Tongue in the Sun

Greetings fellow sun worshippers ...

Just had a lovely day today (Sun 25 MAY)  with my cousin Jocelyn.  She came down from Sydney and arrived about 1/4 to 12, just as Lee my Community Nurse was changing my dressings.

Brave woman that my cousin is, she stayed and watched Lee clean everything up and re-dress my ear.

10 years of Work

After wandering about the house and showing it off to Joc, I gave her the fruits of my family history labour of love. A large dusty tome of the ancient family secrets? No. A pleasant little bound book stuffed with fold-out family trees? No. It was a small piece of plastic! It was an 8 Gb USB Flash Drive, containing my book The Leavetaking (which is not about her family anyway - but my mother's.)

She was so happy to get it as she has more than dabbled in the curious arts and crafts of genealogy herself - looking into her father Bob's Edwards family, and our grandmother Ena's O'Connor family. It also contains a copy of my entire Nicholson family digitised photo collection, some scans of cookbooks left behind by my mother, and my entire family history database.

It was a strange feeling that a work that if printed would fill an entire room or more, was now condensed to a few grams of plastic and silicon. In the end the contents almost completely filled the entire 8 Gb!!

After that momentous event (I fucking forgot to book the Mariarchi band - damn! Q - click your fingers quick) we headed of to the beach.

It was such a lovely warm day here (apparently reaching 27 deg C) with a nice cool sea-breeze, that we decided to have lunch down at Bulli Beach, where there is a lovely café on the headland overlooking the beach, swimming pools, rock platforms, happy families on the beach with a few braving the water, and ocean. Behind us swept an entire view of the Illawarra Escarpment.

On Bulli Beach - Panorama

That's what Wollongong is like, a slim coastal strip sandwiched between the mountains and the sea. I still remember being taught that the local Council motto means that exactly by my history teacher Father Dean back in 1979. "Urbs Inter Mare Montemque".


Although we bought it with us, I decided that my legs felt strong enough not to bother with the Walker, and the distance between the car park and café was not far. I took it slow with no problems. I ordered a Banana Smoothie (always a favourite of mine) and Bacon and Egg roll - in the hope that I may be able to taste some of it.

The egg in the roll was nice, but I couldn't taste the bacon-y power of the bacon and found the BBQ sauce somewhat overwhelming. I noticed yesterday that my tongue and gums had become sensitive, and suspect that this is a minor side-effect of the Chemo. My lack of ability to taste food is really starting to piss me off!

Joc and I sat and chatted for what seemed like ages about everything and nothing - as you do on a fine Sunday afternoon. It reminded me of the long lunches that we had many times when I lived in Sydney. Sometimes we would meet in North Sydney where I worked, sometimes in the City, and occasionally at my own stomping grounds in Newtown. When we discussed that, it almost brought me to tears. Joc suggested that Leigh, her and I should meet someday soon in Newtown for a long lunch there.

We wandered out of the café's seated area and out onto the grass in the sun. It was photo time and she took this lovely one of me with the beach as my backdrop.

My Nigerian Uncle wants to sell you this.

I snapped this quick cheeky one of her, with her commenting that it wasn't fair. Tough shit. It's been quite a while since I had an elusive up-to-date photo of my cousin.

A little wind-swept my dear?

We saw a man seated near us with a good looking camera, and assuming he knew how to use it, asked him to take my camera and get the even-more elusive shot of us cuz' together.

Lord Kodak couldn't have taken a better picture of happy Cuz'

Now, Bulli beach was much more than just a beach close to where I grew up in Woonona.
Woonona has a nice beach as well, and it has a history: Captain Cook had tried to land there 28 APR 1770 - the first place he attempted to land in Australia. Despite the need for fresh water, Cook's boats could not put in due to heavy surf.

"Saturday, 28th. In the P.M. hoisted out the Pinnace and Yawl in order to attempt a landing, but the Pinnace took in the Water so fast that she was obliged to be hoisted in again to stop her leakes. At this time we saw several people a shore, 4 of whom where carrying a small Boat or Canoe, which we imagin'd they were going to put in to the Water in order to Come off to us; but in this we were mistaken. Being now not above 2 Miles from the Shore Mr. Banks, Dr. Solander, Tupia, and myself put off in the Yawl, and pull'd in for the land to a place where we saw 4 or 5 of the Natives, who took to the Woods as we approached the Shore; which disappointed us in the expectation we had of getting a near View of them, if not to speak to them. But our disappointment was heightened when we found that we no where could effect a landing by reason of the great Surf which beat everywhere upon the shore. We saw haul'd up upon the beach 3 or 4 small Canoes, which to us appeared not much unlike the Small ones of New Zeland. In the wood were several Trees of the Palm kind, and no under wood; and this was all we were able to observe from the boat, after which we return'd to the Ship about 5 in the evening." 

Journals of the Endeavour Voyage of James Cook R.N. 1769-1771.

They gave up headed north, and the next day Cook spotted a Bay he eventually named "Botany".

Whilst Woonona had a Surf Life Saving club, at the time it had no junior section, but Bulli did!

Ever since I was born, I had problems with my right leg. A doctor at one stage suggested to my parents that I would end up in a wheel chair  - time's up, fuck off, pay the bill, and yer kid's a cripple. Life sucks!

My parents wouldn't accept an answer like that and after moving to Wollongong sought the wisdom of a local doctor who suggested that running on the sand, and swimming, could probably strengthen my gammy leg and get me walking properly without going arse-over-tit every third step.

So they put me, and my brother Chris, in Bulli Surf club:

Yellow? Painted YELLOW? Where is the classic Red brick, tinea & vomit motif?

Yes, we became members of the esteemed Bulli Aqualads - a name which could bring naught but respect and absolutely no derision at all! (You there! Yes I see you snickering behind your fingers!) We got our club speedos (aka Dick Pointers or D.P.s) and surf caps.

I have to look like this to walk properly? Gimme a wheelchair!

My brother was the natural athlete of the 2 of us - and he took to the sand and water easily. Me? I just came last an awful lot. Nonetheless, upon reflection, Surf Club was an important part of those formative years. It's values of hard volunteer work, selflessness, and ya know - trying to save people's lives - certainly had their impression on me.

The men and women with whom I associated were mostly working class salt-of-the-earth people, but in between their latest schooner of beer and fag, they had much to teach. They could party in the club house knocking back 20 tinnies of K.B. and a carton of smokes til 3 AM, and be ready on the beach by 8.

Overall though, I didn't like it much and eventually dropped out before getting my Bronze Medallion - something which disappointed my mother bitterly - around the age of 14. However, there were upsides that I found from the age of puberty onwards. I was a proto-gay-lad, not just an Aqualad - and running about with all those near naked boys helped me take on a somewhat more ... positive ... attitude.

I'll tell you a true story that no-one else has ever known.

Towards the end of the season of my final year in the Junior club (under-13s), we had our annual competition with our sister-club Cronulla Crays from south Sydney. They came down to Bulli this time.

OK, this is my 12 y.o. one -
but close enough.

That year I'd been particularly slack in the surf club, and my father and his best friend Greg Gleaves who jointly ran Aqualads had agreed that I would probably not receive my Efficiency Medal at the end of the season. (I think I was going through my first serious depression.) I was equally unenthusiastic about this competition with Cronulla.

Yes, I had medals and trophies!

Oddly I blitzed that day like I never had before - running and jumping like crazy in the sand, and entering and doing well in every swimming race. I was a regular little Iron Man for the day. This surprised Dad and Greg. They were so proud that they re-instated the Medal for me. They let me know how close I had come to losing the medal (like I gave a shit!), but could never figure out where this bout of prowess had come from.

Simple - I was 13 and horny! One of the Cronulla boys in my age group had caught my attention - he was beautiful! And he was nice too, we talked often during the competition and struck up a good friendship for the day. I couldn't be slack for this gorgeous young stud, and so I threw everything I could into impressing him.

I'm pretty sure to this day he was giving out all the right signals of his own. What could have happened had we found ourselves alone and locked in one of the changing rooms and showers in the clubhouse remained a favourite masturbatory fantasy for many years to cum.

Alas, there was no chance to do anything about it. After the competition was over, and the obligatory sausage sizzle and piss up for the oldies was done, the Cronulla Team jumped on their bus, and I never saw him again, don't even remember his name.

So there ya go! Mystery solved. The power of lust.

Oh yeah - and my gammy leg? Yes, Surf Club probably helped, amongst other things, to make sure I could at least walk properly without any hint of a problem. And I fell over a lot less.

So in honour of all of that, here is me today in front of the Surf Club.

Thank you Bulli Surf Club for all those boys in Speedos. Aw yeah - and the stronger leg.

By this stage, my strength was starting to fade, but I was desperately trying to hide it from my cousin. I was enjoying this "normal" day out. Not a nurse or CAT scanner in sight. We agreed to head home, and I rang my brother to join me there.

Chris, Joc and I sat about for a while chatting, but I couldn't stop myself from nearly falling asleep in the chair. With much sorrow I agreed to their haranguing about going to bed. I am sorta sick after all.

They left and I did indeed toddle off to bed for a deep 4 hour sleep.

Which is something I'm going to repeat right now.

What did that Cronulla boy look like? Mmmm...

Happy Days Part 2

You know when you meet an amazing person, and you click, and you just know that you're going to be the best of friends for life? Yeah, well, that didn't happen with Leigh and I. Perhaps that sort of instant thing is just bullshit.

Flatmate Hell, Chippendale

The deep love and friendship between Leigh and I was born in the fiery crucible of the share-home experience. For 6 months we lived in a dire household in Chippendale (Sydney), with a mad drug-addled screaming queen, his depressed punching-bag boyfriend,  a sour vicious goth girl, and 2 naughty kittens.

Leigh and I bonded sitting in one or the others' bedrooms, smoking dope, drinking red goon, watching Star Trek videos and telling each other how much we hated living there.

At the end of the 6 months lease, the household sprang apart and Leigh and I moved into a house in South Newtown together. That was a haven of relative peace (never mind the jumbos flying overhead) and fun.

We became like the older brother and younger sister that neither of us had. We shared secrets at midnight that til this day no-one else knows. She taught me how to hug and cook.

After 18 months, for better or worse we went our separate ways. She eventually moved to Katoomba for years - which was sort of great. I would go up and visit and usually stay the night on the floor, teasing her cat Lucie. Her various homes in the Blue Mountains were like a retreat from the busy life of the city. I continued my busy and somewhat slutty life in Newtown.

When my mother died in 2001, Leigh was the only one of my Sydney friends who came to her funeral. That meant a shitload to me. Later that year I was sick of living alone in Newtown, and Leigh had become bored with the mountains and was ready to re-enter the fast lane again."Are we moving in together again?" I asked her on the phone. "Yep, looks that way." she replied. And so it was.

Come on in, the cocktails are ready & the bong's clean.

We rented a large old 2-storey Terrace House around in Enmore for 18 months. It was a manky old place but a and good space for two people who had lived alone for a long time. When the landlord wanted the property back, the Universe found us a new place, a single storey terrace, almost directly across the road. We hired some stair trolleys and tempted friends with free booze, and moved.

We were housemates again in Enmore for 6 years. We had great parties, and always had spare room or a bed for visiting friends, or plenty of floor-space for the leftover bodies from parties.  We were close to great pubs, and thousands of eateries; next door to a Wiggle, and the ever thumping Enmore Theatre.

"Breakfast at Steve's the morning after,

Leftover people eating leftover pasta."

From a little poem I wrote years back.

I encouraged her career as an I.T. Business Analyst, which hasn't always been easy for her, but the money has allowed her to write a number of Vegan Cookbooks.

Again, with her life changing, she moved out (along with her 2 cats Lucie & Squeak) to get her own space, and lived in Newtown.  I stayed in Enmore.

After the death of my father I moved back to Wollongong to live in the old family home for a while, and when that was sold, I moved in here and did my falling into the bottom of a whiskey bottle routine. As you may have read from an earlier post, this was almost fatal. I lost contact with Leigh (amongst many other wonderful people.)

The Lucie-woo. RIP love.

Soooo ... after all that exposition, you might imagine what it was like to see her again on Sunday. She looked well and happy. Her job was OK and she has another Vegan cookbook on the way. She is somewhat saddened this year with the death of her mother, and her oldest 20 year old cat Lucie. I'm so ashamed that I wasn't there for her.

As soon as she stepped off the train we had a long deep hug - something I don't get much of. We went back to my place & sat about for hours catching up. It was like we'd only seen each other the day before. But at the same time we were both aware that so much time had passed and there was much to discuss.

Friendship runs deep. Especially if you're both silly.

After seeing her off on the train back to Sydney a few hours later, I came home and cried for a while. That's the first time in a looong time. But I felt so much better for the cry, and for her visit in general.

Somewhere deep in my heart I've developed a better understanding of what I would miss should/when I die. (Bloody hell- that last sentence was hard and strange to write.)


[Weird aside about this post. I went to add the labels for it and found that all of them were horrendously depressing, all about hospitals and cancer. It was nice to add some happy labels.]