For the first
time since my grandchildren were born, I missed a birthday party, a cardinal
sin in my books. Zandar turned 6 two days ago and I was stuck at home after
enduring two plane trips from hell after doing my back in for the umpteenth
time three days ago. The three plane trips the day before to get me to Darwin
were probably the catalyst but all was going fine until I was loaned a car to
check out what Darwin had to offer. Sat myself down and ‘sproing,’ it wasn’t
one of the springs in the car seat that went but the whole structure of my
lower back which has given me curry over the last 30 years that decided to give
up the ghost just at that moment. The phrase “Not happy Jan” came to mind along
with several other choice words that will remain nameless.
Managed to visit
two locations during the day, maneuvering myself in and out of the car with the precision of a shuttle docking on the international space station, spending as
much time as possible in an upright position walking, and walking, and walking
some more, for to sit or lie down was a decision fraught with danger. The NT
Art Gallery & Museum provided me with several hours of walking and taking
in some exquisite art, my favourites being both traditional and modern
indigenous art, an exhibition of Year 12 art from late 2014, and a French
exhibit featuring Edgar Degas, Henri de Toulouse-Letrec, plus Honore Daumier
who I have to admit I’d never come across before. Daumier’s lithographs from
the mid 1850’s were a sheer delight, earning him recognition as the forthright
caricaturist and commentator of his time on French and Parisian society, and
felt every bit as relevant as current day political cartoonists.
Leaving Tassie in
2 degrees and landing up north in 32 was a bit of a shock but bearable
nonetheless, very thankful it wasn’t the wet season otherwise I would’ve been
reduced to a whimpering puddle on the floor before even making it out of the
airport terminal. Managing to locate a doctor late in the afternoon who thankfully
prescribed the medication I needed to make the homeward journey of two flights
somewhat bearable, my friend helped me into my shoes and socks seeing as I had
no hope of reaching the nether parts of my anatomy, slid me into the car and
deposited me back at Darwin airport a mere day and a half after arriving for
the 1.30am flight back home. That’s right…AM…you’d be surprised how many people
are jetting around the country at all times of the day and night.
Airplane seats
are notoriously known for their lack of comfort, so while standing up at the
back of the plane for half the journey from Darwin to Melbourne, I contemplated
contacting Jetstar for a half price refund, a scenario I could see would obviously not work, but it did give me something to take my mind off the pain as I
stood between the toilets doing stretching exercises while most people nodded
off into stages of fitful slumber as we headed south.
Contemplating
driving the car home once finally arriving back in Launceston, I had to take
the bit between my teeth and exercise mind over matter, but what it brought
home to me is that I have grave doubts of ever indulging in one of my fantasies
of flying to Europe to spend my year in Tuscany, or Provence, or walking those
ancient cobbled streets in a myriad of ancient cities.
Looks like I’m
marooned on my little island, with my dreams of travel having to be satisfied
by watching the Tour de France, the Giro d’Italia, and the delights of documentaries
of foreign countries being traversed by others who are fortunate enough not to
have dodgy backs. What it does do though, is give me renewed determination to
visit the sights and meet the characters this delightful island State has to
offer. If people from the other side of the world find Tassie fascinating
enough to travel halfway way round the world to visit
Shame to take
Tuscany off the agenda, but there you go.
(Apologies if publishing portions of artworks contravenes any copyright laws)
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