ONCE MORE UNTO THE BREACH, DEAR FRIENDS – ONCE MORE!

Finally – and thankfully - The “Silly Season” has come to an end!  There it goes!  Bye! Bye! See you later!

Having drifted over the far horizon, it, too, has become part of the past. 

What once was present is now past; time and the present move on so fast! Off together they skip, hand in hand, at a pace unsurpassed.

I, for one, am glad the madness is all over. 
  

For many silver-haired old devils like me; those of us who have, to our surprise, discovered we’re now somewhat uncomfortably seated in the vintage section of Life – in the bleachers; and for those who’ve shifted into the highly-respected antique category, who have taken up their deserved positions in a box (no...NOT that kind of box!  You people!) - in Life’s dignified dress circle, the Festive Season can be filled with myriad emotions, the majority of which, for many, are not of the festive kind.

We silver-haired, silver-tongued “golden oldies’ have paid our dues. Our vast vaults are a-brim to overflowing with memories made while paying those dues - the expected and unexpected. 

Throughout Christmas and New Year one’s emotions can overwhelm as our reflections freewheel at their own freewill on the happy times, and on the sad, once shared with loved ones who are no longer with us.  Gone, our loved ones may be, but they’re never forgotten. Particularly when they insist on returning to haunt over Christmas-New Year!!

Being the Last of the Mohicans in my clan of Mohicans my thoughts always go back to the Christmases spent as a child with my now late brother, Graham; of the galvanised iron wash tubs filled with ice and luscious, juicy watermelons that sat in the cool shade beneath our home in Gympie...watermelons waiting for the obligatory watermelon fight that annually followed our Christmas lunches - feasts that were fit for royalty. 

Our Christmas table was set and decorated on Christmas Eve.  Bowls of nuts (in the shell, with sturdy nutcrackers beside each bowl for a cracking good time), crystallised ginger, a variety of lollies that always Licorice Allsorts.(the table and Christmas weren’t complete without Licorice Allsorts – not in our household, anyway) adorned the festive table.   

With eyes that glittered in direct competition with the tinsel and shiny baubles on our Christmas tree ,Graham and I, typical siblings that we were, held a truce while we awaited Santa’s arrival.  

The truce invariably ended on Christmas night.  It was inevitable.

When I was a little girl every Christmas night I “produced”, “directed” and “choreographed” a concert for our small family unit of four; sometimes the capacity audience grew to five when our uncle, Mum's brother visited.  We managed to find a seat for him.  Our Uncle Dudley always had free entry, no booking necessary.

It’s an understatement to say Graham was a reluctant participant.

Having to be dressed up as Prince Charming, as well as a one-boy version of the three Ugly Sisters and their evil mother, Cinderella’s nasty stepmother, wasn’t my brother's idea of boyish fun!   

However, no matter how much he tried to disrupt my little productions (and try he did) my determination prevailed...only just!  

Needless to say, Graham wasn’t very keen on tap-dancing, either. He hated it when I asked him to be “Gene Kelly” or “Donald O’Connor”  to my “Mitzi Gaynor” or “Vera Ellen”! 

When it came to him being Sir Robert Helpmann to my Dame Margot Fonteyn...I was really pushing the buttons!  

I guess the line had to be drawn somewhere...particularly when my partner/co-star was climbing out of our mother’s bedroom window in an effort to escape!

My brother’s off-Broadway appearances were a secret I’m sure he kept from his mates.  By him, no doubt they were well-kept secrets for years until Christmas 1986.  

That's when all was revealed!

 

Christmas 1986 I was managing the resort at Cape Richards on Hinchinbrook Island.  Graham was a member of my staff at the time.   

Christmas on the island was a load of fun.  The resort’s guests enjoyed it as much as my staff and I did.  Because for most of my staff, if not all, it was the first Christmas they’d had away from their families and loved ones I was determined each and every one of them, and as a group, would have a fun Christmas.  And that they did...one I’m sure none have forgotten.

On Christmas Eve, guests and off-duty staff alike were having drinks at the resort bar when I decided it was time to let the secret of Graham’s thespian, foot-tapping, toe-pointing past out of the bag.  

Very Victorian of him....he was not amused, but eventually, after a couple more beers, he did see the funny side.  But when requested to display some of his soft-shoe shuffled he declined politely; although he did sign autographs to his adoring fans!

When Graham and I were kids, after feasting on an over-abundant hot, roast meal of chicken (or turkey – it depended), roast pork with golden, crisp crackling, leg ham, apple sauce, rich gravy, along with every possible vegetable under the Queensland sun; after managing the near-impossible - making room where no room could possibly remain in our stomachs for Christmas pudding – make room we did.  

Of course, our mammoth efforts were made because of the threepences and sixpences buried within the cloth-clad rich Christmas fruit pudding.

Along with my childhood Christmas memories, my Hinchinbrook Island’s Noel celebrations, and many others, too many to describe here, one Christmas that has always, and will always remain alive and clear in my stock of memories is Christmas of 1990 when I lived on Newry Island.  

There I was, valiantly trying to maintain some semblance of sanity in front of my guests while an uninvited guest, Cyclone Joy was outside causing as much havoc as “she” could muster!  Surprisingly, I did manage to keep up my stoic facade throughout the hair-raising experience!

 

In detail I’ve written about that time previously on my blog, so I won’t repeat the story here and now.  But the story lies within if you wish to go in search.  If you’re interested to learn more....it’s easy to find...

Saturday, December 26, 2015

CYCLONE SEASON....MY NEWRY ISLAND ADVENTURE...CHRISTMAS-NEW YEAR 1990-1991

So here we are...a few days into 2017. What wonders, one wonders, lay ahead? What memories will be made this year?   Happy, good ones, I hope...for all of us.

Now it’s time to get down to the nitty-gritty of reality...time to rid ourselves of the Festive Blues...me to do so, anyway.   

I'm also still trying to get rid of fruit mince tarts, Christmas cake (only one slice left!), shortbread etc!

The Summer of Tennis has my undivided attention - and will do so for the rest of January...that will do me for a good start to the year.