Lorna has lived a varied and interesting life, spending time and working in several countries on different continents. Her writing reflects the rich and exciting encounters that have come as a result of such travel/experience. Lorna’s descriptions of landscape and people are true and passionate and often laced with humour.
She writes little snippets of her life. Windows into the past. |
Have times changed?
I think not.
Back in 1985 we had an exchange student come and live with us for 12 months. It was a successful experience and Katia soon became part of our family. At the end of her time she returned to Europe and to study, initially in Germany and then in England. While in England she met and married. It was our real delight to find out in 1997 that Katia and husband Cedric were to immigrate to Australia and live in New South Wales. They started up near the Queensland border, but soon moved down to Gosford. This was terrific for us because we were able to have some interaction with their children Georgia and Oliver. Georgie and Ollie have now grown up. Georgie is studying to be a large-animal vet at London University, and Ollie has just spent a ‘gap’ year in London and Europe. I was delighted to hear they were home, Georgie for 3 weeks and Ollie to start at Uni. I looked forward to seeing them if time allowed. Realising of course that they had lots of friends to catch up with I knew that I would be at the bottom of the list and had actually given up hope of meeting up as the time for Uni to start for Ollie and Georgie’s return to study were fast approaching. Then early one morning the phone rang. It was Georgie. “Could we come for dinner tonight?” she asked. Of course I was delighted and cancelled my afternoon and evening arrangements. They declined to stay the night and were planning for a very quick visit before pushing on to Gosford. At about 4pm Georgie called again to say they had just arrived in Coffs Harbour, were running behind schedule because of a stop at Byron Bay for a swim and could they spend the night. Of course I responded. They would now not be arriving until about 7.30pm. I need not have cancelled my 5pm appointment, never mind … went to make the beds, thinking to myself, hmmm …. a little selfish these youngsters, always last minute decisions then changes of plans. I wondered were we like that? Georgie, Ollie and I had a wonderful evening full of laughter, chatter and catching up on 12 months worth of news. I was so pleased they had decided to drop by. So were we like that? Last minute decisions? I felt sure we were not! Then with some embarrassment I recalled a situation of myself at 17 years old. I was at college; the end of term and Christmas were approaching; the digs we stayed in were closing down, so what was I to do? A girl friend said I could go and stay with her family for Christmas and the holidays. That was very kind. As we were preparing to leave college on Christmas Eve my friend received message from her mother saying her grandmother had just died and it would be inappropriate for me to come and stay. Oh well, I’d find something to do so instead of going north on the train with my friend, I headed for the London road and hitch-hiked south. On the journey I decided that the best thing to do was to make for the airport and see if I could catch a standby flight to Belfast. I had a sister who was married to an army officer stationed at Ballykinler Camp in Northern Ireland. It was a particularly cold and miserable day. My jeans were no protection against the wind and rain, but my faithful duffle coat did a great job keeping my top half warm. Fortunately once at the airport I managed to make the second flight to Ireland. The standby cost was four pounds. Of course my sister had no idea that I was arriving. In fact I don’t think I even knew her telephone number. We used to communicate in that rather old fashioned way of snail mail. It was getting dark when we landed in Belfast. I took a bus from the airport to the train station. I had no idea where Ballykinler Camp was so asked a man if he could help me. Did he know where I could catch the right bus? He responded at quite some length none of which I understood. I wasn’t even a hundred percent sure if he was speaking English. He kindly picked up my bag and I followed in some sort of blind faith that he did know what he was doing. We then stopped while my bag carrier spoke to another man in similar gibberish. It occurred to me that the Irish accent made English quite incomprehensible. The second man and my bag carrier walked off purposefully with me scurrying along behind. Soon there were more Irish men joining our little line, there was plainly much discussion about where to find the bus to the army camp. It must have been some sort of feeling of Christmas goodwill that they all wanted to see me safely on my way. Which of course they did. After some while the bus stopped and I was duly put off outside the camp gates. The soldier on duty wanted to know just exactly what I was about. I have a feeling that he should have been informed about visitors entering the camp. Eventually I convinced him that I would not be a danger and he gave me directions to my sister’s house. An army camp is like a whole village and I still had about a mile to walk to get to where I hoped to be welcomed with open arms. I was cold, wet and hungry. At last I arrived and knocked on the door of my sisters house, I could hear Christmas Carols playing inside, I imagined the warm fire and warm hugs from my sister. The reception was not what I’d expected. “What are you doing here?” she asked with some agitation. “I’ve come to spend Christmas with you, thought you’d be pleased”. It was fairly obvious that she was not pleased. “Get into the kitchen and stay in there” she said She was hosting a very formal dinner with the gentlemen in Mess dress and the ladies all in their finery. Here on her doorstep was this bedraggled sister, arriving without any consideration, no notification, just turning up. One of the guests became aware of the kerfuffle and insisted that I be allowed to join the party. On one side of the table everyone squashed up. I sat there, on a towel so my wet jeans did not dampen the chair, not daring to say much for fear of being put out into the cold and wet again on Christmas morning. After the guests had left and a successful party ended, I did my penance in the kitchen. Washing up, washing floors, and being as helpful as I could be … only then did my sister start to thaw. So the answer to the question ‘were we like that?’ Is yes, we were like that, times have not changed. |