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- thanks to Caleb and Ken for such immediacy of experience. This of mine is even less of a 'poem' than my usual, I know, but the hour gave me more than I could take in... At the MLC Gym The school gates at MLC are elegant antique, as befits a church foundation in Hawthorn, old Melbourne suburb, place of many churches and church schools. M for Methodist, L for Ladies, C for College. Our expectation is not all panama hats, discreet skirts, gloves, and correct deportment; we have been invited to the gym at noon. The young ladies and their teachers are in tights or bare legs, leotards and what not, and everyone is full of dash and bounce. The equipment looms big, hard and dangerous. Olivia's mother has kept us front row seats. 'Where's the ambulance?' I whisper. Olivia - Liv - does twenty-one hours gymnastics every week, and loves competing. She goes next month with her team to compete in Queensland. She is over on the far side; to make her out I have to take my eyes off several shapely young ladies bounding and flinging themselves about. Each effort concludes with a balletic curtsey and smile to the girl's watching friends. Though I'm the only male present, no-one's noticing me, grey-haired, bespectacled and stooping. I realize I'm clapping every time like I'm every girl's grandad. By the time I see Liv she has just finished a sign language exchange with her mother and my wife, and got back to her practice. Though I've seen gymnastics at times on t.v. I lack the vocabulary. The horse. The rings. The mat, on which dance solos with back flips are done to music of a skating-rink sort. Somewhere judging is quietly going on. Sandwiches are passed to these officials. On a side table wait silver and gold cups and a couple of shields. If speeches start up, I shall slip away in search of my late lunch. Liv pads over on tiny feet - she's scored a nine and a ten. No, she hadn't been tense. Her smile reassures my wife. And me. No-one has needed first aid. As I stand up, my hip joint tilts me floorwards. I curtsey, inelegant antique. Max Richards Doncaster, Melbourne Wednesday 30 August 2006 ------------------------------------------------------------ This email was sent from Netspace Webmail: http://www.netspace.net.au