Human nature has been sold short. Humans have a higher nature which includes the need for meaningful work, for responsibility, for creativeness, for being fair and just, for doing what is worthwhile and for preferring to do it well. (Abraham Maslow)
My current writing commission has taken me into the world of work and welfare, and it has been quite a dive into the deep end. Westgate Community Initiatives Group (WCIG) has 38 years of history, and as it looks to future directions, wants to capture its origins: how does its DNA from the past shape and inform its current form and vision?
With a change of leadership, and emerging from the challenges of Covid-19, WCIG is searching for its stories. ‘Strategy story’ is a well-known business tool for exploring the past to inform the future, and that is the essence of my commission. As part of the project, WCIG wants a book written that will capture the origins of the organisation, trace its history and developments and highlight the values that have remained over the years that drive it today. Just a small project!
WCIG is a community-based, not-for-profit organisation committed to improving lives through practical responses to unemployment and disadvantage, and is one of many employment services competing for government contracts and partnerships that will provide openings for people who find it hard to get a job. There are all sorts of reasons for this: health, discontinued employment experience, lack of qualifications, mental challenges, physical disabilities, language challenges and age and many more. These factors all make it more difficult to find meaningful jobs.
Our little coastal town of Hastings is not known for its cultural events. A pleasant marina and a mangrove board walk around the bay are its main attractions. It has three supermarkets and a Kmart, a fast-food intersection that is always busy, a selection of cafes and restaurants, multiple fish and chip shops and countless massage shops and nail salons. What more could we want? It’s actually what I like about this little resort town on the side of the Peninsula that is often forgotten. No impossible crowds in summer; always a parking spot in the main street.
But an occasional performance or art show is very welcome for the culture-starved residents who have carved out a niche in this gentle area – sometimes described beautifully and accurately in Garry Disher’s crime novels.
So when a Writers’ Club mate toured the Peninsula directing an Oscar Wilde play and ended in Hastings, I had to go – for myself and for Jonty. Besides, it was a three minute drive down the street! I also took my granddaughter, who had never been to live theatre before. With memories of ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’, I expected this play to be a humorous satire. It turned out to be darker.
‘Lady Windermere’s Fan is a comedy of manners by Osca Wilde, set in the 1890s in London. The play revolves around Lady Windermere’s jealousy over her husband’s apparent interest in Mrs Erlynne, a mysterious older woman. When rumours surface about Lord Windermere’s payments to Mrs Erlynne, Lady Windermere confronts him, leading to a complex web of secrets, morality and second chances.
The Hastings Hall is a surprisingly pleasant venue. In the chilly burst of near freezing temperatures we were experiencing, I was grateful to feel a warm glow from the heaters as we entered. The stage was empty! Chairs had been set up in the round in the main part of the hall, with a floor rug and furniture in the centre. With my husband, granddaughter and a friend, we settled in for what was quite a long performance.
My initial impression was that I felt involved in the action as the characters entered the corner right next to me and I pulled my feet in out of the way. They made great use of the space, using all four corners and sides with impressive movement and choreography. In the party scenes, we felt present at the event, mixing with the colourful characters. Some had very resonant voices and commanded the whole space; others like Mrs Erlynne, had quieter voices that were absorbed into the high ceiling, but made me lean in to keep up with the story.
The characters were so well cast and provided what humour the play has. An intimidating Lord Darlington, both by size and voice; a flittery Agatha with her constant ‘Yes, Mama’; the ever-present clown figure of a contemporary style Parker, the servant. The famous fan was there from the beginning and seemed to symbolise the way the feelings and understandings (or misunderstandings) moved around each scene, depending on who had the feathery, fluffy fan.
I was impressed with the extensive memory work that Lady Windermere had done to be across all her lines for the whole two and a half hours; she must be exhausted after each performance from speaking, shouting and crying as the dramas of suspected infidelity unfolded. Plays have a history of contrivance driving plot and this play is no exception. The audience was groaning with anticipation until the secret was revealed, as we had known it for a while. I think that is how playwrights draw us in, as we know more than the characters and identify like somewhat omniscient narrators.
Lord Windermere was impressively huffy and ingenuous, and I felt I wanted to shake him and sort out the whole misunderstanding. He valiantly bore the aspersions cast on his character as a gallant, chauvinistic, old world, aristocratic male would.
As for the mischievous Duchess of Berwick – there is always a troublemaker like her somewhere, played so convincingly in this performance.
After the long build up of misunderstandings and flip-flopping of emotions and trust, the play ended suddenly without full resolution, and as my granddaughter commented, raised a number of questions about morality. Who is good and who is bad? And is anyone bad capable of doing good or vice versa? Like all well-crafted plays, this one is about human nature and its foibles, played out in the most intimate of relationships.
It tackles the ambiguity of morality and the slipperiness of language, both of which undermine trust. It is a satire that deals with hypocrisy, shallowness and a rigid society which forces gender roles. Perhaps the context has changed but there are some universal truths in the play, along with warnings about making judgements and taking things and people at face value. It causes the audience to take a vow against shallowness and presumption, and to live for authenticity, loyalty and mutual understanding. The writer in me began to toss around some thoughts about how to write a play, which is the challenging form of writing completely in dialogue.
Well done Morning Peninsula Theatre Company and Director Jonty Reason. Please come back to Hastings soon!
It’s an honour to have a poem selected for this anthology, hot off the press from Ginninderra Press (the publisher of ‘A Voice for Veronica’).
This collection had its beginnings in the shame, sadness and disbelief that was felt by so many after the result of the Voice referendum in 2023. The poems passionately express those reactions and unflinchingly explore some of the truths about Australia and its history, that, if they had been widely known, might have led to a different result. It is hoped that the readers will find solace, inspiration and hope in the pages that follow. Stephen Matthews, editor.
My poem, ‘Four Generations’, reflects my perspective on generational legacy and where I sit in history. I leave my beautiful and very smart grandchildren a mix of hope and sadness.
Four Generations
You were my gentle grandad
I was spoilt and loved, the first female of your line
Quietly spoken grower of delicate gladioli
You named one after me
Companioned by your loyal springer spaniel
But never told me about Fromelles
The horror of your war
Just grew sweet strawberries.
You were my upright father
Brilliant but Depression deprived
Lived for service and duty
Pressured night study late in life broke your health
I think you loved me.
I am still living and loved; married
Have played, planted and bought houses
Studied, travelled, written books and made music
Flourished in my female way
Gathered my grandchildren around me
Some say I am a lucky boomer.
Dear granddaughter, finished school, finding your way
Back in the land of schnitzel and strudel! We are working our way back north after six glorious weeks in Italy, this time via the Black Forest region in Germany as we return to Frankfurt.
Our arrival at the station in Freiburg was so easy. I was still looking around for the way out off the platform and realised we were on the street, with taxies right in front of us- unpacking in our hotel no time. It turned out that almost everything in Freiburg was easy. The exception was the language as we only have a few words of German; in retrospect, we had enough Italian to get ourselves around and miss it already.
Every place we stay has its pros and cons, so I try to focus on the good things. The Fourside Hotel in Freiburg is a new chain hotel, further out of town, very clean and shiny, comfy bed, very quiet (we sleep in late here), and has a fantastic large shower, complete with a huge picture of a lady (a local legend) in it! Although a bit of a way from the action centre, it is opposite a massive supermarket and has a tram stop out front. All things to like.
What a beautiful, green city is Freiburg! Trees and gardens everywhere, flourishing flower boxes on the streets and balconies, and forested hills on all sides of town. Tidy, well signed and no rubbish anywhere. Neat blocks of apartments in our area, painted in various combinations of colours. Lots of bikes and dedicated paths (have to look both ways twice to avoid being run down) and a fantastic sustainable and reliable public transport system.
Having seen the weather forecast, we were up and out the first morning to make the most of the last predicted sunny day. Always drawn to heights and cable cars, we pored over the transport map for a way to get to Shauinslandbahn – the world’s longest circular cable car to the top of the mountain. It looked doable – Tram 2 and Bus 21 here we come!
It took five kind Germans to help us find the stop, the tram and buy tickets. It is a bit frustrating not to be able to read information. A friendly young woman at the stop assisted us first, and it turned out that she was going to Brisbane the very next week to do her PhD in chemistry!
Even after we were heading the right way, a gentleman saw us looking at the tram map and asked if we needed help. One lady even grabbed a high school student and told him to help us as she didn’t speak English. So kind! In fact, whenever we look at our map, someone asks us if we need assistance.
We have fallen in love with this sun-dusted part of Italy. I don’t remember ever watching such a series of glorious sunsets every night for two weeks; the palette is a little different each night. The temperature has been perfectly warming every day, and increasingly refreshing overnight. Only a tiny breeze to break the stillness, and the sound of tractors pulling ploughs all day as the autumn farm routines roll on as they have for hundreds of years. The vines are slowly turning russet while the olives keep their colour, and their fruit is ripening.
Seasonality is very calming. Hard working people in tune with God’s earth. It’s a while since I was content to sit and gaze at the scenery without thoughts of what I need to do! It has been so good for my busy mind and soul.
Tuscany is famous for its wine and people come from all over the world to try it. All the little towns have more enoteca (wine tasting shops) and wine bars than anything else, with the hero wines being Brunello and Rosso. We are not huge wine drinkers; I drink almost none and Peter was driving! But as Marco, our host’s husband, did wine tasting tours as well as looking after an olive farm, we thought we would give it a go. Adventures are the order of the day.
It was time to leave Sicily, vey reluctantly. Feeling more confident on the roads than when we arrived, we took the the little Panda car to the autostrada, heading back to the huge port city of Messina. When we returned the car safely, I could see relief written all over Peter’s face: a month of challenging driving in Sicily and no scratches or bingles caused by us or any of the mad drivers we saw. A miracle.
The rental car office was happy to mind our luggage, so we had a long day to fill in waiting for the night train, but we were at least unencumbered. Messina, however, is a huge port (with a row of cruise ships in dock) and I didn’t have energy in the heat to go too far, so we did what all good travellers do to fill in time- settle in at KFC for chicken and salad, and then Maccers for coffee and tiramisu. Food, coffee, toilets and wifi all helped to pass the day. In KFC we shared a table with two young men from Uzbekistan who are studying in Messina. They had perfect English and were very assured as we chatted. Both supported by their parents, clearly the new middle class.
Two things of note about MacDonalds: it was modern, clean and had service to the table, and, we were the oldest people there by a couple of decades!
We still had time to kill at the station for our 10.10pm train, but started to see and hear information that it was running an hour late. It was immediately clear that we would miss our connection in Rome to Florence the next morning and the trip was all downhill from there. For starters, we discovered that the toilets at the station were locked up at 10pm! We were relieved in every way when the train finally arrived.
Mount Etna is always referred to as a female in Sicily, even as a mother figure. She smothers the defeated monster Typhon and protects the local inhabitants. That’s a different way of seeing one of the world’s most active volcanoes! Mama Etna had been shrouded in clouds and mist since we arrived in Sicily. We drove past and around it several times, but Taormina, our last destination in Sicily, was all about the smoking mountain.
The drive from Polizzi Generosa to Taormina was long and demanding, even with Pietro’s local knowledge of ‘shortcuts’ to get to the highway. I didn’t mind travelling the last winding, rough roads and had come to terms with the hairpin bends (by closing my eyes mostly). Our memories of the Madonie mountains and nature reserve will always be special. Eventually we were on the autostrada, travelling very fast, but being overtaken by those driving even faster. And woe betide any car that gets in their way!
Our new bed and breakfast was in Giardini Naxos, a little way south of Taormina, which is incredibly expensive. Villa Chiarenza is a stunning old villa with Roman remains scattered around, mixed with hundreds of terracotta pots of succulents and cacti. It was apparently a nunnery originally and has been renovated and used for hospitality for about forty years.
Our drive from Agrigento to the next destination was not a long one, so we decided to take a side trip to Villa Romano. It is reputed to have some of the best preserved mosaics in the world. Sometimes it is hard to plan without clear information, and this was the case for this trip.
By the time we arrived, we were at the furthest extent of a massive parking area, radiating heat in the midday sun. We also had all our luggage in the car and had read too many forums about tourists losing everything they owned out of a rental car! We decided to take it in turns.
So I set off first, and realised as I toiled up the first slope that it was a long, steep climb up to the entrance. After a determined effort (without Peter to push me from behind – not elegant but it helps) I made a call and turned back. That’s a world class attraction I will have to pass up!
Peter went up then and verified that it was so big and uneven that I would have found it too much. He was awestruck with the Villa, so I will include some of his photos of what I didn’t see.
In the meantime I went shopping in the souvenir and other shops at the base. Most of it was the usual gaudy Sicilian colours and designs, but I found a lovely leather and jewellery shop where the owners were the artisans. Beautiful options for some presents to take home, and a way to support local artists. So that was my outing.
As the little Fiat Panda set off to our next destination, I realised that I was getting almost accustomed to being on the road in Sicily, and on the wrong side. Our route from Siracusa to Agrigento took us north along the coast with sweeping sea views and then turned inland and west, avoiding the huge city of Catania. A great drive across Sicily.
We drove towards smoking Mount Etna, then next to it for a while, and the horizon opened up as we covered the kilometres of dry, scrubby terrain and bare mountains at a speed well over 100kph. Some traffic passed us so fast that we hardly saw them coming up behind us. The only relief from the stony terrain was the citrus groves, some thriving, others struggling after last month’s terrible heat wave. There was evidence of the bushfires that threatened the area not long ago.
In a stretch of nearly 200km, there was only one service station about halfway, so I’m glad we stopped. We did not need petrol (little Panda is a hybrid) but a comfort stop and somewhere to have a snack. Relief in every sense!
The route was simple enough until we exited the freeway to take the A19 – roadworks made for confusion and we missed it and did a 10km reroute. Lots of tunnels which are quite dark with no room for error. Peter has done an amazing job driving, although he has stopped indicating when overtaking because ‘it confuses the locals’…
