Blog post #19 - 1983 - the Aussie story continues…..

The old adage, “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.”It’s what my mum and most mums used to say, I guess.
I’m not sure I can adhere to that since there’s a lot of uncomfortable MeToo at this point in my early Australian life.
I think every baby boomer gal has known multiple episodes of poor behaviour, but we were living in unprecedented times when the pill had made it possible for girls to avoid being “up-the-duff” and for boys to be carefree about how they "sowed their wild oats."
Confusing because we’d all been brought up to “save ourselves for our wedding night,” but in reality that quaint notion was an anachronism.
And we were not taught about what goes on before you get to the nitty gritty. How “far did you go” and with whom was a central conversation piece in school cloakrooms of a morning.
Christian or not, in my mid teens there was a fair bit of stuff going on in the backs of cars down dark country lanes, but I didn’t “go all the way.”
My parents were not of Christian persuasion, but “keeping yourself nice” was still a Thing in my upbringing and this was compounded by my prim churchy views.
All very unfortunate and yes confusing too. The delicious feeling of lust, but the enormous guilt of it…..
Oh my!

So as I continue my story, we’re talking about Australia in the 80s here and the backdrop for me was as described, with my young adulthood and “baby marriage” taking place during that “gem for Jesus” phase. So emerging from that marriage, despite the uproar of the torrid affair that heralded its end, I was unschooled about what was expected of a single girl in her mid 20s.

Clearly everything and all sorts, no restraints, no recourse nor redress, no remorse, no apology…..
However, I’m getting ahead of myself really.

So I’m in Australia and first up I was with my beloved Cousin Claire in Yanchep which was populated by expat poms plumping for a carefree life at the beach.
I remained Very Sad after my scalding affair with love, but I was welcomed by some lovely people and indeed loved the beach side life and loved my cousin’s home and her little kids all of whom remain dear to my heart to this day. And that frozen shoulder, warmed by the sunny shores and the gentle movement of swimming in the lagoon, gradually defrosted and I started to feel better, at least physically.

Two uncomfortable stories concerning my first encounters with Australian men (sorry guys) took place in the first couple of months.

Look away now if you’re a sensitive soul.

I have told these to people over the years, but never committed them to words on the page and am I finding it difficult to do so…..
The first took place on Australia Day, so yes only a few weeks into my Aussie sojourn.
The Aussie who had owned that wine bar I sang at back in grim old London came from Perth and he was back there that January of 1983, throwing a party to say hello to his old mates. He kindly invited me, so my cousin loaned me her car and into Perth I went on my lonesome to meet up with him and his gal and have a jolly time, or so I thought.
The party took place in a nightclub and there would have been about 30 revellers in his group of friends. All appeared to be paired up!

Me, I’m single, solo and evidently sort of up for grabs by the guys, married or not.

To be safer I sidled up to the women. Understand that whilst they came in in couples, once there, it was the guys on one side of the central bar being blokey and the gals on the other conversing about the colour of the bathroom tiles or the latest wonder bra. I was shunned by them and in any case was unable to chat about those topics, especially in a noisy night club, so I stood on the outer cringing and feeling so very far from home. (And still lovesick of course)
A man approached me and yelled into my ear, “how’s your mum?”
It was difficult to hear properly of course but I was perplexed by such a question and then I guess I sort of smiled thinking it was perhaps a sweet sort of Aussie pick-up line.
This encouraged him and he yelled “how’s your mum” into my ear again.
“I’m sorry?”
“Well, how is it? - how’s your bum?”
And then proceeded to tell me what he had in my mind for that bit of my person…..(too graphically to share verbatim here)
Needless to say I gave him no further encouragement and he stomped away, only to return several times to tell me how stuck up I was. His parting shot was that I was nothing but a “cardboard cut-out.”

That night Claire gave birth to dear Jamie and I was mortified because I had her car! Her husband
Chris was back from the oil rigs thankfully and one of their many Yanchep friends did the dash to the hospital with others looking after little Luke.

The second happened a few weeks later.
I was up at the Yanchep pub having got a little gig playing and singing there on the weekends.
On this particular weekend there was a Perth to Yanchep boat trip, an annual affair apparently,  and the guys and their gals with their craft safely moored in the marina, were having a fun-time dinner at the pub.
Now, I’d had my hair cut short before leaving the UK for convenience in the summery Aussie sunshine. Tanned little pixie me, playing and singing the old love songs as the yacht-lot jibed and joked as they ate.
I noticed a couple of guys talking and looking, talking and looking. And during my break they came up to me. Smiling, they asked if I could resolve a dispute between them?
Was I into guys or girls asked one of them?
I was so taken aback I choked on my lemon soda!
That seemed to resolve it for them, because evidently I must be into girls to have been so affronted!

Remember I had a one way ticket!

During this period of bewilderment I used to take myself off for beach walks and another tape in my trusty Walkman was Elgar’s Cello Concerto. All the yearning of it accompanied me.
Jaqueline Duprès of course.
https://youtu.be/UUgdbqt2ON0

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