A maternal weekend

Well, I put my Mum on the plane last night, and we did have a good time! In brief (if I can manage brief), on Friday we went first over to Peter’s of Kensington, via the old 8-level house, which Mum badly wanted to see inside ofbut I don’t live there anymore. We had to go to Peter’s of Kensington, because it has become something of a family joke that I am always saying “you can get better ones of those at Peter’s of Kensington”. So Mum had a good fossick around in there and we got a few bargains. Then we went on to Coogee. I parked in Denning Street so we could walk down the 250 steps and then around through Trenerry Reserve to Coogee Beach. I think it’s a spectacular approach walking down those stairs, with the ocean directly below, such that feel like you are going to descend right into it, and the coast stretching off to the North. We sat in Bazura’s and had coffee and a light lunch, admiring the vista, then strolled about and along the esplanade etc. On the way there Mum had asked me if she was going to get shot-at at the Coogee Bay Hotel?! (Apparently her colleagues in Brisbane had told her she might – which was news to me, but I believe that is where the kafuffle with the NRL players was, so then we had to have a photo in front of that dangerous place.) We essentially came home after this. It took us a while to get going Friday morning, because Mum wasn’t on daylight-saving time, and so what I thought was a late night Thursday wasn’t for her ... Friday night we went up King St for dinner and ended up in Thai Riffic. Mum’s had oesophagitis and stomach ulcers and I don’t know what else, so you just can’t go all out on spice.

Saturday we headed for the city, for a little shopping at the QVB, Myers and DJs, Kinokuniya, wandered in Hyde Park, strolled over to Darling Harbour, where there was small powerboats racing loops of it, which I don’t consider very exciting, but they had to open the foot bridge, which was a little more exciting. Then we’d decided to catch the monorail back to the city (I’ve never caught the monorail before myself). That night we came home and I did lamb roast and rhubarb dessert (good old-fashioned country cooking, guaranteed no chili). Sunday morning we went to the morning service at Annandale. I am actually considering becoming a morning-attender myself, which is a different story. This meant an early start for a Queenslander and Mum asked me if it was going to go for hours and we’d be reading out of the prayer book (my family has no experience of Anglicans). Not quite. Then we went to Broadway shops for a while. Here Mum could at last get into the supermarket and by me more food. I think that’s just a mother’s way. She also repeatedly went through the linen cupboard. Mum has a “thing” for Manchester. I gave her my room and my bed and slept in the loungeroom, the result of which is that she thinks it’s no wonder my back sometimes hurts because I need a new mattress as mine is hideous. I’ve realised that it is actually 12 years old, so perhaps I do.

Mid afternoon we headed for Nielsen Park, via New South Head Road and some of the sights, where the plan was to go for a nice peaceful walk under the trees along the Hermitage trail. That wasn’t quite to be. There were cars everywhere, because the weather was so glorious, so Mum got out to help me squeeze little Bessie into a tiny parking spot and promptly stepped in dog poop. So disgusting. But thank goodness for the wet ones in a mother’s handbag. I am almost a wet ones convert. We got down to the beach, where the first task was to get in the water and wash away the dog poop. It was fairly crowded but nice, and I thought we’d soon escape the crowds. But, we headed around the head to the start of the trail only to discover that it was closed and physically guarded by security guards and that there was a colossal racket out on the harbour thanks to the super boat grand prix, which involved boats screaming about and helicopters following them overhead. I’ve never heard of a super boat grand prix, and couldn’t believe it had to be that day, of all days. I’m with Paul Keating and Clover Moore that we can ban that stupid event. There were police everywhere in expectation of great crowds of viewers, but no-one was the least bit interested, and just wanted to have a relaxing, peaceful Sunday afternoon, which was sorely interrupted by all that noise! So, we decided to press on to Watson’s Bay. On the way back to the car we were peering through the fences at some of the waterside mansions, just sneaking a look at how some of the other half live, when, I don’t know where it came from, but suddenly I had stepped in dog poop too, and managed to flick it up the back of my leg, presumably off my thong. Unbelievable. It was just soooo disgusting! So, out came the wet ones once again. And when we got to Camp Cove we waded out into the water once again to deal with dog’s business! But, the sodding power boats were far enough away from here that it was very pleasant and we wandered out to the lighthouse and stared at the ocean etc. It’s a shame that the nudists have taken over Lady Bay, because I wouldn’t mind a swim in there myself, it just looks so beautiful, and the elderly men strolling up and down in all their glory detract somewhat from the other delights. We came back and got had fish and chips in the park looking back across the harbour, followed by gelati, and then just sat on the wall along from Doyle’s and watched the sun go down.

Monday’s plans were a little curtailed by the fact that I had to be home for a plumber who was meant to come between 2 and 3. So, we just wandered around Newtown. I showed Mum where Moore College was, and we wandered into Moore Books. Then we went over to Gould’s bookshop. And here is where we had a miraculous moment! When I still lived at home and was at school Mum had a booked called The Albatross Book of Verse, which is a little old poetry anthology, crammed with poems in tiny print that span from Chaucer and the 1300s to 1950. I used to read it all the time, which I think is where I got started on poetry. So, when I went off to University Mum happened to find another copy in a second-hand book shop and bought it for me. A few years later Mum moved to Brisbane and somewhere lost her copy (I think she leant it to one of those irresponsible book people who knowingly or unknowingly fail to return someone else’s treasure). So, over the years she has occasionally asked me whether I was SURE I didn’t have her copy, which I didn’t, and asked me to buy it if I ever saw it again, which I never have. Anyway, we had just been discussing this very book, and Mum was, rightly so, despairing of ever finding anything in that shop (if you have never been in Gould’s it is piled high with books, in no order whatsoever except for the very broadest categories, with books still in boxes about the place and books three rows thick on some shelves) and wandered off from the poetry section, when I decided to just keep scanning to the end of the row, and would you believe I found it!! For the massive sum of $5.95. So that was Monday’s bright moment. I found this great old book called “The Father Christmas Letters”, by J.R.R. Tolkien, which I have never heard of before. But it is a book of letters he wrote to his children every Christmas, for nearly twenty years, complete with his own illustrations and even features the goblin alphabet in the back. I have decided that I am going to send letters to my nieces in the goblin alphabet. Last year I gave Lucy “The Princess and the Goblin”, by George MacDonald, who I am sure Tolkien must have read, which she really liked, and I have given Brittany an illustrated version of Christina Rossetti’s Goblin Market (I think that is a lovely story for two sisters), so I think we can have some fun with goblin letters.

We then went exploring in Camperdown cemetery. It’s an amazingly old place, full of lopsided grave stones. I love the little cemetery lodge under the massive fig tree. I am sure that if Anne of Green Gables ever visited here she would have read poetry in that cemetery.

So, that was the weekend, and Mum now knows where I live.