I've described my father's side of the family. Loving and generous, toad in the hole baking artistic types. The sort of people kids are drawn to and adults aspire to be like. My father is that too. A gentleman with patience and generosity. I'd be a good man if I was only half his character. His mum and dad were Grandma and Grandpa. We called mum's mother Nanna.
The trips to Sydney always involved a drop in to Grandma and Grandpa's. Very rarely, Nanna would be on the agenda. I actually can never remember staying at the house ever. I know we must have once because I have memories of Nanna standing at the sink scraping the charcoal off the now rock hard toast and handing it to me saying "I'll be fine with a little jam". It wasn't. Other than that, my main recollections of Nanna's house was being outside or sitting on the floor at my parents feet without speaking, at all!! I hated going there, really really hated it. Nanna was a cranky woman too. There was not one toy in the house for when the grand kids stayed. There was however, an air force ash tray. It was a metal model plane with movable propellers and the ash tray around the base of the stand it was on. I wanted to just turn the propeller just once and as my tiny finger extended to just touch it with the tip and make the propeller turn and if I'm really quiet I can do it without anyone noticing and the plane is so shiny and metal and looks so cool and... "DON'T TOUCH IT!!!" would screech my Nanna. My finger pulled back to me so quickly i think I hit myself in the face on more than one occasion. She scared me. The planes belonged to her husband, my Pa who died from motor neurone when I was 3 months old yada yada yada, I only wanted to touch the FUCKING PROPELLER you insane old woman. I didn't think that then, I just thought of it now. The carpet was hard, scratchy and thin, there was never biscuits or sweets. Nanna was just not equipped to handle kids. My mum always felt free to tell us out of her earshot she was a bitch.
Time shift forward 40 years. My mum would call to ask when the kids school holidays were on. Aww I hear you say, she wasn't like her mum, what a good Mamma (that's what she was called). Genetics leapfrogged her maybe. No, they didn't. The only reason to know when they were off school was to avoid visiting at that time at all cost. When she'd arrive and the boys sensed her inability to relate to them, they would look at us with pleading eyes and with our best grown up slightly furrowed brow, indicate they were to be polite and respectful. My little one asked once if he had to kiss her because "the hairs on her lip hurt my face". I agreed, they hurt my face too.
Genetics are ever so obvious when you look around. I pray to god that they missed me, that when my boys have kids I will be making Kookaburra noises to them and drawing with them and having them refer to me as Grandpa in their blogs in 40 years time. And I'm going to buy an aircraft metal plane ashtray with movable propellers and when they visit, make them touch the propellers and if they don't they'll be in trouble.
Thursday, 13 December 2012
Thursday, 6 December 2012
Being Uncool
I came to the conclusion many years ago that I was somewhat uncool by the standards of most. That's OK though because it has meant others have benefited. There are a dozen or so people about 5 to 8 years younger than me that may remember having the time of their life at my expense.
When about 14 years old, I was at the Lilac Time Festival with a group of friends. The Lilac Time was the spring fair in the country town of Goulburn where I grew up. They would close off a street, roll in the amusement rides and vendors carts and behold, 1000 kids on a sugar rush with tomato sauce on their shirt fronts. Back in those days, to cart your kids off to an amusement park unaccompanied was pretty much the norm. We had limited funds of course and so was quite picky in what we rode. The spinning swings was a favourite because there was always the chance a chain would break. The ultimate was the Hurricane. A massive set of 4 arms that swung the pods we were sitting in up and around and down and back up again and the hiss of escaping air and whine of the hydraulic motors added to the thrill. This was for sure, a great time to be 14 and free.
There was of course rides for the younger ones, small paddle boat things and slow arse merry-go-rounds. There was also this extremely lame circle of flower pods that kids sat in as it rotated like the arms of a clock about 5 meters in the air. It was placed at the end of the main alley of the fair and looked up towards the Hurricane at the other end.
We were standing just near the lame flower clock ride getting our bearings for the trek up the way to THE HURRICANE (I get excited just writing about it now still) when I felt a hand on my arm. "Could you please just ride this so the balance is right for the other kids?" The ride attendant woman looking up at me with a pleading face. With what can only be described as the biggest mind snap in the universe, I said yes. There were about 5 or 6 arms to this thing and 3 on one side were full with beaming little kids about 6 to 8. There remained the other side kids free. The woman sat me in the middle empty pod. When I say sat, I mean folded me into. At 14 I was about 6 foot tall already. This thing was not meant for someone of my dimension so with my knees firmly against my ears, it started to spin, slowly. I was framed by empty pods either side and my friends standing with their mouths agape at the horror befalling me, laughed so hard I think one of them actually let a little wee out. The clock arms rotated around and I thought this would end soon but no, it kept going. I noticed people up the alley way turn to notice the fuckwit in the kids ride. I wanted to scream at them I was doing them a favour and only there to balance the ride. My screams were all internal though. The few thousand people that stood and pointed at me that day (it seemed like that to me) all were of the opinion I had paid for and was receiving my ride of choice. If I told you I am impossible to embarrass today, you can believe me, as I think its because every ounce of my life's embarrassment was compressed in to that one moment. Sure the other kids had a great 'balanced' ride but I have never received a letter thanks from them, ever. So if you are one of those kids and you want to make an uncool person feel a little cool, let me know.
When about 14 years old, I was at the Lilac Time Festival with a group of friends. The Lilac Time was the spring fair in the country town of Goulburn where I grew up. They would close off a street, roll in the amusement rides and vendors carts and behold, 1000 kids on a sugar rush with tomato sauce on their shirt fronts. Back in those days, to cart your kids off to an amusement park unaccompanied was pretty much the norm. We had limited funds of course and so was quite picky in what we rode. The spinning swings was a favourite because there was always the chance a chain would break. The ultimate was the Hurricane. A massive set of 4 arms that swung the pods we were sitting in up and around and down and back up again and the hiss of escaping air and whine of the hydraulic motors added to the thrill. This was for sure, a great time to be 14 and free.
There was of course rides for the younger ones, small paddle boat things and slow arse merry-go-rounds. There was also this extremely lame circle of flower pods that kids sat in as it rotated like the arms of a clock about 5 meters in the air. It was placed at the end of the main alley of the fair and looked up towards the Hurricane at the other end.
We were standing just near the lame flower clock ride getting our bearings for the trek up the way to THE HURRICANE (I get excited just writing about it now still) when I felt a hand on my arm. "Could you please just ride this so the balance is right for the other kids?" The ride attendant woman looking up at me with a pleading face. With what can only be described as the biggest mind snap in the universe, I said yes. There were about 5 or 6 arms to this thing and 3 on one side were full with beaming little kids about 6 to 8. There remained the other side kids free. The woman sat me in the middle empty pod. When I say sat, I mean folded me into. At 14 I was about 6 foot tall already. This thing was not meant for someone of my dimension so with my knees firmly against my ears, it started to spin, slowly. I was framed by empty pods either side and my friends standing with their mouths agape at the horror befalling me, laughed so hard I think one of them actually let a little wee out. The clock arms rotated around and I thought this would end soon but no, it kept going. I noticed people up the alley way turn to notice the fuckwit in the kids ride. I wanted to scream at them I was doing them a favour and only there to balance the ride. My screams were all internal though. The few thousand people that stood and pointed at me that day (it seemed like that to me) all were of the opinion I had paid for and was receiving my ride of choice. If I told you I am impossible to embarrass today, you can believe me, as I think its because every ounce of my life's embarrassment was compressed in to that one moment. Sure the other kids had a great 'balanced' ride but I have never received a letter thanks from them, ever. So if you are one of those kids and you want to make an uncool person feel a little cool, let me know.
Sunday, 2 December 2012
Food Fight
If you follow my tweets you may have noticed in the past I had mentioned a food fight. It was a planned and orchestrated event, formal invitations, suggestions thrown around and the best plan arrived at. The very capable Andrew Cripps camera guy was engaged and although no formal run sheet produced, was planned to a tee!
I haven't got any particular memory of why I wanted a food fight but I did. It came up in conversation a few months back and with a flurry of emails, was decided upon. We even scoped out the site a few weeks prior and decided upon the perfect site, water was nearby for washing but it was also clear enough to avoid the risk of any unintentional victims.
Because I am a responsible adult, it was decided a healthy picnic lunch would be had beforehand and the desert flinging start directly afterwards. Oh and it was also keep a secret from the kids. I wanted to see their faces. I have no idea how many people get to have a food fight, but was sure our kids deserved to be in that minority.
The morning of the day arrived and a quick trip down to the water front where we were to let fly, saw the gusts from the south causing a little havoc. It was touch and go sort of. A phone call here, a look into the sky there but in the end, if we didn't do it now, we never would. I had literally kilograms of desert prepared. From trifle to caramel tarts, jellies and chocolate deserts. And there was 10 other adults all with a similar cache of weapons. It was decided to throw caution to the wind (or cake in this instance) and forge ahead regardless. Boy, were we glad we did. The sun shone, the wind dropped and it was a simply glorious day. The kids were none the wiser and because we have teenage boys that just wanted to eat then run off for a skateboard, we set out the deserts and well watch the clip to see what happened next. All I can say is all our kids are chicken.
I haven't got any particular memory of why I wanted a food fight but I did. It came up in conversation a few months back and with a flurry of emails, was decided upon. We even scoped out the site a few weeks prior and decided upon the perfect site, water was nearby for washing but it was also clear enough to avoid the risk of any unintentional victims.
The morning of the day arrived and a quick trip down to the water front where we were to let fly, saw the gusts from the south causing a little havoc. It was touch and go sort of. A phone call here, a look into the sky there but in the end, if we didn't do it now, we never would. I had literally kilograms of desert prepared. From trifle to caramel tarts, jellies and chocolate deserts. And there was 10 other adults all with a similar cache of weapons. It was decided to throw caution to the wind (or cake in this instance) and forge ahead regardless. Boy, were we glad we did. The sun shone, the wind dropped and it was a simply glorious day. The kids were none the wiser and because we have teenage boys that just wanted to eat then run off for a skateboard, we set out the deserts and well watch the clip to see what happened next. All I can say is all our kids are chicken.
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