Not Drowning – Dying to Live. (Part I)
3 Mar 2017 – 2:41am
The post that was meant to follow swiftly on from the last one – by the way WordPress has gone completely illogical on me and listed the pages on the left out of chronological order.. which is a darned help – and move from illustrations of young people to the more experienced. In the last three lines the title of this post has grown from Dying, to Dying to Live, to now: Not Drowning – Dying to Live.
In short. This post will now be about a lot of things.
The scene that follows the pot-laced after school shenanigans comes, like these blog posts, after something of a time jump.
Something like the theme to A Country Practice, all violins, sad notes and melancholy sweetness, comes into our ears. Lights build onto a hazy stage. It’s dreamlike Australiana. Vintage. A bleached white England, forcing its way out but with its sweetness burnt off by dark memories and unforgiving sun. Country town. Main street. A view of love, gently arranged by force of circumstance and the beauty of him exotic, come to stay in the spare room cause Mum is a good woman, doing a good deed for the meat supply man. All very nice.
Like the house. Small. White. Still there. Red roof. Verandah. One of two in the town we see. The other is newer, more sprawling flat like the endless flatness of country towns built with too-wide roads because of the too-much flat space without hills to limit, direct, and compress the density of the architecture. The small one is much more English and nice. Still of the Australian colonial style – verandah-ed, practical and simple in the face of the harsh sunshine – this one you can feel the love in it. It oozes it, spilling out even today though it’s now got a new family and new kids toys discarded ready for tomorrow out the front.
..and breathe. (I’ll explain why, and what that — is next)
Part II to follow (time to update the name again)