Toto, I don’t think we’re in
Kansas anymore!!
A ‘born & bred’ Melbourne
girl, hell bent on never getting married, never having children, making her
mark on a big city…somehow, someway…That was me!
I worked as a PA & began
working in Event Management, with some very inspiring & funny women,
something I loved…just as much as I loved my town, snow & sailing. There’s no way I’d ever move to the country,
marry a farmer…they complain a lot don’t they?? & if they’re not in drought
then there’s a flood or mouse plague!…why, why, why, would you do that to
yourself??
NB: Forewarned is forearmed…Never
say never!
I moved from Melbourne to Perth
on Monday 21st August 2000 (the date is permanently tattooed on my
brain, I was so scared!), & after delivering ‘Marvellous Maz’ to Spencer Street Train Station, (I still can’t believe that at the age of 29 I was able to
pack my entire life into a Mazda 323, these days we take twice that in the
funky smelling mud mobile, just for a night away – this may explain why we never
go anywhere!). I boarded a plane &
set my watch back two hours & thirty five years (sorry…),…just two hours!
When I first arrived, I stayed
with mum for a few months & took my Maz, (which thankfully made it
over with all contents still intact), & Kiko ‘the Wonder Dog’ on long drives to discover this new city.
I immediately fell in love with Fremantle & its markets, (something
I really missed) & the beautiful beaches along the coast & set about
exploring. Having been born with a
terrible sense of direction I often got lost, (I like to put this down to
genetics, along with my enviable ability to always burn toast) – but to this
day, many of the interesting places I find are a result of me taking a wrong
turn…
One thing I did learn – I was no
longer from Melbourne, or Victoria, but, from ‘Over East,’ – which apparently
encapsulates all states over here, east of the West Australian border – which
kind of gave, & still gives me, the shits really!
A couple of weeks after I arrived
I was invited to a bbq at my best mate’s sisters house, Bec, she had married a very funny, politically incorrect (among my
favourite people) dentist, with a huge mop of dark brown curls & talent at
Jana Wendt impersonations (which is just his excuse for asking people really
inappropriate questions). They were
having a ‘thank you’ shin dig for the ‘hardest working rock band the world has
never seen’, Weapon, who played at their wedding (they also played at ours
& every other band members wedding – with all band members now married,
Weapon is now considering a move to Christenings & Bar Mitzvah’s.
It was here that I first met ‘Mr Special’ –
who initially appeared before me as a funny little drunk man with blue lips
from too many reds, whose first words to me were, “you’d never think I was the
lead singer of a rock band” – hmm, no little fella, I wouldn't!
Well, time soldiered on & I
occasionally met up with the ‘Rock Star’ at various events & all was going
smoothly until mum happened to speak to a Melbourne friend of mine who
rang for a chat & mentioned that I had ‘on occasion’ brought up a certain
Farmer…slash…Singer. Well, from that
moment, ‘The Grazier,’ was born & my mother turned into Greg Evans on
oestrogen (to make matters worse, Jana Wendt’s wife also went on a match making
bender).
Mum’s first (& only) attempt
at match making was at a dinner for my 30th birthday – I was still
‘Scotty-No-Mates’ at this time, so my guest list consisted of the Band, Jana
Wendt & his wife & the funniest man ever to set foot in my life,
Dentist John – he does a tremendous Michael Flatley at the end of a good
evening (& a good red)...truly a sight to behold!
True to form, The Grazier was the
last to arrive, (he has since let it be known that he hates being late…married
the wrong girl there sailor!). He had
bright green fingers from tattooing calves earlier in the day (this might not
seem funny, but Mr Special has really small sausage fingers, so his hands
resembled that of Mini Hulk after a day of finger painting at Mini Hulk
kindy).
Mum was slowly tiring...she had not yet met ‘The Grazier’, & had spent all afternoon enthusiastically arising
& opening the front door every time the door bell rang, expecting to see her future son in law. The sight of the 6ft 4inch Quent (Weapon
guitar player extraordinaire), got her the most excited as she envisaged the
tall gene, so desperately required of our family, finally turning up, literally
on our doorstep. Alas it was not to be,
the 5ft 8in ‘Grazier’, was the last ‘ding of the door bell’, so to speak &
I’ve never seen her so excited.
Eight months after turning on the
‘Special’, Mr Special proposed…..
…but not before asking Dad for
permission – such a traditional little bunny – Dad’s response was, “well, don’t
ask me, you’d better ask her, she could say no!”
Twelve months after that we got
married (& twelve months after that I became pregnant with our first little
trooper – Soph).
Eleven years on & we have
three beautiful & very entertaining kids, who are as different from one
another as any siblings could ever be – but remarkably get along very well
together...mostly!
I don’t know if anything could
have prepared me for country life &
almost everyday I have some sort of ‘culture shock’ type of experience &
depending upon which category the experience falls into (eg funny, interesting
or ‘holy shit), determines my subsequent re-action – & how often Mr Special
finds his balls in the ‘Wife Vice’.
Maybe it’s true what they say –
‘to enjoy your future you have to let go of the past’ - that’s not to say you forget, but maybe
point your mind in a slightly different direction & if you open it up wide
enough there’s no telling where you may end up,
(just as long as you don’t end up an Eagles supporter!).
Stay tuned, it would seem that
anything is possible…for all of us….so be careful of what you don’t wish for!
ox
Jen
No comments:
Post a Comment