Can You Hear Me Harry

My mate Dave from Queensland rang me yesterday morning, 19 Feb 2022. I first met Dave in 1974, when I went from Victoria to attend the Queensland Agricultural College at Gatton, about and hour west of Brisbane. I was 21 years old, approaching 22. Dave was 17. I remember he turned 18 during the year as he obtained his driving licence, satisfying a long held ambition, one that most of us have had, and achieved. I’m approaching 70 years old now, so Dave would be 66 this year.

Dave rings me quite regularly about every 6 months. I’m always pleased to hear from him, but this time I felt quite chuffed. I had been thinking of him, mindful that I am somewhat negligent, in that Dave rings me, not the other way around usually. I have a number of good friends, most of whom I rarely see these days, but when I think of them I realize that my life would have been so much less interesting, less meaningful, less rewarding without them. After our initial exchange of pleasant enquiry into health and well being, Dave said. “Will (he always called me Will), did you ever write that book you once told me you were going to write?” I replied that I did write a book, about an old friend who had an interesting life, including being captured by the Germans on Crete and spending four years on a POW camp in Germany. It never made it to publishing.

“No not that,” he said. “You said you used to put things away, letters, and write things down, because you said one day you’d like to write a book. You always had a good turn of words. The reason I ask, is because I wanted to send you a book to read, but I don’t know your new address, and that made me think about what you said.”

He told me about the book he wanted to send, ‘The Northern Territory’, but said he couldn’t send it now, as he’d lent it to a friend from grammar school in Longreach whom he hadn’t seen for 50 years, but caught up with recently, and it was like 50 years just disappeared and they talked and talked as if it was yesterday. He’ll send it when he gets it back. We talked for 15 minutes or so and I finished by saying,

“Dave, thanks for ringing. Makes me feel so good. I’ve been thinking over my life quite a bit lately, as you do approaching old age. I cringe a little at times, at the mistakes I’ve made, the boozing, there’s a lot I’m not happy about in the past. I’ve been alcohol free for two years and I see life differently. But you ringing me shows that you don’t hold it against me, the wild stupidity, the bravado, the foolishness. And if you don’t, I shouldn’t feel bad about it either.”

He said, “Isn’t that what they say about good dogs, they always stay your mate.”

I had to laugh, but there and then I decided. “Yes, Dave, It’s time to write that book. I will do it.”

How I do it, or the format it will take, I don’t know. It will take some mind mapping. Dave and other friends will be part of the story. They are interesting people with good stories of themselves. The title that springs to mind is ‘Can You Hear Me Harry’. I’ll probably start there, to get me going.

 

 

Twelve Months Back

 A year ago Lib and I were still working, living in a rental in Gembrook, and preparing for our shift to Sth Australia. Looking back to last year on this blog I notice I didn't do a post for Feb, probably because my mind was occupied with preparation and anxiety over the move. Moving house is no fun.

The removalists busted a glass cabinet, on loading. About $1200 to replace, but worse than that, it was Lib's mum's, so of sentimental value. I didn't claim restitution from the company, the worker told me they'd take it out of his hide. Accidents happen, and haggling over money is not going to restore the lost sentimental value. Our Gembrook land lord ripped us off our bond money, another$1000, not returning it and cutting off all communication. We were in the place only five months, I installed broadband and a new TV aerial at our cost, and left it clean, and he, a bloke I played a few games of footy with at Gembrook, a supposed friend, still ripped me off. Again, the hurt is more than the money. He's a wealthy man, a plumber with property, but a big mouth braggart, overly matey buddy buddy. I should have been guarded, and had a bond agreement in writing, then I'd have recourse, but with verbal agreement only, it's best to move on and hope the karma bus does it's thing. 

It seems such a long time ago now. We're well settled here. It hasn't been all plain sailing or without problems. We like our house. But we discovered things after moving in, like blocked and buried storm water drains, crap roof tiles which I'm not game to walk on for fear of breakage, roller shutters that didn't work, leaks developing in taps, garden infestation of native rats, that have kept us on our toes. With that, I reckon we paid overs for the house, which does not grieve me because unless we took this house when it was available, we would not have been able to shift last March, and with all the Covid crap and restrictions getting to SA we still might be in Gembrook or have bought somewhere in Victoria and retired there. Who knows? I'm glad we're here, and have had nearly 12 months of effective retirement.

We've had, Gord too, troubles with our teeth, and it seems one of us is always dealing with expensive dental work. There's been some medical issues. Lib needs ongoing meds following the cancer thing, I had my shingle episode in January, which included more visits to hospital/ doctor/ optometrist than I care to recall. It took the best part of 9 months to get our finances consolidated and purchase a self funded income stream, which, barring collapse of financial markets, should see us out. Due to the medical and pharmaceutical requirements we've applied for a low income health card (federal), and in my case a seniors health card, which will give us a concession on prescription medicine and maybe on utilities. No joy yet. I spent many hours gathering financial details after two visits to Centrelink, then 5.5 hours a couple of weeks ago in the C/link office working on one of their computers in effort to get the form done on line. Agonizing, is the only way to describe that day. I'll be happy if I never have to step into a C/link office again. I'm hoping we get the card without further agony. It took 10 days to get a text message telling me they're working on my application. How long it will take, yay or nay, I'm wondering.

Having spent almost 12 months here I think I have a fair hand on the climate. Autumn was lovely, probably the best, as it is in most places. Winter was a lot milder than we are used too. A few degrees warmer, a bit more sun perhaps. Pleasant really. Spring was windy, plus plus. Warmer again than we are used to, if out of the wind. Summer was also windy. Christmas day we went the foreshore at Victor Harbor for a picnic lunch and were nearly blown away. No sugar coating it, Victor H and the coast generally, has a lot of wind. Lib loves the beach, and to sit reading there, but many days she doesn't go saying, "It's too windy." I can imagine the day when every house has a wind generator on it, as well as a solar system and battery storage. We had few hot days, and there's no doubt that VH is a good deal cooler than Adelaide in summer, thankfully. To sum up, pleasant, mostly mild climate, good for herbs and vegies, which are sheltered from the wind pretty much in our suburban backyard situation.

We have good neighbours. It's a quiet area. The thing we like most about our situation is the proximity to the ocean, the rural surrounds, the river reserve at our doorstep, and the good facilities close at hand. And the general peace and quiet that we crave after so many years of demonic hustle and bustle back in the mainstream of life in Victoria. A couple of times a week on average I pull weeds in the river reserve where I feel useful. Ienjoy the solitude, working by myself, with the trees and the birds bringing peace to my soul.

Yes. We are happy here. There are numerous people I miss seeing, but they are still my family and friends, and they are often in my thoughts. I haven't lost them. I just don't physically see them regularly. 

As Ralphie said when he visited recently, "You've come far pilgrim."