Judy Dykstra Brown over in Lifelessons wants to know more in the second round of Nosy Questions! Join in the fun, if you dare!
- Tell us how you met your partner. Please be specific in telling your tale.
We worked at a hospital and knew each other in passing only. One day after work we found ourselves at a pedestrian crossing not far from where we worked. He said something and as I had relocated from Canada to Australia, I recognised the Canadian accent. He was pleased as punch that I did. We walked and talked for a while, mostly about Canada, until I was home (a high rise apartment in the CBD). He grinned and asked if he could come up to see my etchings. A few weeks later, I let him. A long courtship, living together, marriage, two kids and divorce followed. We are still on good terms. - What is your most romantic experience, again with details?
At Dr T’s (see above) insistence we were having a break and, broken-hearted, I decided to travel to Europe when I met him. He was from Scotland. He always seemed to find me in a crowd. He had the most beautiful Scottish accent and could recite the poetry of Robert Burns and Robert Frost, just like that. He also wrote poetry. I was smitten. As my time in Europe was coming to an end we spent a memorable night in Beaune, France.I’m not sure how we continued a long distance relationship in those days, the days before email and FaceTime or Skype, but we did for two years. He sent me cassettes of him reciting poetry, songs that made him think of me and monologues to me in that wonderful Scottish voice.
He and Dr T were aware of each other’s presence in my life. I was struggling to make a decision when he sent me a cassette of the song by Matt Munro ‘Walk Away’, the lyrics:
Walk away, please go
Before you throw your life away
A life that I could share for just a day
We should have met some years ago
For your sake I say
Walk away, just go.
Walk away, and live
A life that’s full
With no regret
Don’t look back at me
Just try to forget
Why build a dream that cannot come true
So be strong, reach the stars now
Walk away, walk on.
If I heard your voice
I’d beg you to stay
So don’t say a word
Just run, run away.…The song haunts me to this day.
- What is the most extravagant purchase you’ve ever made, and why did you buy it?
Oh my goodness! For someone who hates shopping I splurge on a regular basis! My most recent splurge was a sterling silver cuff by John Miller Designs, a silversmith in the South West. Beautifully handcrafted in his studio, I want everything he has ever made! I bought this one to remind me of the wonderful time I had in Exmouth. I bought a ring to go with it too.
- What is your favorite swear word or expression, and when are you most likely to use it?
I’ve lived in Australia for decades so expletives Bastard! F*ckwit! and the like, is my primary language, especially when I’m driving in the city.
I still remember how to say Motherf*cker in Hindi. I slip into bilingual swearing for special F*ckwits.
I’m particularly fond of the phrase, who gives a flying f*ck and for no particular reason other than the mental imagery! - What is your favorite kind of pie? With or without ice cream?
Offer me cherry pie with vanilla ice cream and I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. (Rare to find cherry pie in Western Australia). - While we’re on the subject, what is your favorite ice cream, and where did you last eat it?
I rarely buy ice cream because I prefer the ice cream I make and no, I don’t have an ice cream maker. This is a family favourite, dried apricot and cointreau. Rich and luscious, because it is calorie laden it is best enjoyed once a year, at Christmas. - Who is your most unique friend and why? (May be someone from the past.)
He was 30 years older than me and I loved him dearly. He had never married and was an author, human rights activist and mental health activist. I met him only once but we had a long friendship before he passed on a few years ago. He was my rock and touchstone during difficult times. I’ve written about him in a previous post. - What is your most irritating habit?
Dr T and our children would agree … when I have people over for a meal, I cook a buffet and everyone complains about having to wait while I cook one more dish. - Who was your favorite teacher and why?
Miss Eva was my teacher in the final year of high school. She believed I could make a difference. I, in turn, believed her. - Do you like being alone and if so, what would you probably be doing?
Love, love, love being alone. You’ll find me beach combing. Or if home, enjoying my first cuppa in the shadows of pre-dawn. - What is the most outlandish thing you’ve ever done?
I was scared of heights and a friend coaxed me to go abseiling (rapelling). I abseiled off a 75 metre (about 240 foot) cliff. I loved it so much I did it three times. I’m no longer scared of heights. I find the descent exhilarating. - What superstition do you always follow?
I never walk under ladders. Ever. - What famous person or animal have you met? Tell us about the meeting.
I was so mesmerised by his outrageously flamboyant shoes that I literally bumped into Bob Geldof on a street in London.
Well, I’m done unwrapping.
Until next time
As always
a dawn bird
In response to Judy’s Nosy Questions #2
I always envisaged working in an office in the city, with my work extending to include the port city of Fremantle, but some of my narrative was written by others. Soon I was working state wide in this magnificent and enormous state of Western Australia, which covers a third of the continent. It took me to places I would never have gone. Each beach, each bay, each coast curve has been different. I started a collection of pebbles, coral and shells a few years ago. I treasure these, never more than now.
Then there are the collections of rocks, and other sea artefacts. I started a small jar of tiny shells that I often find on the beaches of Jurien Bay and Exmouth mostly. In the vintage cast iron piece of kitchenalia is the red rock I found in the gold mining areas in the Midwest outback that has gold flecks in it. I remember the moment when I picked this up and felt a deep connection to the land I was standing on. It seemed to speak to me of all the drama and chaos and excitement that gold rush brings and how different it is today with the orderly FIFO (fly in fly out) mine workers catching flights like they are catching a bus.
I love the tactile nature of emu eggs. They are smooth and heavy. These were the last of the eggs that were being sold when an Emu Farm closed. I would stop here, to buy a bottle or two of the locally made chilli tomato sauce, just before getting to Bunbury in the South West. I have such fond memories of chatting to the elderly women who worked at the counter.
I’m also looking after myself, as self-care is vital in these times. I had placed a big order of food from a home delivery service just before the crisis. Timely. They always have the best tasting fresh fruit. I never buy strawberries in the supermarket but I enjoy these when delivered.
I wake some mornings feeling despondent about everything and everyone. Some days crawling out of that space is harder than others when the grip of helplessness gets tighter. On those days I slow down and indulge in a bit of personal self-care. This is a facial mask I used as a teen in India. Made from chickpea flour, pure honey, a pinch of tumeric, a splash of lemon juice and enough water to make a consistency of pancake mix. I also add a few drops of Vitamin B oil. Smear over face, let it dry and rinse off. (Remind yourself not to open the front door!). The turmeric stains clothing but doesn’t seem to stain crockery or bathrooms sinks. The mask leaves the skin very soft. This paste, or versions of it, is also used in many Indian bridal ceremonies, a preparatory, or cleansing ritual before the wedding night. I feel the need to do this more often than I ever have in the past. It leaves me with a feeling of positive anticipation.
Last but not least! I’ve always disliked garden gnomes. It was a running joke between Dr T and myself and he would ‘threaten’ to buy some for our garden and I would recoil in horror.
The Rainbow Tree, children’s artwork, school in the Midwest, Western Australia
The house was in a part of town I’m unfamiliar with and my GPS took me in circles. I found the home eventually. It was an old home with beautiful wooden floors, fireplaces, etc. Inside, it had travelled through a couple of centuries in decor, but it was clean. Unfortunately, several rooms were not on the same level, some with just a few inches drop which, after jarring my back, made me more cautious where I was stepping. I checked all the doors and windows as I always do and once I felt safe, checked out the fridge. There was no milk! It was getting dark and cooler. I knew I would be wanting a coffee in the morning, so I got in my car and headed back to town.
I was uneasy in an unfamiliar home. I reassured myself the floor boards creaked loudly. Being a light sleeper, it was my only security alarm. I fell asleep eventually. I woke early, as I usually do, and was delighted to see a back garden was unlike the front garden. It was very reminiscent of Perth gardens of yesteryear. Contemporary gardens in the city require less work but oh so sterile and boring! This garden was lush with grapevine, shrubs, flowers and trees. It had a presence. 
There was serenity and peace in the face of garden sculpture.
Young Australian Ringneck parrot
The talk of the day among locals was how high the river had risen every time they checked their phone either in the office or cafe. A colleague suggested driving out to Nine Mile Bridge where there was a small lookout over the River, so I went with someone familiar with the area at the end of the day. Their excitement was contagious, but we looked on in awe for different reasons. 
My excitement was embedded in the fact this water was the rains that came from a cyclone further north. Muddy red, it carried the heart of the Pilbara mining region, a link that generated a visceral response. With the Gascoyne River being the longest river in Western Australia (nearly 900 kms or 500 plus miles) from Ranges to the sea, it is a spectacular sight to see in motion, the power of it made me step back and away from it.
The night before we drove out to a cattle station I could not sleep with excitement, and like an unsettled infant, woke every two hours. The instructions we were given were literally the proverbial ‘mud map’. There was no phone coverage either for the last part of our journey. My colleague brought her esky and we filled it with sandwiches, fruit and lots of water. We wore casual clothing and sturdy shoes. We grinned at the road ahead and left town early morning all set for an adventure on roads neither of us had travelled before. Just as well we took food, the station was expecting floods and everything was placed on higher ground. 
The road we turned off from the major highway was signposted. The ink ran dry from there on. We saw some petrol tins on wooden stakes, no doubt, meaningful to someone but for us it left more questions than answers. Every few kms we hoped we were on the right track, and track it was, unsealed and deeply corrugated as rain had come through the area but not yet reached Carnarvon. The last 20 kms was an especially bone-crunching drive as we bounced in the cabin, our voices becoming high pitched or subdued, every time a jolt took us by surprise. 
The family was expecting us and told us if we did not show up at the homestead within the designated time frame they would come out to look for us. I wasn’t sure if I felt reassured by this! We were, in Australian vernacular, beyond the black stump. We did see some cattle along the way. It is mustering season so we were somewhat reassured, although we could not see anyone or hear any mustering choppers, there were people around some where in this vast landscape. No landmarks to guide us but the straight track, we reasoned, it had to lead to the cattle station and it did. Eventually.
The homestead was a lovely period building, brick, fibro and tin but being a private home, I did not take photographs. The high ceilings kept the temperature cool indoors and the rooms were dark. We could not see what we were doing so we sat on the verandah under a tin roof for several hours. It was hot and beads of perspiration slid down the length of my spine. I could not help noticing there were several shovels scattered around the verandah. With no garden in sight, the owner confirmed, they were kept handy and within reach, for killing snakes! If nothing else convinced us, this did. We were in the outback.
It is difficult to put into words what the outback feels like. It is harsh and unforgiving country. Yet it is brimming with life of what one can see and it feels like one can experience the unseen. There is a spiritual ambience to it. It floats among twisted trees, swirling waters and skims sandy banks, with a softness that is tangible. This is ancient country. It envelopes one if you let it. It is not a landscape one sees. It is a landscape, a country, one experiences. It is now part of me as I am of it.
Later that evening, back in Carnarvon, we walked to the local pub so we could have a drink or two with our meal to celebrate our adventure. Sunset looked promising.
We walked back to the hotel along the Fascine after dark, where the sunset a couple of hours earlier had been beautiful. I slept fitfully from exhaustion and excitement.
A Shared Space 
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