May 28

Today, had she lived, my mother would have been – I’m pretty sure, based on the little sums I’ve been doing all day – sixty years old. And because of this, and other things which aren’t really mine to share, it has been…oh, it has been a sad day. Depths-of-the-soul and face-your-demons sad. I’m sure you know what I mean. You’ve had such days. The kind of days when you don’t dare speak to anyone, not even the kindy mums, because their simple how are yous will make you cry and you’ve already cried all night.

This morning, I said to my boy you know, I really can’t say ‘please get dressed’ again…I’m tired and sad and he said sadder than 100 lions and I said yes and he said sadder than ten thousand lions and I said sadder than I can describe. And so, he dressed himself, including his socks and a quiet hunt for his shoes and he made sure his brother had socks and then he said please can I help you make the lunch. He can’t possibly have known the significance of making the lunch.

And the day made me think, my mother – whose own mother died when all of us were young – never said to me I’m feeling sad, because today is my mother’s birthday. But it must have happened. That she felt sad. And it made me think of the lessons we learn from our mothers. They teach us how to be daughters and mothers ourselves. And goodness me, doesn’t grief go on and on and on.

I thought to myself, as I marveered the dressing table – marveer belongs to my memories of her – she would have had a party and it’s true. She would. And then, I realised, that I can’t really guess at how things might have been. Because where do you start? Do you assume the accident didn’t happen? Or did it happen, but…Where do you start with how things might have been?

And then, this afternoon, I cleared the mailbox and there was a card from one of her best friends and she said caught your gig on Raw. And that reminded me of how it was that night in Melbourne. Amazing. Truly amazing. But gee. There’s a lot of spaces you can anticipate. Having children. Your brother’s wedding. They are the spaces you know. But then, just every now and then, a really big thing comes along and out of nowhere you realise. She isn’t here.

We have shared in the last hour or so, the mister and I, a bottle of Lake Breeze Bernoota Shiraz. 1995. It’s very, very good. There’re only two bottles left. I say I notice that you’ve had your fair share because that is something he doesn’t always do, and he says well, it’s bloody good plonk I’m not going to let you scoff the lot and I say I believe the word is quaff, but he pretends to have his head stuck in the dishwasher. He misses her too.

Tomorrow will be okay.

I’m going to clean the house

Whenever someone says ‘Therese Rein’ I can’t help thinking of this verse:

Claude Rains gave the order,
To collect the usual suspects,
And the camera came in close up on his face,
He watched as the plane left the airstrip,
Like hope leaves a dying man,
But he hung onto the choice he'd made.

which comes from a song, Claude Rains, by The Front Lawn, a group I very much enjoyed discovering when I lived in New Zealand and a song I very much enjoyed singing at the top of my voice.

It comes with a complex story, the gift of that CD. It’s around that time that my life became less simple than it had previously been. Today, I shall be listening to Classic FM and hoping that they play music which has, for me, no particular significance. It’s one of those days.

Friday night and it’s getting chilly now

‘You’d be amazed at how just twenty minutes housework would get you warm,’ Adelaide said.

‘Did you read that somewhere?’ the mister asked.

He was not, Adelaide thought for not the first time, the polite man she had married.

‘It’s also a good way to get the incidental exercise you need if you truly are going to stop yourself pudding on the pounds,’ she said scratching at eyebrows which had never, not once, ever been plucked.

‘I think I’ll put the heater on,’ he said.

‘Good idea,’ she said and reached for the cross-stich at which she was proving to be not very good.

And they sat in what was, for now, a messy, but warm, room and lamented the fact that Spooks had finished last week.

Is it only ten o’clock?

Having been ‘at home during the day’ for many years now, I have a pretty high tolerance for rubbish radio. It can’t be easy filling all that silence. But this thing they’ve got on ABC 891 right now – hey folks, men and women approach the shopping differently, ring in now with your funny tales, listen to this, I always buy an extra scourer, scourers don’t go off boom-boom – is giving me the shits so badly that I am off to sort the washing more carefully.

Thursday

While he and I generally enjoy the simple banter of two people who see each other every week but don’t know each others’ names, today he makes lame retailers’ excuses to the point that I want to say – in a snippy way – you know, I really doubt that it has been delayed by customs…oh, look at the stall just down there I see* they have a great carton of jars of which they are willing to hand me one in exchange for a small gold coin;** and while it is true that the jars are small and not the brand I would usually choose, nonetheless they are available now and the person selling them will not make me endure this endless litany of excuses for the space on your shelf where your dijon mustard should be.

*no, technically, you wouldn’t be able to see it from here unless you had x-ray vision or eyes which could travel around corners on something resembling elastic, but this here is dramatic licence, and I knew they would be there, because they always are

**I’m not entirely sure that this is a good use of the semi-colon, it being a mark I rarely use. But given certain recent advices, I thought I’d give it a go.

Just to keep you up to date with all the important comings and goings in my life

I have written to the ABC asking them to confirm or deny Andrew’s comment (see Friday’s post below if you don’t know what I’m talking about). I did it via their online feedback sheet and it may take up to four weeks for a response.

Sleep well.