I'm slowly learning how to ride a unicycle

 

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An ocker voice on the phone, G'day, mate. Youse still selling the place? Emma chisit?" Almost told him I didn't know her, put you can't judge a caller by his voice, can you - or can you? "Somewhere north of three million", I said. "Too much, mate" was his answer, and hung up.

Ten minutes later a text message, "$2.3 cash sale if you have a change of heart, thanks." I texted back, "No change of heart as my heart is not foolish; however, if you're serious, raising a million dollars in finance with $2.3million in cash would be a walk in the park (ahem! Bank)."

Quick as a flash, "We could do $2.7m cash. We don't like loans, sorry. Not to be rude but the house is very dated and needs a lot of work. I think 1.7m suffices the land etc." (Our land valuation is $2,637,000!)

Which called for a longer reply, "You are not being rude, and you would be stupid to pay above market just as I would be stupid to sell below it. Trouble is there isn't much of a market to compare to in the case of a property in as unique a location as this, so we are both left to our own assessment and imagination. I have already rejected a previous $2.9 million offer and never regretted it. No need to be polite and say the house is dated. It's bloddy old!!! (but it was built like a tank in the 60s). It would be foolish to pull it down, which is what I told the chap who offered $2.9 million million for the land alone. $1,750,000 for the one up the lane at 5 Sproxtons Lane (another inspection this Saturday) would still leave you with some money in your pocket to upgrade it as it is a very ordinary house and what you are paying for is its location. Thanks again for your interest. P.S. If you are REALLY interested, I could offer vendor's finance of $600,000 on top of your $2.7 million cash."

"So what is the actual figure you are wanting?" $2.7 million cash plus $600,000 vendor's finance is what? Come on, switch on your calculator!

"Will never sell north of $3 million", texted me this expert, and "Happy to sit at $2.9 million if your mind turns but won't move from that. Nice location but lots of money to spend." And then there were a couple of more texted messages, which I replied with, "We could go on and on, but please let's not. Thank you for your interest, and good luck with your househunting", to which he replied with a conciliatory "All good mate thanks for your time if anything changes you have my contact."

He sounded like the chap who, once you'd locked onto his price, would find more and more faults with the property to screw you down more and more, and then drop you altogether. Better I dropped him first.

It's a bit late in life, but I'm slowly learning how to ride a unicycle.

 

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"And you really live by the river?"

 

 

And you really live by the river?" one Bushwalker asked me, pointing to my hat as we hiked down to Chinamans Point. Feeling much like the Rat in "The Wind in the Willows", I happily replied, "By it and with it and on it and in it".

I've been an early riser all my life. Bed to me has never been something to 'get into' but rather to 'get out of', and I've never been late, or - God forbid! - called in sick, but this morning I did feel a little off and almost cancelled my appointment with the Batemans Bay Bushwalkers who were going to hike down to Chinaman's Point. But here I was, enjoying the early morning sunshine and the company of my fellow-walkers.

This was no Kokoda Trail but then neither was I still in my twenties when I had accomplished that particular hike. Instead, this was a leisurely walk from Holmes Lookout just off the Kings Highway down to Chinamans Point (which must've lost its apostrophe at about the same time the last Chinaman left). For the past several decades it had been occupied by an oyster shed which was run by a pool-acquaintance who'd assured me he'd have the kettle boiling by the time we'd get there.

 

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Then, some forty-five minutes into the walk, and just as we were scrambling down another very steep hill which ought to have been strictly reserved for mountain goats, I took off the same hat that the other Bushwalker had pointed to, wiped the sweat off my forehead and mumbled in a low whisper to Padma who was beside me, "There's a reason I received that OBE last year. I'm Over Bloody Eighty and I'll never get back up that steep hill again. Let's call it quits before they call the ambulance." And so I excused myself from the group and, exhausted but greatly relieved, we scrambled back up the hill again.

 

 

It's been a long day! I saw some new things, met some new people, but most important of all, I learnt something about the physical limitations imposed by old age. We are home again, and as I sit here on the sunlit verandah, looking at the river and nursing a hot cup of sweat tea, I recall those words from Chapter 5, Dulce Domum, in "The Wind in the Willows": "But it was good to think he had this to come back to, this place which was all his own, these things which were so glad to see him again and could always be counted upon for the same simple welcome".

 

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Howdy neighbour!

 

 

They’re all the same, but each one is different from every other one. You’ve got your bright mornings; your fog mornings; you’ve got your summer light and your autumn light; you’ve got your week days and your weekends; you’ve got your people in overcoats and galoshes and you’ve got your people in t-shirts and shorts. Sometimes same people, sometimes different ones. Sometimes different ones become the same, and the same ones disappear. The earth revolves around the sun and every day the light from the sun hits the earth from a different angle."

More than thirty years ago Paul Auster adapted his short story "Auggie Wren’s Christmas Story" to form the screenplay for Wayne Wang’s film "Smoke". Both versions feature a key sub-plot which reveals one man’s beguiling obsession with the city in which he lives. Auster’s protagonist Auggie Wren, played by Harvey Keitel in the film, lives in Brooklyn and runs a tobacconist shop on the corner of Third Street and Seventh Avenue. Every day he takes his camera out into the street at 8.00 am and takes a picture of the same street corner, his corner, day after day.

 

"That’s right. More than four thousand pictures of the corner of Third Street and Seventh Avenue at eight o’clock in the morning, four thousand straight days in all kinds of weather. That’s why I can never take a vacation. I got to be in my spot every morning at the same time … every morning in the same spot at the same time."

 

Life has this veneer of permanence with each day, each year, coming and going with tedious repetition, and yet look a little closer and there's a constant change and we are all part of it. We are all in the process of dying, with each of us marching towards our inevitable demise.

I am grateful for those constant changes, so when I see another boat moored across the river, I "do an Auggie Wren", rush inside to get my camera, and take a photo. I feel grateful that, of all the bends in the river, they have chosen my bend in the river to spend a whole day, sometimes a whole night, and sometimes even several days and nights.

I feel so grateful that I want to shout out to them, "Howdy neighbour!"

 

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Happy Chinese New Year!

 

 

Friends from the Bay did a lot of horsing around aboard the ESCAPADE, as she came sailing past "Riverbend" while they celebrated the Chinese New Year, the Year of the Horse.

 

Watch out! Any closer and you might hit our jetty!

 

They waved and shouted and Padma waved back, while I continued to watch the evening news which was more of the same, but strangely, for once no mad mutterings from the Mad Donald tonight. What's going on?

 

 

Happy Chinese New Year!

 

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What a view! What a find!

 

View from Holmes Lookout towards Batemans Bay

 

We made an early start to meet the other Batemans Bay Bushwalkers at Holmes Lookout for the long walk down to Chinamans Point and back. We waited for an hour before I thought that something must be amiss and checked the date - we were one whole day early! The walk is not until tomorrow!

Being already halfway to Batemans Bay we kept going, and Padma did her usual grocery shopping which meant she stocked up on everything as if there was going to be an outbreak of some sort of virulent disease and all the shops were going to be shut for the next three months, while I sniffed around the bookshelves in the Vinnies and the Salvos op-shop.

 

 

I was lucky to find this wonderful little hardcover book, "The Aitch Factor" written by the Macquarie Dictionary editor Susan Butler, who's a woman after my own heart because she cares about the 's plurals. As she writes, "I would recommend losing the apostrophe completely rather than give in to the 's plurals". I am with you, Susan! What a find!

Never mind that we spent an hour at Holmes Lookout; never mind that I wasn't at my computer when BHP hit $54.20. This little book for all the word warriors, punctuation pedants and everyday-lovers of language out there makes up for all the time we lost and all the money I lost.

 

Googlemap Riverbend