Sport Boy has been going to the church youth group since we got here and has made a number of friends. At their end of year wind-up a couple of weeks ago the kids gathered at the beach for a "Messy Night".
The results speak for themselves. Needless to say a good time was had by all (depsite the cold stormy weather on the night).
Mrs Holt Press and I went to the work social club Christmas Dinner last weekend. You can have a smile or eyes open but not both!
On Saturday I hired a trailer and drove up to Melbourne to pick up some bedroom furniture from Trevor and Anne. It is for Favourite Daughter's bedroom and seeing as she arrives in a week the job had to be done.
On the way I stopped to have a look at the South Melbourne markets but because of the trailer I had to park a long way away. It took me about half an hour to walk a couple of kilometres through the streets of Albert Park, a beautiful leafy suburb of Melbourne, to get to the markets.
A missed text and phone call exchange with Trevor meant I needed to hurry back to the car and head over to Thornbury to collect the load so as not to hold him up. Knowing it would take quite a while to walk back to the car I was thinking about how to get there quicker when opportunity knocked: in the shape of George. That's him in the convertible BMW.
He was stopped at the lights outside the market so I asked him if he was going my way. He leaned over to open the door and generously offered me a lift in his sports car, his "toy" as he described it. I had taken note of several landmarks on my journey to the markets, a park, a tram line, a particular shop etc, even taking photos of some of them so I was fairly confident I knew the way back to the car. It turns out my confidence was sadly misplaced! The streets of Albert Park melded and blurred and although we passed a couple of things I recognised, for the life of me I could not direct him back to the car. This was doubly frustrating as the big green trailer on the back of it should have made it easy to spot. George was very friendly and obliging and we chatted happily but as the time ticked by and we began to drive up and down the same streets for the second or third time he politely confided that he needed to get back to take his son out for lunch! I was feeling pretty bad: he was doing me a huge favour and I was holding him up and still the whereabouts of my car remained a mystery! Eventually he was forced to give up the quest and dropped me off somewhere in the "general vicinity" of my target!
Thanks George, sorry to stuff you around, although I did enjoy the ride in your very cool car.
I walked a couple of blocks, took a couple of turns, saw something I thought I recognised on the other side of the road, figured I must be close, then looked at the cars parked on the side of the street and what did I see sitting right in front of me? My big blue car and bright green trailer! Relief. The worst thing is that I reckon we must have driven past it at least once but in my disorientated state I was looking for it in a different location!
I had rung Trevor to say I was lost so he at least knew what was causing the delay. I sent him a text to say I'd found the car and was finally on my way!
I hurried over to the rendezvous point, loaded the bed, dressing table and chest of drawers and set off for home!
A couple of the landmarks I had noted while walking to the markets, neither of which I could find on the return journey!!
This is "James Service Place" in Albert Park, one of the widest streets I've ever seen. Despite its size, we couldn't find it either.
I'm generally pretty good with directions and finding my way around so this was an uncomfortable and disconcerting experience. Hopefully not a sign of things to come!
This is "James Service Place" in Albert Park, one of the widest streets I've ever seen. Despite its size, we couldn't find it either.
Rock stars have a tendency towards self-destruction and many have died prematurely as a result of their own actions but John had emerged intact from that lifestyle and was living an idyllic domestic life with Yoko and their son Sean in New York. He had campaigned for peace and been pursued and persecuted by J. Edgar Hoover and Nixon who tried to have him kicked out of America. He had survived the crazy life of turmoil, mega-fame, adulation, the madness of Beatlemania, the drugs and parties and all of the excesses that went with being a Beatle, only to be gunned down on the streets of New York, shot in the back outside his apartment building by a demented "fan". It was a dreadful way to die and a sad and tragic waste of a life that shone brighter than most. Thankfully we have his music as a permanent reminder of his talent. John's music post-The Beatles was the best ot the four of them and Paul in particular seemed to lose the edge and brilliance he had had when co-writing and collaborating with John in the band.
When George became the second Beatle to die, of cancer, many years later, I felt sad but it had nowhere near the impact that John's death did. Perhaps John's death signalled the end of an era, the end of The Beatles and the end of the dream, the end of childhood and innocence. I had never met him, never seen him in person, but it felt personal, like a family memeber had been killed. I've probably had worse days since but not many and none of them stand out so clearly in my memory as that dark day in December 1980.
