Change of Life began as a series of newspaper columns for The
Canberra Times, in August 2004. The series was conceived as a weekly
diary of the doings of a pair of baby-boomers coping with moving to the
country, while one of them (me) continued to work part-time in the
City. Because the series was aimed at a Canberra audience, I was never
specific about where “in the country” was exactly. Now that the column
has concluded, I can say that “the country” is the village of
Blackheath in the Blue Mountains, and “the city” is, of course, Sydney,
where I still work.
In sharing Change of Life with a new audience on the web, my intention is to keep updating the diary on an occasional basis.
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My husband has just bought a house – our first – using an inheritance
from his parents. It’s in the bush, but near enough for me to go to
town and work three days a week in order to keep the roof over his head. |
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Wayne the gardener came today. He's a very versatile young man.
We first met when he came to name all the trees in our new garden,
which he did at a furious pace, with Mr. S. (the husband) trotting
after him as his gnome-like amanuensis, frantically scribbling
botanical names phonetically. I've been trying to decode their
joint efforts ever since.
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Calvin is a city cat. Nine years ago, Calvin came into our lives via an
inner-city pub, where she was discovered by Mr. S. drinking beer out of
an ashtray (Calvin, not Mr. S), and obviously abandoned. Mr. S. was
celebrating the Swans first win following a 22 match losing streak. |
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Mr. S. was given a unique Father's Day present this year, but to
explain its significance we have to back-track a bit.
Due to some appalling lapses of judgment, I found myself on my own in
my mid-20's, with two children with different fathers. The
details are too embarrassing to recall publicly, and anyway, 24 years
ago Mr. S came along, and made an honest woman of me, and over time
became a very good Dad, so it all worked out OK in the end. |
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Spring has sprung,
The grass has riz,
I wonder where the birdies is?
I know exactly where the birdies is - they are lying face down in my
compost heap - wings extended, nestled into the warmth of the compost,
with the avian equivalent of silly grins on their faces. They
just lie there, soaking up rays, blissfully ignoring me sweating and
heaving beside them, as I battle to liberate a chestnut tree from the
stranglehold of a demented potato vine. |
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Now where were we. The curtains arrive next week. Wayne the
gardener has finally installed the rose garden. I suspect Mr S and
Calvin are dozing in front of the fire up in the mountains (lucky
things!), and I'm having a shoulder-pad day in the big city. |
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It's odd what you learn about your spouse when you start spending more
time with him. Our new life sees me spending 4 days in the
country and 3 in the city. This means that I spend about 100%
more time with Mr S than I used to do, so I have twice as many
opportunities to get under his feet than ever before. |
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Our daughter Anne has been home for a visit this week. The end of
a relationship, and a looming birthday bought her back from London for
a flying visit. |
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You'd think a nice little earner like me would at least be able to
count on having clean underwear, wouldn't you? Alas, I took Mr S
to Melbourne this week for a corporate jolly, and when I arrived back,
solo, at our city flat, I discover that in all the excitement Mr S has
failed to re-stock my underwear drawer. |
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Change of Life 
