Yarra even people don't know dear old Melbourne -sounds like 'over there' still I'm not the one to ask who had a sister living there for decades-and a step daughterliving there nw cheers P
Ps did you swim across?
From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On Behalf Of Bill Wootton
Sent: 30 October 2013 09:19
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: Re: Slipping in (title tentative)
Thanks, Pat. Thinking of changing title to Slipping into Belonging. What think you? Final line might escape meaning in your hemisphere. I schooled in Balwyn on the other side of the river from Ivanhoe where I lived.
> On 30 Oct 2013, at 6:48 pm, Patrick McManus <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Bill thanks lovely picture -memories P
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]]
> On Behalf Of Bill Wootton
> Sent: 29 October 2013 20:21
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: Slipping in (title tentative)
> Slipping in
> Aware of being on the edge of change;
> The Moon landing being slipped into British History as an example of
> modern colonisation.
> Doing Geography projects in small groups, presenting finished product
> on coloured A3 paper; negotiating up from being responsible for The
> Ribbed long socks and pale yellow cotton girls' sports tunics;
> Annette's wiry red hair and freckled arms clashing with all that
> paleness. We boys trimming the bottom isosceles of our tan ties.
> Rock Lunch Club: voluntarily opting to sit at desks after The Bell,
> egg sangos and fruitcake splayed from brown bags; Cocker Happy
> jaunting on the school's stereo, wall-mounted Wharfedale speakers.
> Double desking with Felicity in Pure,
> while chalked formulae accumulated on the smooth blackboard.
> Waiting for her thigh to shift; the times she allowed nestle.
> Frosty mornings, slinging my Malvern Star up, front wheel latching
> between spokes on the high hook in the Bike Shelter.
> Mouse's inert red 500cc Suzuki gleaming below its pedal cousins.
> Room 32, the dour Test Room, in its own isolated block, sometimes
> doubling as a drama room; pretending to not care when my part in a
> play was rotated to Jovan, who later died in a car accident.
> Noticing my hand being the only one up, responding to a question about
> The Merchant of Venice, the penny
> dropping: the maths/science elites really didn?t know.
> Mrs Sikh who wrote maths solutions with both hands on the board at the
> same time, not to show off but because she found it efficient; Mr
> Bodley, insisting post-PE shower doors remain propped open.
> Muffled laughter in the Breezeway, from behind cupped hands:
> catching the word 'period', clearly not denoting subject session,
> knowing there was stuff I didn't know and couldn't ask about.
> Tough Macca dropping dead after an inter-school footy game.
> Guest speaker Danny Spooner singing 'The Famous Flower of Serving Men'
> a cappella; the hush in the hall at the tale of portents and transformations.
> Collecting signatures on a petition for which I wrote the preamble,
> proposing a Form Six student smoking room in the Physics lab; posting
> it in the mail in a stamped envelope to squeaky-voiced Principal Perry.
> Summoned to 'Head' office as number one signatory, being treated
> warily, respectfully, by someone in power for the first time.
> Permission denied; a watch put on me.
> Ned Wilson Beatling his straight hair vertically over his forehead,
> running the black comb teeth the full width of his head just above eye
> level, never taking eyes off his image in the long mirror in the boys' toilet.
> Hearing instructions in French over the PA for a senior class;
> ignoring other bulletins over the PA, not even knowing that The
> Pirates of Penzance was a musical, for the whole of 1968.
> Failing woodwork in form two and my father a carpenter; Pop Quizzes in
> Science trotted out by a rotund American; matching terms with precise
> definitions his brainwave.
> Reversed polarities in steeply tiered Room 15, desks perched on
> scaffolding-supported floorboards, designed for cooking
> demonstrations, enabling looking down on vulnerable teacher.
> The rumbling of pulled down continuous cloth ?blackboards?
> to expose virgin dark green - or remnants of an unscrubbed lesson.
> Yardstick rulers resting on the wall, outsized wooden protractors.
> Feeling woozy in metalwork room; each boy at lesson's end, standing to
> attention by his vice, silent, stared down by grey dust-coated Mr
> Mir's chocolate eyes above wiry black-grey moustache.
> The wooden seat of my chair coming adrift, thwacking to the floor as
> we inverted them in unison at day's end in Art, laughter; accepted for
> the first time on the other side of the Yarra.