Let's hear it for Carolyn Madden

Let's hear it for Carolyn Madden

Gosh, Faith, I'd totally forgotten that it's Carolyn's birthday.  You wouldn't know it's her big day!  Look at her!  There she is, busy as always, thickly smearing Vegemite on the toasted sandwiches for patrons of the Chat & Connections Garden Café.  And I dare say that afterwards she'll be doing some gardening, pulling out the weeds as she checks the roses the patrons have left for us.

I don't know what we'd do without her.  I mean, she's expert on all things Orstralian.  She knows the ins and outs of Vegemite; that mysterious, pitch black ingredient which powers little Aussies before and after school and is used to patch the tar holding together Aussie roads.  She knows the secrets of lamington cakes that are sold at fund raisers across the nation and in all the tuck shops for Aussie ankle biters.  And she's no stranger to Pavlova, that fluffy white, exquisite sweet which keeps ballerinas on their toes even when the rest of the world is flat footed.

Indeed, Carolyn has such a firm grip on the Aussie handlebars of life that she can bend bananas at the flick of a wrist.  She can stare down a surly and recalcitrant computer, have it quaking in submission and then have it jumping into action to do wondrous things.  Goodness me, she even has a compliant ghost living in her car, with it hanging out the washing from the car's windows.  I don't know anyone else who can do all of that!  No wonder her two boys hero-worship her, that she's got a legion of worshipping fans and that she has umpteen secret admirers.

Some might say that it is all because her birthday is on the cusp of Gemini and Cancer.  This makes her an airy twin crab, scuttling sideways when she's not flying high in a world of her own.  A crab, Faith, with a razor sharp mind and a pair of equally sharp pincers to get a firm grip on those Aussie Queensland bananas and lurking cane toads; and to sweep away the armies of fire ants invading this tropical paradise.  Did I say, Paradise, Faith?  Goodness me, I've heard that even God reads her brilliant articles - written with tongue firmly in cheek, which is rather hard to do.  I've heard Him chortling away when He's sitting on the golden sands of the endless beaches of West Oz - reading her amusing musings as part of His R & R leave.

What do you think, Faith?  I mean, we should say something to mark Carolyn's brilliant even if hum-drum life wandering around arm-in-arm with Hugh Jackman in the tropics.  But I'm just lost for words as to what to remark about our excruciatingly shy and modest friend.  Go on, Faith, say something to her!  We just can't let this momentous occasion slip by unnoticed and unmarked.

Magi, talk about forgetting Carolyn...as if one really could!  Well, I must admit that it did slip my mind, too, but I am here to make up for it in spades. Speaking of spades, Carolyn is the queen of comedic wonders at our dear old Gather.  Her bit on the disappearances from the laundry is a classic.  I mean, I know I have to pay the dryer goddess in socks, but who is it really out there snatching her dainties off the line?  Could it actually be the ghost of the cane toad she stomped on ... a bloated apparition of a frog that is now living in her car and getting its own back by messing with the washing?  Oh, never mind!  Perhaps the less said about that the better!

Then there are her explanations as to why men are always sicker than their wives.  Boy, howdy do I know that from up-close-and-personal-experience!  But that's now quite wiped off the memory bank, thank goodness!

But we are here to praise Carolyn.  Yes, we are!  Praise for her wide-ranging love and devotion to her family and many friends, and to Australian folklore.  And let's not forget her passionate interest in sharing the joys of everyday happenings.  Nor her worshipping Hugh Jackman. 

Happy birthdayto my dear Chat & Connections Garden Cafe friend, Carolyn.  May you have many, many more golden years, old girl!  Now come and cut this cake I created in your honour.  I've named it the Alabama-Carolyn Pavlova - it's sprinkled with Anzac biscuit crumbs, stuffed with lamingtons and swimming in Vegemite sauce.  I popped down into the cellar and baked it in The Devil's Tea House - Mr Beelzebub sends his love.  Oh, here, before I forget.  Magi made you a skinny flat white coffee - just tip it out into the potted palm; it's dying anyway.  Then grab the tankard of XXX beer I left there waiting for you - Magi will never notice the difference.

(A joint article by Faith H and Magi - pass the joint, Faith)