protruding by the day.

**My Memoir The Empty Nest A Mother’s Hidden Grief is now available on Amazon and Lulu (J M Kadane)**