Glass Doors
Yes
You heard rightly!
I took a sweeping turn from the road
Into the laneway
the driveway
applied the brakes
but nothing happened
except
the car slamming into the glass garage door
At 1 am in the morning
NO
I was not drunk!
NO
I was not speeding
Yes
I was angry
as my partner had been flirting outrageously all night at the party
So
it was a silent ride home
overtaken
by anything
but a silent arrival
I thankfully
hit the door at a relatively slow speed
But enough to jam the old mini into the rear of the jag in the garage
And scatter the entire garage glass door
Echoing
Reverberating down the entire laneway
At one in the morning?
Yes
It created a huge stir
Lights flickered on down the laneway
People coming out into the laneway in their dressing gowns and pyjamas
John and Barb’s bedroom was immediately above the garage
They were the first to be shaken into the reality of my arrival
No!
Thankfully nobody was hurt
Just my ego
Which took a the bigger dent
Than the mini
Barb and John
Took it calmly I thought?
They said little really
The mini was old
And Barb had had trouble with the breaks fading before
Yes!
I was let off the hook
A bit
But it did not improve my mood
We inspected the damage
Went inside and had a whisky
Which tended to put us all in a philosophical disposition in relation to the incident
Oh
John and Barb?
Well they called us their bush babies
We had just arrived in London and they kindly allowed us to stay and
To borrow the car
sadly
No!
Not a good start
I beat myself up about it for years
But we laughed about it later
In time
I tended to look on Barb as my English mum
How did I know them?
Well it’s a bit of a story
Barb had gone out with my partner’s Dad during the war
He had proposed
But Barb could not leave her aging mother
So Geoff came back to Oz and married Ezy
Geoff was a character
A navigator in the Royal Air Force
Flying low level bombing runs into the Norwegian fiords
after the German sub bases
The crews usually only lasted 3 weeks
He was lucky and was pulled back to Canada
To teach the yanks how to navigate at night
As they were taking a pasting in the daylight raids
Yes?
Hard to imagine
Anyway
Barbara came out to Oz to find Geoffrey twenty odd years later
They meet at Manly and spent the entire night
Talking and drinking
We were telephoned on Sunday morning
we all meet up
literally on the beach for a late breakfast
the story unfolding over coffees
set to the music of the surf
as they collectively endeavoured to sober up
That started it all really
The birth of the bush babies
John and Geoff got on like a house on fire
John was in the British Secret Service during the war
He was undercover with the resistance in Italy
Speaking fluent Italian with a suntan
He never talked much about it
Just drank a lot
In his late twenties, he started as office boy
In the office of the largest real estate company in the UK
When I meet him he was the Managing Director
And the company was the biggest in the UK
They were trading into Europe
John was very successful
A couple of years after Barb and John married
He had a massive heart attack
He was 32
The war had finally caught up with him
The doctor advised him not to drink
But he said a whisky in the evening was OK
I am sure he meant one
But that was enough for John
Yes!
John retired
With Barb looking after him and the ritualised drinking began
Gins a twelvezzes
The sun being over the yard arm
and then
whiskies after five
Every day
I was taught how to make a pink gin
Becoming the local hired help
John was not a good drunk
He was on so much medication it did not take much
He would become very argumentative
We used to go away for weekends together
Once
In a restaurant in Wales
After asking for butter for his bread roll
A bowl of packets of butter in plastic arrived
Not curled on a chilled plate!
Which pissed him off
He picked the plastic butter satchel off the table and throw it on the floor in a rage
this is not good enough
Yes
I felt embarrassed
Defending the waiter
But Barb sprang to his defence as
Standards have dropped!
the butter should always be curled and chilled!
I know it is hard to believe it?
But they were good to be with most times
Even though we always debated politics
I
was the socialist lefty from downunder
They
The aspiring middle class
Clinging to the established nostalgia of Royalty
They thought Royalty had some use??
These discussions usually punctuated our weekends away
One weekend
we went to their weekender in Oxfordshire
It was an old neo gothic mansion
The owners falling on bad times
Subdivided it into 4 apartments
John and Barb had the ground floor apartment
It had
Glass panelled doors opening out onto the terrace and the luxuriant English country side
I don’t know what it is about glass doors
Me
being helpful?
I volunteered to paint the glazed timber doors
I taped them up with masting tape and painted them white
John
In keeping with tradition
Suggested we go to the pub for lunch
That was the end of it
We did not surface until the next morning
It may be difficult to imagine
But it was a sunny summer weekend
I nonchalantly tried to just peel it off, as you do??
The next day
but the masting tape had baked onto the glass
I spent the remainder of the weekend scrapping the bloody masting tape off the glazed doors
To much amusement
That was the end of my handyman career
As you say
It was the starting of an urban legend
Yes!
I did go back
A few times
After John’s sudden death
Barb travelled more
Being now
independently wealthy
She stayed with me in Singapore
And came out to Oz a couple of times
Revealing the delights of Manly to me
As only a stranger to the land can
Each time I went to London
The drinking had intensified
Barb became more belligerent and angry
But it was still fun
As I tended the bar and generally cooked
Barb taught me how you tell spaghetti is cooked
Well?
By throwing it against the kitchen wall
obviously
If it sticks
All done
Barb
as the deterioration into dementia set in
Engaged live in help
Giving her nephew the power of attorney
Barb adored her sister’s only son
He was the child she never had
Jane
A well-meaning Irish lass
came under the influence of the nephew
And we were still the bush babies
As soon as the nephew took the power of attorney
He bought himself a range rover
Of course!
you need it in the country
to drive into London to look after Barb, of course
The house fell into disrepair and the live-in help was put under a regime that changed the mood in the house
Barb was not happy
As she slid into alcohol fuelled dementia
The last time I saw her
Barb was 85
The image is still etched in my heart
Just two chairs in the living room
Her legs crossed
Elbows on knees
The extended leg
Swaying
The obligatory fag in one hand
the glass of twelvezzes gin in the other
Barb
smoking continuously
Squinting through the smoke
The ice cubes rattling
shaking
As she attempted to find her mouth
she stubbed out the fag
reaching out
grabbing my hand
speaking in a conspiratorial whisper
tightening the grip
you have to get me out of her
PLEASE
Fumbling
I will talk to Andrew the nephew and Jane
To see what I can do!
A knowing smile
The dropping of the hand
Nothing more was said
Of course
I was upset
Fundamentally disturbed
This once proud, handsome, intelligent women
Reduced to being the host for two parasites
Who were draining her life forces
Speaking immediately to Andrew and then Jane
My concerns were written off
Barb was merely delusional
The dementia you know
I could not know what it was like, looking after a demented women 24 hours a day
You are only here for a day
The truth
Hurt
Well?
Sadly
I left my contact details and got on a flight to Oz
No!
No one ever contacted me
Although I sent emails
It was weird
Roughly twelve months after the last visit
I had a dream
Barb came to say goodbye
I knew
she was gone
To this day
I don’t know what transpired
It left a deep sadness
With this bush baby!