Just a Hint of Autumn

Barbara McCarthy

Description

With seven decades of living behind her, Barbara came to writing about her experiences late in her life and her inspirational memoir, ‘My Windows, My Views …’ opened the flood gates and she hasn’t stopped sharing her stories yet. ‘Just a Hint of Autumn’ is a treasure house (meaning a place where many things of value can be found, and not a treasure trove merely containing a collection of valuable things), has imaginary tales and reflective stories from her open life and her open mind. There is truth and sadness in some of her stories, humour and insight in others. There is something for everyone.

Sujets

• Malarndirri McCarthy
• Self-help

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris AU
• Date de parution: 18 septembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 2
• EAN13: 9781669831426
• Langue: English

Extrait

JUST A HINT OF AUTUMN
 
A Treasure-house of Reflections and Imagination.
 
 
 
 
 
Barbara McCarthy
 
 
Copyright © 2022 by Barbara McCarthy.

Library of Congress Control Number:
           2022915517
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-3144-0

Softcover
978-1-6698-3143-3

eBook
978-1-6698-3142-6
 
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
 
Rev. date: 09/15/2022
 
 
 
Xlibris
AU TFN: 1 800 844 927 (Toll Free inside Australia)
AU Local: [phone] ([phone] from outside Australia)
www.Xlibris.com.au
845167
CONTENTS
Preface
Autumn
A Night To Forget
To Hear Or Not To Hear . . .
Spilled Milk
A Condiment Complaint
Not A Brave New World
Dystopian Story No. 2
A Spicy Story In Any Language—An Allegory
‘Ave A Larf?
On A Theme
In My Park
Easter Reflections
London Airport
The Eye Of The Beholder
Self-Reflection
Mary Had A Little . . .
Dreaming
Baking Bread
Ursula’s Story
The Blind Date—Two People Standing At Opposite Ends Of A Bus-Stop Queue
Seasons On The Wane
PREFACE
Just a Hint of Autumn —a treasure house of reflections and imagina tion.
After writing My Windows, My Views . . . as a debut author, I practiced this newfound joy of mine, putting to paper all the things I wanted to share, all the half-completed thoughts and views lingering in my mind. It wasn’t difficult for me to do because I felt Just a Hint of Autumn coming at me in my long life, and I knew I had to write it all down before my life’s season changed.
I believe that seasons have always inspired me, the coming and the going of them, and the palpable changes in mood that sunshine and storms bring with each contrary part of the cycle. But there is more to life, even an old well-weathered life, than sitting watching the seasons come and go. There is still time for touching reflections, for imagination, for humour, for true-but-sad stories, and for fun fiction. I have tried to bring all that to this book.
I hope you enjoy it.
Barbara McCarthy
AUTUMN
There is a hint of change in the air, which is far too early. I am not ready. Summer has barely been here and is now fading away. I see in my mind’s eye the receding colours of sunsets melding into crunching leaves from skeletal trees and smoking fires. I must retune my mindset to be prepared.
I remember a beautiful word so rarely used: autumnal. Instantly, falling leaves are bronze and gold and shimmering, a fire is roaring in the grate, and the atmosphere is mellow. I think I might like this hint of autumn in the air.
A NIGHT TO FORGET
After seventeen years working on night duty in a hospital, there have been many memories I could share, many events that stand out as eminently recountable. ‘A Night to Forget’ could have just been one of them, had it not been so devastating to witness and its aftermath so tr agic.
This was an ordinary night at the hospital, the last of four I had to work from 10:00 p.m. to 8:00 a.m. to complete my week of night duty, and then two nights off. What joy! Cinema with friends, an outing with family, and time for the garden desperately in need of a last prune before planting out the bushes drying out in their pots on the verandah. Spring was here at last, with summer chasing its heels; so much to look forward to.
Time now, though, for my ward rounds, one of my nightly chores as hospital supervisor, before I became too sleepy, which often happened in the early hours of the morning as melatonin levels increased in the blood stream because of fading light. Habitual night workers learn to cope with this phenomenon and adapt, and my personal solution was to get up from the desk and check out the wards, starting with the well-lit accident and emergency and then upstairs to the lively labour wards.
As I entered the emergency department past the patients’ trolley bays and through into the theatre set up for suturing and resuscitation, I was instantly concerned that the lights were down, staff were absent, and there was none of the usual hustle and bustle that reminded us of where we were and why we were there. Sometimes it could be like that as morning was dawning, but it was too early for that.
I found everyone at the back of the department; doctors, nurses, triage clerks, orderlies, and cleaners were clustered around facing the TV screen on the stainless-steel desk, beside which patients’ notes were left piled up, ready to be entered on the nearby computers. The first thought in my tired mind, as it was rearranging itself to take in the scene, was that it must be a really good film they were watching, exciting even.