“Do Over” or “Mulligan” or “Time Out” for Solitaire

Posted on by Sandy

So, this is my “Do Over” post. For what seems like forever, I have been a fairly poor correspondent (and worse podcaster!) I had everything “set” last year – podcasts were going up once a week, blogging often, all that jazz.

What happened? Happy married life? Complacency? A little of both?

So here I sit, 172 pounds (oh lord, I said it – of course, it was 179!), and not “walking my talk.” Again, not sure how it snuck away from me, but part of it definitely has to do with the fact that I have started a new business (SendOutCards – check out sandy-shepard.com if you haven’t already), we travelled a LOT last year (yeah, I know, you’re feeling SO SORRY for me), and, again, well, I just got sorta kinda “fat and happy.”

We just returned from the Big Island of Hawaii (see? I know you feel SO SORRY for me), and during that time I had a “Time Out” and got to thinkin’. We absolutely adore staying at the Four Seasons – a friend of ours has a condo there (I think it cost $2 mil – yes, really), and it’s just “the good life.” Get up, condo is clean and clear, go down to the amazing gym where “cabana boys” hand you towels and water and spritz you with Evian and help you set up your weight routine….lounge in the meditation area…go down and watch the sea turtles in the ocean…

My publisher has wanted me to start thinking about a Workbook to go “with” my book – and what came to me in Hawaii is that perhaps what I need to do is work through my own book – and blog it – getting back to the basics that I myself advocate. (What a concept!) I was going to start right when we got back – but air delays, gate delays, weather, and then laundry, groceries and chores sort of blew that idea. However, the current “plan” is to start kinda today (with this post), and then get out my own dog-eared copy of fEmpowerment and work through it…and let ya’ll know how it’s going.

I plan to podcast it as well – my “James” finally got my upload capabilities working, and re-uploaded all my podcasting software. As I probably blogged, my computer blew up in December and I was without it for 2 weeks – then when I got the big bill (grrrr) and it turned out it could NOT be repaired “after all”, had to buy a new one….which meant my James re-uploading everything out of backups, downloading freeware, the works. The final “bit” of it he did last night. So I have no more excuses.

I have been uploading my Granddad’s diary from WWI – which I think I will finish today – I am not sure if anyone is actually interested, but I’m really excited to have it available. Then, time to just regroup, and Find My Inner Bond Girl and Let Her Out!

Page 7 of Grandpa’s Diary – flipping flapjacks with a saw

Posted on by Sandy

Eventually we started again, but alas, in a few miles we turned south missing Paris, the same as we did London. The biggest city was Tours, and we stopped in a suburban station for a few minutes. Continuing on, we finally debarked at Charenton (Cher) almost the exact center of France, where we were billeted in a barn for some three weeks. The Cher river ran through town and we could swim in it. One day Newt Monk started to dive from a rock into the Cher. He was clad, only, in his wristwatch and just as he left the rock someone yelled, “Newt, your watch!” I never saw a more agonized look. I don’t know if the watch was spoiled, but presume it was. I do not remember much about the stay there except went to a traveling movie show once (it was terrible) and once went on a hike to Ainay-le Chateau which is about 7 kms. At Charenton I attained the age of 22 and it seems my birthday was not a French National Holiday (August 23, 1918) so no celebration.

More 40s and 8s and by slow stages we got to Is-Sur-Tille (Cote d’Or) where we stayed in the freight yards several days, finally moving on to Langres from where we hiked to St. Geomes (Haute Marne) and another barn for a few days. A 40 and 8 is a freight car supposed to carry 40 men or 8 horses. As it said “Quarante hommes ou huit chevaux.” Langres was A.P.O. 714 which was Warren’s A.P.O. for a while. [note – not sure who Warren is, but that’s a family first name for us so probably kin.] I did not see Warren, but he wrote me a letter from there. I recall washing clothes on the flat stones besides the ladies of the neighborhood. One day we hiked to a cave of Sabinus and saw a little spring that was the source of the Marne.

Next move was to some place near to the front lines, going by truck. I think it was called St. Jean. There we lived in dugouts and for the first time were issued sidearms (45s). The Signal Corps is a non-combatant unit and “is supposed to fire only in self defense.” One of our boys, Quigley, drew a picture of our dugout, #9, and I have a copy of it drawn by Myra’s cousin, Mrs. Burnham of Bristol. [Note: I have this framed, but in a box in the attic.] Our dugout was noted for rats, who would skid on the metal cans of hard candy we had bought from the YMCA in Langres, and land on our faces, then scurry away. One of our boys was Jim Ballantine, whom we called the “Iowa Bearcat.” Once when he was asleep someone lifted up the end of his blanket and pinched his toe. He jumped and I never in my life heard such a yell. One of the pleasant(?) jobs was to go into the rainy woods and roll up the Germans’ rusty barbed wire – the Germans had been driven back. I remember the cook making flapjacks and turning them over with a saw. He would flex the saw, put one end under a pancake and it would go 5 or 6 feet in the air, turn over several times, and land on the uncooked side. I was fascinated by the performance and watched him do it several times without missing once.

Our next move was to Mousson Hill, next to Pont a Mousson. There was a Church standing on top of the hill. It was said that the Germans didn’t knock it down because they wanted to use the steeple to sight on in firing.

Our wireless station was dug out of solid rock on the French side of the hill, and there was only a footpath for access to it, with a sheer drop in front. The first signals we heard when our set was in business was NAD, Charlestown, Mass. navy yard.

 

Feisty’s college connection: Party Without the Pain

Posted on by Sandy

There’s a cliche out there that you’re supposed to party hard while you’re in college. What they don’t tell you is a night of partying can often end face-first in a toilet. I’ll lay my cards on the table: I’m not a big drinker and never have been. So, on the one hand, I can’t tell you what it’s like to experience a night of puking into the tub. On the other, I can share my reflections from years of watching the club and bar scene with a sober eye, seeing who gets the guy and who makes a fool of themselves dancing on the bar.

I’m not going to give you all the tips you’ve heard from your roommates and dorm buddies. You know more about hangover cures than I do, I’m sure. (And if you find one that actually works, let me know.) Instead, I’m going to give you three tips to make sure you have a great time, whether or not you’re drinking.

1. How do you want to feel?

Before you go out, think about what you want the evening to be like. Be honest. If you really want to get plastered and don’t mind dealing with the consequences tomorrow morning, go for it! If you want to keep your wits about you and only have a few drinks, figure out how you’re going to manage it beforehand, whether that’s by taking along a non-drinking friend or only putting $20 in your wallet. Thinking through your night for even five minutes before you head out the door will save you a lot of unnecessary problems later.

2. Plan your morning the night before

Pop quiz: if you knew you’d have to go to a morning workout, would you have six drinks the night before? Didn’t think so. Now, I’m not advocating Sunday morning workouts (though you can, of course), but think through what you want to do the next morning BEFORE you go out the night before. That way, you’ve got something to look forward to besides a hangover.

3. There’s more to nightlife than clubbing

Most of the time, when people hear “party,” they immediately think, “going out drinking.” But it doesn’t have to be that way. There’s tons of fun stuff to do that doesn’t involve alcohol at all, like rallies, festivals and cheering on the home team. I had an amazingly active social life in college and didn’t spend too much of it in bars. If you like bars, that’s great. If you don’t, check the posters around campus and see what else is happening.

 

Attention Bond Grrls “of a certain age”:

For most people, the post-college years feature far fewer “puking into the toilet” nights, and that’s a good thing. You’ve probably passed through the gauntlet and emerged on the other side. Congratulations! Just remember, the tips above are still useful for anyone painting the town red, not just the college crowd.

Feisty’s College Connection: How to Ace Your Finals Without Cramming

Posted on by Sandy

It’s that time of semester again: midterms. I have bad news and good news. The bad news is that if you still haven’t started studying for midterms, there’s not much I can do for you. The goods news is that I can help you for your finals, which are probably worth more anyway. It won’t take a lot of time, it’ll wipe out overnight cramming, and it’ll dramatically cut down on end-of-semester stress. It’s as easy as 1-2-3.

1. Take notes by hand and skim them the same evening. 

I know it’s fashionable to bring laptops to class, but write by hand anyway. For one, it’s easier to be freeform when hand-writing. You can write notes in the margins, draw diagrams, and focus on the main ideas, not hunting for the graphing function. The amount of notes you take is a matter of personal style, but focus on the concepts, not scribbling every word the prof is saying. Don’t worry about making your notes look nice. Just write. Every evening, spend 15 minutes skimming that day’s notes. This helps it stay in your brain and acts as an early-warning system for stuff you don’t understand.

2. Type or rewrite your notes on the weekend.

If your hand-written notes are anything like mine, they’re pretty messy. Now’s your chance to fix that. Block off a weekend afternoon and rewrite or type out all your notes from the week. Focus on aesthetics, organization, and structure. Don’t be afraid to rearrange, expand, cut, or color-code. Rewriting does two things. First, you review what you covered in class. Second, it gets your notes into a presentable, useable condition. When you’re done, throw out your hand-written notes. You won’t need them. Heck, you might even get people asking to buy your typed notes. (I did!)

3. At the end of semester, read through your notes.

I didn’t say pour over or cram. I said read. If you’ve never followed a system like this before, “just reading” might be a strange concept. But I promise if you’ve done steps 1 and 2, you won’t need to cram. Seriously! You’ll remember so much from your evening skimming and weekly rewriting sessions that a simple read-through should be all it takes to jog your memory. Now’s the time to look for bigger themes that span large portions of the course. What are the topics that come up repeatedly? What are the links from one unit to the next? Since you don’t have to decipher disorganized chicken-scratch, you can devote yourself to higher-level study and still have more time for relaxing.

And that’s it. Fifteen minutes a day and one afternoon a week to a stress-free end of semester. I dare you to try this. You’ll never go back.

 

Attention Bond Grrls “of a certain age”:

This is probably my most college-specific post to date, but there are still nuggets for you. No matter what you’re trying to remember or retain, daily and weekly reviews will be far more effective than sporadic info-binges. Try using this technique with updates in your field and see how much more you remember… effortlessly!

Feisty’s College Connection: Dorm Room Diet

Posted on by Sandy

Are you dreading the Freshman 15? I won’t lie to you. I was a victim of the Freshman-and-Sophmore 25! In fact, it took me all the way to grad school to figure out how to eat properly on campus. Campus cafeterias are full of temptations, from all-you-can-eat buffets to twice-daily desserts. But I learned how to beat them, and you can, too. Here’s a list of tips I wish someone had given me when I started university.

1. Save yourself for the really good desserts

If your cafeteria is anything like mine was, you could eat two desserts a day. That is the path to the Freshman 50! But you don’t want to deprive yourself. What’s a girl to do? I came up with a simple rule for myself: eat only the really good desserts. My college had a dessert night every few months with gourmet pastries. Every few weeks, we had a fancy dinner with luxury cakes. You know what, if I’m getting gourmet desserts every few weeks, I don’t mind missing out on the three-day-old apple strudel on the lunch cart today.

2. C is for coffee (That’s good enough for me)

Getting up for an 8 am class is hard. Sometimes your brain needs a little kick-start. But that doesn’t mean to grab a Venti Frappuccio. If you do, you can down 500 calories before you’re awake to enjoy it! To get your caffeine hit, get a regular coffee, load it with milk and sugar, and it’ll still be less calories than a “coffee drink.” If you want to consume 500 calories in a drink, that’s great. But just remember point #1. 

3. The new SS: soup and salad

Here’s a trick I learned from Barbara Rolls’ Volumetrics. If you eat a bowl of soup before your meal, you’ll naturally eat less of the main course. And you can eat a ton of salad, feel full, and not consume too many calories. It’s probably a good idea to eat at least one salad a day, anyway. And if someone else is preparing it, why not! A word of warning, though: stay away from the cream-based soups and go easy on the dressing. Those calories add up!

4. The janitor doesn’t cares if you finish your vegetables (or anything else)

Maybe you’re from a family where Mom wouldn’t let you have dessert if you didn’t finish your veggies. Maybe she used the “children are starving in Africa” line. This may have led you into the bad habit of cleaning your plate, even if you’re full long before that. Now that you’re on your own, no one cares! Certainly not the janitor who’s collecting the plates or emptying the garbage! Eat until you’re full, then stop. And remember, it takes the stomach 20 minutes to send the “I’m full signal” to the brain, so don’t rush for seconds right away.

5. Don’t eat out when you’re eating in

Most cafeterias I know offer some good choices… and some really bad choices. I could have had pizza and burgers twice a day for a year, if I wanted. But I bet you consider those “eating out foods” already. Think about how often you want to eat out and plan accordingly. Sure, grab a burger every now and then, but don’t make it your first pick.

 

Attention Bond Grrls “of a certain age”:

Okay, maybe you’re now faced with cooking your own meals. Spending hours cooking can be a time drain. But on the other hand, you can control exactly what you put in your body. You’re not subject to the whims of the Olga the cafeteria chef. Everybody can use the tricks above, not just college students. Just make sure that indulgences are special occasions, not everyday events.

Memories of World War I by Robinson Shepard (my grandpa) – page 6: Where Grampa finally gets to France.

Posted on by Sandy

After welcoming speeches by dignitaries we marched to, and boarded, one of the peculiar looking British trains. We rode as far as Winchester, where we marched up a steep hill to a British rest camp, “Winnal Downs.” There we had a meal of what the boys called “Oak Leaf Stew,” a very thin and tasteless watery soup, with a few things that looked like oak leaves floating in it.

The next morning we boarded a train and set off in the general direction of London. I was hopeful we were going through London, but a few miles short of there we turned off and pulled up on the Docks at Southampton. The Harbor was very busy and I saw the Narraganset! It looked like home and I realized what we were missing in England were Indian names.

On the docks at Southampton all the boys who were in evidence were put to work, but a few including me managed to keep out of the way behind piles of barracks bags and slept off the afternoon.

We got on a little Channel steamer and cast off in the middle of the night. We steamed as fast as possible across the English Channel with no zigzagging as had been done across the Atlantic. Rain began pouring down so everyone went inside and were four or five deep on the floor. Very rough passage and some were seasick. I wasn’t and went back on deck to avoid them.

Sunny France at last!! Charbourg at 3:30 a.m. pitch dark and pouring rain. After we got organized we started up a steep hill. Some of the boys started to sing and were promptly ordered to “shut up, the Germans will hear you.” With the rain pouring down and pitch dark, if any Germans were within 200 miles they were in a plane whose engines roared so loud one couldn’t hear himself think let alone soldiers singing, on the ground, to keep up their courage.

Next day I was on Guard duty and saw my first duty as an American soldier in France and I was to keep Portuguese soldiers out of a British Rest Camp. They had a camp nearby and tried to get in for more food, so it was said. They were all tall and big men, much larger than I and I had no arms of any kind, but I looked as fierce as possible and told them no admission, so they all turned around as meekly as possible, to my surprise and relief. Don’t remember how long we were in this camp, but came down to Cherbourg to a troop train. On the way down we passed a house where someone said Dumas wrote Les Trois Mousquetaires.

This train was composed of 40 and 8 cars. The first we had seen, but far from the last. Finally we started in the direction of Paris. Stopped in the freight yards of Caen (a good sized city, home of one of the professors I had at Besancon. Think it was Chauvenet, the Chemistry one, but am not sure.) Stayed there some time and on the next track was a string of freight cars, each composed of two immense wooden barrels. The word got around that this was wine, so a lot of boys got some in their mess kit cups. All you had to do was turn a spigot at the bottom of the barrel. However it was very cheap and very sour “pinard” issued to the “frogs” which is what the French soldiers were called in camp. Very few of us, if any, went back for seconds on the wine.

Memories of World War I by Robinson Shepard (my grandpa) – page 5: Where Grampa’s ship is the only American ship to land in Wales during the War.

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Finally the convoy of 23, with the British cruiser “Berwick,” started for Europe. The convoy was faster than the Berwick and several times had to wait for it to catch up. One day we had a submarine scare and the Berwick left (us) to chase the Sub and we never saw the Berwick again.

One of the unpopular aspects was the necessity of a daily shower. The shower room opened on the deck at both ends (no doors). A cold salt water shower in mid-Atlantic with a stiff wind blowing on you is not the most comfortable thing in the world, and it is also hard to dry off from a salt water shower.

Two days (although we didn’t know that) from the other side, two U.S.A. 4-stack destroyers appeared and how the boys cheered to see them, the Stars and Stripes. They were fast too, and kept circling the whole convoy, and once included a submarine scare and I thought sure we were hit. However, it was our guns. We had one in the stern. When our guns were fired the old cattle boat just shivered with the recoil.

The night before we landed those who could find a place were allowed to sleep outside. I found a place on one of the forward hatches and with overcoast under me and poncho over me went to sleep. About 3 a.m. came a driving rain. With the first few drops I wakened and retired to the Orlop deck and the poncho kept off most of the rain, but some of the boys were soaked to the skin.

LAND and were we glad to see it. We separated from the rest of the convoy and sailed up the Govars Estuary, docking at Cardiff, Wales on July 31st. I understand it was the only American Ship to land there during the War.

Solid ground again! What a welcome we got from the inhabitants!! It must have seemed miraculous to the war weary people, who had been at war for nearly 4 years, to see a shipload of soldiers appear from over the horizon, to be on their side.

Cardiff reminded me a lot of Boston – narrow crooked streets and buildings of 7 or 8 stories (the limit in Boston at that time). We marched, full pack, up the main street to the Welch [sic] Capitol building. It was extremely hot and carrying full pack and coming from weeks of relative inactivity many fell out and sat on the curb. As soon as a soldier did this a native would rush to him with a drink from a nearby Pub, and seeing this more and more feel out. When we got to the Capitol Plaza they played the Star Spangled Banner and while standing at attention several passed out.

Memories of World War I by Robinson Shepard (my grandpa) – page 4: Where Grampa heads towards the Front and sees the Halifax fire

Posted on by Sandy

NOTE: The most amazing part about reading this part of my Grandpa’s diary is that H (my “James”) and I were in Halifax for our honeymoon – and the historian who was showing us around told us about the fire that destroyed most of Halifax. Little did I know that my grandfather had been a witness to it!!!!!!!!!!!

+++++++++++++++++++

July 8 or 9th we got on the troop train and headed for New Hampshire. I was pretty excited when we stopped at Tilton for a few minutes, but I didn’t see anyone I knew. The curtains had to be down, but for some reason I was on “guard” and could go from one car to another so I stayed on the platform for some time hoping to at least see the taxi man, who would have told Father he had seen me – but no such luck. I had never seen beyond The Weirs, so Plymouth, West Rumney, Woodsville also was new to me. (Little did I suspect My Future – 1931 – was living in West Rumney, New Hampshire. I wonder if she saw the train go by.) [This was a note with respect to my grandmother – and the best part is the NEXT note is written BY my grandmother – MES – Myra E. Shepard!!] (NOTE: In July 1918 I was at home in summer, South Wentworth, but lived in Orford during the school year. MES) Near the Canadian border, the milkmen were just arriving and htey had dish pans of real cream that were passed around and everyone had a big drink. I remember how good it tasted.

Eventually we got to Montreal and backed down to the wharf and got our first sight of “HMT” Durham Castle, an old cattle boat used between England and South Africa. The “HMT” stood for “His Majesty’s Transport,” but it was always referred to as His Majesty’s Tub and was our home for the next three weeks. I was assigned to the orlop deck, two decks below waterline. The bunks were five high and htere was a great scramble to get the topmost. I got one next to the top, and luckily the fellow above me wasn’t seasick. Came up on deck in time to see us pull out and a fellow on the pier semaphored “Bon Voyage.” Started down the St. Lawrence River, but ran into a sandbar at Three Rivers, after a while we got off and the next morning passed quite near Charlettetown P.E.I.  Sunday morning and we could hear Church bells. Very peaceful passage and smooth sailing. However, after leaving the lee of the Island, it was very rough. I remember coming up from below as fast as I could, feeling very seasick. When I got to the deck, someone turned around and saw me and let out a yell so the crowd quickly parted and I got to the rail where a deep breath of fresh air cured me, and I didn’t whoop. Some of the boys seemed to think I put it all on, to get to the rail – but I stayed there! Should say the soldiers had only one deck, and there were so many that only one out of 5 or 6 could get to the rail. All the first class and ohter decks were occupied by the officers, and nursers, about 100. I heard that one officer was disciplined as he was overheard asking a nurse if she wanted to go down “to see the animals feed.”

Finally we got to Halifax and a calm harbor and stayed htere 3 days, until the convoy – 23 ships – among them the Mauretania – assembled. We were near enough to the city to see some remnants of the fire which had wiped out a good many buildings. We saw a long train which we fondly thought had come from Boston. There was one that used ot be at 9 p.m., Boston, whihc was due in Halifax about the time we saw this.

Those who wished could dive in for a swim, but remembering my Still River experience, I didn’t. Once we had to get into a small boat (don’t recall how) then with a pack (knapsack) climb a swinging rope ladder 25 feet or so back up to the boat. I thought I’d never make it! Toward the end I had all I could do to hold on and was glad then hands grabbed me and pulled me in. I guess others were the same and everyone seemed to be pulled in.

 

Feisty’s College Connection: Living Your Passion NOW

Posted on by Sandy

Psst, here’s a secret: the college years are probably the only time in your life when you’re not only encouraged but expected to live a passionate life. People expect young adults to be full of energy, enthusiasm, and idealism. This means that now’s the time to start exploring and pursuing the things that really interest you.

Your passion is unique. I can’t tell you what it is. It might be social justice, writing poetry, or playing a killer game of basketball. Maybe your passion is green living or hosting medieval feasts. Maybe it’s swimming with dolphins. But I guarantee that there’s something in your life right now that makes you feel tingly and happy inside whenever you’re doing it, or even thinking about doing it. 

Now, what are you going to do about it?

College is great because you’re surrounded by people who are just as passionate as you are. So a lot of the institutions that people already off in the “real world” need to hunt for, you’ve got at your fingertips. Here are a few:

Find or start a student club.

No matter what your passion is, there’s probably a club set up on campus devoted to it. If there isn’t, create one! You’d be surprised how many people flock to you once you start putting the word out.

Read the campus paper.

Your campus paper will give you tons of information, not only on campus politics and local happenings, but also on upcoming events and gatherings. And if there’s something you want to say, submit a classified ad or write an article yourself!

Go to events that interest you.

Most university websites have an “upcoming events” page. Get in the habit of checking it. You’ll probably find things that interest you. No matter how you hear about interesting things — like rallies, guest lectures, or homecoming games — go! There’s no time like the present!

Meet your new friends.

If you’ve done everything (or even a few things) listed above, you’ll start running into people who share your passion. Congratulations! You’re well on the way to having a new social clique. Just remember: always be on the lookout for more opportunities. You never know when you might find one.

 

Attention Bond Grrls “of a certain age”:

True, it might not be as easy for you to find the resources (or the time) to pursue your passion once you move beyond the hallowed halls of academia. But it’s still possible. There are still guest lectures, groups, and specialty magazines to connect you with “birds of a feather.” Even better, the people you meet will probably have lots of experience and knowledge to share!

Australian Wildfires

Posted on by Sandy

The article below appeared in The Age (a Melbourne newspaper) yesterday. It was sent to me by a Bond Girl down “under.” If you have the time to read it, its an incredible story.  As they say in Australia, I don’t know “how I would go” in the same situation!

I now understand the word ‘firestorm’

 

Luke van den Berk is the caretaker of a 33-hectare Kinglake West property, owned by the Macedonian Church. When the firestorm hit, he was trapped in the house with his children — sons Aaron, 13 and Khyle, 12, and daughter Brodee, 16 — and his girlfriend, Lois MacDonald, 42. This is their story

 

THERE wasn’t much warning.

 

I’m on a good basis with the national park rangers … they are over the fence from me. Ranger Tony Fitzgerald was giving us updates on what was happening, but as we got our last update we could hear the fire coming up the ridge behind us. He went down the hill of the national park on one of the tourist roads and came back up and said the fires were 700 metres away. He said: “You can leave now if you want to. If you want to stay we will help you out if we can.”

 

We decided to stay in the house. Within three minutes the flames were 30 to 40 metres high. There were horizontal sparks and embers — the wind was just incredible. The word “firestorm” — I have a clear understanding of it now.

We were inside the house and the noise outside was incredible. Sparks and embers were bashing up against the roof and the windows, the fence had caught fire, the woodpile against the house caught fire.

Then the windows started exploding — it sounded like a 747 taking off. It was broad daylight but it went dark because there was so much smoke and stuff — it just went dark.

The house was on fire. I had three attempts at getting everyone out safely — they were all in the lounge room. I kept going outside to see if we could get a decent path out, but the radiant heat was the killer. The first two times I went out, the radiant heat just forced me back in the house.

At that point I knew I had to wait for that initial part of the storm to pass over. Unfortunately, it consumed the house while we were in it. I shut all the bedroom doors.

We lost two cats and five kittens — I had to shut the bedroom door and we listened to them die. We saved our little dog, Cougar. It was traumatic for the kids. I had to shut the door because the windows had exploded and the bedrooms were on fire.

I made my third attempt at going outside. The radiant heat had passed a little, and I just thought, “We have to get out.” I had buckets of water outside. I took them in and got sheets and towels, dipped them into the water and wrapped everyone up over their heads and their faces and told them we had to go.

When we were 100 metres from the house, the roof collapsed. That was one or two minutes after we got out.

We ran out into the street. There were flames everywhere. You just looked down the street and there was devastation. It was like the army came in and bombed the whole thing with napalm.

We were running down the street. Gas cylinders were exploding. A lot of the cylinders had safety features on them … apparently when a gas cylinder heats up, a valve releases and all the gas comes out of the cylinder, so there was lots of shhhh noises.

A lot of cars were exploding — it was like a war zone. We had to step over power lines, go under power lines, there were power poles falling over in front of us, trees coming down everywhere.

And the noise — all I can compare it to is the sound of a 747 taking off. We were running down the street and the radiant heat was getting at us. We had to keep moving. If you stood still you would have shrivelled.

We ran down the street for about a kilometre — there was just no one, no one to help. My girlfriend was going, “Where the hell are the fire brigade?” I said, “We are on our own, we have got to go.” I just had to keep them going, I said, “Keep going, keep going, faster.”

We got to one house about a kilometre away and there was someone there spraying water on it. We took refuge in their house. There was a lady inside. We were probably there for about 10 minutes.

I was popping in and out of the house because I was paranoid about what was going to happen. His pump stopped working and then his balcony caught fire and I just went back in and said, “We gotta go.” My girlfriend didn’t want to leave. I started swearing: “We have got to go f—ing now.” We got the kids and the dog and we left … we left those people there. Fortunately we caught up with them at the third house we got to — our final refuge.

We went to another house where a man was watering down his house. He had his son with him. He told us to get inside and we felt quite safe. He was outside running round, wetting it all down. Then another 10 minutes went past and he said, “I can’t save it — we’ve got to go.”

We had to go only 50 metres over the road to the third house. It was owned by a lady who was a CFA member and she had left the firefighting front to come home and save her home. She was really well set up. She had fire pumps.

The kids sheltered in the basement part of the house — they were very traumatised. My daughter was having an asthma attack at that point. We had no medication and we had to get her down low on the floor because it was all full of smoke under the house as well. I just had to talk her through it, telling her, “You have just got to calm down, you have to breathe through it slowly, just relax, we are safe now.”

When she was feeling a bit better I went out and helped the men. We were there for about half an hour until the bulk of the flames had left. Then we were just going around the house blacking out spot fires.

We stayed there for probably about an hour and then went to the local CFA and slept on the floor there for the night.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

These fires were most likely set by people – arson. I heard on the news the other day that their Prime Minister (believe it was) stated that when (not if) they catch the folks who did this, they’ll consider it mass murder. I couldn’t agree more.


If you would like to donate to help specifically towards the Victoria Bush Fire, here is a link to the Red Cross’s appeal for the crisis.