Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Sea Side








Seaside
Eugene sat on his bench, he had claimed this bench from the first day he arrived. It afforded a view along the front. The beach with its sand and small waves a few dozen metres away. Behind him the pedestrian traffic, sparse at this time of the morning.
The wind was blowing from the seaward, bringing an occasional taste of salt to his lips. The breeze not strong enough to worry him, but ‘fresh’ as he described it to himself. He had his Gabardine coat buttoned to the very top and the collar turned up. He wasn’t wearing his coat in this manner to affect a look, he did so on doctors orders.
‘Stay warm, but be sure to get as much fresh air as you can.’ That was about the only advice his GP had offered him before he gave Eugene his OK to travel. Eugene was trying to remember if the doctor had barked anymore instructions at him, as he scribbled on the prescription pad. Oh yes.
‘Don’t forget to take these pills three times a day, after meals as prescribed. They will help stabilise your condition.’
My condition, Eugene thought, there would be little change, no matter what I do. However, he would do, as instructed.
Each morning he had noticed that there was a woman who would sit on the next bench along, it was 15 paces away. Eugene had counted the number of paces on his way along the front. He would of been near enough to hear her talking, but she sat alone . She didn’t look lonely though there was a sense of her being on her own. In need of someone to talk to Eugene was wondering how he could approach her. Today being the third day they had sat at this proximity to each other, he knew it would be best to make his move sooner rather than later.
Eugene uncrossed his legs rose slowly from the bench and made his way towards the other bench, counting the steps as he went. Knowing that as he arrived at 15 paces he would be opposite her and needed to be ready to make his pitch.
‘Do you mind, if I join you?’ He said indicating the space on the bench next to the woman before him. She shifted her weight and made to make room for him to sit down.
‘Of course,’ she said a hint of a smile played around her mouth. He nodded, if he had been wearing a hat it would of looked as if he had lightly touched the rim.
‘Fresh, isn’t it? A cold wind coming in from North sea.’ Eugene looked at her and put his hand out. ‘Hello, by the way my name is Eugene, and I am here on holiday, from England.’  His hand held her small  cold hand. She smiled back.
It took only a short while and both Eugene and Jan were enjoying the banter of newly found acquaintances. The weather was dispensed with quickly, both of them came from a culture where the weather is always a topic of conversation. It has to be dealt with. It is part of the how do you do shake hands ritual. Other areas of conversation can progress after this initial “Breaking of the ice”.
Both Jan and Eugene were there on holidays. Well he called it a holiday and she described hers as a vacation.  He was trying to pick her accent, maybe she wasn’t from Belgium maybe she was from America. There was definitely a twang from across the Atlantic hidden in there somewhere. Jan had an excellent command of the English language and soon the pair of them were telling stories and exchanges jokes and observations of a more personal kind.
This was like a tonic for Eugene who had not had an engaging conversation in so long. They seemed to hit it off. So much so that Eugene took a gamble and offered to take Jan out to lunch, it was drawing near to midday, how the morning had raced past.
‘I couldn’t, you are too generous.’ Jan replied to his enquiry. ‘In any case I don’t think anywhere around here would be serving lunch at this time of year. It is still so early in the season, in fact it isn’t the season yet.’
‘We could go Dutch.’ Eugene smiled at his little joke,
‘ I have seen a place, a Bistro, I think, they have tables outside, just along a little way. We could choose whether to eat el fresco or inside. Come lets us walked together’ He offered his arm, which Jan took as they stepped out along the beach front. As they approached, they could see the tables arranged in front of the Bistro.
‘Inside, outside, inside, outside.’ Like children they argued over the seating arrangements, finally agreeing to eat outdoors as the watery sun at that moment had come out from behind  a cloud and the wind had lost some of its chill.
As they sat down Eugene felt like a young man again. He was back in his early twenties enjoying a bohemian life. A time when you could meet a woman in the morning and be lovers by night fall. Where you shared intimacies as easily as cigarettes. He had often been too afraid to really let go and roll the dice of life. Maybe now he could correct some of those missed opportunities. Initiative that’s it take initiative.
However with the choice of food he decided to err on the side of caution and chose the grilled fish with salad and no chips. He did love his chips but on doctors orders he had sworn off them now for a few months. Jan on the other hand decided on the Veal Scaloppini. When it arrived it smelt delicious and tasted divine.
Eugene ate slowly, trying not to be seen counting the number of times he chewed his food. It was a terrible habit, he knew that, it was something he had inherited from his father, a ruminator by choice. Across the table from him Jan wasn’t holding back, she shovelled it in. Slurping up the sauce with every mouthful. The conversation had slowed, food had taken over as the main activity. Even so an idea was forming in Eugene’s mind. He liked Jan he felt he had clicked with her, two souls adrift but aware of each others needs. She had a lovely smile and her sense of humour was helping him forget himself and enjoy the moment. Already Eugene knew that Jan was a broad minded person. She had that air of ease that hinted at a full life, mixing the lows with the highs and enjoying a few raunchy jokes on the way through.  
He put his knife a fork down, Jan did the same smiling at each other over the plates of food glasses of wine and misplaced napkins, their fingers touched, just the tips to start with. They played with the idea of touching each other. Now they held hands, softly enjoying the lightness of touch. Exploring the unfamiliar texture and shapes. Eugene looked up, slightly embarrassed, he saw Jan’s smile and smiled back. They held on to each other, for an eternity, their eyes smiling happily across the landscape of table, napkins and plates.
As Eugene placed the fifteenth forkful of fish into his mouth and started to count in his head. He knew that the remainder of his holiday would be filled with love and surprises. He was feeling better already, in fact he felt a little light headed and a tune had started to resonate, along with the rhythm of his jaw.
On completion of his twenty fifth chew, he swallowed, looked up and asked in an distinctly squeaky voice, laced with emotion.
‘Would you like pudding and a coffee before we go to bed’
He held his napkin to his mouth to cover his reddening face. Jan smiled and reached out her hand again.
‘I would love some dessert and a coffee. And your other offer sounds wonderful.’
Eugene removed the napkin and lifted Jan’s hand to his lips and gave her the lightest of kisses.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Mushroom

Wrong time of year but the Mushrooms have been getting bigger due to the rain we have been getting.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Roof Top Views

Yesterday had to do some work on my roof so I took the trusty camera up and here are some of the views from my terrace house roof.








As you can see it was a lovely day, one of the warmest this Spring. Many more to come.

Monday, October 04, 2010

Spring Drive.

Canola fields, warm winds, leaves are budding. It must be Spring.


 Our back yard flowers and Rainbow Lorikeets.





Monday, September 27, 2010

Friday, September 24, 2010

Night Shots

Bottle Shop
Spiky Tree

Small front garden

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Blossom

A beautiful morning, blue skies and the blossom is out.

Friday, September 10, 2010

Road Trip

A short road trip this morning photos curtsey of LB.

Tuesday, September 07, 2010

Spring flowers at last.

Sometimes all it takes is a flower to tell you the world is turning and Spring is on the way.

Wednesday, September 01, 2010

A Moment In Time



A moment in time.
The back door had slammed shut behind me. It was 6 in the morning at the start of a late summers day.
My father had heard the door as he came down stairs to the toilet. Our paths crossed in the small walk through that was the back of our house. He growled at me, I was looking tired and unwashed. I’m sure that he was concerned for my well being, he didn’t show that emotion he just glared at me and indicated that this was not the end of the matter, more like the beginning.
I went up stairs, I closed the door to my bedroom and feeling very low, I climbed into bed still in my clothes and fell asleep.
When I woke up it was early evening, the day had passed without me seeing any of it. The cloud of depression was still there and I really didn’t want to have to talk to my parents about what I had been doing. I didn’t want to talk about either the future or the past 24 hours, but knew it was the immediate past that they would want to discuss. It was in that 24 hours that I had made some big decisions, decisions I knew they wouldn’t approve of. I wasn’t thinking clearly at all and felt trapped  unable to come out of my room and face the music.
When I thought the coast was clear I crept down to the bathroom and stole some pills, that I thought were sleeping pills, from the medicine cabinet. I took a handful, enough I thought to end my life. Very quickly I felt sick, nauseas to the point of throwing up. I thought if I lay down again it would pass and I would drop into a coma and die. Well that was the plan.
Within an hour, I was on the toilet unable to control my bowels. It was like, two weeks of food was being ejected from me. It was painful and even when there didn’t seem to be any more to come, it just kept coming. I sat there wondering what the fuck I had taken. Later I was to discover they were laxatives.  After about ten minutes I felt a bit better and gingerly got up and made my way downstairs. My aim was to give a frank and honest assessment of my state of mind.
My parents looked at me as if I was a ghost, I expect my exertions had left me a little pale. Being the sort of person I am I decided the way to deal with this situation was to be direct. No beating around the bush. I would tell them straight.
So I preceded to tell them about the lovely people I had met at a party a week before and how we had all met up again yesterday. How we had taken Acid and basically been love bombed by the fantastic music and company. How I had lost track of time and and and . And so I went on until it dawned on me that I wasn’t telling them what I wanted to tell them at all. I was just digging a hole for myself. Giving them ammunition to attack my behaviour. My lack of direction, how I had started on the road to ruination.
So I tried to concentrate, I needed to tell them what I intended to do.
Then came that moment in time. that can be a week, but looking back, it is referred to as a moment. The core of my moment, happened in the next few moments, as I outlined what I intended to do.  The conclusion to that moment came a month later.
“I am going to France” I said,” that is what I have decided to do.”
I had decided the night before. I couldn’t tell them how I had made my decision that would of sounded facile, improvised crap. No substance to the decision making.
I was going to France whether they liked it or not. That was fact, I couldn’t care less if they wanted me to go to college. Retake O levels, make a career in teaching primary school kids. Whatever their expectations were, it was my decision to make my own decision.
That moment of clarity had come and the full impact of it was now filling our living room. I could see my Mother’s mouth open. I expected a word or two to come out but not a sound. That was unusual for her. My Father had put on his stern, no you don’t son, look. But even he was silent. This gave me the breathing space to take a deep breath and add my final demands.
“I will work for one month, and then I will travel to Paris. What I ask of you is that you don’t ask for any board or keep for one month. Is that OK with you?”
I think they were that dumbstruck by the directness of the enquiry, that they agreed there and then. From that evening on, there was an uneasy truce until I left. Each day we moved around each other like injured animals. We didn’t have big discussions about what went wrong. We didn’t pull apart what fragile history we had. I wish we had, I would like to think I would want to discuss things with my kids if they told me they wanted to leave home at sixteen. But this was 1969, I think my Mum and Dad were still living in the 1950s . It took them another two decades to forgive me and the wounds from that moment in time could begin to heal.