Make it genuine

I was running this morning. Literally, not figuratively. The dog was keeping her working pace at my side - I always feel so much more serious when I glance down at Jazz, she really hits her stride next to me when I jog and looks like she's ... well, working so I feel obliged to put a decent effort in because she is - when I noticed an elderly woman up ahead.

She looked quite frail and was wearing sensible slacks, court shoes and a cable knit jumper that stopped at her waist. She was walking a little white dog. I've just described pretty much every elderly woman going for a walk, haven't I? But I digress.

When the woman looked up and saw us coming, she crossed the street hurriedly. I had already decided I would run down one of the driveway cross-sections and onto the street to go around her. So I felt kind of bad for being the cause of her struggling her dog across the road. As I got closer, I looked over to her where she was now pacing up the opposite footpath. The look on her face was dark. A scowl at "the youth of today" if ever I saw one. Granted, without makeup I do still look like I haven't even hit my mid-twenties or had a hard day in my life. HAR! Har-dee-har...har.... ahem. Little do they know when they see what they think is a fresh-faced girl. Sometimes, just to digress again, I honestly wish some of the experiences of my life would show up on my face. They just. Don't. You can't help genes, I guess.

Anyway, she was still looking at me and I was looking at her. I was concentrating on not tripping, not wavering and bumping the dog - we've done that before and, oh boy, it isn't pleasant for either Jazz or me (her poor toes) - so it took me a moment for the thought in my head "Smile a greeting" to reach my lips and work the muscles of my face. I'm old enough now to not take on whatever the response is going to be to my smile. Sometimes it's returned, other times it's not. That's all cool. Especially in the solitary quiet of a lovely early morning where people get out on their own and usually want to be on their own without some fitness goon grinning their chops off at them.

I kept my smile on. I wanted to call out to her an apology for making her cross the road. It had obviously put her out. I really hadn't wanted to disrupt her path but didn't want to go out on the road too early to round her. But because I was running I was passing her quicker than I would've been able to say the words. I thought she wouldn't respond at all.

But then, there it was. A smile. Parting the dark shadows on her face so briefly. There it was. The person behind the veil. It was a really interesting moment. One in which I realised that her closed expression was probably less about having to cross the road to avoid a jogger and their dog and more about.... well, who knows? Whatever was pressing in her life today.

I jogged on and couldn't stop thinking, rhythmically, like a mantra (jogging can have such a meditative effect on me, which is weird, considering I'm working so hard!)....

Be the first to smile. Make it genuine. 

You could change the course of someone's day.

Even a dog can smile.

A dying art. As opposed to dying for your art.

I doubt it'll ever kill me, but writing anything longer than a page by hand these days hurts!

And that hurts here *close-fisted heart tap to my homies... mummies... blogger...ies*

Eden is hosting a weekly meme - about horses who are not on the nose? - and this weekend it was about handwriting - horses that can write? I don't know, I'm very confused (just generally) - and I was very happy to see so many samples of handwriting. On Twitter, on Facebook, on Instagram. By the time I got around to joining in, I realised (as with so many things in my life) I was beyond fashionably late and it had closed.

Somehow, Eden saw fit to open the Linky back up. So I quickly scrawled the note below - the musings of which I shall endeavour to expand on in a post in the near future - and found myself rather happy to be writing. Actual pen-to-paper writing! I love writing. I love forming the letters, I love watching my hand as it seems to bounce and flow almost with a mind of its own as it shapes the letters. I love the pace of writing - note to self: when brain is overworking..... Stop. Write. Let it slow back down to the limited speed of hand to self-regulate.

I mean, take a look at those k's. I can make the tail of an S go from here to the kitchen. And my w's? My w's are almost out of control. I was quite tame today, really, but I do adore letting loose on a piece of foolscap with a pen. The more felt-tipped the better, for mine.

One thing I've always wanted to do is make a font out of my own writing. That would be awesome. But so lazy. In a world where the shopping list is the only thing I write with any great regularity, even this is becoming obsolete in our house - thanks a LOT, Siri.

Thanks for reopening your Linky, Mrs Land! Looks like several of us just missed out. I am impressed by how keen we are to put pen to paper. I truly hope it doesn't die out as much as "they" say it will.....

Time will tell.

Do you enjoy writing?

School's in: If there ever comes a day....

From "The House At Pooh Corner" by A.A.Milne (1928)

The kookaburras are laughing as I sit here at 9pm on the first night of our LGBB going to school. It's rare to hear them, certainly this late at night, round these parts. They're having a raucous good laugh.... at my expense, my paranoid ego wants to tell me.

See, here's the thing:  I thought I would have a cry in my heart after today. THE day. The big one that has been looming in my awareness for well over a year now. I put it off and put it off, imagining today. Kind of like anticipating something you want so much to come but you know it'll come with a cost. Come with some pain.

That is how I just naturally expected today to go. Scene:  me back in car, letting myself go into the cocoon of the vehicle cabin, possibly searching for something soppy to play on the radio as a fitting backdrop to my tears.

But no! Not a tear fell. Not even a "Oh my giddy Aunt, but they are SO gorgeous with their enormous shorts down to their shins and dresses down to their ankles, bless them all" blub of happiness (which I am oh so good at.... just ask the LGBB's kindy teacher from last year who pegged me as hopeless right from the first time - of many - that I stood and watched someone else's kid have show and tell and proceeded to cry uncontrollably just watching how proud they were with showing their favourite whatever to the captive audience).

Checking they got her name right

You see on the surface, today was surprise-free. I knew Lolly would breeze through that door, I had a feeling I'd get the briefest of hugs and then she would be on her way, back turned to me and her Dad. I expected I would feel a sense of loss (as with the closing of any long, important chapter) but I haven't. The day went off without a hitch. Lolly did give us a goodbye hug but it was a squeeze so warm and loving and bone-crushing that I knew she was ready to flap her wings and practice flying now.

Retrospectively looking back on it, and tucking the girl in to her bed tonight after a celebratory pizza feast, a foot massage with lavender oil and a tummy-winding exercise (that is... winding as in winding down, not anything to do with a breeze!) - which may not be to everyone's understanding or pleasure, but is our tried and true method of corterizing any remaining threads of connection to energies of the day that are not hers to to be troubled by or to own - I allowed myself to realise the profoundity of the day.

"Mum," she drearily said to me as she struggled to keep her eyes open while I rubbed her feet. "I think you should be a teacher."
"Oh?"
"Actually, you even look like my teacher!" A compliment I will gladly take, given that her teacher is about fifteen years my junior and gorgeous to boot. I can't see it, personally, but who am I to disagree?

The Bag with its own postcode

We then had a chat about how what she really wanted was for me to work at the school so she could see me during the day sometimes.  "Well.... not all teachers work in schools, you know," I informed her. "Perhaps I could be a teacher anyway and just not work at a school." I like to get her thinking.

The conversation resolved itself when the LGBB decided she really did want to go to school but wished, at the same time, she could remain a little kid. "Forever." I told her tenderly that I remember having those exact wishes when I was not much older than her. The weight of responsibility and experience already upon my eleven year-old head felt too hard and I didn't want to grow up. It was impossible not to.

So today, I see now, while it was the beginning of the feeling of guilt-free days for the first time in five years (until school becomes a burdensome chore she drags her feet to get to each day and I somehow find a way to feel horrible and guilty about her having to be penned in by the institution while I am not), that this was a day of initiation for both of us.

As mother and daughter, our roles and expectations of each other are about to step up a notch. I hope she continues to be as patient and engaging with me as she has for her first years. Today I had to farewell the little girl, who was really not that little girl any more either but someone waiting in the wings. Waiting for the very moment Miss C opened the classroom door so that the children with the too-big uniforms could spill in to their new exciting space.

Just as the celebrant spoke of at Ellanor's memorial, this is a changing season - where we say goodbye, but also in many respects, it is a hello. A "welcome to your new world" for my Lolly. And I couldn't be more proud of how she began that new life today.

I know she won't always appreciate or even want to hear my imparting of wisdom.
I know one day she will not want me to come near her, let alone massage her, with lavender oil before bed time.
I know one day (sob) that Scrapsy will not get a guernsey as her best, best, bestest friend any more.
I know, once again, I have a daughter who is a child of the universe now. As she always was. And I am so deeply honoured. You know?



But I will always be boundary-keeping my daughter, for as long as there is a breath in me.

It's so brief. Really. She's grown me up a little more today. My little inner child is moping slightly but it won't for long. How can it (and what right does it have) when it sees this buoyant soul beaming back?

“If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together...
There is something you must always remember.
You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.
But the most important thing is, even if we're apart...
I'll always be with you.”

A.A.Milne

Look who's going to school

Just three short years ago, our little Lollipop was pooping in her nappy at the airport as she farewelled her cousins ("Mia 'n Emmaaaaaa! Where they be?") and using Scrapsy to "make my better". You'll be relieved that smell-o-vision is not an invention - I still remember the sting of my nostrils as we walked back to the car to change her. Wafting a scent worthy of Pepe le Pew behind us.

Un smelle vous finay!

Now the LGBB is a confident, excited, enthusiastic and friendly five and a half year-old ready to blow their socks off this year in Prep.  She'll be there tomorrow, white socks neatly pulled up, plonking along in school shoes a tad too large and trying to avoid head lice (yeah, right.... wish us luck with that!). And I daresay I'll do similar to what Marg Simpson does with all the other parents as they forlornly wave off their children to camp until the kids are out of sight - then I'll do a big air-jump "WOOP!" and high-five some other parent next to me. Because let's face it: all things must end. And we have spent her entire life so far with each other. It's time to branch out, for both our sakes.

But back then, the LGBB was still crafting the natural comedic timing that has become one of her signature traits. Oh how she makes my heart soar.  Even if she still does stop me from singing in EXACTLY the same manner as she tries on in this video. This is one of my favourites. It is SO her at that age.

I am so excited for her. For me. Yet slightly worried, ready for whatever comes next.

Ahhh, boy, they were not wrong when they warned it would go faster than I could believe possible.

Enjoy your young'uns! Despite it all - everything that is hard and feels ennnnnndless... - I hope you do indeed stop. Sit back. And enjoy it. x

Friends of Science in Medicine know best? Alternative therapies under fire

I appear to be uncharacteristically on my soap box about public issues this week. Forgive me. And bear with me. Please also remember this is a post written from my perspective and experience - I don't intentionally mean to denounce anyone else's experience.

There is no denying that western medicine and science is crucial. I won't even begin to count the ways. In saying that, for treatment of minor (and medium, bordering on serious) conditions, I try to avoid it as much as possible.

So today, when I read this article that is reporting an apparent global uprising of doctors and scientists to prevent universities and health funds from recognising alternative medicine, I felt a sense of dread. The article states:

Almost one in three Australian universities now offer courses in some form of alternative therapy or complementary medicine, including traditional Chinese herbal medicine, chiropractics, homeopathy, naturopathy, reflexology and aromatherapy.

But the new group, Friends of Science in Medicine, wrote to vice-chancellors this week, warning that by giving "undeserved credibility to what in many cases would be better described as quackery" and by "failing to champion evidence-based science and medicine", the universities are trashing their reputation as bastions of scientific rigour.  

Read more: http://www.smh.com.au/national/tertiary-education/scientists-urge-unis-to-axe-alternative-medicine-courses-20120125-1qhtm.html#ixzz1kVvHpGFQ

Okay. Now, I am all for everyone finding their own method of wellbeing. I also realise there are "quacks" out there - but you can find those sitting in GP's offices in proper, accredited clinics anywhere in the country just as easily as the oft-joked-about "slapping fish", "hocus-pocus" (etc. etc. etc.) alternative practitioner. Obviously, any healthcare provider needs to be good at what they do. I just take deep offense at my choices being limited by this ruling. What about all the families out there who rely on these sorts of treatments for their children? How will they afford it if they whip out the health cover rug from under them? They want to take away my right to choose - I mean, sure, the treatments will still be around, but I won't be able to receive a rebate because of my choice and what works for me and my family. And damnit, they're going to win, aren't they?

My experience with doctors has pretty much been along these lines:

Scenario 1 (which actually happened)--
"How can I help you today?"
"My daughter is pulling at her ears and crying. She's too young to tell me what's wrong, but I'm sure there's something happening with her ears."
"Any other symptoms?"
"No, none apart from the crying and irritability... oh wait, sometimes she pulls at her cheeks lately."
"Well... I've checked her ears and they're clear." *shrug* "My best guess is that she had a cold or something like that and her ears were blocked for a while."
I left the office with no treatment or solution being prescribed or suggested.

After several days pass, I take her to my Homoeopath, desperate for some relief for her and sure something is happening but she just can't tell me. My Homoeopath takes one look at my ruddy-faced grizzly baby and says "She's getting more teeth! It can affect the ears..." and goes on to describe the mechanics of the sinus region and why this would be impacted by Lolly's teeth coming through. He prescribes a remedy, I diligently give it to her every four hours. The change is remarkable within the first day. I am relieved, she is relieved.

Scenario 2 (which actually happened) --
"How can I help you today?"
"My child is very sick but I don't know what it can be. She has some spots but they're fairly insignificant at this stage and only around her nappy area. She won't eat or drink and keeps crying and thrashing about." (Of course the crying and thrashing stop when we're in the office...... don't they always?)
"Well... I've checked her over, she has no temperature and looks fine. Keep an eye on those spots and watch for any new symptoms. If anything changes or if you feel she is getting worse, bring her straight back."
"Ummm.... o...kay? I guess?"

Dumbfounded, I head to my Homoeopath for help again. This time, I think my child is far too unwell to be helped by the "quackery" (as so belligerently described in this article today) of something so, frankly, mysterious as homoeopathy. I've heard the opinion that the pillules they give out are no more than placebo tablets. I also know that, either way, I don't care if they are if they relieve me - but I'm not so certain I want to risk testing the theory with my child on something that appears to be quite serious this time. More over, I don't want to risk looking to others like I am doing nothing for her but giving her sugar-placebo tablets!
But with little else to do, I turn again to my trusty Homoeopath.
This time, the result convinces me without doubt that I would turn to him before a GP any day of the week for almost anything except broken bones!

As it turned out, Lolly had hand, foot and mouth disease. She passed it on to both Steve and me. I didn't shake the horrible disease for five months (largely because I was stupid and was so concerned about getting her back to health that I ignored the pain and literally swallowed it down every day without focusing on my own wellbeing and getting myself treated... in hindsight, that was the end of my phase of subconsciously inflicting pain on myself). It was a horrendous time. But we got through it with little more than a bit of Pain Stop and the homoeopathics to treat the symptoms. I did take her back to the doctor to discuss it and was there for little more than five minutes, being shown the door and told that it couldn't be treated by them. What the....?

I could go on and on, listing examples of more minor ailments I or Lolly have had over the past six years. I now naturally call on my Homoeopath for things that I am initially sure cannot possibly be treated or eased but will contact him "just in case" they can. One memorable time, I just happened to mention a grotesque little-fingernail-sized cauliflower wart (oh, yes... ewww) that had grown on the side of my chin while I was pregnant. The thing was there to stay. It grew so large that Steve started asking it how the heck that thing grew on the side of its face ("that thing" being, my head... oh he is soooooo funny, no? sigh).

With barely more than a week's worth of aggressive treatment with the correctly prescribed homoeopathic remedy, the bloody thing fell off! And just two months ago, Lolly and I worked together with our Homoeopath to get rid of a painful papilloma (one of those warts that grow inwards in a conical shape usually on the underside of the heel). They're yuck and in my teenage years, I had one removed with quite a bit of discomfort, local anaesthetic, freezing it out and bandaging. I thought I'd try to avoid that for her and see if we couldn't give homoeopathics a go. She was over the moon when it shrivelled up and died and painlessly fell off in her sock one day, about a month after we started treating it with a 3-times daily remedy. I was pleased she was able to see how the treatment had worked for her, as it had been troubling her and making walking uncomfortable - I offered her the choice and explained what the doctor would do. The word "needle" (even though I reassured her it would only sting for a moment) was enough to make her try the (in my opinion, better) alternative.

Placebo? Quackery?  I don't believe either of those ill-advised descriptions for ONE second.

And finally, I just want to say: please note that my Homoeopath was not the one who didn't do anything for you... if you have been given poor or ineffective treatment by one - as with doctors, there are good ones and crap ones. I have the great fortune of having found a damn fine Homoeopath, whom we actually call "Dr K" because he's just as good, if not better, than any I've seen in my entire life and certainly treats me and my family more effectively and more often.

What have been your experiences with doctors, alternative therapists, or otherwise?

When cyclists attack: Dog vs Man

"If you don't know how to do it, I'll show you how to walk the dawg."

The other morning, the LGBB and I took Jazz for a walk to her school. It took us around an hour. There is a bike track that goes all the way there. It's a really lovely gently downhill walk all the way, and there are many spots where you could almost imagine you're walking on a path through the bush, not through the back of suburbia.

On this deserted path, I decided to allow Jazz some free roaming time. She is harmless. I know this. Despite knowing this, I have the eagle eye of an experienced dog owner. Some, granted, would say that an "experienced dog owner" would not have let the dog off its lead on council land where it is common knowledge that dogs should be walked on lead only. Weighing up the risks compared with the short bit of off-lead time I was giving her, I made the measured decision to keep a watchful eye on my dog and let her run in the grass verge to the side of the track. Many groups and individuals passed us over a ten minute period, mostly on bike but a few on foot. They passed us without fuss or fret. Jazz gave them barely a glance, if that, and continued her foraging in the lush grass - she loves to scratch her back and snout in grass for some reason, I've heard other Kelpie owners say their dogs love to do this too, perhaps it's a trait of the breed.

Lolly and I were making good time. Steve was going to meet us at the school with the car to give us a lift back, a wisely pre-arranged plan we made before we left home, sans phone.

Along came a man of quite decent, solid build. He looked to be roughly in his forties and in very good shape. He was riding a bike and coming towards us. I checked where Jazz was as he headed our way; she was sniffing the base of a gum tree at the edge of the path. I saw by the way the rider's face was set determinedly that he was in some sort of deep concentration and deduced he would not be an individual who would share a nod, a smile or any grunt in recognition of sharing the path and early morning with us. That's cool. I've been in the zone before while exercising. Sometimes you do, sometimes you don't acknowledge a passer-by.

When he rode past us, I was only mildly alarmed that he came quite close to the LGBB - thankfully, she kept her gait steady and didn't wobble into his path or he would have clipped her. Perhaps he felt we should get off the path completely, for we had already moved out of his way over to our side of the shared walkway. It was a fleeting glance, but I saw him jerk his head sharply in the direction of Jazz as he rounded the tree under which she was gaily sniffing. In a moment, he was gone - mere seconds and he had passed us by - and we continued on.

Not more than two minutes passed and, just as Lolly was launching into some new endless sentence without a break about some desperately important bit of information she needed to impart in one continuous breath, I heard someone shout something from behind her down the track a ways. It took me a few moments to register the words in my brain... something about "dog on the fucking lead"...

The man on the bike was making his way back, obviously reaching some turning point in his ride and coming back the way he came. Lolly was oblivious and thought I had stopped ahead of her to turn back and wait for her to catch up - it's hard to concentrate on your single minutes-long sentence and keep a good walking pace, didn't you know? - but I was mostly watching the situation with my dog and this fast-approaching bike rider who by now I realised had the shits up about Jazz being off lead.

"She's fine," I assured him as he cycled past Lolly making his way past me next. The dog hadn't even lifted her head and was at this point a few metres from the path to my right, still under my control and posing absolutely no obstacle or danger to anyone, least of all the big burly man.

"Get FUCKED," he shrieked like a madman. "Should be on a lead." He rapidly rode into the distance past me. The whole exchange took less than five seconds.

The moment got the better of me and I was instantly riled, as if something had leapt off the rider and onto me. I was baited, hook, line and sinker. I took it. Without hesitating (or thinking), I fired back, "Calm down, sir." I have absolutely no idea why I added "sir" the way I did. Perhaps I thought it'd soften it. I immediately wanted to gulp my words back in. It was wrong to shout anything after him. I had visions of him dismounting and coming back and punching me in the face. I felt like I had been hit in the stomach as it was. He was just so angry!

The LGBB was concerned. She caught up to me, asking questions about "the man" and wanting to know - word for word - what he said and what I had called after him. I tried to wave it off but she persisted. I had to feed my words back to her, regurgitating them as if she was trying to make me be more accountable for my part in the exchange. Mostly, I was mortified that having the dog off lead, despite her perfect behaviour and temperament, had been so gruffly pointed out to me.

"What did he say to you?" Lolly probed.

"He said Jazz should be on her lead... and he's right," I replied truthfully.

"But why was he mad? And what did you say to him?" she asked, a most concerned look on her face. She's at an age where such juicy social exchanges are referenced and filed for use in her next dollhouse or Barbie game - there's always an antagonist these days if I listen in long enough.

"He was telling me Jazz should be walking next to us because maybe he thought she would trip him over," I said. It was the first logical thing that came into my head, probably not far from the truth either. I'd like to think he was an upstanding citizen who was concerned for the safety of others.... something tells me that wasn't the reason for his policing attitude, but still. I'll never know. "And I asked him to calm down because he seemed angry."

I felt a fool, spelling it out to her. I shouldn't have yelled after him. It was idiotic and made me feel worse because I was contributing to the exchange and buying in to whatever he was already carrying. That kind of venom isn't spat out at a stranger without it having brewed to that point long before the situation even arises. He was just seizing the opportunity to let some steam out of his inner pressure cooker. I get that.

"But why was he so angry about Jazz?"  See? Even a five year-old knows Jazz is nothing to be concerned about. That dog is the definition of "nice".

"Because..." getting a little frustrated now, just drop it already, sheeezus! "...some people are just so angry in their hearts that they yell at other people, even sometimes people they don't even know. It's a shame, isn't it?"

It was the closest to a full explanation as I wanted to get that day. Lol seemed satisfied after that. Her face relaxed back to neutral and she changed the subject to something completely unrelated. I love the way kids do that! I wish more adults could do it. But that's an entirely different blog post......

Look, I knew it was essentially wrong of me to have Jazz off her lead. But I'd love to take a poll of dog owners and ask them if they haven't given their dog a few minutes off the lead here and there over the life of the dog. Come on. I'd like to think I am a sensible, responsible person (some would say I am often painfully too responsible and morally upright!)  - I know my dog and I know she would no sooner rush at someone than take down a wildebeast.

Other dogs are a different matter: as soon as another dog comes along, mostly for the safety of my own dog I will restrain her if she is at that point having a sniff off the lead. It's just not worth the potential for a dog-barney in the road. A brief exchange with the other dog owner will determine whether we let them have a run together. It seems the unwritten rule of engagement out there and most, if not all, dog owners I have ever met have been very reasonable and more than keen to let Fido have a run and tumble with my dog too - we know the joy these social creatures get from connecting with their own kind. In fact, it's a big part of the joy of owning a dog.

It's a can of worms, I know, asking where you stand on the issue of dogs off lead. I myself would not like to be anywhere in a shared public place with a dog off its lead - heck, some people seem to have a hard time stopping/controlling their dog even when they are on lead! If I see kids - on foot or on bikes - she goes back on straight away. If I see other dogs in the distance, same thing - back on straight away. If there is nowhere for her to roam or get off the path and it's being shared with walkers and cyclists, she also doesn't get off the lead. If there is anything unpredictable (a windy day, poor visibility, anything that just doesn't feel right), she stays by my side and doesn't go off lead. You can see that there isn't much opportunity for time where she is let off! An rightfully so. Dogs should come last in the chain in public spaces, always. BUT... if it is mostly deserted and there's plenty of space and a decent stretch of path where I can see people coming in either direction from a fair distance away, then yes. I let her off.

What are your habits walking your own dog? What are your thoughts? And ummm... what's better or worse: having a harmless dog off its lead or shouting expletives in a threatening manner in front of a small child in an essentially deserted area? I have to tell you (now I'm safe at home) it was one of those hair-raising moments where I saw in a flash what can happen - and how easily these road rage (bike path rage?) bashing stories end up on the news.




Update: Wed. 25/1, 11am - I am closing comments on this post now. If you feel moved to add something that hasn't already been discussed, please feel free to visit my Facebook page instead. 
I would like to point out that the second last paragraph in this post clearly describes the conditions in which I give my dog a rare chance to walk off-lead - in a safe and controlled environment, not in parks full of people, at shopping centres (heaven forbid!) or anywhere where there are children. 
I would also remind, respectfully, that I am not representative of (or advocating for) irresponsible and inconsiderate owners who seem not to respect shared public places with their out of control dogs. They give all dog owners (and dogs!) an unfair bad name. 
Thank you to all who contributed to the discussion.

"Good night, Australia!" #YTT is back!

I had no idea Young Talent Time was coming back until, oh, about 4.30 last Friday afternoon. WHY DIDN'T I KNOW THIS???

When I was growing up, Sydney had all the other Aussie-made shows but in Melbourne, we had three of my childhood staples:

Hey! Hey! It's Saturday. Neighbours. But most beloved of all,

Young Talent Time.

I ADORED this show. I loved Johnny Young. I felt like I had a personal connection to each of the kids. When one would leave (Karen Knowles, you BROKE MY HEART........ it's ok, I forgive you already) and another would join, I'd warm to them eventually. I had my eighth birthday there and thought I was the luckiest girl on the planet when Tara Falconer invited me to her birthday party and I got to go again (it seemed the "done" thing to go to tapings of the show for birthday parties). It was the place to be. If you were a little kid with stars in her/his eyes. And you lived in Melbourne.

It finished in 1988. I can hardly believe it was that long ago. How can it be that it was never resurrected until now? But my goodness, what a resurrection.

I am going to admit right now, I am hopeful. So very, very hopeful. That this doesn't go down the chute too quickly. That there are no scandals, that there is no hard time made or had by any of the team or contestants. That people don't unduly bag it without first stopping to realise the gaping hole in wholesome children's entertainment these days.

Because I need this to work!

This show is vital. It is very much needed. Yes, there is a saturation of talent shows but they are so formulaic and rigid and narrow-focused. They smack of greed and almost unhealthy competition and materialism. They are not and will never be YTT.

Like looking into the past... The LGBB sits, riveted by the new show

After the show, they sang "All My Loving". I cried. Like a bit of a baby. In a flash, a warm blanket came over me. I remember being all rugged up in my 'jamies, towel-dried wet hair, fed. With my family, that was so often at war and fractured. Safe for a moment. I would sit there and allow myself to get pulled in to the TV. Tuning out all else except those twinkling studio stars behind them as Johnny Young sat and swayed while he sang my weekly goodnight song. To me.

Tonight, the LGBB was overcome at the very first notes of the song. She bundled up her little dog, Scraps, and jumped off the couch to come and cuddle up to me where I was stretched out on the floor, probably pulling a pose very much like the one I used to 25 years ago. I looked down at her and remembered the happy I used to feel. That childlike, nothing-can-beat-it, innocent Happy. She led me back to it in a split second. Because of that song. She was beaming from ear to ear, hugging me and her little dog so tight I almost had to ask her to tone it down a little. But I daren't, for I never wanted the moment to end.

It did, a few bars into the song. And she turned to me and begged, "Can I PLEEEEASE watch this again? Right now!"

So from me to you, Johnny Young.... You are on a winner. You always were. Genius! I saw the emotion in your face tonight and had to swallow past a sudden lump in my throat watching how happy you were. It was so good to see you. We love the new format. Don't go changin'!

And to you, young Robert. So-called Millsy. You did well, Grasshopper. I was pleasantly impressed and surprised. The Talent is strong in you. Use it wisely, because if you don't there is a legion of mothers out there who grew up on YTT and need you to get it right. For the sake of their littl'uns! We've glimpsed the legacy. Don't you be messying it up, boy-o. Y'hear?

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"Good night, Australia!"