How to be Old and Silly
SUCCESSFULLY
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CHAPTER ONE

Well .. Seems there’s no fool like an old fool, don’t it ?; but I stepped onto the path to ancient silliness at an almost tender age.

It was around the time of leaving what had been my home of 18 years – Pyrmont, in Sydney. I’d lost Chic ten years before; and in fact my staying in Emerald City for ten more years might be said to comprise the first paving stones: Sydney and I without him were never going to get along. Alas ! – that departure did not see me make my way back to my spiritual home: I went, instead, to live in Geelong, down on the south-west coast of Port Phillip Bay.

There was a reason: a very dear friend, next-door to whose family I had grown up, over in Perth, was now living down there with his own extended family; and I knew all of them, so thought it to be a sensible idea. But then, every decision I’ve ever made I’ve thought of in that light, initially ..

I started out renting a unit in a suburb with the odd name of Manifold Heights. (Being already very adept at using Google Maps with all their street views and satellite views, I was aware it wasn’t a suburb full of car repair premises or the like; but I never did ascertain the background of its name.) I lived in it for around seven months before breaking my lease to move on.

Note that fact: it marks the beginning of my somewhat astoundingly peripatetic renting history ! I recall very clearly having three dear friends to dinner, one evening many years later, who were amusing themselves and me very greatly by deciding that I should become a contestant on the ABC’s quiz show, “The Hard Quiz”. The programme’s angle was that contestants had to come prepared to answer questions on a topic chosen by themselves; and M, L and J made us all fall over laughing by nominating my topic as “Places I have rented — and why they were no good” ..

So on to the edge of Geelong proper – referred to as the CBD by some – I went, moving into a newly-constructed ‘residential’ block that wasn’t, actually. In fact it ended up being a kind of off-campus ward of the Geelong Hospital; and only we on the top (fourth) floor were residents. This was a very silly situation indeed: we found ourselves being told to remember where we were: that there were sick people around us: that we were not to let doors slam or drop anything. I lasted here for almost the same length of time, then begged my way out and at least didn’t have to pay horrendous lease-break fees.

My very old friend had fallen victim to Alzheimer’s. It was horrible: he was so gentle and sweet a man, and so little deserved such a fate. I proved utterly useless at helping to look after him: the fact is that people with dementia need help that involves things like going to the loo, so that only his family were able to be useful in looking after him. I just kind of floated about on the periphery being an anxious waste of time. They all managed very well without me; and my reason for going down to Geelong was done away with in about a week.

But there I was; and I could at least afford to live in that burg, on my own. So I set about unintentionally finding out almost everything about that: in my first three years there I moved no less than six times ! Manifold Heights, Geelong CBD, St Albans Park, Herne Hill, St Albans Park (yes, again – I liked it !) and finally North Geelong. And there was one prime reason for it all: DOGS.

Not all dogs: just big dogs left at home to be bored SHITLESS by their selfish and careless owners all day. Yep, you’re right: the fuckers barked and barked and barked and barked and .. get the picture ?

And there was I, who wanted nothing more than to be left alone in peace and quiet, preferably with my feet in the sun, to crochet. After all, I had discovered that there were people in the crochet world who could crochet garments, and I wished to join that blessed league. But could I ? – I could not. All I could do was fulminate ragingly about the dog currently rendering my life hell: there was at least one in every single place I lived in. Every. Single. Place. They didn’t need to be next-door to make my life a misery: they could be as far away as in, say, the next street; or the block behind. Because wherever they were, with their great hairy balls and their huge mouths wide open (they were always male dogs), they were heard for a very, very long way. And as for why it seemed that only I suffered, it was because it was only one old broad who was home all day: all the rest were much younger and still working: I couldn’t afford to rent in the classier suburb, so was always living where this was the situation.

Had I done my research better – including rental costs – I might not have thought that I could probably do OK down in Geelong. But, being already silly, I had not. Sighh ..

Enough whingeing, d’you think ? Or want more (I can always accommodate that) ? Be of good cheer: I shall attempt less than you’ve had so far in the next episode.