We’ve had friends from the city staying with us a little while. On Friday night, a lovely dinner by candlelight, AND low lights (need to see the food!). Leigh cooked a lovely lamb ragu – slow-cooked the day before. Served with silky soft ribbon egg pasta.
The conversation flowed as we shared story after story of our lives. My girlfriend and I have been friends for thirty years. She has had an amazing life, starting with growing up in South Africa. Her father had always wanted a farm and had managed to buy a small piece of land for a start. It was just land, no infrastructure, so the family camped there whilst gradually establishing some comforts. There was a tent for shelter. The four children carried water from a mile or so away. Cooking was done over an open camp-fire. The school and nearest town was miles away – reached on foot daily by the kids. One day, whilst living in this primitive way, Diana’s father died of a heart attack. She was only twelve. The Black people who had been helping on the ‘farm’ began to take advantage of her mother’s vulnerability. Diana tells of their possessions gradually disappearing, and of her family becoming more and more concerned for their well-being, even their lives. So they packed up and returned to the mother’s home country Australia. As a trained nurse she quickly found work to support her family. She and her children developed a strong work ethic.
Diana has countless stories of hardships endured along her life journey. In her still early adulthood, she went to New Zealand and worked in shearing sheds – as a cook and later roustabout. Fourteen hour days for weeks without a break were par for the course. Shearing shed stories can be colourful and almost unbelievable to say the least. And Diana has hundreds.
Her partner grew up in Pakistan, and while he was quiet and in listening mode during this, his first visit to our place, we picked up from a few of his stories, that he too has had an amazing life.
Human society, behavior and social relationships can hold me in rapt conversation for hours.
We recently visited a couple of my long-time friends in the city. Daniel and my late husband, Warren, were best friends from early childhood. Daniel was the Huckleberry Finn of the town. Boys were told by parents not to play with the little ruffian. As he grew older, Daniel became ‘The Fonz’ (from the seventies sitcom ‘Happy Days) of the town. He had lost sight in one of his eyes, and despite a desperately sad and difficult home life, had innate leadership qualities. When they’d go to the movies, Daniel would lead the group of his mates into the theatre, and without speaking, walk down the aisle to the front row where he could see best. The group of much more privileged boys would follow, and devotedly sit with him despite having to crane their necks to see the full screen.
Daniel married a Ukrainian girl, who herself has a tragic family history. Some of her ancestors were allegedly cannibalised in the 1940s as a result of extreme, man-made starvations engineered by the Soviet Regime.
Both Daniel and Heather have done extremely well for themselves as professionals in the field of health. As Warren’s best mate, Daniel has always been concerned for my well-being since Warren died. I think he was tentative about my relationship with Leigh, but after having met him, both he and Heather have given me their stamp of approval.
Leigh has met all my friends now, except for one couple who live near Mount Gambier. I am taking him to meet them in December. They are old and dear friends who warmly welcomed Warren and me into their fold in Nineteen seventy-three when we lived in their back-yard at Yuendumu – an Aboriginal settlement, about three hundred kilometers north-west of Alice Springs, for three months. It was a life-changing experience and beginning of our two-year odyssey around Australia.
We are planning a road trip to the Sapphire Coast of New South Wales end of November. We saw a Rick Stein episode recently in which he took us to this region, where he has a home and restaurant in the small town of Mollymook. He spends some time here each year and said it was his very favourite part of Australia. We looked at each other and said ‘Let’s go.’ So we’ll make a trip of it, stopping off at the War Memorial in Canberra which neither of us has seen. We’ll stay in Mollymook for three or four days and dine at Rick’s Bannisters by the Sea. It feels wonderful to still be free and fit enough to do impromptu things like this.
We’ll spend a few days in Melbourne after that where Leigh has family. Home via the Great Ocean Road and the tiny town of Kalangadoo where my friends from Yuendumu Aboriginal settlement now live.
I continue to disperse superfluous stuff from the property – from hundred-year-old farm paraphernalia to inside excess. I am finding a secret delight in having a steady stream of lovely people coming to buy the things I advertise on Marketplace. To hand over an item to someone who is thrilled to have found it, brings me a warm sense of satisfaction. It’s different from taking things to an Op Shop where the person who has bought the item that once meant something to you is anonymous. I enjoy the little (sometimes long!) chats I have with the people. If you talk to someone long enough, you’ll find that you know someone in common.
Now I am starting to bring out the larger items. I have got rid of sheep feeders, chicken coops, large fuel tanks, scrap metal, rabbit traps, plough shears, railway iron, posts, trailers, tractor manuals, steel cables, blacksmith’s tools etc. What come next are the cars, truck, camper, implements. If or when we ever decide to move into town, the job won’t be so huge. We are doing it gradually and comfortably and it feels good.
We have another poets’ gathering soon. I am feeling a little excited that I will be able to share a new poem – the one I posted in my last blog, and that I am feeling so inclined to begin a new era of poetry.
Until next time, take care,
Warmly,
Sue
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