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Ah, the way of eruptions, Max. Some things are not to be cylinderised it seems. That's what stays with me, the unravelling. Then presumably the reravelling. And then the total unravelment for poor Nell and poor you. Bill On 19/12/2012, at 5:10 PM, Max Richards <[log in to unmask]> wrote: > Auntie Nell's Pink and White Terraces > > > Nell, my mother's younger sister, > was their family's carrier of joy, > > laughter bringer, > brightener of reunions. > > Sad then that she was childless - > the Japanese War > > found her young husband Jorgie, > fresh off his Aussie sheep farm, > > in Singapore, so into Changi > where Aussie and Allied soldiers > > suffered, died - in Jorgie's case, > nearly died. Surviving, returned, > > reunited (hadn't she worked > those war years in Sydney, > > seen in the harbour that > Japanese submarine!) > > they farmed again, up > Armidale way, prospered > > due to the Korean War wool boom - > all those winter uniforms; > > retired to the Queensland > surf coast, the Gold Coast, > > a unit near the water, > bowling club society. > > Still she pined for New Zealand, > sisters, nephews, nieces, > > and her early days, Napier > before the Quake; when asked, > > 'What present from there > might I bring you?' replied: > > 'How about the Pink and White > Terraces? bring me them!' > > No one living had seen them - > Mount Tarawera had erupted, > > burying the 'eighth wonder' > Victorian tourists had trekked to. > > But their strange beauty lived on > in paintings and early photos > > coloured like coconut-ice - > age-old silica formations, > > tourists bathing in its warm pools - > adorning walls in farmsteads > > like those of Nell's childhood. > It took some years, my hunt. > > At length, visiting her again, > widowed now, and 'in care', > > I took from their cylinder > three bright reproductions: > > The Terraces, Pink, White, > and both somehow together. > > 'You duffer,' she laughed, 'How > can I make use of these here?' > > There was no wall for them. > Back they went to Auckland - > > 'Here, sister, Nell can't use them.' > They went into her hall cupboard. > > My last visits to Nell lacked laughter: > 'This is a slow cancer' - I was dumb. > > When her will was read, every > niece and nephew had bequests > > but me, something much > pondered since, wryly. > > Nell's bequest to my sister > she shared between me and her. > > Years later, I asked for the Terraces. > Out they came, cylinder and its > > contents ruined by damp, > obliterated as well as had been > > the originals by last > century's Tarawera eruption. >