Tag Archives: LindyP

On the Road Again – Monster Move

03 Tuesday Nov 2015

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Simulated picture of LindyP’s moving experience

Story by LindyP

We all stood and watched with nervous excitement as 8 muscular men drove in,armed with attitude. tattoos and whiskers , garbed in tight black t-shirts to make them look cool and tough .

A fair amount of explicit language was conducted before the final act commenced.
Bob, a long time member and resident, joined the crew as an extra, and used his colorful verbose support to cheer them on . He was prepared for anything -beer in one hand ,a smoke hanging from his jaw ,and you wouldn’t believe what he could achieve with the spare hand. I was quite unprepared for his amazing dextrality and efficient maneuvering.

Then it began -tools were drawn and shifters and jemmys employed to jack up the caravan to meet the receiving 4 wheel drive; conversation was surprisingly a team work effort , with yelling and cursing cementing this extraordinary relationship between men and beast -the beast being the enormous task of moving an ancient fossil of a huge 3 wheeler (each side ) caravan out of the area and on to the road.

I was filled with trepidation as sounds of exasperation and muscle power were expelled while they pushed and pulled and bits of the caravan were falling off.

Bob was turning the shifter with manful speed and effort -his one hand going like the clappers ,careful not to drop his beer or his rollie as he perfected his skill on the tow bar. Then there were sounds of ‘ whoa ‘and ‘good one bro’ as the car pulled and pulled, wheels spinning and -then—-nothing -silence.

We all stood and stared -what would they do now -the car couldn’t pull it out . Would they finally bring in a truck to do the job ?
After 2 minutes of wiping sweaty brows , heavy sighs and words of encouragement exchanged , blocks were muscled in under the tow bar of the caravan and under the wheels of 4 wheel drive.

With one almighty surge of energy , the whole ensemble moved -out onto the grass . Everyone applauded .

It creaked and groaned and swayed it’s way up the lane ,the car spluttering objections as more profanities could be heard from inside the car as it rounded the corner onto the open road.

Later on I heard that the caravan had ended up with 3 flat tyres on it’s way to it’s final destination – an hour up country .I cannot imagine they would have had spares.

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Adjusted simulation of LindyP’s van

lindyp

The Wedding Tent

13 Tuesday Jan 2015

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Replica wedding tent - not actual size

Replica wedding tent – not actual size

 

Story by LindyP

Jim arrived in the community one day -his old truck towed in with a well travelled dog that had seen better days. Muttering to himself he proceeded to set up camp, nervously busying himself with the task , a process which had obviously been repeated many times before.

He was a short , wiry older man with a weathered expression and dark skin. His ready but guarded smile became popular quickly in our camp and he could be seen out and about ,always ready to give a helping hand.

He found people warmed to him and his ways, and his old dog. They started giving him stuff —old bits of board and old tarps. He got to work , diligently putting them together to extend his living arrangements into some semblance of habitation.

One day someone gave him a white plastic wedding marquee with pretty cut-out windows; this fitted neatly around his structure, making it more pleasing to the passing eye.

There was something quite final about this elegant finish to his humble home. Perhaps , I thought , it gave him comfort , or stability , or whatever this hardened traveller was searching for.

Unfortunately after a couple of months the flimsy covering was damaged and torn apart by our gusty Perth winds, and had to be removed.

He lived amongst us for 2 years , a recovering alcoholic, with his problems of emotional and mental abuse and petty crime .

One day he was told to leave -an unfortunate incident happened which ended his tenancy. His old dog had reacted one day when Jim was out and had bitten someone who inadvertently had walked into it’s territory .
He had a choice -get rid of the dog or move out.

Without objection Jim dismantled his home in 2 hours .

I watched and waved as he was being towed away in his truck to his next home. As he passed I glanced at the trailer full of his precious belongings , and saw the neatly folded remains of a battered and torn wedding tent.

The Sadhu Pages

02 Wednesday Oct 2013

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Lindy P drawing

Drawing and Story by LindyP

I have always been drawn to the mysticism and spirituality of India, particularly seen in the gurus, the sadhus, the Jains and the holy travellers. They say the eyes are mirrors of the soul – I see the eyes of a sadhu as a mirror to fathoms of wisdom gathered over thousands of years, as they journey on in solitude wearing little, eating little and spreading their knowledge in the most humble way.

This drawing was done on a warm sunny Perth morning, standing at my crotchety easel . Armed with charcoal and paper, kneedable rubber, long black apron and wet rag, I had in mind to create a drawing that would go with the mood I was in, bearing in mind I was listening to Indian music. I found inspiration in an old photo that has travelled with me into my living spaces for many years and which has been blue tacked on to many walls .

The end result looks nothing like the photo – it could be a completely different man, and I think perhaps I put a different character altogether into him. If you look more closely at his eyes and expression you could almost think he is a vagrant, a tramp, an itinerant . He could be the man I have seen sitting on the pavement in town, holding out a worn-out beanie, hoping for a few coins.

There might be pain in his eyes – speaking of his hard life experiences.

Or he could be a forest dweller, like the man on Grand Designs who built his home in the woods in England from timber collected from the forest floor. Perhaps he has a family – perhaps not.

After 3 hours of drawing I had finished, and looking down at my very black hands I stood back and studied my man. I think on that warm sunny morning I had come back from my dreams of India and forest dwellers, and compassion for hard luck and the homeless – it didn’t really matter who he was – I felt I had accomplished what I set out to do-to create a piece that said something -I’m just not sure what !

lindyp

The Green T-shirt

10 Tuesday Sep 2013

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 TheGreensBlack

Story by LindyP

Every state and federal election day I stand there -the lone figure -in my green T shirt – searching for faces that I think will vote Green. Unfortunately in Perth , they are few and far between and so instead I like to observe people’s body language as they pass by.

I like to put them into groups –

First come the angry ones ,full of unspeakable resentment and horror that a person in a green T shirt has the nerve to stand there and offer them a card -they glare at me as if they could tear the T shirt off my back ,stamp on it and burn it in front of everyone there and then. They storm past me in silent fury and I can almost see the steam rising out of their ears.

Then come the quiet stony faced ones ,they avoid my glance and outstretched
hand ,keeping their own hands deep in pockets and completely ignoring the fact that I am present -I am invisible to this group -perhaps I am living in a parallel world -or perhaps like the bower bird they only recognise the colour blue.

Finally there are the cringers , avoiding my glance and hugging their shoulders as they furtively slip past me in a widening semi circle -as if they will catch some terrible disease if they come too close. The look says it all.

At the end of my shift I join the queue and go inside to vote. People in the queue are pleasant , friendly and chatty .

Little do they know that underneath my coat, my green T shirt lies waiting for it’s day of glory !

lindyp

The Frangipani

24 Monday Jun 2013

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Story by LindyP

I found them in the op-shop, sitting in a corner turning the pages of a huge book. They were sharing the joys of this book and happy in each other’s company. We exchanged greetings  and I left them to their animated chatter.

They are my neighbours , an extraordinarily quaint old  couple who I think may have been married  for forever and a day. I find their gentle company comforting  and  I smile to see the warmth and respect they have for each other. They have an almost antique charm, a rare quality seemingly unaffected by their long journey through life together, and oblivious to the madness of today’s world.

Their lives are simple, pleasant and humble. They love their garden, their books and their cat.

Every few months they discuss the fate of the huge frangipani outside their front door. They stand together gazing upwards, nodding and nattering to each other, smiling then frowning. A decision must be made to cut some branches off –it is getting too big. Then they go back inside to think about it.

Another six months passes by and there they are again, standing in front of it, pointing and doing imaginary cuts with their hands. I sometimes wonder if they have short term memory loss and have forgotten that they discuss the fate of this beautiful tree at such regular intervals ? Meanwhile the tree gets more magnificent every year.

I will miss them when they are gone; I will miss their quaintness, their quiet ways, and their love for the frangipani.

The Kindness of Others

05 Sunday May 2013

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Image borrowed with thanks from visualphotos.com (is there any other kind ?)

Image borrowed with thanks from visualphotos.com (is there any other kind ?)

Story by LindyP

Early after sunrise I open the door to release the heavy cramped night air . It seems to rush out with relief as it makes way for morning warmth, morning sounds. The crisp brightness crowds into my room to refresh and cling to all things inside: it welcomes my comforting routine of making coffee, checking emails, speaking nonsense to my cat-it is good to be alive.

I live in a community of lost souls-this is where I live, and this is how I see them. They include the disadvantaged, the unfortunate, the sick and the poor. Their stories are of struggle, illness, and lack of opportunity, often victims of a society that has forgotten how to care.

Yet this is not a sad place to live –others live here too, and laughter, happy sounds, and friendly chatter are a constant reminder in this neighbourhood of the kindness of others – this can be found in something as small as offering someone the use of internet or phone, or offering a lift to someone to do their shopping.

These battlers have cultivated and nurtured friendships along the way, in spite of their problems and hardships–or even perhaps because of these things. They have found some special bond that seems to last through adversity and I have known people move on and come back –such is the strength of friendship created and the comfort in knowing they will be welcomed back.

I step up the hill on my morning walk and turn the corner to face the breeze. The morning environment is full of sights, sounds and smells that stimulate the memory. I see and smell the gum trees and it takes me back —–

My first contact with dry land in Australia was in 1973 and as I stepped off the boat with my family I thought I’d never seen a sky so bright and a sea so blue. This has stayed with me for 40 years, like the first smell of a gum tree, and the first time I heard the magic of a bellbird’s call.

I return to my front door-my quiet space – this is where I live, and I feel blessed to live here.

lindyp

 

 

 

 

Space and Memory

05 Friday Apr 2013

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Tomorrow's 43 squares bogan ghetto

Tomorrow’s 43 squares Mcmansion  bogan ghetto

Story by LindyP

Today we live in bigger and bigger houses, enormous Tuscany coloured soulless sterile barns , often occupied by less than 4 people. Families are more and more isolated -hostile shutters cover their windows which seem to say  -go away –keep out-this is MY place.

The backyard gate is padlocked shut and behind huge fences we can see gigantic barbecues,  swimming pools, water features with special effect lighting and Balinese furniture that belongs in a temple –in Bali…..

Inside you may find vast sterile living areas dominated by granite-topped benches, massive flat screen tv’s and flawless stainless steel surfaces, games rooms and theatre rooms, oozing with ostentation.

At the very end of the house  the teenager’s bedrooms are filled with computer technology and more TVs , so they only have to come into contact with their parents if they really want to eat –heaven forbid.

Small spaces , filled with clutter and friendly chatter are my preferred life choices.  I like claustrophobic cramped rooms where people’s body space is limited and conversation flows freely and with ease.

I grew up in a small house where cousins, aunts and uncles all sat on the same couch  (visions of the ‘Royle Family’ sitcom !), because there was no other place to sit, and sharing of thoughts was warm and cosy as we gazed at the coal fire glowing.

I liked staying outside  til dark with friends under the shabby street light , and not being afraid. I liked the smell of Yorkshire pudding in the oven on Sundays , and the sound of Bing Crosby on the radio-it meant that my father was in a good mood –not a common occurrence .

My childhood wasn’t the best , but I sometimes have a longing for those days  (the good ones) and wonder what memories we are creating for the young of today.

Frangipani

21 Thursday Feb 2013

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frangipani

Story by LindyP

I found them in the op-shop, sitting in a corner turning the pages of a huge book. They were sharing the joys of this book and happy in each other’s company. We exchanged greetings  and I left them to their animated chatter.

They are my neighbours , an extraordinarily quaint old  couple who I think may have been married  for forever and a day. I find their gentle company comforting  and  I smile to see the warmth and respect they have for each other. They have an almost antique charm, a rare quality seemingly unaffected by their long journey through life together, and oblivious to the madness of today’s world.

Their lives are simple, pleasant and humble. They love their garden, their books and their cat.

Every few months they discuss the fate of the huge frangipani outside their front door. They stand together gazing upwards, nodding and nattering to each other, smiling then frowning. A decision must be made to cut some branches off –it is getting too big. Then they go back inside to think about it.

Another six months passes by and there they are again, standing in front of it, pointing and doing imaginary cuts with their hands. I sometimes wonder if they have short term memory loss and have forgotten that they discuss the fate of this beautiful tree at such regular intervals ? Meanwhile the tree gets more magnificent every year.

I will miss them when they are gone; I will miss their quaintness, their quiet ways, and their love for the frangipani.

First Day Back

07 Thursday Feb 2013

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School Kid

The Pig’s Arms would like to extend a warm welcome to a  new contributor, LindyP.

My morning walk is early these days before the fierce Perth sun penetrates into every pore in my skin.

I pounded up the hot hill ,turning to face the busy road and saw a brightly coloured biro on the pavement , still pristine in it’s package. Then I remembered -kids are back at school today. What a shame, some child will find their brand new pen missing out of their school bag.

Another five minutes along the footpath was a bus shelter , and lo and behold there was a drink bottle sitting forlornly on the seat.

And then I wondered about all the children starting a new school year, some with excitement about meeting new friends, teachers etc. But what about others ? What about the ones that have left the family home without breakfast or without a ‘take care’ or ‘good luck today love ‘? Will anyone be there when they come home after school, full of the day’s events, longing to be able to share their enthusiasm ? Perhaps not .

I often think about and regret my lack of mothering skills when my two kids were
young ,and observe and wonder at how they turned into such beautiful people -more by luck than judgement on my part, but I think they know they were loved, and I feel so sad that so many children today are not loved the way they should be.