untitled

Adelaide sat. Waiting for things to change.

It seemed not to matter whether she crossed her legs, uncrossed her arms, smiled or scowled.

Nothing changed while she sat.

Please don't play in the dust

She had not noticed that there were towels in the hall; glitter and pancakes all over the floor; a cushion on the bookshelf; a cereal box on the lounge; a pile of sticks with string strung around; coffee cups galore; a line of brown apple cores on the bottom stair; a wine bottle with the cork off; and pyjamas in the sink.

Until her neighbour walked in.

The advice still stands

It was the kind of day made Adelaide think of the university lecturer who had written, on every one of the essays Adelaide handed her, generally lucid, but occasionally diffuse.

Evening meal

Having reached a significant milestone by working freaking hard at it for three full days - and one of them a public holiday - Adelaide opened a bottle of wine before she started the tea.

One glass later, she thought they might have pizza tonight.

She took another gulp of the red, then waved - not unkindly but without nostalgia - at the woman who had believed that every meal she fed her children should be a nutritionally balanced one.

Vacation care

'I still feel a bit shy about this,' her little boy said. He used one hand to wipe quickly at his eyes, the other to squeeze her hand.

They were only half way across the playground and the door was closed. Either of them could still change their minds (except for the pile of work she simply could not put off for another single moment).

'But I'm going to give it a try, and I'll get used to it, and then I'll have fun,' he said.

And it was good to know that you weren't getting everything wrong.

Cover it in hundreds and thousands

'It's not so much that you've got a finger in too many pies,' the mister said, 'it's just that none of them is made of chocolate.'

And indeed it is

'Mrs Gray who has (sic) organising her first David Jones parade, taking over from Mrs Vial, says: 'People place a lot of importance on being on that VIP list. For some people, it's a very important part of their life. If they're not seated at the DJ's parade, they feel it's a reflection on their standing in society.''

Devlin, Rebekah and Rhiannon Doyle
'It's your party but we'll come if we want to, say the A-list gatecrashers'
The Advertiser. Saturday April 22 2006, p 48

The melancholy settles in

She wishes she had picked the underwear up. He is probably used to it. But still.

‘Do you want normal tea or would you prefer herbal?’ she asks. It is a household joke made before she can think.

‘I’m not usually too fussy,’ he says. His voice is soft and leaves a trail across her soul. His hair is blonde and he leaves the tap running as he walks back and forth to his truck and he wears boots which look like they have never been cleaned.

She will joke about him at dinner parties in months to come and say he’s the kind of boy would make any mother proud. She will use her own mother’s inflections when she speaks and two of her friends will know exactly what she means.

To go or not to go

On the one hand, this lecture about atrocity crimes and global indifference sounds really interesting.

On the other hand, that photo of Gareth Evans pretty much sums up why I'm not sure whether I'll go. People reveal the strangest things about themselves, do they not?

trashy magazines

In exchange for the two gorgeous children, Adelaide's mother-in-law had given Adelaide five Woman's Days and a New Idea.

Adelaide had allowed herself a momentary break from her other worthy pursuits to wallow in the glorious magazines. But it's funny the places your brain will race while you are reading about Lleyton and Bec and Angeline Jolie.

Adelaide remembered, for example, that on a visit to her own grandmother's many years ago, her grandfather had given her a similar sized stash of magazines.

'Hide these from her until she's finished her jobs,' he said. 'But not behind the television, she'll know to look there.'

And here's the thing: Adelaide did it! She did as her grandfather asked. And then she got them out again when he had left for his very important job.

And here's another thing: Adelaide knew that this was something should not tell her mother.

And here's the final thing: when Adelaide's grandfather came home that day he felt the back of the television to make sure it had not been on. It was something Adelaide had not known.

Adelaide believes she was six or seven at the time.

Google is weird

Adelaide lives a pretty much anonymous life in the city of her birth. In truth, she does not know someone who knows someone, and she has no influence over anyone of import.

She does not know:
when Jimmy Barnes will next be in Adelaide;
how much INXS tickets are likely to cost;
when Chloe Fox and Leon Bignell will wed;
Lleyton Hewitt's address.
These last two she would certainly keep to herself even if she knew.

There are much better sources of information on Chris Schacht, Angus Redford and KG.

Why anyone would be looking for that kind of stuff here she really can not understand.

The sasmee railway park is open one Saturday and one Sunday per month, but she can not remember whether it is the first Saturday and third Sunday or vice versa or even whether it is the second or the fourth.

There are no patterns for child's coathangers here and Adelaide offers no medical advice. She is not even really sure what an aorta is.

Who knew there were so many people on the hunt for an ecological dishwasher. Adelaide really doubts that there is such a thing. Depending on your definition of ecological of course.

Yes, success is the best revenge. Or at the very least you will be doing something productive, even if your motives are less than admirable.

Adelaide extends her apologies to disappointed googlers, but it isn't entirely her fault.

In the afternoon

Grace, Jeff Buckley

Seemed like a good idea at the time

Unencumbered by children, but carrying one piece of recent Very Bad news from a friend, plus that bloody phone call had come, Adelaide and her lover went out.

'I can't quite decide.' Adelaide looked up from the cocktail menu and, quite accidently, straight into the eyes of the Lovely Waiter. 'Perhaps...'

'The lychee martini is very good,' the Lovely Waiter said. And quite coincidentally they were the very next words on Adelaide's lips.

'I just need to tell you we don't have the mint. But that's really just garnish,' the Lovely Waiter said.

'That's okay,' Adelaide said, 'mint just gets caught in your teeth.'

'You're a shocking flirt,' her lover said when the Lovely Waiter had gone.

And at the moment when her lover said I'll have a coffee now please Adelaide should not have said and I'll try the mango daquiri.

Good intentions come to nowt #onezillion

Adelaide has studied Chinese in China, Spanish in Guatemala and French in Port Pirie. And just this afternoon she has uncovered her copy of Winnie ille Pu bought ten years ago with the sincere intention of teaching herself Latin.

She has scrabbled through her endless store of mental to-do lists and scrubbed teach self Latin off.

Roadhouse rendez-vous

Because she remembered how much she loved the days she'd spent at her grandmother's, she made the drive.

They would meet half way, but still it would be a four hour drive (return).

She packed bags and bikes and helmets into the car. She packed snacks. Apple, dried peach, cheese and a freddo frog.

‘Are they for us?’ the children asked when they saw her packing the frogs, but they would not stop for a hug.

She took no notice of the roadside markers as she drove because if it can happen once it bloody well can happen again. She flicked the windscreen wipers on then off, on then off again.

One of the children slept.

The other one said ‘are we nearly there’ and ‘what does soon mean’. He picked up his books and he asked ‘what does w.h.e.r.e. spell’ and when they played I-spy she couldn't convince him that drink doesn't start with g. She remembered her own mother telling her that ceiling doesn't start with a 's'.

They got to the roadhouse first, so there was time to kill, and the children said 'you said kill you said kill'. She said to them ‘no, you can’t have an ice cream until you’ve finished your chips’ and killing time cost twenty dollars all up.

She said ‘we ate one Christmas tea here, because the car broke down,’ but the children didn’t understand.

She saw the people in the road house smile when the children called ‘Granny, Granny’ and ran to wait at the door. And nobody cared that the children squealed when their Pop turned them upside down and tickled them under their arms.

Her mother-in-law smiled at her and they hugged. She was sorry now for all the times she had scoffed when her mother-in-law said goodbye, thanks for coming, drive safely, ring me when you arrive.

They moved the things from her car to theirs (let me get that, love) and they buckled the children in.

Her little boy wiped his eyes when he said goodbye and that was something he'd never done before. She brushed his cheek with the palm of her hand. And then he looked at his Granny and smiled, and she remembered the days she had smiled that way, and that’s why she was here.

And when she drove away, out of the roadhouse and onto the road, her head thumped and her arms ached. It was Lucky Oceans on the radio and she drove all the way home at 95.

Go Dizzy

'Although I am still mourning the loss of his mullet,' Adelaide said.

The day after Easter

Welcome back from Easter everyone.

Did you read any of the 27 kilos of books and papers you insisted on taking?

No? Nor did Adelaide.

Botanic Gardens, Easter Saturday

If I had to be anyone at a wedding, Adelaide thought, I'd always be the sister-in-law.

She walked towards the ball she had accidentally-on-purpose hit just a bit too hard so it flew over the heads of the boys, left their circle of grass, travelled along the path and landed not too far from the fountain where the wedding had just begun.

At weddings, Adelaide thought, sisters-in-law are unencumbered by expectation. They can wear a sensible frock (in autumn even brides should wear sleeves). Sisters-in-law are not forced into shades of green which make them feel dizzy or shades of red which make them look sickly pale. They do their own make-up and no one pushes their hair into shapes that immobilise the head.

There is nothing important that a sister-in-law can forget.

Sisters-in-law stand to the side with a child on their hip and a flute of champagne in their hand. They can taste the champagne and it does not rush straight to their knees in a dangerous way.

In photographs - including the one that's just her and her husband and their child all of them looking relaxed and well-dressed - sisters-in-law wear glorious smiles.

Adelaide picked up the ball, pulled her jacket closer around herself. Someone really should have thought to bring jumpers for the boys.

there's no critical analysis here

'Is it just me, or did Dalziel and Pascoe get worse?' Adelaide asked the mister. She was trying to lose weight, so she took the wine, but declined more chocolate.

'No. It's always been this shit,' he said and scoffed another six blocks.

an afternoon constitutional

If Adelaide had not turned the corner to avoid the dog, she would never have seen the woman in pearls rummaging through the playground bin.

'Was she wearing gloves?' the mister asked.

Another question, but no answer

Question: How many lovers does it take to ruin an unexected opportunity to watch Survivor (the greatest reality show ever made)?

Answer: Just the one. But he has to be running around putting children to bed, clanging the dishes a bit too loud, then walking past with another load of washing ready to be hung out.

'Guilt is such an unproductive emotion,' Adelaide said when they were seated quite close together on the lounge later on. She was happy, but she was still frighteningly close to a snarl. 'I wonder whether that's what it feels like to be a more...traditional man?' Adelaide said. 'Maybe it's not that great just sitting on the lounge at the end of they day letting people wait on you.' She sniffed, then took another bite of the chocolate rabbit the mister's PA had sent home for the kids. 'Or maybe it's something you can push through.'

'I'll ask around for you,' Adelaide's mister said. 'I'll try and find out.'

They gave each other a tender look before Adelaide took the remote and turned the television up. She wasn't going to miss that little tinkly piece of music they played when they extinguished the flame for anything.

Q & A

Adelaide's youngest child was one of those three year olds who was constantly asking why. Endearing in small doses, it drove Adelaide and her husband, and her father and her parents-in-law around the bend. But if Adelaide's little boy didn't ask why, these are some of the things Adelaide would never have known:

1. the man in the post office was a soldier who had indeed flown in the helicopters which occasionally circled Adelaide's house. His combat fatigues were often mistaken for pyjamas and if you looked at the patterns carefully you would see love hearts and Mickey Mouse ears.
2. the woman looking at the toothpaste in the supermarket cleans her teeth twice a day. Her toothbrush is red and does not have pictures of Winnie the Pooh. She does not use a cup to rinse the toothpaste from her mouth. She eats toast for breakfast and is intending to lose weight.
3. the young man at the bottle shop has a silver thing in his tongue because he likes how it feels. You have to be an adult to get a silver thing in your tongue. You would have to go to hospital if you swallowed it.
   
4. the man behind the counter at the newsagent eats sandwiches for lunch. He buys them from the bakery down the street. He has juice with his sandwich and coffee in the afternoons.
   
5. the man in the cafe wearing white socks and brown leather sandals got the cuts on his legs from diving for abalone over the weekend. He gave the abalone to a friend who is sick. His friend did not go in an ambulance, but he has had x-rays. When the man goes to work he does autopsies.

At which point, Adelaide stepped in.

Drats

Adelaide returned to her computer after a glorious week across the seas - Kangaroo Island - to find 102 emails in one inbox, 13 in another.

And not one of them likely to change her life.

it's a hard life

Adelaide had the kind of husband who was giving her bunches of tulips one day, then casting nasturtiums on her housekeeping skills the next.

and in news just to hand...

Like John Howard, Adelaide is completely reassured by the Chinese premier's statement that the uranium China buys from Australia - indeed, South Australia - will be used only for perfectly peaceful purposes in perfectly safe facilities. As uranium always is.

And even as you read, Adelaide is sitting on a plane to New York with her children, hoping they can be included in the asthma vaccine trials and be given daily doses of dust mites and cat fur.

dear dad

Dear Dad

Isn't it funny that being a Sturt supporter for all those years has stood me in such good stead for following the Power from Port?

Love, Adelaide

PS Pass the message on to my brother too.

please explain the uranium mines

Adelaide was the kind of vegetarian who wore leather shoes and snuck pieces of Christmas ham.

She was the kind of person who knew about carbon credits, but washed her dishes in a machine.

She was the kind of partner who didn't want to know that her beloved clipped his toenails, but didn't care where she clipped her own.

She was the kind of anti-poverty campaigner who paid sixty dollars to get her hair cut and another sixty to get it dyed.

She was the kind of feminist who vacuumed before her mother-in-law arrived.

And still she failed to see how Mike Rann could be fighting tooth and nail against a radioactive waste dump one year and championing the expansion - the doubling - of uranium mining the next.