Elmore Kindergarten

Children share their lockdown experiences.

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Playing with scraps - Viv's Covid postcards

by Vivien Newton

These postcards are created from my small tub of scraps and strips created in teh late 1980s.

Above - Brenda's Spring Surprise Birthday card

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Greek Island dreams - a 'wish I was' holiday postcard

Essence of Mountain trees - for my sister who lives in Wandiligong, near Bright.

Wedding Anniversary card for my friends who live blue and books.

Judy's Birthday bookshelf

Two Birthday cards from French Provincial fabric. The sunflower for my niece and the lavender and olives for the friend who bought the fabric in France, gave it to me for my birthday and had the matching table cloth on her kitchen table when I delivered the birthday present.

All the cards get a handmade stamp and handwritten message.

Coronavirus

by G Gillespie, April 2020

 

1. Covid-19 has come to town.

It’s given us quite a scare!

Of our public health, safety and daily lives,

We must be vigilant and aware. 

 

2. Washing our hand often during the day,

Personal isolation – is now the new normal.

The many thigs we did before,

Are now limited, restricted and formal. 

 

3. Wear gloves and a mask to the shops,

For only the things you need.

Take a list, be quick in and back home.

A very big change indeed. 

 

4. School is out, but no holidays.

Home schooling has become the trend.

Communicate online, and “be patient”.

We must see this through til the end.

 

5. Our grandparents too, must stay spate

A wave through the window will do.

A call on the phone, or Zoom or Skype,

Will have to keep us smiling through. 

 

6. The ANZAC Day parade has been cancelled.

It may give some pause for regret.

But from our driveways at dawn, we’ll remember,

And alone, or in pairs repeat, “Let We Forget”!

 

7. Our athletes, outdoors ventures and sporting codes

Have really taken a wack!

But team spirit, striving and adventure will never die!

Do worry – we’ll be back!

 

8. We’re glad we now have broad band,

For many are working from home.

Desperately keeping the wheels turning,

And trying to pay the rent, mortgage and loan.

 

9. Our economy is seeming to suffer

In this unprecedented time.

But many new plans are in place now, and

With consideration and compassion, we’ll be fine. 

 

10. Every-one with a job is “essential”.

Many people still go out to work each day.

The drivers, the builders, the farmers, police,

The posties, and the workers in the loading bay.

 

11. And then there are those in Health Care,

“THE HEROES” we all say.

They are our family members and loved ones – 

But we have to stay away.

 

12. For this enemy is a virus,

Stealthy and unseen.

We have to keep the medical staff well and safe,

Protected by Full Hygiene.

 

13. In other countries around the world,

The figures are very bleak.

Each person is a treasured soul – 

But thousands are passing each week. 

 

14. The families are sad; there are no funerals

The way we used to know.

Send our hugs, blow kisses from a distance.

In small groups, saying prayers as they go. 

 

15. The size of the funeral isn’t the measure,

Of all your life and your worth.

The love and joy you’ve given to others,

Will be remembered from your very birth.

 

16. Queen Elizabeth II is 94 now,

She remembers World War II and the pain,

So a special message she sent us,

Keep calm, carry on, and we’ll meet again. 

 

17. At Easter the streets were silent,

The churches were empty too.

A few Bishops broadcast the good news,

But in our lounge room on TV we had to view.

 

18. The Cathedral in Milan was majestic.

A solitary figure stood on the stair.

The angelic voice of Andrea Bocelli rose to heaven,

With ‘Amazing Grace’ for hope, and our prayer. 

 

 

19. The World is a different place now.

It can never be the same.

We are writing new chapters to lead us,

New measures and guidelines to frame. 

 

20. For we have good hope for our future.

We’ll steadily work our way through.

Doing the things that are required.

So keep love, faith and hope and be true. 

Isolation- the fine line

by Mari B-Li Donni

Isolation-the fine line installation was created as part of the 2020/21 Mental Health and Well being series. This installation depicts elements of the self as being disjointed and separated through isolation in particular during the current Covid19 lockdown. The accompanying poem was written for my exhibition ‘Remnants of a Winter’s Past’ 2018 but revamped for this installation.

Poem:

Isolation-the fine line 

Thoughts, thoughts and thoughts again

Many thoughts go through the brain 

When in hell and when in pain 

Glimpses of light and then of rain 

R U OK?? 

You're not to blame 

Alas, time to assess the game 

‘Tis the fine line, and think again

 

2018 (edited 2020)

Belinda's recreation of Picasso's Portrait of Jacqueline

My friend Kirsty shared an art challenge from a Californian gallery and said “You could probably do all of these.” I took that as a challenge, but rather than mimic the ones already recreated, I set about making my own set of recreations, using only what I had at home during lockdown.

Medium- dress ups, face paint, photography.

Cityscape at Night II

by Angela Morrissey

This artwork has been painted in an Expressionist style. Expressionism is an artistic and literary movement originating in Germany at the beginning of the 20th century, which sought to express emotions rather than to represent external reality: characterised by the use of symbolism and of exaggeration and distortion. With this composition I have blurred the imagery in order to create a distorted night scene which is how I see the world at night due to having a rare eye disease called Keratoconus. Having Keratoconus is like seeing the world through a windscreen on a rainy day. Everything is blurred, distorted and grey.

Life in lockdown has been hard on me as I cannot use public transport. I have Type 2 Diabetes and if I get COVID-19 then it could prove to be fatal as I have a history of Pneumonia and if you get COVID-19 you might develop Pneumonia! I cannot afford to get sick. So, no riding buses or catching taxis for me. I have to stay at home.

The cityscape that I have painted represents the empty streets since public transport has been reduced in some areas and there are curfews and people haven’t been able to drive their cars at certain times. I wanted to capture the eerie atmosphere of this “new normal.” Whatever that means!

Carousel Blanket

by Ruth Hyland

Pattern designed and created by Sue Pinner. I fell in love with the design and purchased the yarn years ago, and finally during lockdown l had the time to actually make it!

by Mary Kerlin

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Clay Sculptures

by Virginia McKenzie

Medium: Air dry clay

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Robber Bear - The Great Toilet Paper Heist

Bendigo Bear Hunt, March 2020

Remote Learning

by Linda McNeil

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Iso walk - Chapel in the fog

by Shae H

Strange times indeed

By Colin Robinson

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Children watching online storytime

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The home

by Sven Svendelson

There was never an option.
To live was to be on place
Get most of what I needed
Then a choice to leave
A searching for self, for the individual
A lonesome undertaking
Wallowing in the shadow
A loved one with their back to you
Subtle pain ensued
A whisper on the wind
A delicate touch
Longing for what has been lost
We are all sick now…or later
Humans
The Great Separators
We are here, the land is not
She’s been sick for a long time,
Patiently waiting for reason
Forgiving our short-sightedness
Gently giving warnings
The rain falls more quietly
The sun burns with anger
The ground cracks in defiance
The river blooms green
This is the beginning
Let’s take it back,
That which used to mean something
The home

Chris Donnelly

Written by Marion Yates

“At first, to be honest I probably didn’t even want to do it because I was terrified of the environment, having so little experience even just with old age, let alone dementia. But I love it now and I will continue to do it, as long as I have the time.”

“I’m fine in a room full of drunken dickheads. But a bunch of older people requiring a very different kind of attention is just something I’d had no experience with.”

“I get a lot out of it. It took me a while because I was so nervous every time I was in there. I don’t know them, and they don’t know me. It is a weird interaction. But it’s a good thing to be exposed to. Old age; it’s coming for us all.”

Chris started volunteering with Castlemaine Health supporting their library service to residents before the current public health crisis. Now he has found himself working on the coal face during the pandemic. The people he helps, and cares for, are among the highest risk group in our community.

Recently, he’s been asked to fulfill a role completely unimagined before the times of Carona.

“As of today, residents in the aged care unit are allowed to have guests again. They need someone on the door taking people’s temperatures, checking that they’ve had a flu shot, and running through a standard bunch of questions, like: “Are you sick? No? Good.”

Chris has a wry, self deprecating humour that comes through when he speaks about the contribution he makes to community life. But despite this the meaning he finds in quietly helping people is apparent.

“It’s a nice thing to be involved in, particularly at the moment where you’re otherwise doing nothing. To go and facilitate people being able to see their elderly parents.”

“It’s the first time in 7 or 8 weeks a lot of them have seen their kids. Without the attachment with the outside world it’s an incredibly dark world in many ways. But the staff are incredible. People who work in that world, I will eternally be impressed by.”

I can’t help but think of my sister and her husband who both work in a local nursing home kitchen. It strikes me that Covid 19 has brought the societal value of roles like the ones Chris and my sister fulfill, into sharp focus. A profound part of their seemingly mundane work is the human connection they’re offering to the residents living in these institutional spaces. And never more so than during an extended public health lock down.

Chris is a local Jack of Many Trades, among those most recently in his work repertoire are: Removalist, Band and Bar tender, TV show Runner, Pub Home Delivery Driver, and Librarian!

Chris works as a casual at Castlemaine Library where he got his start volunteering with the Home Library Program, which led him to volunteering at the hospital facilitating the use of the Castlemaine Library collection for their aged care residents.

“Annie, who spearheads the library service at the hospital, told Jess she could use a hand with the selection and delivery of Goldfields Library resources. I became that hand.”

But despite his diverse capacities, Chris is one of the many casual workers locally, whose lives and incomes have been upended by the pandemic.

“On the whole I’ve been pretty happy to just to hang out at home until recently. Everything is pretty precarious financially and housing wise. Most of our friends are in the same boat. I don’t know you just get on with it don’t you? You don’t have much choice.”

Chris talks about how difficult it has been to get a foot in the door of permanent employment locally, and about the unexpected support he’s received from Goldfields Libraries who have continued to pay their casual employees throughout the public health shut downs which resulted in so many suddenly losing their jobs overnight.

“I was staggered. It was amazing to me that they were doing that for casuals. The timing was very important because there was no Job Keeper payment yet. We relied on that income for the first month.”

“It's nice to have a CEO regularly telling casuals that their jobs still exist. It took me a long time to get an in, and I’ve very much valued being told that that door is still open."

Chris talks about one of the Castlemaine Health aged care residents he visits regularly.

“I’d been told he was a bit difficult. “Sorry he’s very up and down. He likes the Monarchy, and he likes Navy vessels, and that’s it. ” And then I started talking to him and realised “You’re not what I’ve been told at all.””

“I’ve really enjoyed being able to take what I was told about this person, and then through chatting to him and looking at what he had around in his room, realising this is someone who is far more interesting than just liking the Monarchy and boats.”

“I started bringing him weird stuff and just seeing how he’d go with it. We started watching Warhol stuff from the 60’s. Like, really cool stuff. Or even just books on Street Art, which is very, very different to Renaissance painting. And seeing how it goes and just sort of relating as humans.”

I proceed to embarrass Chris by sharing my observation about his capacity for genuine sensitivity and patience in this role he’s started out with so much trepidation about. After being given a couple of dot points about who a person is, he’s gone in there with a curiosity and gentleness, and just listened and connected with him.

“He’s a really sweet, curious old fella. And we’ve formed quite a good relationship.”

Black Cockatoos

By John Kelly

Am enjoying poetic company.

The Sun is with me, trustingly.

Black Cockatoos snap twigs, at ease 

The pace is slack, careful, and bleak.

And so I move, a Covid warrior, meek;

To thank the Lord for the peace I seek.

Trace Balla

Written by Marion Yates

“The Library is in my book!” 

Trace holds up an illustration from her most recently published book “Landing with wings”, and I immediately recognise our ionic circulation desk, and Castlemaine Library manager, Jess Saunders' luscious red hair!

“Libraries have always been somewhere where I have felt very safe. It’s a nurturing place for me and a place for exploring. And these days it’s a place where I get to share, through my work. It's giving back, which is lovely. Just this week I made some little films for kids activities for Goldfields Libraries.”

Trace, like many working in the creative industries has been hugely impacted by the current public health measures. She lost about 20 beautifully planned book launch events at schools, libraries and festivals within 3 days, representing a large portion of her year’s income.

“Because I had all the books for the launches, a lot of locals came and bought them at a little table at my back gate. But I had to send a lot of copies back. I’ll get lending rights if people go to the library and borrow my books. But they can’t do that now. It would be so great if people can buy my books online.”

Nature connection is a common theme throughout Trace’s books, and is central to her self care practices. We talked about how lucky we are to be living close to the bush, particularly at the moment, and how difficult it must be for people living in confined spaces who are isolated at the moment, and don’t have access to human touch or nature.

Trace has made what she calls a community heart space in her neighbourhood; a shared space where people can go for some impromptu nature therapy and a sense of togetherness, even though they are physically separated.

“The trees are in a sort of circle. Early on we had a dance and a sing with less than ten of us, but we can’t do that anymore. So, I’ve put string between the trees, and people are going there on their own and hanging things, feathers, god’s eyes, and just growing it. When I’m down there I sing something, and I know other people are singing something. I’m doing my gratitudes and my prayers down there.”

“I'd encourage people to do that in their neighbourhood, and when you go there, you’ll feel you’re not alone.”

“Hugging those trees is absolutely crucial for me. Laying with my belly on the earth.”

Listening to Trace speak, I’m inspired to do just that. The ceremonial practices of our First Nations people also come to mind; how central such spaces for community and spiritual connection have been and still are within their culture.

Trace’s positivity is profound and generous. She is just coming to the end of 14 days in isolation herself, her adult son having returned from a high risk environment. The two of them have been living at opposite ends of the house.

“I haven’t touched anyone in over three weeks.” She says smiling and stroking her cheeks and hugging herself warmly.

“People say to me when they read my books “I really felt like I went to that place.” I feel that is a bit of a calling for me at the moment; just to help the people struggling with being stuck inside. That’s the greatest thing I can do for the suffering at the moment.”

“I’m really trying to be aware of the language I’m using around this. I’m not saying social distancing or social isolation. I’m saying spacious connection. It's subtle. But it does make a difference how you frame something. We’re being spacious to help keep each other safe.”

“Solitude is a good thing. Loneliness is a hard thing.”

“In the morning I look in the mirror and I say “we’re gonna get through this.”

Letter to my pre-Covid self

By Barbara P

Dear self,

You took a lot of things for granted before we all got this wake-up warning of an illness which isn't choosy about who or where it takes hold.
When you last saw your sons in Melbourne for a start. Living in country Victoria has made it safer from the Co-Vid virus but it also isolated us from the visits on weekends or during holidays when we could all catch up.

Now we use computers which is better than nothing but Internet isn't always reliable here and often faces are blurry or indistinct.

You miss your friends especially Marion who you share lots of love and laughter with.  You miss going out for dinner and just meeting up for a coffee.

You miss sleeping in Box Hill and nights together in front of T.V chatting and looking at stupid stuff on Facebook. Especially you miss hugs and face to face company.

So you will try to cultivate the garden and you enjoy that.  There's no excuse not to have time to be creative!
Make sure you have the time to keep up with friends on the phone and tell people they are important in your life.
It could end quickly as we have seen all around the world.

Remember your silly drawings.  They usually make you laugh.

Look at nature, it is doing it's best now with less pollution from traffic on roads and the sky.
People are seeing sights they had forgotten such as the tops of mountains.

Most importantly remember to appreciate your social times because during Co-Vid 19 they won't happen as much.  You will have to cue 1.5 meters apart to enter shops and limited numbers will be allowed inside.  Restaurants will only serve take-away and Pubs will close.

You might be drinking too much and getting fat so remember about indulging and bulging!

Look after your pets and your mental health!

Good Luck during this pandemic Barbara.

Melissa Laragy-Walker

Written by Marion Yates

“Even though I’m 50, I feel like a 16 year old. I don’t want to die. I want to live until I’m 100. When I got the flu I thought I was going to die. It was the scariest experience of my life.”

Melissa is one of the high risk people living with complex health issues in our community. As a person with disabilities she faces huge added challenges during this public health crisis. She has had a virus with symptoms similar to those of Covid-19 throughout the entire shut down period.

“I have this thing and I just couldn’t kick it. My 17 year old daughter went into the GP for an unrelated reason, and she came out and said “Mum you have to go to a Carona clinic tonight.” I thought “Oh. OK. they’ve got my daughter to tell me.””

“We went to the drive through testing station at the Lyttleton St clinic. And that was fine. But really late that night I got scared. Because I knew that it was the second week where it all goes wrong. I don’t generate fevers because my immune system is so surpressed. My immune system doesn’t fight. So, I could be ravaged by an illness and not know. And I thought if I’ve got this, I’m in trouble.”

Melissa is a staunch character. She speaks frankly about the challenges of living with relentless pain and complex debilitating symptoms, as well as the side effects of medications which themselves significantly impact functioning. She would not describe herself as such, but she is clearly a strong and vocal advocate for people living with disability in our community.

Simple tasks like grocery shopping have always been extremely arduous for Melissa, but now the busy local supermarket has become a frightening environment for her to navigate.

“I just think about the IGA as a hot spot for the virus. I was petrified to go in there. I was going down there at 8 o’clock at night to avoid the crowds.”

“Shopping is one of the hardest things I do. Because it just takes so much energy. I’m slower. They had special provision for the elderly only, with special opening hours.”

Home delivery of groceries doesn’t suit Melissa as she likes to be as self-sufficient as possible. But she has found the public health safety procedures put in place by supermarkets during the pandemic haven’t worked well for people with disabilities.

Melissa refers to local online discussions early in the pandemic about the issue of empty supermarket shelves during the stock piling frenzy.

“Everyone comes up with these ideas that they think will be great. And often they won’t help. Everything everyone was talking about made me in more danger. All the conversations were about what would suit well people. Limiting to one of each item per person means people end up going to the supermarket every day. It was more busy not less. And that was the time I thought I could be screwed.”

“All I could think was there are people who are bed ridden and house bound who can’t get food. They could be dying in their beds.”

Melissa has not been eligible for extra in home community supports because she has a job which she is on extended sick leave from.

“Finally found out I could get NDIS. I got a new worker who rang me up. She's been amazing. She works for one of the Agencies that help you apply for NDIS. It’s crazy. I’m not stupid. And I can’t do it. Because of my disbility I get really overwhelmed. I used to be a really organised person and now I can’t remember what day it is or what I’m supposed to do.”

Melissa and I are both big local social media forum participants. I first met Melissa online after appreciating her wry humour and thoughtful contributions to discussion about various local issues. As a person with very limited mobility, Melissa finds the local online groups a useful way to keep in touch with what’s going on in the community, and to have immediate social contact without having to go out.

“I never get upset. I’m usually giggling when I’m posting. But some of the online chatter and the media around the pandemic has pissed me off.”

“The whole conversation throughout this pandemic is that it only effects the old and the immune suppressed. So, they’re the ones that are going to die. And then there are people demanding to know “Why are we in lockdown?”. I heard that at least 50 times a day. It’s a constant message.”

“It’s because they live in a country where they’re not going to be effected by it. They're not at risk. It is a medical privilege.”

“I felt like through this pandemic that I am disposable. And I feel that people are speaking for me. They’re really caring lovely people who are doing the speaking, but they’ve got not clues about the reality of living with a disability.”

“I started getting attacked and ridiculed online. Because I would not stop. I’m not going to perpetuate harmful attitudes by saying nothing. But when I speak about my experiences people think I’m looking for sympathy.”

We’ve all heard some of the dehumanising messaging about at risk groups through various media channels. Yet there is a risk that while noticing how problematic it might be, we become desensitized to the impact it is having on those same people.

Melissa’s perspective is a wake up call. There have been times that I have been that well meaning voice speaking for people with disabilities, commenting about the lack of support during the pandemic, rather than listening carefully first.

I’ve learned a lot from Melissa. She apologizes for occasionally for “carrying on”. I tell her that I think what she is doing is incredibly brave, and important. Boldly articulating her experience.

Foster Cat

by Jennifer Mitchell

"These photos of our foster cat taken during lockdown seem to tell a more general story of lockdown life - from the early days spent under the doona or peering out from behind the couch through to the excitement of new and entertaining at home activities, some wistful moments, backyard fun in the sun and the comfort of togetherness."

  

  

  

  

Corona Complexity

By Barbara Petrie

When Frizz got home it was nearly two in the afternoon.  The house smelt of stale beer so she opened the windows and left the back door open. 

The lounge room wasn’t too bad.  Bo had cleared most of the mess before he flaked out.   There were a few chip remnants and some ash near the back entrance.   Stale beer permeated so she opened the kitchen window and sighed.

The back yard was in disarray.  Some of her bushes were broken and the path to the clothesline had butts and spilt red wine patches here and there.  At least they took it outside she thought.

She dragged out the hose and sprayed the path.  She’d get Bo to rake all the butts up and buy her a few new shrubs…and some new pots for them.   

Bo appeared in the back yard. 

This Corona thing is starting to look serious.  They reckon its killed hundreds in China and its spread around with travellers who weren’t quarantined.

Bloody Hell, every year we have a new flu of some kind.  Frizz shrugged.

Yes, Emma was telling me about it.  Some of her friends are saying it’s become a Pandemic and a lot of specialists she knows says it affects respiratory areas causing death.  There aren’t enough respirators to go around and no cures!

I hope it doesn’t spread here in Australia.  Frizz thought about Emma working in a Hospital.  She had an image of her being bombarded with germs and bringing them home to the twins.

It’s a real worry.  One of the cruise ships, the Ruby Princess came back and people had the virus on board.  But they still let them off and now they’ve infected others who’ve spread it further.  Bo’s forehead creased.

Panic buying has started in the shops.

Well, we’ve plenty of dunny rolls.  I bought up knowing we’d need more with the blokes coming over.

Good thinking love.

We’ll be right for a while.

But elsewhere people were listening to media and gossip.  Panic buying had begun making toilet rolls and sanitiser shortages and other products started to vanish too. Tinned foods, fresh.  All kinds of soap and detergents.  Toilet cleaners, tissues. Elderly people couldn’t get the things they needed.

Disarray and fear ran through communities quicker than wind in a storm.

People were advised to keep a safe distance from each other and cases of sickness started to increase.

I can’t believe this.  I needed tissues and toilet paper, a few groceries and long-, life milk.  Emma came in, the back door banging leaving the twins in their stroller in the back yard.

I could only get one packet of two rolls.  Half the other stuff I needed just wasn’t there!

Oh, hi love.  You can take some of ours, I bought a forty eight pack last week before Bo’s party.

Thanks Mum, maybe I’ll take just two.

This panic buying is crazy!

I’ll just get the boys.

Right. I’m putting the kettle on.  Do you need a hand out there?

Thanks Mum.  You can grab Jacob.

Frizz happily put the kettle back.

It’s lucky I’m a nurse, said Emma.  I have a card which allows me to drive about and I can ferry the boys around.  The childcare centre has closed so I’ll be relying on you more Mum, I’m sorry to say. 

You know it’s a pleasure dear.  Anytime.

Well, you have Dad to look after too.

He’s bearable, just.  Frizz smiled and wiped at her fringe.  You can cut my hair for me.  I bet the hairdresser isn’t open now.

The last I heard you can make an appointment for a maximum of a half hour bur I don’t know if that’s still the case.

Ok, mum.  Your on.  

Bo was worried.  He was still snivelling after his bug and sometimes he woke after having a sore throat.  That was probably from snoring he told himself.  But what if he’d caught something from someone else?  

Can we get tested at the hospital?

Dad you don’t need to do that do you?

Well, remember that bug I had not long ago and I’m not entirely well from it you know. 

That was a flu Dad.  You’re just a bit run down.  See your G.P if you think you need to.

I will and I’ll see if I can get tested.

Well I’d better too.  I’d probably have it if you did.

Frizz put channel 24 on and watched with fear as the shots from Los Angeles appeared.  It was in lock down and thousands were infected.

Images of Ambulances with covered stretchers and masked white dressed medics hurrying across the screen.  The death toll across the planet was mounting.  It was mysterious and frightening.

God what a time to have babies thought Emma.  She stroked their soft cheeks and smiled sadly down as they were playing on the floor.

Lucky, I breast feed them but not lucky to be single and still needing financial help from their Dad.

She knew her mum and dad were safe.  They were just being over cautious, as usual.

Just wait a little while dad.  I think they’ll begin testing soon if they suspect an outbreak.  I know we’ve had deaths in Australia but mostly in New South Wales.

And they’ve been linked to travellers and the cruise ships.

Well Eric’s travelled recently.

That was three months ago love.

Well this thing started in China.  In the wet markets.  Eric didn’t go to China.  He went to Bali, to look for love.

He didn’t find it either.  The ugly bastard.

Emma laughed.  Still fighting with him Dad.

Yeah, he was a pain in the arse last Friday.  Drunk and nasty as usual.  Bo sat down and the chair gasped airily.

I’m going for a walk soon to see about getting some movement.   

Just keep a safe distance from others Bo.  That’s what they’re saying.  1.5 metres to be exact.

Alright then, where’s me tape measure?

Ha, ha Dad.  Just be careful.

You can try to get more loo paper then.  You guys used a few.

When are you going?

After lunch.  I’ll make a toasted cheese sanger.  Anyone else want one?

Yes please.  I will. Said Frizz.  

Me too and the boys can have some pureed apple.  I have some right here.

Emma rummaged in the baby bag and produced some home made food in jars.  Then she picked up a boy and sat him in the high chair that she once used as a baby.  

One of Frizz’s better hordes.  It was white, wooden and sturdy with a slide out tray and leather straps.

After Emma fed the babies she scrolled through her phone.  She saw in Mexico they were turning off ventilators for people over 60.

  A Doctor was crying and saying they were losing all their parents and their wise elders. There weren’t enough ventilators to save the young.  It was nightmarish.

She looked at her parents and was frightened to imagine how it could possibly have gone this far.  It was here too.  One of the families in the state had caught it and others in aged care were getting it.

Eighty- four people had died and the numbers were increasing.  It was like science fiction.  Bacteria smaller than ants eyeballs lying in white spaces in the atmosphere taking out unsuspecting humans.  There was no doubt about it.  Nature was awesome and  destructive if left unchecked.

How could it happen and who could we blame?

She wondered if children could ever go back to school.  Would anything ever be the same?

Social Distancing

by Sue Murray

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Ginny Thomas

Written by Marion Yates

Ginny started sewing 6 years ago. She decided if she wanted to learn to sew, she should know the machine, so she taught herself at home via Youtube videos. Then she started rescuing sewing machines from the local tip and repairing them. 

“I fell in love with the machines! I now repair, service and collect sewing machines. I rescued a lot of secondhand machines and then thought I could use these to teach migrant women to sew.”

Ginny now works for the Bendigo Chapter of nonprofit organisation Sisterworks Inc doing just that; supporting women migrants, asylum seekers and refugees, mostly from the local Afghan, Sudanese and Karen communities.

“My parents are Chinese; second World War migrants to Singapore. I was born in Malaysia. I grew up reading in the papers about Vietnamese refugees arriving in Malaysia. I have empathy for people having lost their homes through war.”

“I train migrant women to empower them through work. I would like to give Sisterworks a big plug. We need volunteers to work with and engage migrant women in the region.”

Three years ago, Ginny got involved with the local grassroots sewing group Boomerang Bags Castlemaine and surrounds, who volunteer their time to sew cloth shopping bags for the community to use and return, all for free.

“The whole community embraced it fully. Lots and lots of fabric donation! It was like the French Resistance! We were all running around, dropping things, picking up things. It is still happening!”

During the current public health crisis Ginny has turned her sewing passion towards helping health workers as well as high risk individuals living in the local community. Her home sewing space has turned into a mini production line with a huge heart. Given the nationwide shortage of Personal Protective Equipment, she is teaching the Bendigo Sisterworks women to sew homemade masks and gowns to help reduce the risk people on the front line are facing.

“My boss just rang to ask me about the possibility of training our migrant sisters to pump out 500 masks for health workers!”

The local Boomerang Bags chapter along with other local crafters are also part of a grassroots network responding to calls from health services as well as at risk individuals. There’s a whole network of crafters making homemade masks and gowns to literally help save people’s lives.

These homemade masks are not rated for full protection from Covid 19 in public or health care settings, however they have been shown to provide good barrier protection from large air born droplets, and for people absent mindedly touching their faces!

Ginny and her family are big users of the Castlemaine Library, for study, work, research, and a welcoming safe community space.

“When we first moved here 10 years ago and did not have internet, no air con and limited heating, the library was our second home. My kids were voracious readers when they were younger! The library has become our family meeting place, as we live out of Castlemaine.

“And our first local Boomerang Bags sewing get together was in the library.”

“The Castlemaine community drew me in. It is a very supportive community and I am so, so lucky I am living here with a huge number of people who share my values. It is huge to be part of a community that cares! For a long, long time, I felt that I was a square peg in a round hole. Now I am just enjoying being me.”

by Anonymous

I became electro-sensitive about four years ago after a smart meter, unbeknownst to me, was installed on an outside wall, directly behind where my head was in bed.

A week later I started experiencing symptoms including ringing in my ears, nausea, headaches, dizziness, irritability, brain-fog, flashing lights before my eyes and a debilitating buzzing feeling throughout my body.

A month later I was so ill I could hardly get through a birthday party without experiencing these worsening symptoms as well as others that made life very difficult such as uncontrolled urination.  Two months later and I could not get out of bed to go to work.  Three months later, with my hair falling out in clumps, I was sleeping outside in the back yard in a tent; it was the only place that seemed to give me some sort of respite from whatever was making me sick.

In utter desperation, I bought a small minivan and left Melbourne, my husband, our home, pets, verdant food-garden and my career in academia, and commenced a solitary existence; camping in state and national parks, mainly around the Goldfields area as I have friends and family in that region.  The longer I stayed away from places with wireless radiation, the better I felt.  Gradually my health improved, enabling me to make brief forays back to Melbourne to see my family, shop and do ‘normal’ things.  Retreating to the forest to sleep in my van at nights allowed my body to recover from whatever radiation insults it had received during the day.

Whilst on my peripatetic wanderings, I would communicate with friends and family by typing my sms messages, hitting send, then after taking the phone off flight mode and turning on the wireless function, walking away to let it update.  Local libraries provided me with a lifeline, being my main means of sending/receiving emails. They also provided me with a never-ending supply of books, reading being one of the few activities available to me.  Living as a virtual recluse in the forest, even the inane chit-chat that came with dropping in at libraries was valued.

Being based in a van, especially in Victoria’s cold winters, proved challenging.  I began house-sitting for friends, and friends of friends, to obtain some respite.  Even so, potential jobs had to be thoroughly researched before I could commit to a house-sit.  Factors such as whether the WiFi could be turned off, and the distance from the bedroom to the smart meter, were of crucial importance.

Things were looking good in February 2020.  I had been living in my van on a friend’s property on the outskirts of a small country town, caretaking and looking after the animals, whilst the owner was at work in Melbourne during the week.  I had a solid bank of house-sits lined up for five months, which would take me through central Victoria’s chilly winter.  Little did I know that COVID-19 would soon bring these plans to a grinding halt.

Just after Victoria’s Labour day long weekend in early March, in a matter of days, every one of my house-sits was cancelled.  Nobody was going to be departing for their courses, workshops or holidays.

Quite a few of my house-sit friends were very kind, and offered to have me stay with them, even though they were not going away.  “You can still stay in the spare room” they said, “it would be lovely to have you anyway” I was told.  This was so kind of them, and I nearly cried at their compassion.  But alas, after thinking about it, I realised it would not be workable.

I explained to them what I would do in the past, after being left in charge of the house.  The first step was to go around and switch off all wireless signal-emitting devices; computers, TVs, air conditioning units, cordless phones, the lot.  The next step was to go around and turn off and unplug nearly everything from electrical sockets; lamps, digital clocks, stereo systems, until only essentials such as the fridge and the washing machine were left on.  The final step, for whichever bedroom I was in, was to move the bed into the middle of the room, away from wall sockets.  Sometimes even all these precautions were not enough and I would end up spending nights out in my van.  But at least I had a warm and dry place to inhabit during the day.

Clearly, if I were to insist on these measures, there was no way that my house-sit friends would be able to live a normal life, with me as a houseguest!

However, the situation quickly became even worse.  I was in the nearby library, talking to the librarian, who assured me that she had not had any word of libraries being closed down.  I was going to get some books but decided I would do it the next day.  I left the library at 3pm; by 5pm the doors were shut and a notice was up, stating that the library was closed for the foreseeable future.  My lifeline had vanished, overnight.  Ready access to emails was gone.  The books that I was looking forward to reading were unobtainable.  There was nowhere to retreat to and read when it got unbearably cold and wet during winter.

I began to pack my things to ‘go bush’ again, thinking that I might be able to escape the cold which was about to descend in April by travelling north, to warmer climes.  I was too late.  State borders had already started closing.  National and state parks, even caravan parks, were now off-limits, and people would be up for steep fines if found travelling too far from ‘home’.

The people who owned the land that I had been caretaking earlier in the year kindly offered me the use of a caravan on their property.  This I gladly accepted only to find out, with the first downpour, that it was far from watertight.  Two months later, moss was beginning to grow inside the caravan walls.  I realised that this was also not a healthy place to be, even if only to read a book on a cold day.  Finally, a neighbour offered to rent me her Airbnb granny flat.  Serendipitously, it is a one-room steel-clad unit with a corrugated iron roof.  Wireless signals do not seem to penetrate it.  Even so I have had to move the bed into the middle of the small room and switch off all the power points at night.

Hibernating in the flat has been a godsend, not only from this very wet Victorian winter, but also to steer clear of the COVIDSafe app.  With so many more phones now Bluetooth-activated, the radiation from someone’s device in the supermarket, even from two metres away, can mean that I end up with a splitting headache.  But at least people don’t look at me as if I am crazy when I move away from them, as they assume that I am simply socially distancing!

Government-mandated isolation can be especially lonely for people with electro-sensitivities and lack of access to safe technology.  Friends and family have been organising Zoom and Skype conferences to catch up; they wonder why I don’t attend.

As bad as the shutdown was, the easing of restrictions has also not been good for me.  Although things are re-opening and most people are starting to get back to normal, none of my housesitting has resumed as overseas travel is still out.  And now my landlady is signalling that she will soon wish to put her flat back on the Airbnb market; she can make more money via Airbnb than what I can pay in monthly rent.  In the meantime, national and state parks are opening up – but only for those who have a caravan or camper van with an onsite toilet and shower.  My little van has neither.

So again, I am stuck in a grey area, not able to go anywhere, and perhaps with nowhere to stay, and with radiation increasing by the day….”

Eaglehawk North Primary School

Students share their COVID19 experiences via Life in Lockdown postcards.

(scroll for more images)

Ronnie Moule

Written by Marion Yates

I have known Ronnie for 14 years. She is my GP, but she is much more than that! There are many layers to Ronnie’s story, but I wanted to try to uncover some of the human story of this extraordinary and generous community care giver during the Covid 19 pandemic.

We talk about many things, often in my consultations; while she’s taking my blood pressure, or filling in my patient file, we’ll have rapid fire conversations about everything from the profound nature of the feminine and what it is to be a woman within societal structures, to the experience of the fight-flight response in a pandemic.

Ronnie talks about her own responses to the public health crisis as a frontline health care worker with a mix of laser sharp analysis and curiosity.

“My thinking is different in that fight-flight response state. My usual way is more a sitting and being-with state. This was quite a fantastic charged space to be thinking within. That was pretty fascinating!”

“Four of the six positive tests in Mount Alexander Shire, were done at the Mostyn Street Clinic [where Ronnie’s practice is based]. The first case of Covid 19 in Castlemaine, that was my patient.”

”So, that heightened thinking came in very early on for us, when all we could see was what was happening in the world, in places like Italy and New York, and the extraordinary case and mortality statistics.”

“I was in hypomania; that finely focused thinking, and highly energised state, where you’re assessing every situation and logistical problem on the fly, in the context of this risk. It was very linear thinking, which was strange for me because I usually take more of a broader view. It’s an unusual state to be in.”

“It was a question of here we are now managing with six positive cases. And then that thinking of what happens if 20% of the population were tested positive? For us that would mean 1000 positive tests coming through our clinic. And how would we manage that volume? And so, in addition to the processes we had to put in place, there was a whole extra plan to manage the contingencies.”

The Mostyn Street Clinic put a range of processes in place early on, including the closure of the front door and redirection of patients to the back ramp where all patients could have temperature checks and be triaged as to whether they could come into the building. They also set up, and continue to conduct, a drive through test station in their car park.

“We ran reception on the back ramp for 1-2 weeks. The car park was the waiting area. Some consultations were done in the car park, or clinic garden. We have been doing all swabs in patient’s cars – they drive in, we have a telephone consultation, then full PPE, wind down the window, swab, wind up the window and drive out.”

“That first case - I remember that particular conversation - they were in the car looking forward talking and I was standing about two meters behind them just clarifying things before the swab. “I want you to talk that way, and I’m going to stand over here, so the droplets are going that way.” The physicality of it was interesting in the moment. The awareness of where my hands go, where I stand.”

I’m familiar with the heightened fight-flight state Ronnie described - the power of the response to threat, whether perceived or real. It’s something we’ve all experienced in some way or another in our lives. I ask Ronnie if she felt fear at the onset of the pandemic.

“There was a fear that if one goes down we all go down. I think it was 10% -15% of cases overseas were healthcare workers. I didn’t feel that I would be a mortality statistic. But you never quite know the answer to that question though. There was always a bit of fear. But that was placed aside, and not at the front of my thinking.”

“What was fascinating was that the hospital was exceptionally quiet. We were super, super, super busy at the clinic, the busiest I’ve ever seen in General Practice. And then everyone fled. No one went to the hospital. And then elective surgery was canceled. And so, there was this staffed quietness, sort waiting, waiting, and wondering.

“And there was this feeling: I don’t know how big this is going to get.”

“But the storm actually hasn’t come. It will be interesting to see what does come. Certainly, there has been a bit of an increase in Victoria recently. It’s hard to know whether the tracing and quarantine of people effected will prevent a bigger outbreak.”

**

Ronnie talks with her body: hands, shoulders, chest and face. She is a big thinker, and she articulates her thoughts with great clarity, but it is through her body that she gives fullness to what she is expressing. Her gesticulation is abundant and delightful - even on Zoom!

“I think coming down from that hypomanic state, that always feels a bit vulnerable. But with that comes insight which I really love. I’m quite practiced at sitting in my vulnerability and it’s something that I do like to honour, and I tend not to retreat from that.”

“Something I’ve realized is my dip came during the Telehealth period. I did consults like this [crossed arms, leaning back, terse expression]. And I realized how nourished I am with face to face meetings with patients, and how nourished I am talking like this [gesticulates abundantly!]. And how much I missed that. I think we can feel like we’re in a service industry and forget how much we’re receiving in that process, and I think that was really highlighted for me.”

I relate, working in a service industry as a Librarian! I have missed in person connection with our community during the closures. I also relate to the hypomania and the crash, the huge drive and energy followed by withdrawal. I ask Ronnie what her sense is about people’s mental health during the public health shutdowns, and how she’s looked after herself.

“There’s an enormous need for connection. We're a bit desperate for touch and for connection in the same physical space as each other.”

“And for some there is anxiety about the reopening. We know how to lock down, and sit still, and only go to supermarket once a week. But how do we step out? And what does our community look like? Have we had amazing insights? Or are we going to slot back into how it was before, and will we be satisfied with that or not?”

“Self-care is really important to me. I do remember having a day where I lay on the window seat and I read a book all day. I did go to the secondhand bookstore and buy 4 books in case I got put into quarantine. I was stockpiling books!”

“And dancing is foundational for me, to shift the stress in my body. The local 5 Rhythms group has been continuing online via Zoom. I’ve also be doing some Feldenkrais online; moments of dropping into myself and presence with myself. There’s something really slow and still about Feldenkrais, which has been a good balance to the crazy, crazy.”

**

Ronnie is a highly skilled and capable doctor, she has a robustness about her, and incredible strength and determination, but what makes her extraordinary in my view is the fullness of the humanity she brings to her model of care.

Much of Ronnie’s General Practice is centred around provision of birthing services in our region. It’s not an over statement to describe her legacy of care of local birthing mothers and babies over two decades as legendary, as well as profoundly nourishing of this community.

“It’s a really extraordinary experience of being a woman [as a female GP obstetrician]; being present with women giving birth, when they’re more [uniquely] woman than anything else in their lives; where there’s no comparison to the structures we live within, and the outward masculine environment. To be stepping into that over, and over, and over again, is extraordinary.”

“In some ways it’s receiving love over, and over again. Being present at this moment of love is extraordinary.”

I see what Ronnie does as bold, love centred care, within a medical system which is largely intentionally devoid of emotion.

Ronnie attended me and my son after his birth 12 years ago, when I became seriously unwell. She came into that sacred post birth space, in our home, where we had all been traumatised and destablised by my illness, with a calmness, love, and strength which helped to center us as a family and held us through some very dark and frightening weeks and months.

“It nourishes me so deeply” Ronnie’s face is filled with emotion. There are tears in her eyes.

“There’s something really profound about caring for people over time, that you’ve had such intimate, respectful, honest being with.”

“How do we do that in healthcare? How do we keep that?”

COVID 19

By Margaret Mitchell

Since Covid 19 changed life for me
I am no longer fancy free
I must choose with care what I can do
Where I may go, I must watch too
I put myself in holiday mode,
Knit and read and walk the road.
Can’t Zoom, Skype and things like that
So on the phone I chat and chat
I really miss my hugs so dear
And guess I might for  many a year
For those days gone by we will surely yearn
The way they were may not return
But hopefully by learning lessons
The “new normal” will receive our blessings
Coronavirus BEGONE!