Last Day of September 2018

It is Sunday, cool outside and beautiful sunshine. Next weekend we go on daylight saving time. Right now it is nearly seven o’clock. Since it is Sunday, we are going to have soft boiled eggs for breakfast. I am looking forward to this. Peter is reading in his tablet in bed. Most likely he’ll be getting up soon. His stay in hospital from Thursday to Friday he survived pretty well. He was very happy when he was allowed to go home Friday  afternoon.

While Peter stayed in hospital, I had an ice-cream in Wollongong town. (Martin did not want any ice-cream). But he was sitting there waiting for me, and I took a picture of him:






Martin drove us to the hospital. No need for us to use the helicopter! But it is great that helicopters can land at Wollongong Hospital.

Martin, who had been staying with us since Sunday, the 23rd of September, was kind of relieved that he could still drive back to his place in Benalla, Victoria, after having picked up his Dad from hospital. He kind of liked it very much that he could yesterday, on Saturday, wake up in his own place in Benalla.

Peter and I have arranged with Martin that we are going to visit him in Benalla for a Benalla Festival in a few weeks. We are looking forward to this.

There are good properties for sale in Benalla:,+vic+3672/list-1

The other day I found a reasonably priced property close to Benalla Station and to the centre of town. It had some rather good features, for instance two bathrooms! We would like to move to Benalla, but unfortunately we seem to be a bit too old for such a move.

A Copy of what I wrote in 2012 about my Friend Eva Maria

My Friend Eva

My Friend Eva

I did get to know her when I was forty and Eva was sixty-three. She died thirty years later. I was able to keep in touch with her right to the end. When Eva was nearly eighty, she moved to a hostel. Before that she had lived at home with her estranged husband and had frequent bouts of depression. She had wanted to separate from her husband for a long time. Her husband didn’t want to let her go. He also prevented her from getting an age pension. For years and years she was stranded not being able to buy anything for herself.

Finally, through the intervention of a caring social worker, she was able to get her age pension. Another caring person, namely a Catholic sister, who lived in the neighborhood, saw to it that she could move into the hostel. She was nearly eighty at the time.

For many years I visited Eva in her home. Whenever I visited we played several games of Scrabble. Even when Eva was in a depressive state, she always loved to play Scrabble! Once she had some pension money, she developed an interest in shopping again. When I took her out for a bit of shopping, she also liked to have a cup of coffee with me in a shopping center. Sometimes I took her to my place for some games of Scrabble and to have lunch with me and Peter.

After having moved to the hostel, Eva liked to be taken for visits to a hairdresser. She also started choosing with great care what to wear for the day. It was really important to her to look good! Sometimes I took her with me to visit some friends of mine. They were all fond of Eva. I was her confidante. I think I was probably the only person she liked to open up to. I saw her only about once a week or once a fortnight. She always liked to spend a few minutes to let me know what had been going on with her since I last saw her. She also never forgot to inquire about me and my family.

The hostel provided for outings in their community bus. In the beginning Eva had been keen on going to all these outings. However, as she got older she lost interest in it. There came a time when she just didn’t want to go out anymore. Even with me she wanted to go out less and less. She still liked playing Scrabble though whenever I visited her. I think it was when Eva was about ninety when she started losing interest in playing Scrabble. However right to the end she was always looking forward to my visits.

Eva died in 2005. I was seventy at the time. In 2007 I wrote an imaaginary story about my being in a hostel as an eighty-two year old. In five years from now I will be eighty-two! Hopefully my husband is still going to be alive by then and I won’t have the need for a place in a hostel. But what if? I plan on publishing this imaginary story that I wrote five years ago. I also have some photos of Eva. Maybe a couple of these I can soon publish as well.

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4 thoughts on “My Friend Eva”

    1. Thanks, LG, for reminding me of this post. I might one day use it for a page to which I can add the post with two of Eva’s pictures. And then there is this fictional post, which perhaps I could add as well. 🙂

  1. Thank you for drawing my attention to your post about your friend. You are right, the story I wrote is based on a relationship like your friend had with her husband. However, my story’s ending is very different. This is what’s brilliant about fiction. You can write it anyway you like. I’m so glad you both shared that special friendship.

    1. So far I have mainly recalled what I experienced in my life. But I know that some things can be told better in fiction. My husband often writes what he can remember from his childhood. With some stories he feels he would like to add some things, like conversations he would have heard as a nine year old but which of course he would not be able to recall word for word. If for instance he wants to write down everything the doctor had told his mother, it would have to be fictional. So he calls it a ‘fictional’ biography.