Singular Scene

So Singular in Each Particular

Across the Road

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One of the lovely things about the old digs in Sydney is that across the road there was a corner store; such a convenient thing to have within easy reach when you’re in need of an afternoon Coke Zero or a bag of chips. (I know, shocking habit, but OMG Yum, right?) The other lovely thing about that corner store was that it is an Asian grocery, so I had immediately to hand, wonderful things like fried tofu, tamarind paste (mmm, Pad Thai) and real authentic green curry paste.

Gosh, just talking about that store has me missing it already.

These new digs don’t have a corner store across the road. There’s a servo, so I can buy petrol and (at a pinch) overpriced milk etc. but by and large I’ll be doing my shopping at the Coles or Woolies down in Camberwell which is an easy walk or tram ride. Heck I might even get myself one of those nanna trolleys to get stuff home with. Because, if I’m honest, it isn’t so unusual for me to go and do my whole week’s shopping, forgetting I don’t have the car with me, and then find myself having to struggle getting home with more groceries than I can manage. [Adds nanna trolley to the mental shopping list].

The venue of interest across the road in these parts (which I believe is going to be rather a popular) is a watering hole, a drinking establishment, a pub of sorts.

This place is noteworthy more for its quaint charm than for the fact that it’s across the road from me. Truth is, it’s half bottleshop (bottle-o to the locals) and half ‘pub/winebar’. So you can pop in and pick up a six pack to take home and get completely sidetracked by the fact there’s a friendly face at the bar, a few tables dotted around and a lovely black replica (presumably) van der Rohe Barcelona sofa lining one wall.

There’s something uniquely Australian about the decor. The corrugated iron cladding on the wall is reminiscent of an old shearing shed, framed prints of patrons and some other slightly more arty prints almost lend an air of sophistication. There’s no pub grub here but you can bring in your burger and fries, or fish and chips from next door and scoff them down as you quaff your brew; heck you can even call Crust up the road and have them deliver you a pizza, (that’s ingenuity for you).

Finally, and most importantly there’s only one beer on tap, thankfully it’s Blue Tongue*, a nice inoffensive drop and a regular feature in my beer drinking repertoire.

Frankly, I can see a quick pot across the road at the end of the day could become a habit, it certainly is for at least two of my neighbours. But, best of all, when I walk in the door? If Brad’s behind the bar he will call out ‘Dee!’ as if I was a local already…

I’m ridiculously grateful that it’s not VB, this is Victoria, after all. Also, in an unrelated note, drinking Blue Tongue beer will not give you a blue tongue, to my mind this is false advertising… but, still, it tastes like quite nice beer, so, there’s that.

Sounds different

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It sounds different here… over and above the usual hum of traffic there are unusual noises… the rush of a tram as it whooshes past my home, the ding ding it sounds as it’s stopping to pick up and put down its passengers. I won’t lie, I totally love it, and I wonder how long it is before the novelty wears off, how long it is before I cease to smile as another one goes past.

I’m loving the whump of the gas as it lights up ready at once to be at my beck and call. It’s such a relief to hear the increasing volume of the sizzle as it responds immediately to the turning up of the flow. I’ve wanted to get used to that sound for a long time. I wonder too how long it is before that stops making me smile, before cooking with gas becomes routine.

There’s another favourite, a muffled sound (when you’re hearing it from inside the car), the drone of the garage door responding to the press of its button. This is music to one’s ears after years of parking ‘Dolly’ in the street. No sharing this car space it’s all ours, hers and mine, and the sound of that whirr muffled even further by rain? Sweeter still.

Finally, a cheery Kiwi greeting meets me outside my back door. Neighbours who are fully clothed I’m pleased to advise and who are transplanted also from across the ditch have made me feel incredibly welcome. An elderly couple, and rugby fans. I’m already invited to come and watch the next All Blacks match with them. There will be beer drunk to boot I suspect.

Sounds good to me.

Next stop, Victoria

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I’m sitting at the gate lounge, ready to board the flight, but I’m early, so I have time to write a note, a post to mark the end of one era and the start of the next.

As I started writing, out came a bit of a melancholy post about leaving, about closing the door on my old flat on Thursday, and every time I got to the end of that paragraph I ran out of places to go. My time in Sydney was really summed up in the previous post, in the farewell speech; my time in Sydney is a time that is marked simply by incredible people. The place I lay my head every evening is/was no more valuable than the people who were ever there with me.

The little flat on Sydney Road is a poky little place, dark, damp, and little, did I mention little? Two rooms and a bathroom, sufficient but in terms of having people over to stay, restricted. Which isn’t to say people never stayed… but it’s challenging to rearrange the furniture every evening in order that the sofa-bed can be unfurled…

Once upon a time I had a dining table and friends would come for cards, or dinner and then I started working from home and the table became a desk and formal dining went out the window in favour of Pad Thai eaten off our laps on the sofa. Sufficient, yes, but more casual than I like, and the number of people who can fit on my sofa was limited to 2… so eating out became more normal than eating in when there were friends visiting.

I’m completely happy to have spent so long in an awesome city, one that I love and that I now know so well that I can recommend so much of it to all those who ask me what’s great about Sydney.

In looking forward, I think the things I think I’ll love about the new place are the space, the light and the room. Room for people to stay, room for people to eat from the dining table, room to move, room to grow. Room for the cat to exhaust herself zooming from the bedroom to the office in her late afternoon bursts of high energy antics.

So, this afternoon I’ll touch down in the state of Victoria, tomorrow the cat will, and at some point this week, hopefully earlier rather than later, my furniture will also arrive.

I’m so looking forward to getting acquainted with Melbourne, and being able to introduce my Sydney friends to her as well.

But for now, see you soon Sydney.

So long, and thanks for an amazing 14 years.

Faring Well

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I mark occasions with words. These are such words, delivered at the small gathering of close friends on Saturday evening all together to mark my moving to Melbourne, beautifully hosted by Prue and her family.

I am so blessed.

I knew if I didn’t write this down I wouldn’t be able to coherently string the thoughts together, let alone the words.  It’s been an emotional week; I suspect the next few will be much the same.

I deliberately made this a small gathering, I wanted to be able to see everyone properly, to be able to mark this occasion without fluff and nonsense and the fleeting hellos and goodbyes that come with a larger party.

You’re here because you’ve been a significant part of my journey here in Sydney. But more importantly because I believe you’ll be a significant part of my world still, even though I’m a little further away.

I was talking to Mick yesterday as we mulled over things of faith and church and community, as we always do, and as we talked I wondered aloud, asking “Why on earth am I leaving?” and his reply, sage as always, was “You’re not leaving, you’re just moving away.”

It’s true, I’m putting physical distance between us, but the bigger thing is that our spiritual and emotional distance will be the same as it ever was.  Non-existent. And given today’s technology, and heck, even yesterday’s technology (remember telephones?) the gaps really aren’t very wide.

I have far too many thank-yous in my heart than I can give voice to really, but I want to acknowledge some of the particular moments, and by extension, the significant people here because without them I would be so much less the person I am today.

Maree and Richard, thank you first for having us here tonight, and for including me in so many of your family gatherings.  You all know how to throw a party, and the centre of it is your incredible gift, and heart for hospitality.  I’ve never felt more welcome than I do when I’m here, and I thank you that tonight you’ve done the same for my friends.

Mick, almost 4 years ago, in a tongue in cheek moment, I can’t even remember how, whether it was by SMS, or by twitter or that old fashioned email malarkey, you sent me a line from Solsbury Hill, the Peter Gabriel song… that said “grab your things, I’ve come to take you home…”

That one line changed my life. Or, at least, it started something… and the Upper Room, this place that God, you, and Marg have built has, for the last almost 4 years, done more for me than I am able to acknowledge. I can’t thank you enough for continuing to take us on a journey of this thing called church. I love that you never get stuck on its definition but continue instead to explore how to live out our faith, hope and love  (whatever it looks like) authentically.  By doing so you’ve inspired and empowered me to do the same wherever I am. I look forward to seeing where that ongoing journey takes you, and us and I pray that I find somewhere equally as inspiring down there in ‘Mexico’.

Pam, I realise that embracing the Upper Room the way I have puts, in some ways, into shadow that which came before.  I cannot acknowledge one without the other, nor can I diminish the significance of my time at C3. If not for C3, or for SCA I wouldn’t be here at all.  And one of the best things about it still, is you.  Thank you for coaching me through some of the biggest challenges I’ve faced, for loving me and looking after me even after I’d long left Oxford Falls. And thank you for transitioning from being my pastor to being a dear friend.  I’ll miss you, and look forward to the occasional Sunday night phone call when you’re on your way home from church and your voice drops out as you drive along the Parkway!

Jeff, there are too many moments… from that first when I approached you at Parachute with my knees actually knocking and asked that first question every Kiwi asks before they come to Australia “Are the spiders really as big as they say?” (answer is yes, by the way), to the time when for the first time in years we spoke properly and the walls of another’s making came down. I sat in Berkelouws in the Southern Highlands bawling my eyes out and you had called, and for the first time in a long time I felt safe again.  You and Julie put me back together and in the years since I’ve so loved being a part of your world and your new journey as more and more people find themselves in the pages of your book.

Robby and Mirre. I can’t remember when I met you, nor can I even remember when we reconnected through the Upper Room. In some strange way it feels as though there wasn’t ever a time when we weren’t friends.  It feels like I’ve always hung out on a Sunday night watching movies, talking all the way through them and eating cashew nuts and chocolate and drinking whatever new beer is in the fridge. It really has only been a couple of years and it feels like a lifetime.  Thank you for being more real than anyone and letting me be exactly the same.  Thanks for keeping me a bed in your office Robby, so that when I am desperate to come watch a movie in person I know I have a place to sleep.

Prue, I don’t even know where to start. The best way I can describe us is that we’ve walked alongside each other, for years.  SO many moments, so many Friday nights with so many amazing people, so many long phone calls while you drive home from work, so many tears, and laughs and so.much.depth.  I’m so glad you are tied to Melbourne, because I know it won’t be long before I’m taking you out on a Friday night in Victoria and we’ll be sitting in a bar talking about technology, life, love and all the good things.

Before I get to the hardest acknowledgement of all of them, thank you to Jen, who I see so rarely but about whom I love that we always seem completely pick up exactly where we left off. Cherie who makes me laugh so hard and who makes the place brighter with her bubbly smiley ways, but behind which lives a deeply creative, thoughtful individual. Please don’t stop writing your blog; I totally love to know what you’re thinking, and Mick your quiet presence seems unchanged from when I first met you, and I’m so glad to see that you’ve got more music on the go, don’t lose that.  I remember that word I gave you years ago, that your music splits hard wood to allow it once again to catch fire.  I think that’s still true.

Deep Breath

Kirstin, you are my very first, honest to goodness, best friend.  I know that being in Victoria isn’t going to change that. At.All. I can’t wait to see you for the Grand Prix. But strongly suspect I’ll be up here to see you before then!

In any case, I won’t ever forget you praying for me at the end of our second year, unpacking for me that inner knowledge about what I’d be doing come the third year, and sure enough there we were. Back for more college.

I won’t ever forget losing our minds in the middle of the Easter production rehearsal when I got the revelation that the Holy Ghost was called Brendan and that name will now always be accompanied with me giggling out loud, I suspect you’re the same…

I won’t forget all the blood sweat and tears that went into Four on the Floor and the arranging and singing of songs with Jake and Brent and those awful shiny vests and boater hats. But man, what FUN ~ and then Harmonycity later on down the track; Way too much awesome music and I’m so glad we were making it TOGETHER.

I won’t forget you calling me to tell me Jacob was on his way and me making you keep him inside you for a whole weekend, just so that I could meet him on the day he was born, and that he, and you were the best part of the most difficult, challenging period in my life.

I won’t forget holding Lily and being blessed a 2nd time to be called a godmother, and even now, her high pitched “Auntie Dee” and having her launch herself at me is one of my favourite things, ever.

I won’t forget Helen, Guy, and how much she loved us all and what a firecracker she was and how in the few years we knew each other she just, as much as you, included me in the Jackson family, and Guy, thank you for sharing your best friend with me and for abiding by her directive that you aren’t allowed to give me shit.  I’m sure it was all you could do to obey that one some times… In any case for both of us to be so loved by Kirstin, makes us so incredibly blessed. Thank you.

There are way more moments than I can acknowledge, 14 years is a long time and they have been an incredible 14 years.  Above them all, I can do no more than close by thanking God, the one who is the common thread, the glue, the tie that binds us all and whose love is evident by the love that I feel for, and that I feel from all of you.

Thank you, I love you all so very, very much. And you better bloody come visit me in Melbourne… and soon, I have a spare bed, I shall be expecting you.