LAST DAY IN AUCHENSHUGGLE

Late it is. Nearing dusk and the Star wagon is packed and ready to go for the last time. Izzy is sleeping in preparation for a night drive back down the M1. Beryl Mortimer has been farewelled. Very fond of her we are. The Shuggle has been swept and mopped and everything is in there and ready to go.  We are going to Rosalie on the way out to get Life Energy water if theyre open and to eat dinner if we can find a seat where we can keep an eye on the StarWagon and our possessions.

Goodbye Brisbane.

BEEN a VERY BUSY MARCH this one.

Had enough round about now so I have. The Job ends. The house is up for sale. I have visited the Kids and left them again. re-Met my sister and  now we are packing another flat up and moving another fridge. Hectic. With more to come – seemingly.

STILL SHUGGLING

Walking in the Valley.

Rain falls again today in Drought City. I am not even going to try it not even for the last day. Not even for one last 7 am train from Ipswich to Central Station. Not even to take the Central lift with the large lady from the West and exchange one small greeting and one lift hop of companionship. I was tempted to go in. I was tempted to experience once more the shove of a guard sardining us into the carriage so the doors could do their automatic close. But – I am not. I was out most of the day yesterday. Izzy wanted to get mandolin strings for the Bloke for his birthday. 8 string mandolin. Bullamakanka is playing Club Banora on Saturday night and the Bloke has broken another string so I set off in the rain for Allen’s Music in Queen Street Mall. Sentimental as the time in Brisbane comes to an end. Took the Auchenflower train. Rode the escalators at Central. Smiled at the busker and assessed the food in the food courts. Then I hunted up and down Queen Street Mall and located Allen’s music Store. Level 1. Up another escalator – confident. Crumpler bag over my shoulder and lynx sandals on as well as the black shorts I had found in St Vinnies in Woody Point on our dugong following tour of Northern Moreton Bay. I had 3 graphic downloads of the 3 required sets of strings and instruction on locating the store. Nothing to worry about.

A young man on training leads greeted me and rather than check the shelves took to the computer only to discover that they had NONE. He referred the matter upwards to another smartly clad Cool Customer Service Assistant who also checked the computer to discover that they had none. And if I had only read the internet correctly I would also have known that they HAD NO FENDER MANDOLIN STRINGS let alone for an 8 string mandolin. They ORDER THEM IN with a 10 DAY WAITING PERIOD. Not humanly possible to do it any faster than that says Brisbane’s largest music store. So I stood there in my lynx sandals and crumpler bag slung over my shoulder and chest in case of a random mugging. Holding the 3 downloads – one in full colour – attempting to find any message which said WE DO NOT HAVE THEM IN STOCK. THERE IS A 10 DAY DELIVERY TIME. I couldn’t find any such message but undoubtedly it will be there.

The result was – NO MANDOLIN STRINGS FOR THE BLOKE and no repeat business from me or mine either.

I took off to the food court lower down Queen Street Mall. I LOVE BRISBANE’S FOOD COURTS and straight to the CREPE CAFE. A Florentine crepe seemed the best idea for soothing down. And I added one bottle of PEPSI to drink right at the Allens Cool Lads.

Then across the ways and by-ways to St Andrews Church, Presbyterian which is a comfort when Izzy and I are encountering Presbyterians all over the place as we research Melinda Kendall. And again as I trace the Scottish Bells ( my own family ) right back to JAMES BELL – tried for housebreaking and transported for 7 years in 1831. he lived at Gallow Gate Glasgow.

I sat a while in the meeting in the church and then in came a young woman – the one with chiselled features and True Cool , not Allen’s Cool. She’s the one from whom I learned how to wear my Crumpler bag with a certain casual nonchalance. She pulled her chair beside me and I leaned across and asked whether she knew of any music stores in Brisbane where I might be able to buy mandolin strings. The Valley said she . Billy Hydes. Now I had heard of Billy Hyde’s. Mad O’Brian had asked me to go there once and Izzy knew them in Sydney. Off I took on an Ann Street walk to the Valley. Stopped at some lights and asked a young gentleman who sent me left and right and there they were. 3 large blue stores and much more appealing than the slick and hip inner city. There was Billy Hyde Orchestral Billy Hyde Drums and Billy Hyde everything else. They didn’t have Fenders either but they did have another brand whic Izzy checked via my mobile and gave the appro to. So out I came with 2 sets of strings and one red kazoo and the lads in Billy Hydes WERE cool as well as smart, astute helpful. Bravo Billy Hydes in the Valley.

So I took the last chances to see more of the Valley than I have previously done . Bounced into a Chinese Store looking for suitcases. I am on a quest for perfect travelling bags and shoes and clothes after my last purple suitcase experience and a year of coming and going. Hither and thithering . Didn’t see the perfect suitcase but did find watchbands. $3. $4 – fitted and sure enough the gentleman had his jewellers tools out and the band fitted in no time for $4. Thats better than $47 for the band alone in Tweed City. Did some looking about in Fortitude Valley and was checking the bus times when another mega cool young man took hold of me and said – Here’s your city bus coming now.

Well I didn’t actually want to go back to the City for a hour or so – but I do not like to discourage cool young people who are helping my generation out so I took the 370 back to the City with him. Mebbe some other time I shall see more of The Valley. Took the chance in the City to look for a Trekking shop in the ongoing hunt for the shoes and bag. Found one too and the BEST shoes. Almost took a caribbee bag but it wasn’t quite right. The shoes were quite right. However they were also quite expensive and need some more thinking about. Nevertheless I know now that they do exist.

Carol W from Austlit wore the perfect boot to the Brekkie for Peter Knox. Thats what set me off. I usually wear Blundstones when I am not in Lynx sandals but Blundstones are heavy and no longer made in Australia.

Being out and about after a week of being unwell – I decided I had best keep right on going whilst I was able. West End remained one place I hadn’t even seen after one year. So I went searching for West End buses. Looked down in the underground bus station first. Down in the bowels under the Queen Street Mall. No West Enders there. Then tried Elizabeth Street. None there. Ended up back at the Information Booth in the mall and was directed to Stop 47 at the top of Adelaide Street. The 199 Bus. Took a seat up the back and down sat another 2 young cool ones. Brisbane breeds a most polite and generous young person so it does. I asked them where I should get off to see West End and they filled me in on the best spots , stops and ways to the City Cat wharf.

So now I have been to West End and am again impressed. Cafes and op shops and more magical tropical buildings. The Young Man had been very clear about my not being able to walk as far as the City Cat wharf and that lit the walking fire in me. So I walked the length of Vulture Street and took the few twists at the end and arrived at the wharf intact despite a phone call from Tanya Tauszky on the way which left me a little hard of breathing and a sense of urgency about getting to UQ by 4.50 pm to get a lift with Izzy. Turned out just fine and I still had my $3.20 all day concession. I wanted to take some fotos of his last days at UQ so I did.

Then we Took ourselves to Bardon for dinner at the Nepalese . All in all – a very fine second last day in Brisbane except for tidying up.

SHUGGLING TO THE END

Last 2 days officially in the Shuggle. Yesterday was the brisbane of Legend which I had not encountered this Summer. HOT with bugs crawling on me while i tried to sleep and the ceiling fan whirring. I have a lingering image of long fans made of cloth and pulled back and forth on white fellas by an Indian holding the rope in his toes. I saw it in a movie a long time ago. Last night I lay in the heat – window closed against the neighbours’ noises. Fan turning instead of being leisurely fanned back and forth by a toe pulled rope – listening to a squeaky dog and thinking to myself – ” one legendary Brisbane night before I leave. ” One is probably quite enough and a 1000 far to many. Today is however my accustomed Brisbane day. Cool and damp. Birds and tropical gardens. Iz works today and tomorrow at Aust Lit and then it is done and he comes to live with me in The Cottage on The Hill. As an AusStudent and me a Disabled Pensioner. I wonder what my disability really is.

Today I am commissioned to go into the City and find Allens Music Store in the Queen Adelaide Building in Queen Street Mall and buy 3 sets of strings for an 8 string mandolin. Thats Izzy present to the Bloke for his 61st birthday. I have the internet printout to show them. I shall add a meeting at St Andrews Church at noon. probably take the train from Auchenflower station 3 stops into the City. Then I am almost done with that as well

 

 

I listen to ClassicFM here in the Shuggle. When I am down South, I listen to Coast FM. The Shuggle is beautifully set up with Bookcases and wardrobes . Down South we are making our bookshelves from planks and bricks as we did way back in the 70s.

Izzy is accustomed to fulltime work and plenty of pay. As from March 31st hes AusStudy and full time PhD. Now this will be interesting.

And Me I am accustomed to living alone and running my own households for 20 years . This could be very interesting indeed. This could be very good.

Here in Auchenflower in this Thursday before we leave, the rain comes. I borrow a blue long sleeved shirt from his wardrobe and wiht my Lynx sandals on prepare for another rainy Brisbane outing.

A last few days spent looking through louvres. A last few days watching the ghekkos come out to hunt from behind the bookcases. And dreading the slope of the Rossmere Lane Hill. I am yearning for the big farmhouse in a valley near my children but life might not go that way. So I keep packing up the Shuggle ready for the next Student from UQ who will come to live here. And wondering how JB is doing in the Royal Brisbane Women and Childrens Hospital. Iz was in there with his cardiac incident but I don’t quite know where it is. I haven’t QUITE mastered Brisbane and for now I will not be doing so but :

I STILL LOVE THIS CITY !

Carol W from AustLit found this poem to read at Izzy’s Austlit Breakfast Farewell on Tuesday. The AustLitters gathered at Wordsmiths’ Cafe on the UQ campus and you can check out the poems on Peter Knox’s site.

This wee one from Carol seems just to match the day alone in the Shuggle farewelling all manner of things UNSEEN by anyone but Me and Him.

As Chesterton said -

TAKE THIS . IT IS MY PREVIOUS EXISTENCE. IT LED ME TO YOU.

And as Carol would have read at the AustLit Breakfast if she hadn’t left the printout on her dessk when she came down to brekkie -

A POEM BY PETER BLADEN.

Circa 1962.

Warns

The greatest events may leave hearts unimpressed

Whilst Peter of the variety Porter

Perhaps more appropriately orders:

Bring me forest salad , the topmost leaves which wait upon the sun.

Aussie soldiers turn noses up at ration packs

Another gem from the Yahoo News which illuminates my email page. Making very sure I acknowledge the source here in case E. Hook’s flagrant copyright law violation accusations come daggering at me from other places as well.

so be aware that the article below is NOT mine. I did not write it. It belongs to yahoo. I make no money from putting it here. I just get some cheering up. And it tickles my sense of humour.

Saturday March 22, 01:17 PM By Nicole Butler This Easter many Australian soldiers serving in Iraq will open their ration packs with disappointment.

Forget the chocolate eggs; nutritionists say the traditional Australian army rations aren’t appetising enough.

Soldiers are refusing to eat the rations and their health and morale is suffering as a result, and the Army is spending thousands of dollars to make ration packs more appetising.

It seems hard to believe, but experts say the success of military operations is being compromised by the unpalatable ration packs given to our troops.

Australia is part of a hot region and most defence personnel are deployed to high temperature zones.

Soldiers stationed overseas are becoming sick, lethargic and they’re under-performing, because they can’t bring themselves to eat their pre-packed hot meals.

Chris Forbes-Ewan, a nutritionist with Defence Science and Technology Organisation in Tasmania, says the reason for that is pretty clear that people lose appetite in the heat.

“The current pack includes meals that need to be heated to be fully edible; main meals spaghetti bolognese and beef with noodles and sweet and sour foods and these sorts of things,” he said.

“Also freeze-dried rice and potato and onion powder.”

Giant marine life found in Antarctic sea

Friday March 21, 04:26 PM

Giant-sized snails and jellyfish have surprised researchers during a major survey of New Zealand’s Antarctic seas.

Huge sea snails, jellyfish with tentacles up to four metres long and starfish the size of big food platters were some of the species found during research vessel Tangaroa’s 50-day, 3,200km voyage in the Ross Sea, New Zealand marine scientist Don Robertson said.

THE STINGRAYS WAKE

Saturday March 22, 07:59 AM

Stingray ’shattered victim’s skull’

A boater who was killed when a stingray jumped out of the water in the Florida Keys and hit her face died of skull fractures and brain injuries, not from the animal’s poisonous barb, a medical examiner said.

Judy Kay Zagorski, 57, of Pigeon, Michigan, was in the front of a boat travelling at 40 km/h on Thursday when a 34 kg spotted eagle ray leapt from the water and hit her in a freak collision.

NB. Saw 6 stingrays in Urunga Lagoon only a few weeks ago. What does this mean ?

DANGERS OF OBESITY

Obese relative ‘may have crushed boy’

A two-year-old boy who died with a fractured skull may have been accidentally crushed by a morbidly obese relative, authorities say.

IZZY COMES TODAY

Izzy comes today. Works the morning at UQ and then comes down the M1 to Bilambil. He is expecting mail which is held at the Post Office Village Store. It could be our Canadian data on the Chambly Court Martial. It could be Melinda and Basil’s marriage certificates. it could be anything.

Izzy comes home today and then within 3 weeks we will actually be living together. I am in Bilambil. In the Cottage. Kate rang last night and she has her car. Went on a mission to Armidale with Johan, Mel and Bell and Baby Jet with the penetrating eyes and fetched it from her father. Bell drove it back down. Kate has had her licence for almost one year . That means she can’t drive a manual car for 3 more weeks and needs to do some sort of spatial perception test in order to get the full licence. Then she will be out there in the red Magna station wagon doing the Kalang back roads.A big change from the inner City of Sydney where she learned to drive.

We have only a week or so left in Brisbane. I had great hopes of Brisbane. I fell in love with it when I went there for the first time last year. Rode on the City Cats and walked along SouthBank. Travelled all day on public transport for $2.70. I fell in love with the beautiful old houses and the lavish bushiness of this Northern Town. 3kms from the City Centre and kookaburras are in the trees , scrub turkeys scrimmage in the gardens and possums climb the wires. Izzy don’t like it. He has wanted to get out almost from the beginning BUT I LOVE IT. I don’t want to go there now – because it hasn’t become the place where we are to make our lives and so an aching regret is there for me like leaving a lover one doesn’t wish to leave.

Being in Bello for a week or two has helped. There are places where I could be at Home. I did love this area when I came here. Loved it for 7 years and now restlessness is upon me. Been like that all my life. 7 years or so is enough for me. Then a wandering call comes.

Bellingen was pretty fine this time. I think anywhere where the Kids are within easy range looks pretty good to me. Just as anywhere that Izzy is coming home to looks pretty good to me.

Jai and Kate with Izzy at the Old Butter Factory in Bellingen.

I went to town. That means COOLANGATTA for me. 15 kms app. Did a meeting and then went to Tweed Centro. Bought some incense and some spiritual sky essential oil while I’m on the early 70s retro trip. Which with the Stars as they are for the next couple of decades ( inc EQUINOX and full moon this week) Might see the rest of my earth days fitting me rather well just as the forerunner did in the 1970s. So I chose NIGHT QUEEN for some ancient reason which I cannot recall and then I hit the Bagels , Goats Milk , lentil patties, greek yoghurt in memory of Tony Bahles, and other odds and ends. From the Woolworths in Centro. I do not like supermarkets but decided to do it anyway for the things Izzy likes. Doing things for my men has not been a major facet of my life. Thats why I did it. Cause he’s a good man and does many things for me. Now I’m home again. Home is for sale mind you. Over $1 million. Not my $1 million.

I have added this Armidale foto. Haven’t put many up from the Armidale section of the trip. will do so. It was a good week. I love My Kids’ homes. When I go to Armidale they have a big queen size bed for me same as Kalang does. In Armidale they give me 5 pillows and 5 doonahs because they know I love that. I sleep in Maddy’s playroom and am treated marvellously as I am at Kalang. We take walks in Armidale. This one is outside O’Connor Catholic college. Every single one of these vehicles has a P Plate on it. Draw your own conclusions.

 

 

In the Meantime I am in the Cottage. Cool Breezes blowing and windchimes chiming. Grass growing. Me watching the new Minister for Science etc at the Press Club and considering the new Government. Wondering when and how Dept of Housing disappeared and why it rarely is suggested. Life is a LOT easier when one has a HOUSE to live in. My rent has been more than 50% of my income for a very long time. These are the easiest financial days of my adult life – but I have years and years of what Margaret Jakob called GRINDING POVERTY and I have often been ground down. Still am eroded probably. Going shopping like I did today and spending about $50 still causes an allergic reaction in me. A surge of fear and trepidation.

I drive the Charade my father passed on to me when my mother died in 2001. I have their ashes in the wardrobe and am considering a plaque at Urunga Cemetery. I used to take Odin the Staffordshire Bull Terrier there to walk early in the morning and late in the afternoon when the roos came out. We got on well – Odin , the roos, the birds , the ghosts and me. I built a cairn there of rocks. Just out of the official boundary of the cemetery. The cemetery is near Urunga lagoon. The smell of the salt water and the waters meeting the sea. I taught school there and have 20 or so ex-pupils on facebook writing to me. I am glad of that. Sometimes its difficult to anchor onto worlds which are gone now.

Seemingly.

 

FOTOS OF MY MARCHING VACATION.

MARCHING ON

WE’RE ON VACATION !

STUCK INSIDE BILAMBIL WITH THE TWEED HEADS BLUES AGAIN

I am back in Bilambil and wouldn’t be too Blue if theKids lived closer. Just assimilating the mixed experiences of a fortnight away. On the way Down Izzy and I stopped into New Italy for coffee and brekkie. I love New Italy. In my struggles to locate the non generic – non globalised – New Italy remains unscathed right on the pacific Highway. Then again the Pacific Highway hasn’t really allowed the 21st century to touch it either. New Italy has a telephone Museum ( not something you see everyday) An Italian Museum – again not the most common experience. In addition the food was excellent. The Service was delightful and the grape vines were growing along the verandah and curling down the polls. Just the way I like it. Izzy said it were the biggest cup of coffee he had had. Bravo New Italy. Fine statuary as well.

Then we headed South. It was a right adventure for me with Izzy along to show him My World. For me to go back to the place I left in 2001. Since then Both my parents have passed away and many things have changed. Right adventure too because Kate and IMM have returned to the Valley after 8 years and The Mad O’Brians are only 2 hours up the Mountains.

We sneaked around the back of Grafton. The Brother in Law showed me that one years ago. He’s RTA. Centenary Drive and we were South and on the way to Coffs. We passed through as smoothly as we were able with Southern towns on our minds. Wonder why they changed the original Macdonalds which was a fine and salubrious setup into a Caravan Sales Centre and moved the maccas down the way and into the Generic Globalised Mini that it is. Just drove right on by.

Driving right on by was a good idea too because the starter motor was still not working without being hit with a stick and the orange hammer. Each time we stopped it was the 2 person attack just to get going again. Having spent a night in Byron where we were looked at askance as if we were ageing and possibly demented Hippies ( which we possibly are) – we tried to keep moving right on along.

Years back, Lindy Lombard, who didn’t even live in Urunga, came over the Hill into the Bellinger Valley. THIS – she said- IS MY FAVOURITE VIEW OF ALL. The view is a little altered with new highways etc carving their way through but there it is. The Bellinger Valley. Someone else told me – and more than one someone elses – that the lie of the mountains to the West is seen as a man lying – black man reclines. It wraps round the back of Gleniffer . Haven’t seen it myself but I do try to. I squint and close one eye but it still don’t look like anyone reclining to me. And I have a pretty imaginative turn of mind.

We came to Raleigh Bridge. I dont like Raleigh Bridge. I liked the old one which was mighty dangerous as it crossed the river around a nasty curve. I was fond of the Old Raeligh bridge. The new one would have been OK but its CROOKED. I have an PCD turn to me and the slope of that bridge worries me. Nevertheless we turned under it and were circling to cross it when a nutter trying to do Trunk Road 76 at “After work I’m on my way home” speed tailed us so we pulled of near the Raleigh truck Stop for a moment. Let him make his way home. I knew a man once – he did a suicide drive down the Trunk Road 76. His passenger had his arm out the window holding his bottle of spirits so it wouldn’t spill. As they hurtled off the Trunk Road 76 , so did his arm. The story is now a legend and the mythical details are clear to me but not the earthly reality. I know he was hurt but I seem to have mixed the Arm Losing with the one who had it lopped off in one of the small Mills – probably Wills Mill. Either way – the arms are still on. Stitched back in some way which always fascinated me.

Later on after the suicide driver had died at a far later date- mysteriously and prompting a hunting down of junkies in Bellingen – propped up out the back of the Federal with a bottle of whiskey in his hands – another of his mates died on a Trunk Road Bend. Head on with a car filled with basketball girls. Its a tough road that one. Calling it WATERFALL WAY hasn’t changed that .

Izzy of course doesnt know any of the Trunk Road 76 stories and he is a little disconcerted when he see the 100kh sign on the narrow road but I am not. Thats the thread leading home. Used to be MY TOWN this one. And my Girl is at the other end. The Generic Globalised effect has not reached this road, just kissed the town on the cheek and definitely NOT even caught a glimpse of Kalang.Later in the week we went on down to Urunga – THE LITTLE TOWN TIME FORGOT- and as i have said before – That is TRUE. That used to be MY TOWN too.

I am however not there now. I am back in Bilambil. Izzy is in Brisbane. Coming back tomorrow.  I don’t have the Tweed Head Blues this morning. I feel Blue for my beloved DOS who has been left on his own at 82. Shocked , bewildered and confused. The property to be put up for sale. I could live like this within easy reach of My Kids. Thats what I would like. But I have a good man in my life and his music is here . So for now I am in Bilambil.  In The Cottage. Takin my time to sort this one out.

MORE MARCHING ORDERS

I have also been in Armidale.

FOTOS OF MY MARCHING VACATION.

Something like a wandering mendicant. I am fascinated by that term.

I found this on HERMITARY one of my favourite sites. Its a little bit of Kipling. I have a plaster of Paris head above my look. Its a Pathan Warrior from Kipling. Handpainted.

“Behind him, as he walked through the city gates, an antelope skin and brass-handled crutch under his arm, and a begging-bowl of polished brown coco-de-mer in his hand, barefoot, alone, with eyes cast on the ground—behind him they were firing salutes from the bastions in honour of his happy successor. Purun Dass nodded. All that life was ended; and he bore it no more ill-will or good-will than a man bears to a colourless dream of the night. He was a Sunnyasi—a houseless, wandering mendicant, depending on his neighbours for his daily bread; and so long as there is a morsel to divide in India, neither priest nor beggar starves. He had never in his life tasted meat, and very seldom eaten even fish. A five-pound note would have covered his personal expenses for food through any one of the many years in which he had been absolute master of millions of money. Even when he was being lionised in London he had held before him his dream of peace and quiet—the long, white, dusty Indian road, printed all over with bare feet, the incessant, slow-moving traffic, and the sharp-smelling wood smoke curling up under the fig-trees in the twilight, where the wayfarers sit at their evening meal.”

Now I am not actually a WANDERING MENDICANT but I FELT like one a few times. AND I was very well taken care of.

MARCHED RIGHT ON HOME

Came in on the Countrylink Coach last night. Into Tweed Heads. Been away 2 weeks. Yesterday morning I woke up in Kalang. In the little room with the high ceilings and the big double glass doors looking out onto the birds and the valley. Imm was off to work early . Up in Dorrigo. Kate and I slept in and Dreamed dreams.

2 weeks with my Kids and now I am back in Bilambil with the Tweed Heads Blues again. Kate went to work at the IGA Deli in Bellingen at 2pm. Interesting Job with tight fitting black hat, cut hands and burns and BUNDYING ON . “please enter by the front door only ” They say to the Staff. Wot ! She might be absconding with a slice of Devon. Then again we are of Devon stock and the other sides of the family arrived on free transports on various counts of LARCENY and COINAGE so mebbe Mr IGA is wise to be cautious.

We had tossed the accursed Purple People Eating Suitcase in the back of the diesel 4 wheel drive and IMM dropped me down at Urunga Railway Station . THE LITTLE TOWN THAT TIME FORGOT they call it and don’t take that lightly. The station once had a station master. It was wooden and elegant – petit chic – We took our luggage ( back then) to the station master who had a trolley and from that point it was no concern of ours. It travelled in the Baggage Compartment – safe and with others of its own kind. We booked our tickets there as well. And when the Station Master – as well as tending the ‘gardens’ kept his platform of passengers informed as to the progress of the approaching train. Which- when it came had such things as SLEEPING COMPARTMENTS, and DINING CAR, and even – as a dim memory – on the Murwillumbah Train ( RIP) a section which carried peoples cars so they could hop off the other end and drive off to the Gold Coast in their own vehicles.

So, IMM drops me off . RESMED( only $5 from Cobblers two in Brisbane CBD on Roma Street) laptop bag over one shoulder and leading the PURPLE PEOPLE EATER with the other hand – up the ramp to the salubrious blue and white shed we now call STATION. Bulldogs colours – says I . Police Colours – says IMM. Either one fits. You see TheY pulled the little wooden one down when theY decided there was no need for it a couple of decades ago and then theY had to build a new one. This one doesn’t have the station master and it doesnt have the men and womens bathrooms. it has a large stainless steel toilet room which cannot be locked or even closed really. The Loo itself is about 3 metres from the door so theres no arm reaching to hold it shut.

I sat there on the platform which has seen many stages of my life. Right back in 1948 My parents Joyce and Bruce Sanders arrived there for their honeymoon. Station Master , Baggage handlers and all. Many years I have been on that platform. Old and New. Yesterday there was just ME for am hour or more. In my old blundstones. me and some litter under the benches. Going North where mostly I have gone South. Leaving my Kids . Coming back to a Lover. Kind of. Sat there – took a couple of fotos with the self-timer since there was no family to take them. I last saw my mother there – other than on life support. She dropped me there in the Charade which I now drive.

Yesterday , the Bladerunner loudspeaker kept me informed in a honey female voice that the XPT was running 15 minutes late. In she came and on I hopped. Well not quite hopped. There were only 2 passengers getting on. One healthy young lad from NZ who arrived in an ambulance with a very fit looking young female ambo ( as they call them ) .

And ME. 58 years old and lugging more luggage ( Aha thats the connection between the words) Lugging the Purple. That didn’t mean the extremely strong looking young Countrylink Attendant was about to help me hoist it on board. THUMBS DOWN TO YOU YOUNG LADY. That was the 3.28pm XPT from Sydney to Casino. Didnt get her foto unfrotunately. So I hoisted it and found the baggage rack at the end of Car D. Pretty easy . Never do like leaving the Purple People Eater all alone and unsupervised but thats how it is nowadays and somehows nothing has ever gone astray for me. Seems like as organisation breaks down and crumbles like a rotting tooth – individual people become more decent. They are to me .

PUBLIC TRANSPORT. I LUV IT !!!!!

Sat down right in the middle of a Grafton Group of Young mothers and one disgruntled teenager being removed from Sydney to Live on the Clarence and one toothless little girl with a very big mouth. Hectic . One gentleman was stuck right in the middle of conversations more personal than I have with my own loved ones. I had the window seat thanks to ARMIDALE Station master. They still have a Station master there. They only have ONE train a day. But They have the Station master and he made sure I had the window seat. Thumbs up on that one. Pretty good trip it was . 3 hours. Urunga to Casino. That meant I was on board for DINNER. I dimly recall the Dining Car era. That was classy. We used to walk down to the Dining carriage , order dinner and eat at table. Sometimes we sat in the Dining car and played board games or did crosswords.

I am however long into the routines of the XPT. One woman once told me she called it A PEOPLE CARRIER. The attendant “passed through the carriages” with tickets for dinner. I went for the green one this time. Only $9. The Sydney to Grafton Crew hand out the tickets and the Grafton to Casino crew hand out the meals at 5.30pm. That meant dinner was in peace after the Grafton Horde were gone. I wanted to reach out to the depressed teenage girl and tell her to run. RUN girl. You are going to hate this one. But instead I sat quietly as one does at 58 and waited for DINNER. I didn’t have the REUSABLE CARDBOARD TRAY – because I had to that point only eaten CARROT CAKE WITH FORK and a can of lemonade. So they handed me a new REUSABLE CARDBOARD TRAY and I handed them my GREEN TICKET. I had a hope. A small flicker of hope – connected to the USE BY DATE. And that hope was richly fulfilled. BEST EATEN BY 2/2009. Yes !!!! The Railway has not let me down. A meal which I could still eat ONE YEAR FROM NOW. All I need is an 18 month old apple from Woolworths and all my nutritional needs can easily be met.

I am near professional on these journeys – but I could see the fear and trepidation in some of my travelling companions. I caught a hint of American Accent and a frequent checking of ticket details. Wise move because just ahead was the ARRIVAL AT CASINO. Having been compelled to rebuild Urunga Railway Station – TheY finally entered the 21st century by leaving the stations intact and closing the ENTIRE LINE from Casino to Murwillumbah. Little ghosts of better times stand beside the unused tracks and large , airconditioned coaches with videos and toilets AND seatbelts hurtle along the backroads to various destinations.

Wise of you to be alert American Woman. As we approach Casino – the Voice begins to explain the transfer from Train to Coach. each labelled with a capital letter. I have done this before. I KNOW what to do. The Purple People Eater is in the front baggage racks waiting. I have the ticket open and i KNOW that the letter M which designates MY coach to Tweed Heads has NO relevance to ANYTHING AT ALL. The coaches are NOT parked in alphabetical order. The M coach does NOT stop at ANY town with the letter M anywhere in it ( other than LisMore ) . It is in fact at the front of the lineup of flash airconditioned coaches with toilets and seatbelts.

Even with my hardened experience I wasn’t quite prepared for this one. 5 passengers on the 48 seat coach. Robert the coach driver was a gentleman and hoisted the Purple People Eater happily. Then he put the Garfield Movie on for us. That kept us all pretty happy as we hurtled along the narrow backroads between Casino and Tweed Heads. Through the otherwise sleepy villages. Where once a train wove its way with the siren call of the train horn. Didnt mind Garfield and then Robert wrapped it up with a sing along of Neil Diamond – opening with Sweet Caroline and wrapping up with RED RED WINE as we pulled into the ‘TWEED HEADS COACH STOP”.

Something is sadly amiss with me because I actually ENJOY this. I even enjoy the tweed heads coach stop. This is the GATEWAY to the Gold Coast. No Loos. No Lights. One bench. No Fones. Just Joanne Pascoe and Thea waiting for me. and a deserted Bay Street. No Taxis. This is it. Welcome to Paradise.

Into the Futura and out through the night to The Cottage. Lynne is back in Bilambil.

 

 

 

 

 

FLAME

LATEST FLAME

MARCHING ON

Been away now for 11 days, Disoriented and peculiar. In Armidale now after a great week in Kalang. Not that its really wild country that I ever travel in except the venturing into these thoughts and emotions. One more night in Armidale and then into a flash car for the trip down the mountains to kalang to Kate and IMM. Carrying the Purple Suitcase which weighs an inordinate amount. Loaded or not. Had hoped to have laptops fixed this trip but doesn’t look like it unless I get to MacMan and Robyn in Bello ( Bellingen)

Caught the Keans ( We’re Kean to have you travel with us ) Coach up the mountains the other day and arrived here in Armidale behind Hungry Jacks right on Noon. Very do-able for $23. Only 2 hours and the driver declared the Purple Suitcase was ‘ not a problem Madam.” Felt safe immediately despite Dorrigo being ahead of me.

The Mitsubishi Magna preceded us into town and I met up with Mad O’Brian, Jolene and My little Poppy. Izzy by then was back up north following a succesful Bello Musical Debut at the Federal Hotel and some very good times with my daughter and IMM.

LAST DAY IN AUCHENFLOWER

Packed and ready to holiday so I am. Going South to Bilambil today and then down to Byron tomorrow. Izzy is playing at the Bangalow Pub. Sunday is Bob Dylan Song Book Band at Bilambil Sports Club and then on Monday WE GO SOUTH. To Kalang and then Armidale.

Check out my Slide Show!