TWO AND AQUARTER

SHADES OFGRA GRA

GRAHAM LEES

TWO AND A QUARTER

SHADES OF

GRA GRABy Graham Lees

2

The town of Hera on the Cycladian island of Ios.

1. Lindisfarne: The Fog on the Tyne

And the fog on the Tyne is all mine, all mine

The fog on the Tyne is all mine

I was twenty five years old and we were barrelling down the A2 in a

wonky little little 1965 Volkwagen Kombi, bellowing out the lyrics of

Lindisfarnes hit song playing on the 8-track. Wed been planning this trip

for months, and at last we were on our way!

Could a copper catch a crooked coffin maker

Could a copper comprehend?

That a crooked coffin maker is just an undertaker . . .

We had left our flat at Broughton Road, Fulham at 4.30 am, figuring we

could get to Folkestone in time to have a sausage, bacon and egg brekky be-

fore catching the ferry over the channel to Zeebrugge. It was a miserable,

July morning, just a little rain. No moon, but the approaching dawn was al-

ready making the flat, boring Kentish countryside pink and grey and orange.

Huge, articulated lorries tried to force us off the road with their slipstreams

as they passed us, doing ninety to a hundred miles an hour in that mad rush

truckies the world over are forced to adopt simply because they are truckies.

They all wanted to get to Folkestone and have sausage, bacon and egg

brekkies, too.

Our little green Volksy, didnt like doing more than the 65 speed limit and

Waldo wrestled with the wheel as the lorries passed us. Having a left hand

drive didnt help as he couldnt always see them bearing down in the centre

lane.

We can swing together, we can have a wee wee

We can have a wet on the wall . . .

Far out!

We came over the hill and there was Folkestone gleaming as it spread out

in front of us. Despite being a large ferry port, the town is a pretty place and

I had spent the first eight years of my life there and had an emotional attach-

ment to it. It wasnt like going home! Albany, in Western Australia, will

always hold that place in my heart, but it was pretty cosy to feel that attach-

ment.

We drove through the still, quiet streets as the commercial hub started to

4

wake up. Milk men, bakery vans and delivery trucks started pulling out from

driveways, lights were coming on in houses and old men emerged with their

dogs, making their ways down to the newsagents to buy their Daily Mirrors

and Folkestone and Hythe Gazettes. A typical English dawn!

But not for us! We were starting out on an adventure which, although we

didnt know it at the time, would stay with us all our lives and even change

the people we were. Maybe thats a bit melodramatic, but looking at it forty

years later, I can still recall conversations, sensations, even smells and sounds.

Particularly sounds! Those sounds are the background music to this story.

You probably know most of the songs, so if you feel like joining in and

singing, please be my guest!

I had a large leather belt pouch hanging on my hip. Large leather belt

pouches were all the thing in 1974. You kept your weed and matches and Ri-

zlas in there, along with your money and travellers cheques. Long before

Visa or ATM cards, people used to carry quite big sums of cash on their per-

son. There was no alternative. You couldnt drop into a bank or write a cheque

every time you wanted to buy anything so you worked out in advance how

much you would need for the ensuing days before you could get to a Thomas

Cooke office, and carried the loot in your trouser pocket. Or black leather

belt pouch!

My passport was also tucked away in there, along with stuff like a piece

of denim to tie back my long, curly locks, a Swiss Army Knife and a little

pencil case with my HB, F and 3B Derwents, a piece of putty eraser and a

sharpener I bought at W H Smith the previous day.

Everyone back then though I was a bit of a black sheep, a non-conformist.

Especially my friends! Terry Waldeck, a Kiwi from Auckland had become

my best mate over the year or so I had known him. Easy going, big-hearted

and a bit boofy, he had been in England about two years, taking jobs as a me-

chanic, a bus driver and for a short spell, bank clerk. We called him Waldo,

a diminution of his surname.

He had a little crush on Cherry Farrier, a short, plump, cuddly Western

Australian from Morley. I think everyone who met her had that crush, in-

cluding me, mainly because she was a bit dizzy and immature in a cute sort

of way. Blonde and big-boobed, she looked the sort of girl you would like to

get some warmth out of on one of Englands cold winter nights. Cherry was

5

too shy and puritanical to accept Waldos advances and used to giggle girl-

ishly when he tried to bestow his attention on her.

Then there was Maylene from Dunedin. Lovely Maylene! I cant remem-

ber her surname, if indeed I ever knew it. She was bright! Very bright! Bright

enough to know what my intentions were when the others went to a concert

one night, leaving us home together, alone.

But not only that, she was street-smart, a quick thinker who always

matched me line for line in a slanging match and who had us all in stitches

time and again. The others all thought we had a thing going, but because of

that night we missed the Melanie concert, I didnt try my luck again. I simply

thought that she liked me, but not in that sort of way. The boy-girl way!

Besides, I had a pretty regular thing going with a girl who lived in Earls

Court called Janey, and who had had to make a last minute dash home to

Sydney for family reasons and couldnt join us on this little jaunt.

The reason for their opinion of me was not out of disapproval or jealousy

or even that they didnt accept me. They loved me, but I was the only Pom

among them despite having emigrated to Australia when I was eight. I was

much more Antipodean than private-school educated Cherry or farm-girl

Maylene, who had been in England for about ten years, since she was eight-

een or nineteen.

You see, I was a musician, a poet, an artist, a writer, and they often mistook

my whimsy for being in a mood. They couldnt understand how the compul-

sion to write or paint rendered me unsociable for sometimes an hour at a time.

Once, when I was trying to write a silly bit of doggerel about a visit to an

English pub, I actually let my beer go flat and warm! It was Fosters, too!

Not the already-flat, already-warm English variety! I mean . . . Totally un-

acceptable!

Academically, Maylene understood me, but her rapier wit wouldnt let me

get away with excuses. She pounced every time and sometimes we even re-

sorted to wresting with each other. She, out of frustration that I always had a

smart-arsed reply. Me, because she was really nice to wrestle with. I would

always contrive to get a good grip on her hindquarters and she would yell

Yer sposed to be defunding yerself. Nut cupping a feel! in her Kiwi accent.

(I wont do the accent any more, it is too much like hard work. If you want

it, improvise!)

6

Cherry used to just giggle at my little cartoons or silly limericks and Waldo

would just grin in his good natured way, just accepting I was a bit strange

but appreciating that I loved it when we four were together. He used to always

call me Gra Gra, after Graham Kennedy, the comedian and co-host of In Mel-

bourne Tonight.

Thats where the title of this book comes from. That and E. L. James ex-

plicit novel.

The two and a quarter bit comes from a in-house joke about the magni-

tude of my masculinity, which I can assure you is a complete misconception.

When I asserted that it was a fallacy, Maylene always asked whether it was

to be spelt with an f or a ph. She wore the joke out but it always got the

desired laugh.

So this tightly-knit little group of buddies parked the van just off Folke-

stone High Street and walked to a little noshery on the main shopping street.

It wasnt a cafe, in the modern, continental idiom. Rather a caff in the

old-fashioned, British sense. Greasy, checkered cloths slung over uneven

legged tables which rocked and made you spill your tea. HP Sauce bottles

and salt, pepper and vinegar condiments. Bowls of sugar which had brown

crystals due to teaspoons still wet from being dipped in tea. There were planks

bracketed to the walls to sit on and hard kitchen chairs on the aisle side.

Gangry, chipped Formica counter with a plate of yesterdays sausage rolls

and scotch eggs attracting the flies down one end and a filthy looking Bur-

roughs till, also attracting flies, at the other. Behind this was another equally

chipped Formica bench with a tea-urn and a fry-pan over a gas ring. Between

the two surfaces was not quite enough room to get a huge, tartily-dressed

women in her forties who took and delivered orders and a little skinny Italian

bloke in once-white jacket and trousers who sloshed scrambled eggs around

in a saucepan and sometimes actually managed to spoon them onto the wait-

ing, well-scraped toast without missing the plate altogether and having to be

scraped back onto the plate with a spatula he kept for just that purpose.

These places were enormously popular in England, and I think still are!

They represent the glamour and high-living that Poms enjoy when Dining

out.

Of course there was Wimpy or Kentucky Fried Chicken, but, like the fish

and chip shops, didnt open for breakfast.

7

So we enjoyed our first meal of our vacation in this establishment. The

only giggle from Cherry was when Waldo asked if the sausages were pork

or beef and the fat tart removed the fag from her mouth and said Sains-

burys.

So, feeling satiated, refreshed and slightly nauseous, we drove down to

the port and onto the cross channel ferry, a huge affair with several levels for

cars, trucks and various cargo, and an upper deck with a bar and some decid-

edly more appetising food than the meal we had just consumed.

Cheaper, too. Mr Kiplings Real Fruit Pies, made with a lot of flour, drip-

ping and sugar with gelatin filling and real fruit flavouring. Wagon Wheels,

Mars Bars, Bounties, curried egg sandwiches in plastic wrap, the plastic being

more edible than the sandwich. And real coffee, made in a percolator. Tempt-

ing fare for the Day Tripper!

I had fallen into the English habit of always describing the culinary

arrangements when talking about an outing.

Me and tmissus went ou and saw The Excorsist las nigh!

Ya wha?

I sed Me and tmissus went ou and saw The Excorsist las nigh!

Oh, aye! Ow were it?

Oh, tpopcorn werent too bad but ticecream werent proply frozen.

Ran all down me and onto me trousiss, it did! Right proper mess! I sed to

tmissus This Walls Sandwich int proply frozen. Ran all down me and

onto me trousiss, it did. I sed.

An she sed You shoulda put yer anky down, like, on yer leg, like, to

stop it going on yer trousiss, like. I only ad em cleaned las week! she sed.

I will try to refrain from doing this in future, unless you are interested in

our eating habits, then maybe I could add them in a sort of appendix at the

back of the book, with little superior reference numbers alongside to guide

you.

The trip over to Zeebrugge only took three hours, four pints of Watneys

Red Barrel each for me and Waldo, three Vera and Phils for Maylene and a

bottle of Tizer and four visits to the dunny for Cherry. The time went quickly

with Waldo relating some tales about a visit to Belgium the previous spring

during which they brown-eyed a coachload of old ladies who got stuck into

8

them at the next motorway stop.

They were all speaking Flemish and we didnt know whether they were

scolding us or trying to get our phone numbers!

There were a lot of other young tourists in the bar, mostly backpackers

judging by the fact that they all carried their luggage with them in huge haver-

sacks with bits and pieces of paraphernalia hanging off straps and laces. Bil-

lies, sleeping bags, water flasks, thongs (flip flops to the Poms, jandals to the

Kiwis. Thongs are those g-string knickers which separate your arse cheeks)

and other footwear, slouch hats and always the rolled up mat on the top. They

sidled up to us and tried to engage us in conversation.

Hey, you got a car?

Yeah. A Kombi.

Where you headed?

Greece

Dont spose you got room for a couple more?

Were not going direct. Weve got to go to Holland first.

Oh!

Sometimes one of them would get a bit persistent but generally they re-

spected your privacy. Most of them were Aussies, Kiwis, Jaapies, Kanucks

or Septics and most of them were, like us, on a shoestring budget. Waldo and

I made out we wanted to give a lift to a couple of cute little chicks from

Dublin, but Cherry and Maylene vetoed it. We were a pair of buggers like

that. Maylene saw through us most of the time. Cherry, gullible as only a

blonde can be, always fell for it.

One couple, as good looking as only South Africans can be, came and sat

at the next table.

We saw you driving in. We were in the following van!

We looked at them, waiting for more, but they seemed content with dis-

seminating only that piece of information.

What do you want? Waldo asked. A paper hat?

They regarded him quietly, trying to work out why he should think they

wanted such an adornment.

No. I was just making conversation. Are you Australians?

9

Never ask a Kiwi if he is Australian!

Cherry is! And Gra Gra, hes half Sandgroper, half To and From. Me n

Maylene are from Godzone!

He might as well have been speaking in Klingon. They looked at him with

their mouths gaping, slightly offended at his tone of voice, but completely

bewildered by what he said.

I took pity on them and decided to put them out of their misery.

Cherry and I come from Western Australia. I was born in England, but

lived in Australia for seventeen years. Terry and Maylene are from New

Zealand!

Oh! They sat there, trying to reconcile what Waldo had uttered with the

simple explanation I had given them. Eventually they gave up and one of

them said: (I dont know which one, they were both so good looking you

couldnt tell.)

Were Seth Efrican. My names Jaansie and this is Paansie! At least,

thats we thought he (or it could have been she) said.

Oh, bad luck! I sympathised.

Once again, pure amazement clouded their faces. You could see the cogs

going around. Why did this bloke think this was unfortunate? Had he mis-

heard or did it mean something else in this strange language?

Are you married? the other one said, nodding his/her head first at Waldo

and Maylene, then at Cherry and me.

No. And before they say anything else stupid, we are not even couples!

Cherry said, firmly.

They didnt say anything stupid! protested Waldo. Except ask if I was

Australian!

Im talking about you, not them!

Me and Gra Gra are a couple! Waldo continued gibbering.

Yeah! Couple of fuckwits! Maylene growled.

But Jaansie and Paansie had heard enough rom us and went over to annoy

some Septics who seemed to be amused by them. We saw them handing out

Polo Mints and declining cigarettes.

You shouldnt have treated them like that! Cherry scolded. They were

10

trying to be friendly!

Yes, Gra Gra! Wal agreed. You shouldnt have treated them like that!

They were only trying to be friendly!

Which one was Jaansie. I asked. And which one was Paansie?

I think the girl is Paansie, said Cherry. I think its like Pansy!

One of them was a girl?

I finished my beer and had a little nap. Even in those days, with the blood

coursing strongly through my veins (a bit faster through some extremities)

and an alertness I cannot even begin to realise, forty years later, I could al-

ways drop off to sleep when I didnt have anything better to do.

Then we traipsed down the stairs to the vehicle deck, which smelt dan-

gerously of diesel fuel, past some deckhands who were smoking even more

dangerously, and boarded our Kombi. The gates came down and soon we

were showing our IDs to passport control.

We were officially on the continent!

11

2. Gordon Lightfoot: Carefree Highway

Her name was Ann and Ill be damned if I recall her face.

She left me not knowing what to do.

Carefree Highway, let me slip away, slip away on you.

I was driving away from Zeebrugge, that spotty little port a few miles

from the city of Bruges. We shared the road with dozens of heavy lorries,

probably the same ones which tried to rough-house us off the A2.

Gord was on the 8-track and we were all in fine voice accompanying him.

Now the thing that I call living is just being satisfied

With knowing I got no one left to blame.

Carefree highway, got to see you my old flame . . .

Hey, thats Jaansie and Paansie. Theyre still following us! They must

have liked the look of Cherry and Maylenes bums! I looked into the rear

view mirror and sure enough, their red Ford Transit was in the lane behind

us.

Oh no! Theyve got suckered into giving those Septics a lift! Waldo was

delighted. Soft buggers! Their holidays not going to be their own now.

Theyre stuck with em.

The Seth Efricans roared past us, Jaansie and Paansie sitting in the front,

looking glum while three American girls and one rather preppy looking

young man sprawled out in the back, waving out the windows and making a

hell of a lot of noise.

They were all wearing Berr Muda shorts and Hawaiian shirts and the

preppy guy had on Argyle socks and Chuck Taylor basketball boots. The

girls all wore leather sandals with bits of thong tied up around their ankles.

Two of them wore airmens peaked caps. We just knew that they would all

have Angora Sweaters in their kit.

Dont ask me why. Just accept it. They all did! They could never just have

shorts, shirts, socks or sweaters. They had to have a place name in front of

it! They probably called their windcheaters Chilean and their underdaks

Little Hampton or something. And their sports shoes have to have a famous

name in front of it. Chuck Taylor?

And, on this note, I was reliably informed by a Texan once that they call

them Ber Muda shorts to differentiate them from Boxers, which we call un-

12

derdaks and the Poms call Y-fronts. And that if you dont wear Boxers, you

wear Bee Vee Dees!

Once again, dont ask, just accept!

You can tell theyre Yanks even before they open their mouths! said

Maylene. Why do they all dress like that?

Probably, I answered. For the same reason we all wear printed t-shirts,

cut-down denim jeans and thongs!

Thats not a reason! argued Maylene. Why do we wear printed t-shirts,

cut-down denim jeans and thongs, anyway?

Well, I wear them because if I went naked, you sheilas wouldnt be able

to keep your hands off me! I replied.

Youve always got a smartarse reply, havent you? Shut up and drive,

Gra Gra!

But, fortunately for Jaansie and Paansie, the Septics all got out out of the

Transit at Bruges bus station and thats the last we saw of any of them.

. . . you seen better days

The morning after blues from my head down to my shoes

Carefree highway, let me slip away, slip away on you.

We drove all afternoon on the Carefree Highway inland from Bruges,

passing through the outskirts of Antwerp, and at about four oclock, we pulled

into the town where we had to renew the license on the Kombi. It was cheaper

and easier than re-registering and going over the MoT pits in London, where

the government-employed mechanics would have taken six hours and then

failed it because one of the coathanger hooks over the back door was a bit

crooked.

The rego papers said it was licensed in Eindhoven, and in that cordial way

the bureaucrats in Holland work, all it meant was going into the post office

there and paying the fifty or so guilders to get it re-stamped. Seeing we would

be in Europe anyway, it would save us dozens of hours and hundreds of quid

this way, and it meant we would get some extra stamps in our passports.

Then we looked for a camping site and soon found one just outside town.

It was clean, cheap and sold Oranjeboom beer in its little supermarket and

tea room. I was rather fond of this particular brew as it was a favourite of the

Dutch sailors who visited Albany.

13

A Dutch mate of mine used to befriend his maritime-going countrymen

who would share their bottled lager with us. It loomed large in my teenage

years and I was delighted to renew our acquaintance.

But first, I had better work out how to erect our tent. I hadnt bothered to

even examine the purchase Waldo made from a fellow in a Gloucester Road

pub who let him have it for a fiver. A tent is a tent is a tent, and I had been in

and out of them all my life, having been in the Cubs and later Boys Brigade,

and more recently, the Australian Army.

But this was like nothing I had ever seen before!

Instead of comprising two poles, a neatly shaped piece of canvas with eye-

lets, and a lot of guy ropes and pegs, this one seemed to consist of a bunch

of bent aluminium tubes and an incomprehensible swathe of blue calico.

While Waldo and the girls went to buy some groceries, I studied the

strange components for a long time and then sat on the toilet for a further ten

minutes to sort things through in my mind.

Eventually I decided that the crooked bits of metal must slot together to

form a frame, over which the calico sheath would be drawn, somewhat like

a condom is pulled onto an awaiting member. But with the added security of

little wire pegs which you stuck through some metal eyelets and into the

ground to keep it in place.

And voila! It all came together like a monkey puzzle and by the time my

mates got back with the shopping, I was blowing up the air beds and unrolling

the sleeping bags. I knew they were impressed, although they feigned disin-

terest. If Gra Gra couldnt do a simple job like erecting a tent, then what use

was he? However, I strutted a bit because if you cant be proud of your erec-

tion, what can you be proud of?

Waldo and I slept in the tent while the girls spent that first night in the

Kombi. After that, only Cherry slept in the Kombi because apparently she

kept Maylene awake all night with her thrashing and flailing arms and

screeching in her sleep. We bought another air mattress at an army surplus

store in Dusseldorf, which Maylene complained smelt of rubber and old

socks, but which seemed okay to Waldo and me.

The Oranjeboon and thick slices of edam and snyworst went down a treat

and here I go again, describing the food!

Sorry! 14

Needless to say, I really enjoyed it and the apfelstrudel, which seemed to

be everywhere in northern Europe in those days, topped off a lovely meal.

I fiddled with my guitar for an hour or so after tea. Well, I didnt actually

fiddle. You fiddle with a fiddle or violin. I really mean that I picked and

strummed my guitar!

Meanwhile Cherry busied herself

with a pair of scissors and some corduroy

trousers, which she was truncating into

shorts. Then she went into the Kombi

and came out again with them on which

she modelled proudly. But when she

completed a pirouette, we were treated to

an eyeful of three quarters of her rather

spectacular buttocks. At least, we would

have if she hadnt been wearing Bonds

Cottontails which sort of ruined the ef-

fect.

Waldo was all for tracing the shape

onto the Cottontails with a biro and cut-

ting them down to match, while I sug-

gested she dispense with them altogether.

She tried to sew some bits back on, but

in the end, threw them in the garbage

skip. I was a bit disappointed because

those cheeks really were worth exhibit-

ing!

First nights on an air mattress under canvas (or in this case, calico) are al-

ways a bit strange and I turned on my little pocket radio because I thought

there was little chance of my getting any sleep. But before I knew it, Cherry

was shaking me and telling me to grab hold of the teacup because it was burn-

ing her hand. I tried to grab hold of something else but she was wide awake

while I was still half asleep and she nimbly eluded me.

It was a beautiful Dutch summers day, compared to the miserable rainy

yesterday which we had dragged all the way from England with us. I felt re-

ally good until, in the shower, the guilder I put in the meter ran out suddenly,

15

Cherrys cutaway shorts

along with the hot water, and the icy deluge quickly brought me back down

to earth. I didnt have another guilder and had to sluice off in cold, which

didnt exactly thrill me.

We were back on the road, Waldo driving with Cherry in the front along-

side him, and Maylene and I sitting on the wooden framed bed in the back.

The carpenter who had devised this sleeping platform must have lost his

square and spirit level and been in a less-than-serious frame of mind when

he constructed it. It was supposed to be folded back on hinges when not in

use, but kept on undoing itself from the hook and eye bolt which was sup-

posed to secure it to the wall.

In the end, we just left it down except when we were using the gas stove,

propping some cases or a backpack against it to keep it out of the way.

I was trying to sketch the result of Cherrys sartorial skill of the night be-

fore, using my memory as a reference. But the Kombi kept bouncing and

bumping on the Autobahn and in the end I gave up. Instead I took to doing

what we were supposed to be doing: looking at the countryside and quaint

little north German towns which filled the valleys below the road.

This route was familiar to me, having visited Munich for Oktoberfest the

year before, but to see it it in bright sunlight and while I was sober was all

new to me. Maylene had also been this way before, but for the other two, it

was a brand new experience.

There werent GPS machines in those days, so we followed some handy

little strip maps I had bought from the Automobile Association. I spelt that

name out, because if I had said AA, you might have thought I meant Alco-

holics Anonymous and wondered what they were doing encouraging drunks

to drive around Europe.

This little package of maps were really good and covered all Europe. I

only bought those I thought we were going to need according to the route we

had chosen. On the back of each piece of paper was printed instructions

telling you at which kilometre mark to turn off a road. While the others could-

nt get their minds around this device, I found it eminently sensible and only

once got lost during our entire trip.

That was in Italy when I had enjoyed too much vino with my lunch and

passed out on the back seat-cum-bed and Waldo had turned right onto the

Milan road instead of left to Cortina. But I will come to that in the chrono-

16

logical order in which it happened, but in the meantime, you can look forward

to it with eager anticipation. A bit like on telly when they show you little

morsels of next weeks show in order to whet your curiosity and ensure you

watch it.

But in the meantime, we passed through Dusseldorf, stopping only at the

said surplus store, and had some late lunch at Koln. I wanted to go in the

chairlift immortalised by Elvis Presley in GI Blues and serenade the ladies

like the King did when he rode it with Juliette Prowse. But I was over-ruled

by Maylene, who was keen to get to the town of Limburg and have a swim

before tea.

As it happened, I was glad she won out after all, because what happened

in Limburg was one of the highlights of our trip down to Greece. And crucial

to the narration of this saga.

At first, the very officious ticket seller at the swimming pool wasnt going

to let Waldo in because he didnt have on the required uniform. While she

suspiciously eyed off my green and gold swimming trunks with the little kan-

garoo embroidered on them, she let me pass, no doubt recognising them as

similar to the Speedos worn by the Aussie team at the Munich Olympics two

years previously.

But Waldo was a different matter. He had on boxer-style trunks, common

in Britain and New Zealand, and worn by Cliff Richard in the movie Won-

derful Land.

But they bore no resemblance to German swimwear! Every other man in

that pool wore identical trunks. Brief-style blue and silver striped little un-

derdak things which perfectly outlined the shape of the wearers testicles and

penis, even when dry.

When wet, they clung obscenely and left absolutely nothing to the imag-

ination. These disgusting togs looked ridiculous, even more so when you

considered the skinny, sparsely-haired hind legs that all European men have,

protruding from the holes! I beg your pardon, Arnold Schwartzeneggar.

Anyway, Waldo solved the problem by simply stripping off the offending

apparel and walking through in his Jockettes, which she found perfectly ac-

ceptable!

After being cooped up in the Kombi, which had no air conditioning and

only a fan in the ventilator to cool it down, the swim was very relaxing and

17

none of us felt like cooking afterwards. Instead Maylene decided we should

buy pommes frites and maybe some schnitzel in town, washed down by a

chilled pilsner or two.

It always amused Waldo that in Europe they called chips pommes frites

while in England, they were often referred to as French fried potatoes. He

wasnt obsessive compulsive, but it muddled his sense of correctness. To an

Aussie or Kiwi, Poms are English people, while French indicates they are

things from France.

At the little beer house we entered on the main street, Maylene immedi-

ately spotted one of her ex-boyfriends, a ski instructor who had paraded his

tanned face over the Alps of South Island some years before. Very soon they

had their faces welded together at the lips and a little later, they decided that

they should join their torsos in the same way.

Now, as luck would have it, this ski instructor had a sister who served at

the bar, along with another equally beautiful, equally buxom and equally

blond friend. As everyone else in the pub was at least ninety years old, Trudi

and Hildi tended to gravitate over to our table whenever the rest of the patrons

dropped off to sleep and didnt need serving.

Eventually Waldo and I sat at the bar on stools vacated by a couple of lo-

cals who yawned and stretched their way out the front door onto the strasse

outside.

Cherry said all that dozing and snoring was making her tired and she

wanted to go to bed, so I handed her the Kombi keys and she went back to

the campsite.

I drank about five litres of Tuborg that night, so Waldo told me, and when

Trudi hinted that I must be fed up sleeping in a camp cot and suggested I test

drive her really soft German federbett, I agreed with her enthusiastically. I

hoped test driving her bed would also be testing driving her.

Hildi seemed to be making pretty good time with Waldo so when the pub-

lican eventually called the German for Time Gentlemen Please we made

our way up the hill to the block where the frauleins shared an apartment with

Heinz.

One of the bedroom doors was closed and locked but we had a fair idea

that Maylene was in there because one of her jandals and her knickers were

hanging on the knob. Trudi made some coffee, without which I would have

18

been too tired to perform, and we snogged while we drank it, making crude

comments about Waldo and Hildi, who had decided that they had no use for

caffeine. I know that without it, I would have been a bitter disappointment to

Trudi. But with it, I must have been a champion because she kept coming

back for more.

No, not for more coffee! What do you reckon I mean? Bloody hell!

Trudi spoke excellent English and when I asked her where she had learnt

it, she told me that she had tended bar in a pub in Wandsworth Bridge Road

in Fulham for two years. The pub was just around the corner from our flat!

To think! All those celibate nights and there she was, just waiting for me to

come into her life!

I will confess that after forty years I dont really remember everything that

happened that night. Not in detail which I could relate to you here, anyway.

But suffice it to say that we both found it very much to our liking and neither

of us were wont to complain about it in the slightest!

19

3. Kiki Dee: Amoureuse

Reaching out I touch anothers skin

Breathing out as hes breathing in

Deep inside I feel my soul aflame . . .

Trudi was as big and warm and soft as her federbett but all good things

must come to an end eventually. She slipped out from beneath the overstuffed

duvet and tiptoed across to where her robe hung on a hook on the door. She

didnt know I was awake and watching her, so she walked unselfconsciously.

Her bottom was quite plump and full and she walked with a provocative

thrust to her hips. I enjoyed looking at it and was a little bit sad when it dis-

appeared inside her dressing gown. It was enticingly pink in the rosy glow

of sunrise that peeped through a chink in the curtains and I longed to run my

hands over it and dig my fingers into it one more time.

Daylight comes as we both know it must

Soon my fantasy will turn to dust.

Kiki Dee couldnt have described my emotions any better as I sat at the

table drinking the coffee Trudi had reheated from the night before. I would

have preferred it if she had reheated me!

I hadnt expected getting laid so soon into our trip, and would have been

quite content to while away the rest of the summer in this quiet little rural

town with its gorgeous womenfolk.

When I am far away, when I am far away

I feel the rainfall of another planet.

Hildi emerged from her room, followed by a rather crumpled Waldo and

a few minutes later, Heinz came striding out of his room, tanned face smiling

broadly, proud of himself as only Teutonic men can be. He pulled the knickers

off the doorknob and tossed them back inside and then came and poured him-

self some of the coffee.

Maylene peeped sheepishly out of the door, amazed to see Waldo and me.

It took a few minutes for her to realise that we had spent the night there too,

then she grinned. Slightly annoyed, but a bit puzzled and worried, as well. I

know women are often possessive about their men friends, even when there

is nothing between them except being just good mates. Maybe she just felt

this about Waldo and me? But was there something more . . .?

Then she pulled the sort of face which comes before an guilty admission.20

Oh God. Cherry will be worried sick about us! She grinned wryly.

She could have made her own arrangements! Any man in that bar last

night would have been overjoyed to oblige! Waldo said, matter-of-factly.

Waldo being an idiot again! The average age of those barflies was around

ninety and I will bet most of them fought for the Kaiser! Some of them might

even have been too old for that!

After breakfast, when Heinz dropped us off at the camp site, Cherry

looked as though she had been crying. None of us said much that morning

until we stopped for lunch near Nurenberg.

All over Germany there are huge Autobahn stops. These are gigantic park-

ing lots with bays for cars, buses and trucks. They span the highway with

bridges and normally have great big service stations where you can buy a

meal, toiletries, car accessories, beer, souvenirs, postage stamps, grocery

items, jewellery, fashion garments direct from Paris and Bonn, pharmaceu-

ticals, footballs and, almost as an afterthought, petrol.

Oh, but thats not their most important function. They also have about two

hundred and fifty toilet stalls, half a kilometre of urinals and more washbasins

than most small, developing, Third World countries.

Covering every square inch of wall space in these super lavatories are

vending machines, selling boot polish, needles and thread, Coca Cola, toilet

paper, condoms, toothbrushes, cigarettes, alka seltzer, newspapers, Bryl-

creem, feminine hygiene items (even in the mens rooms), beer, bratwurst

and pumpernickel sandwiches, t-shirts and torch batteries. And a million other

things to boot. Did I mention bubble gum? They sold bubble gum as well.

You get my drift? These establishments are seriously big!

I spent some time in that superdunny: just getting my bearings took me

some minutes and I am an experienced navigator. When I eventually escaped,

the others were sitting in the dining hall with massive platters of brot und

wurst mit sauerkraut and half litres of pilsener in front of them with one they

had bought for me. Waldo was liberally spreading mustard on his Weizen-

mischbrot when he turned to me and grinned saucily.

You always did fancy older chicks, didnt you, Gra Gra?

To whom are you referring, Wal? I asked, feigning formality and know-

ing the answer but trying to look serious. I was still in the radiant afterglow!

21

Trudi!

She wouldnt be that old! I defended her. Thirty four, thirty five tops!

Fifty three!

I stared at him. Youre joking!

No! Maylene chipped in. Heinz told me that, too.

And did you know she was in the Wehrmacht for the last couple of years

of the war! A typist in Goerings office in Berlin!

Yes, shes really only Heinzs step sister. Her father remarried and had

Heinz much later by his second wife.

I pondered this information in amazement. Trudi certainly didnt look that

old. Of course, to a twenty five year old, anyone over forty looks ancient.

But Trudi? She didnt have wrinkles or saggy skin. Her breasts and but-

tocks were as smooth and soft as I imagined Cherrys were! And she looked

and acted more like a woman of my own age. None of the worldly-wise,

brassy, flirtatiousness of the fifty year old spinsters I had seen working in

bars.

I can tell you, I was shocked. Earthquake-sized shocked! And I felt used!

As if she had been playing with me like I was a toyboy. It seemed to cheapen

it all for some reason.

Ive got uncles and aunts younger than her! Shit!

Their father was there earlier last night. He was the old bloke sitting with

Heinz when we came in, Good thing he doesnt know what you did to his

little girl, Gra Gra. Hed have put your lights out!

I went uncharacteristically pale and sat quietly for the rest of the meal. I

know this sounds like a piss-weak excuse, but I had seen a documentary on

BBC2 some months earlier which told how so many men had died in Ger-

many during the war, that women in their fifties and sixties were now tarting

themselves up to attract the company of younger men to fulfil their needs. I

had commented to the others at the time that we really should make West

Germany a port of call in our upcoming tour to take advantage of this.

We paid our bill, went out to the Kombi and filled the petrol tank. We

waited while Cherry had another tinkle.

Fifty three? Oh God! Thats twenty eight years older than me!

22

Fifty three! Old enough to be your Mum! Where you come from, Gra

Gra, she could even be your Nan!

But Waldo and Maylene couldnt contain their mirth any more and burst

out laughing. They rolled on the floor, clung to each other and went red in

the face. In fact, they started to bung it on a bit.

Bloody Waldo had remembered that documentary!

I had been the butt of an extremely silly practical joke and punched Waldo

quite hard on the shoulder then pretended to wrestle Maylene. I loved pre-

tending to wrestle Maylene. She wasnt fifty three!

Shes only about thirty four. Heinz is thirty six and he said she was his

younger sister, Maylene gasped for breath. Tears ran down both of her

cheeks.

And you should have seen your face! I laughed so hard, I just weed my-

self. Im going to have to follow Cherry into the dunny! I should be able to

buy some dry knickers from one of the machines.

But I noticed a little bit of steel in her eye as though she were trying to let

me know something.

We peeled into Munich during the late afternoon rush and it took us ages

to make our way around the circular road to the camping ground. I had stayed

there when I was at the Oktoberfest nine months earlier. Maylene had been

at the same camping ground but with a different bus tour company and al-

though I knew her by sight in those days, it was a big enough park that our

paths never crossed. As we were both familiar with the location of public

transport nearby, we deliberately chose that caravan park.

I erected the tent and we made some coffee. Waldo and Maylene were still

boasting about tricking me, but I was over it by now and told them to shove

a cork in it.

When we gauged the traffic would have died down a bit, we walked out

to the street and caught a tram into the centre of the city.

There was nowhere near the number of people who had crowded the pubs

and restaurants during the Beerfest and we had a drink at the Hofbrauhaus,

before the band came in wearing their lederhosen and tuning up their instru-

ments. The place started rocking.

French horns, saxophones, a piano, drums, an accordion, trumpets and a

23

huge double bass as well as a euphonium. And a jolly, big-fat band leader

who doubled as vocalist and Master of Ceremonies. Instead of a conducting

with a baton, he waved time with a huge tobacco pipe made from stag horn,

and between songs, puffed clouds of smoke from it. It was all so surreal it

seemed ridiculous. Merriam-Webster defines surreal as very strange or un-

usual: having the quality of a dream.

They played all the old German folk ditties, sea shanties and Bavarian

drinking songs including, every now and then, Eins, Zwei, Gsuffa!

Literally translated, this means One, two, drink! which everyone in the

hall yelled out with great gusto, waving their steins and slopping froth over

everyone else. No one seemed to be taking the command seriously as I never

saw anyone with their glasses up to their mouth. They were all too busy

singing!

I think the song is really called In Munchen steht ein Hofbrauhaus but

everyone just calls it Eins, Zwei, GSuffa.

And between every other song, they broke into

Ein Prosit, Ein Prosit, der Gemtlichkeit.

Ein Prosit, Ein Prosit, der Gemtlichkeit. The words ein prosit translate

to the the equivalent of cheers although I never found out what

Gemtlichkeit means. I think it must just mean a toast.

In an atmosphere like that, it is easy to get sich die Hucke vollsaufen.

I vaguely remember leading the party back onto the tram, mumbling in

my schoolboy German when I bought the tickets from the conductress. I dont

know what she thought I said but it made her very angry for some reason!

She hurled the tickets and my change at me and stomped back down the aisle.

Maybe she just had a bad day! I think I had remembered to zip up my fly!

Then I slept soundly until we reached the camping ground gates at about

midnight.

The following morning, Cherry had the shits with us. I think it was be-

cause we hadnt discussed our naughty stop out the day before in Limburg

and it had festered in her mind during the night. We had all muttered Sorry,

Cherry! when we returned, but hell, shes not our mother and we didnt owe

her any explanation.

Sitting together on the tram going back into Munich to survey what dam-

age we might have inflicted on the town the night before, Maylene tried to24

talk to her and find out what was wrong. And explain to her that we were all

independent adults, but Cherry was not saying anything.

Waldo and I sat in front of them, feeling guilty about upsetting her, but

also figuratively shaking our heads over women! He blamed it on that

time of the month but I was though it was disapproval because we had all

performed what, in her closed Catholic mind, was carnal sin, and done it so

casually.

And we had, in fact, done it casually! But it wasnt Cherry who would be

going to hell for it! It was us three.

In hindsight, I realise she simply felt left out, abandoned! And we had

barely even said goodnight when she went back to the camping ground. Our

minds had been so focussed on what was in our trousers, and in the hosen of

our prospective partners, that we had all but ignored her. Strange town, timid

girl, dark streets, one of us should have walked her home. No wonder she

was cross. She had been frightened!

But we didnt realise this at the time and poor old Cherry really didnt

enjoy that day, and it put a dampener on our fun, too.

About lunch time she made a little joke, and we all joined in laughing with

such gusto, she probably saw through that and thought we were false and

shallow. And of course we were!

The joke, by the way, did have a sort of relevance. That summer in Eng-

land, English batsmen first wore safety helmets when facing bowlers like

Dennis Lillee and Jeff Thompson.

The joke was:

The first testicle guard for cricket was made in 1874.

And the first helmet came into use this year (1974).

So, it took a hundred years for men to realise that their brains were also

worth protecting.

Okay, pull a face! But it was funny at the time and we thought it was pretty

clever, too. What made it more hilarious was that it came from the innocent

mouth of Cherry. We still dont know whether she understood it or was just

simply repeating it!

But it didnt really deserve the applause we gave it. We did bung it on a

bit!

25

From then on, though, we treated the girls, both of them, with more re-

spect. Out of politeness, I must add, to our credit. And because we were

scared of offending them and having Cherry crack the shits on us again.

Munich is a brilliant city! So clean, so modern and so well organised. The

litter bins line up neatly down the streets and the pavements are perfectly

even. I wouldnt be surprised if the trees are threatened with uprooting if they

dont grow symmetrically. And the drivers are very patient and dont turn

their radios up loud and roll their car windows down, even when the Beach

Boys are playing.

Of course, I was fascinated by the trams, which had been abandoned in

London twenty years or so earlier, and in Perth in 1958. I think Maylenes

native Dunedin had its cable cars until about the same time. Waldo had lived

in Melbourne for a couple of years before moving to England so he was quite

familiar with them. Munich trams were a lot bigger than the W-Class trams

in the Victorian capital, and were sometimes two articulated saloons, carrying

well over 300 passengers.

We were all familiar with the Amsterdamse-tram, but in Munich in those

days, the lines were being closed down.

The underground trains (U-Bahn) and suburban metro (S-Bahn) network

had been expanded for the Olympic Games and the tramways were getting a

bit grotty. Of course, in 1991, seventeen years after this trip, the city council

Munich tram

realised the error of their ways and started building up their street rail again,

much to the delight of Muncheners who, like Melbournians, have a deep

affinity with their trams.

I couldnt resist adding in that little bit of Munich tram history. And I hope

you found it lively, interesting and helpful.

But the city was more than just trams. It is the capital and largest city in

Bavaria and is located on the River Isar. It rated third after Berlin and Ham-

burg in the old Federal Republic of West Germany for size.

German inhabitants call it Millionendorf, an expression which means

village of a million people. A bit similar to Perth people who liked to claim

their city was a big country town!

But the English people who live there referred to it as Toytown, because

it was one of the safest cities in the world and had a very low crime rate.

Even the golliwogs in Enid Blytons Noddy and Big Ears home town of the

same name were naughtier!

Waldo and Cherry were keen to visit the Olympic Stadium but Maylene

and I had already seen it, so we separated up and the two of us went to the

Deutsches Museum, the museum of science and technology. But it was too

well laid out and orderly. Museums are supposed to be exciting and a bit of

a chaos, with exhibits all over the place. And someone should tell the Ger-

mans that a bit of dust never did anyone any harm. It adds charm and char-

acter.

Even the lawns out the front had been mowed using a micrometer and we

got told off for walking on them. They were for displaying the fixed and ro-

tary winged aircraft, not for us to scuff up!

We had a bit of time left till we had arranged to meet up with the other

two, so we walked along the banks of the Isar for a couple of blocks, had an

iced lolly on a stick, then caught a tram down to Marienplatz to wait for them.

Did you know that Heinz lived in Limburg? I asked Maylene, when we

were travelling along Maximilian Strasse.

I do seem to recall him saying that he did! Her eyes were evasive.

And that Trudi used to work just around the corner from us in Broughton

Road? I added. Was this why you were so keen to get there before night-

fall?

27

No, dont be silly! Do you think I arranged everything just so you could

get in among her petticoats?

No, just so you could get into his knickerbockers!

She shook her head and said, totally unconvincingly: Dont imagine

things, Gra Gra, theres a good boy!

It was an incredible co-incidence, especially since we went into that exact

pub they were in. But I guess stranger things happen at sea. Still, wed all

got our rocks off, so who was I to question the wherefores and the whys?

Then, as we got off at Max Joseph Platz and started walking towards

Marienplatz, she surprised me.

Were you jealous?

Who of? I was mystified.

Heinz!

I would have been a bit if Trudi wasnt there. I would have been jealous

that he was getting his oats and I wasnt!

No, I mean because I went off with him?

No. Were you jealous when you found out I had spent the night with his

sister. And all that implies?

No! Of course not! Shes a slut, anyway.

Oh, come on, Maylene! Thats not fair. Just because she slept with me

without even dating me first, doesnt give you cause to say it! I grinned at

the silliness of what I had just said.

She just said Sorry! and then shut up.

Waldo and Cherry were over an hour late, having discovered the BMW

museum is just over the road from the stadium and Waldo, who was a me-

chanic and a bit of a sly revhead, couldnt resist.

In the meantime, Maylene and I got a little drunk and she seemed to forget

that I had rebuked her before. She started making little flirty advances at me.

I still never twigged, still believing she was just mucking about. After all, the

only time I ever tried to get serious with her, she had put me firmly in my

place, thank you very much!

Fortunately, the arrival of Cherry put an end to that and after I pulled my-

self away from her clutches, I forgot all about it it until a bit further into this

story!28

4. Abba: Honey Honey

Id heard about you before

I wanted to know some more

And now I know what they mean, youre a love machine

Oh, you make me dizzy.

It was at Marienplatz that Waldo met Rebekka, a vivacious Swedish

woman with blond hair and a figure like Agnetha Faltskog from the vocal

group Abba. She walked up to us and asked us if we could tell her the time.

Now in Marienplatz, there is one of the most famous and visible clocks

in the world. The Rathaus Glockenspiel. My first impulse was to laugh and

take the piss out of her, but she was so impressive in appearance and sweet

in her manner, that I checked myself and just pointed to the clock. As I did,

it struck five and the whole thing below it came alive.

29

The Rathaus Glockenspiel at Marienplatz

The glockenspiel consists of two separate parts, an upper stage which goes

off first, then a lower one which follows. The first bit has knights on horse-

back jousting and fighting before a bunch of dancers prance around the lower

level. They run by clockwork and are gaily painted and go off twice a day,

all the while, a carillon jangles out a tune. The whole thing lasts about a quar-

ter of an hour, and everyone on the plaza just stops what they are doing and

watches. We followed suit and although Maylene and I had seen it a few

times before, were spellbound. Cherry thought it was the loveliest thing she

had ever seen!

Waldo had also witnessed the loveliest thing he had ever seen! And he fell

in love with her!

After it was all over and a gold rooster on the top spire crowed three

times, Rebekka asked again what time it was.

The way that you kiss goodnight

The way that you hold me tight

I feel like I wanna sing when you do your thing.

He gallantly told her that it was 1715, quarter past five, and invited her to

stay and have a drink with us. She had assumed, as everyone else seemed to,

that we were two couples, and she accepted, thinking she was quite safe even

though this lovely looking boy with frizzy hair and shaggy moustache was

paying her so much attention.

By the time he put her wise, it was too late, and she was already hanging

onto every word he said.

By quite some co-incidence, she was travelling with another couple to

Greece and felt like she was playing the gas frukt to them

Maylene said the word was gooseberry in English and that we knew what

she meant. This gave Waldo the opportunity I guessed he had been contem-

plating for a while.

Why dont you get your gear and come the rest of the way with us? he

invited, knowing that we wouldnt object. Well, I didnt mind, that was for

sure! Eye candy like that was very difficult to come by and I am renowned

for my sweet tooth!

The girls approved of her, too, and after dinner, (which I wont describe

except to say it consisted of three different types of dumpling: one pork, one

beef and one made of potato, parsnip and turnip, smothered with thick, salty30

gravy,) Waldo set off with her to her campsite to fetch her backpack and swag.

We waited around, getting merrier and merrier by the litre. A group of

choristers started performing in the warm summer evening and we recognised

a lot of the tunes. Sailor, Stop Your Rambling, Lili Marlene, Those Were

The Days My Friend and curiously The Carnival is Over. Being Aus-

tralians, we just thought it was a Seekers song but we learned from an old

man who was sitting nearby that the tune was common throughout Russia

and Europe and this version was a Dutch nursery rhyme Aan de Oever van

de Rotte.

He gave me a pinch of his snuff and was very proud to practise his English

on us. He had been in Canada as a prisoner of war during Ze Big Vun and

thought we British Colonials were a fine race of people. I rolled him a couple

of Old Holborn ciggies and bought him a litre.

But Waldo and Rebekka never showed up! We waited until way past

eleven then went back to the camping ground, a little worried that he had got

lost in this big city.

But we neednt have been concerned. There was our friend, going hard at

it, with his new love interest in the tent!

Theres no other place in this world where I rather would be.

Honey honey, how you thrill me, ah-hah, honey honey

Honey honey, nearly kill me, ah-hah, honey honey.

It was a warm night and Maylene and I dragged our sleeping gear outside

onto the grass and let them have the tent to themselves. As I said to Maylene,

Waldos groaning and Rebekkas cooing would have kept us awake all night!

The following morning we continued our journey. I sat in the back with

Cherry and Maylene, playing my guitar, while Waldo and Rebekka sat in the

front. I had to keep reminding Waldo to keep his goo-goo eyes on the road

and his hands on the wheel.

I started improvising Waterloo, substituting the word Wa-aldo, and

naturally expected Rebekka to sing like Agnetha from Abba, seeing as she

looked so much like her. But she couldnt hold the tune and giggled a lot. I

dont know whether it was the song, my guitar playing or Waldo and that

right hand of his. I suspect the latter. We didnt have the stomach to look!

That afternoon, Maylene drove with Cherry in between her and me. I had

the window open and my elbow hanging out, forgetting we were at a much31

more southern latitude than London. As a result, I started my tan from the

right wing, in rather a painful manner.

Did I tell you I swam at Munich? I asked Rebekka and she was ad-

mirably impressed until Waldo said Yeah, he went skinny dipping in the

river after Oktoberfest and got arrested!

After Cherry repeated it to her until she understood what he meant, blush-

ing and tittering when she explained what skinny dipping was, Rebekka

looked at me curiously and asked: So why did you tell a lie, then!

Being more familiar with naivety than any of us, Cherry tried to explain

it was meant as a joke, but that only confused her more.

Not only was her sense of humour suss, her cooking skills were too! That

night she insisted on grilling our chops on the stove in the back of the Kombi.

She set the curtains on fire and instead of putting them out, she screamed

and burst into tears. Waldo saw what had happened and threw a pan of water

over it. The pan happened to contain succotash and that all went with it.

The fire had melted the foam tiles we had stuck to the ceiling of the van

as insulation with double-sided tape and the whole lot ended off a charred,

sticky mess.

And the chops were burnt on the outside and still cold on the inside. How-

ever we bravely ate them, trying to conceal their rawness with HP Sauce.

We were just outside Innsbruck, at a place called Veer Kolsass (which I

told the girls meant freeze your arse off) and after tea, the two newly

hatched lovelings disappeared into a gasthoff to resume finding out all they

could about each others bodies. We had a couple of beers, sitting on our little

folding stools, and when it got cooler, as alpine nights do, we were joined by

a friendly dairy cow who had taken a shine to me and my suede jacket. She

kept nuzzling me, pressing her snout lovingly against my tender, sunburnt

arm.

Maylene unkindly nicknamed her Trudi! She sounded a little catty when

she said it, too!

I still hadnt forgiven her for that dirty trick they played on me in Limburg.

I am sure it was at her instigation as she has a mischievous, devious mind

which works along those channels! Trudi, indeed!

Then I milked her!

32

Not Maylene!

Trudi, the cow!

An old girlfriend from Albany came from a smallholding and had a few

dairy cattle, and I was familiar with the technique of hand milking. You even

sit on the same side with these Austrian cows, too. Unlike driving!

And we got enough beautiful, fresh, creamy milch in the saucepan to make

three cups of cocoa. Waldo might be getting his end away, but we put love

and adoration to a much more productive purpose! I gave Trudi a kiss on the

nose, but unlike her Limburg namesake, her breath smelt rather bad!

In the morning, Rebekka came out of the gasthoff looking radiant and

more lovely than ever. But Waldo looked as though he had been hoovered

up off the floor and dumped in the rubbish bin. I had a go at him about it and

he said he just couldnt keep up with her.

Thats not like you, Wal! I said. You told me you screwed for New

Zealand at the Christchurch Commonwealth Games back in February!

He grinned a weak smile.

Do you mind driving this morning? he asked and I felt sorry for him

and agreed. Ill drive this afternoon after Ive had a sleep in the back of the

van!

But although he lay down on the bed, I dont think he got much shut-eye.

Rebekka refused my invitation to sit up front with me and watch out for stray

eidelweiss, which I told her had a tendency to leap out at you in these alpine

regions. Eidelweiss is the tiny white flower made famous by the song in the

Rodgers and Hamerstein musical Sound of Music.

She went and lay down in the back with Waldo and at one time, was com-

pletely underneath him! Fortunately there was a sheet over them, so we didnt

didnt get to practice our voyeur skills. And Cherry was too busy studying

every bush and hedgerow for those intrusive, stray eidelweiss! She really

did!

We got a late start in the day because we had to fill up the gas bottle and

we decided to buy a second one in case it ran out and we were not aware it

was getting low. We also went into Aldi in Innsbruck and stocked up on

wurst, bread, potatoes and corn. And beer.

We lost the girls for an hour or so and eventually discovered them looking

in the window of a womens dress shop while Cherry was over the road in33

the dunnies behind the town hall, having a tinkle.

We say we lost them, when actually we knew exactly where they were.

It gave us a chance to have some bloke time with a couple of bottles of Brau-

Ag and a schnappes chaser! And we had them to blame for it. Win-win!

At the border of Austria and Italy, I retired to the back seat to let Waldo

combine his driving with his lovemaking, a skill he assured me he was quite

adept at handling. I put Cherry in charge of the maps with the implicit in-

struction to wake me if she had any difficulty.

Knowing I was not driving again that day, I took a siesta-inspired nap in

the back of the car, keeping a tight rein on my bladder, which tends to weaken

after a bottle or two of Passerina.

I had entrusted the map to Cherry, knowing full well it would mean noth-

ing at all to her, but it made her feel useful. I gave Waldo the instruction to

turn eastwards at Spondigno, otherwise we would end up in Milano or some-

where.

After about an hour of sound, refreshing slumber, so deep I didnt even

awake with the customary travellers hard, Cherry was announcing that we

should be in Silandro, not Bormio. A glance at the map told me immediately

what had gone wrong. They had gone west instead of east! East means noth-

ing to someone who doesnt understand a map. My fault!

As Bormio is wrapped around a series of crossroads, and Waldo couldnt

remember which turning he had taken to leave town, I tried to work it out.

But to no avail. He had been gazing lovingly into his passengers eyes and

all the rest of the world was superfluous.

He pulled over at an Information booth and I clambered out and went in

the front door.

No! Eenglish spicking person has gone to gabinetto. I only can spick Ital-

iano or Francais. Little bit Deusche. Not much spick Eenglish.

And then Sei stato a dormire? Sleeping? Caffe?

Oh! Si, per favore!

About twenty minutes and two cups of coffee later, Maylene came looking

for me.

The bloke who speaks English is in the dunny. He shouldnt be long.

So Maylene went out the back and returned a few minutes later with a tall,

34

bespectacled gentleman with a little feather in his trilby. He was carrying a

roll of toilet paper in one hand and was pushing a copy of Affari Italiani into

his jacket pocket.

He was a real gent and was terribly embarrassed that he had been inter-

rupted by a woman while enjoying a quiet read of his newspaper on the bog.

It was probably the only place he could get any peace and quiet.

We just dismissed it with an easy When you gotta go, you gotta go!

which he found highly amusing, and practised saying it several times.

Anyway, he directed us to a shortcut and assured us that if we took it, we

would be in Cortina in time for tea.

The shortcut road started out quite alright but about five miles in, it started

to get narrower. At one stage it was not quite as wide as the Kombi, with a

granite wall only millimetres from the drivers wing mirror. From the pas-

senger seat, I couldnt even see the road under us, that was how close the

wheels were to the sheer precipice which dropped away for about two hun-

dred feet to the valley floor below! I tried not to look at it, but it was mes-

merising. When I looked out the front windscreen, I kept thinking We arent

going to make it!

This continued on right around the side of a mountain, about three quarters

of a mile. In sections, we could see that the road had crumbled away and

fallen down the side of the ledge.

35The Kombi on the ledge!

The girls got out and walked behind while Waldo and I rode in the van,

ready to leap free if the road collapsed.

What the bejeezus will we do if we meet someone coming the other

way? Wal asked.

Dont ask me to reverse out of here, thats all. Ill trust you implicitly

and just claim the insurance!

But, needless to tell you, we made it without anything nasty happening to

us, although in my diary and on my sketchpad, I definitely recorded that as

an incident!

Maylene insisted it wasnt as bad as I made it out to be, that my imagina-

tion had taken over and I was exaggerating. But I pointed out to her that she

never volunteered to sit up there in the passenger seat!

And as for making it to Cortina in time for tea! None of us had an appetite

for food that night!

36

5. Terry Jacks: Seasons in the Sun

Pretty girls are everywhere.

When you see them Ill be there.

We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.

But the hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time.

The following day was a scorcher. I left my t-shirt off and invited Rebekka

to do likewise. But better than that, she dispensed with her shorts and lounged

about the back of the car wearing a nearly sheer cheesecloth dress. The other

two donned their little seersucker dresses and each time they reached for any-

thing, or twisted around to look out a window, I got an enticing glimpse of

knickers and bare thighs. My neck was quite painful and stiff from constantly

craning around to check on them!

It really pains me to report that Waldo no longer seemed to derive any

pleasure from this voyeurism. He looked dull and haggard and downright

crook.

I asked if he wanted to find a doctor and he claimed he was just very tired

and gave me a little wink which reassured me.

We drove down out of the mountains and onto the coastal plains, circum-

venting Venice. I would have liked to visit some of the art galleries there but

knew if we did, I would find it hard to leave. So later in the morning we ar-

rived at the border near Trieste.

In those days the country was all called Yugoslavia and only one entry

visa was needed right over to the Greek border. Now, of course, the warring

tribes have broken up the Communist nation, to the detriment of them all.

Not that I blame them for ousting communism. There is no longer a place

for that in modern Europe. It is just that the suffering and pain makes you

wonder if it was all worthwhile.

Goodbye, Papa, its hard to die

when all the birds are singing in the sky,

Now that the spring is in the air.

Little children everywhere.

We made good time driving down the Dalmatian coast. There was hardly

any traffic and we kept checking the map against signposts to make sure we

were on the right road. This was the main highway between Trieste and Split

and we had assumed it would be busy.

37

We let Cherry drive, because the going was so easy and she was too timid

to drive on Autobahns, but desperately wanted to contribute.

But she immediately pulled into the left lane and started driving the wrong

way, into the face of the oncoming traffic, if there had been oncoming traffic.

However, we all bawled at her and after she had dried up all her tears, she

soon got the hang of it.

Split was smashing! A beautiful port and seaside town on the Adriatic

where we stopped for a late lunch in a small disused fishing vessel moored

alongside the wharf. The deck area had been cleared and half a dozen tables

and some chairs had been arranged on it.

You gave me love and helped me find the sun.

And every time that I was down

you would always come around

and get my feet back on the ground.

After our lunch of cevapcici, mashed potatoes and sarma, served with sev-

eral glasses of icy cold Lutomer riesling (see, I resisted again!) we reckoned

a swim would be just the thing. And just the thing it was, too!

Rebekka, stripped down to her bikini, was exactly what I needed! Al-

though I had been perving on her in the cheesecloth dress and tiny pants

which were little more than a g-string, I still remember the awe of seeing her

in a swimsuit for the first time. I was so hot the ocean sizzled when I plunged

in! It never cooled me down at all and I complained I wanted my money

back!

We swam for about an hour, relishing the water on our bodies. Then we

lay on the beach, the girls attracting the attention of some local teenagers

who obviously found these foreign women very much to their liking.

I prepared a light tea that night, no one feeling particularly hungry after

the late lunch and the vino. Waldo and Maylene had watched me erect the

tent several times and were prepared to have a go themselves. The fact that

the thing blew over in the night had more to do with the strong sea breeze

than their neglecting to peg it down firmly, they insisted.

So there we were, four of us, stark naked, running around in the moonlight,

reconstructing a wayward tent.

And it really was moonlit, too. Huge bloody great full disk! And as every-

one knows who has journeyed there in the summer, the stars seem as big as38

dinner plates. It was almost like daylight!

The sight of Rebekka and Maylene pushing those pegs into the grass is

firmly etched into my grubby little mind!

Cherry, however, peeped timidly through the Kombi window, wearing her

baby-doll pyjamas!

Next morning Maylene looked slightly sheepish. None of us had seen her

body unclothed before and she wasnt sure how we would react! Waldo and

I had reacted like any normal, red-blooded gentlemen would have! We got

hards-on!

But Rebekka just shrugged and said that in Sweden, one body part was

just as acceptable in public as any other and that she shouldnt be embar-

rassed. Us blokes agreed wholeheartedly. We didnt care who saw what on

whom. Our willies or our bare arses were available to anyone who was in-

terested enough to want to take a gander at them.

Cherry naively asked why they wore clothes at all in Sweden, and Re-

bekka, in a really faux Aussie accent, replied: Its bloody cold without

them!

Fair enough, I reckon! And I had no objection to looking at this Junoesque

beauty in any stages of undress she cared to be in, and told her so.

And you looked sweet with your little Jul bonbon, your little Christmas

cracker, too, Gra Gra!

Oh, my stocking stuffer? I asked and although the others laughed, Re-

bekka gave me that curious glance. When Waldo tried to explain the double

entendre and the Yuletide expression, she wasnt interested.

You English men. She generalised accusingly. You joke about sex all

the time, but when it comes to doing something about it, you are not so forth-

coming!

Fourth coming? I always come first! Waldo protested and she gave the

cutest little smile as only a European woman can and playfully slapped his

arm. I saw him respond, instinctively moving towards her for a cuddle. Lucky

old Waldo!

No, but why be shy about it? Nudity and sex are not the same thing. A

body can be appreciated for its beauty as much as a face can be.

Hmmph, I said, staring at her face and then stretching my neck around

39

to look at the back of her shorts. I see a beautiful face! Now drop em and

Ill give you my verdict on your bottom!

All in good time. Anyway, I saw you looking at it in the night!

Leave her alone, Maylene demanded. Shes not going to give you a

cheap thrill right now!

An hour later we were walking along the beach back to town. Waldo was

having a much needed sleep and Cherry and Maylene were walking some

way ahead of Rebekka and me.

You are in love, I think! Rebekka said, looking at me with that curious

expression I had noticed before.

With you? I grinned. No, mate! Never fear. I think youre gorgeous

but youre also Waldos girl!

No, not with me, although I think you would like to make love with me.

No, with Maylene!

Now I dont mind admitting that there was some sort of bond between us,

and I definitely liked what I saw when I looked at her. But love . . . ?

Ive got a girl back in London, I told her. Well, shes in Sydney at the

moment, thats why she isnt with us.

But you made love with a women in Limburg? Waldo told me. I won-

dered if he had told her about Hildi, as well!

That was just sex. We were both drunk, we both wanted it so we went

for it. Just getting the dirty water off our chests.

I do not understand the saying but I think I know what you mean. Just

like a game, eh?

Is it a game between you and Waldo? Or shouldnt I ask?

Definitely. Sweden against New Zealand. Do they play football in New

Zealand?

Mostly rugby, I grinned. Thats like football but they mess about a lot

and score more points! But does he know you are just playing with him? He

seems pretty smitten with you?

He is a good, kind man. And a considerate lover. A worthy opponent,

no? she smiled and raised her fist. But you and Maylene?

I havent thought about it! I bullshitted. Shes my mate, like Cherry

40

and Wal and you!

I am not so sure. She looks at you as though she wants something else

and I have seen the way you play at fighting with her when really you would

like to be loving with her.

Nah! I disagreed. Shes gorgeous and cuddly and a real women. But

sos my Mum!

And you love your mother, no? I see you do not like me saying this, but

think about it!

41

6. Jim Webb: Macarthur Park

I recall the yellow cotton dress

Foaming like a wave

On the ground around your knees . . .

I dont know about Macarthur Park melting in the dark, but we were melt-

ing in the Kombi. We stopped twice for swims and the esky needed topping

up and we werent even at Dubrovnik.

The girls were sprawled on the bed in the back and Waldo and I were up

front, trying to direct air from the vents to make their dresses flutter up. We

stopped at a roadside stall and bought some orange drink, which was surpris-

ing cool.

I will drink the wine while it is warm

And never let you catch me looking at the sun

And after all the loves of my life

After all the loves of my life, youll still be the one.

We discovered the old man was diluting the juice at a standpipe situated

among some trees and we went over to wash our hands and faces in the

stream from it. It was icy cold. Cherry filled a saucepan with water and

poured it over herself.

It was cool in among the trees and we stayed there the rest of the afternoon,

driving into Dubrovnik in the early evening when the fierceness of the sun

had diminished a bit.

I will win the worship in their eyes and I will lose it

I will have the things that I desire

And my passion flow like rivers through the sky

Dubrovnik has been called The Pearl of the Adriatic and was an en-

chanting city tucked between the sea and the fortress walls which surrounds

it for a couple of miles. There are suburbs sprawling all over the place these

days, but the harbour with its castle battlements and rows of boat pens glis-

tened in the sunset and we could see why such a romantic name had been in-

vented for it.

It stayed hot all night and I laid on top of my sleeping bag, my little Christ-

mas cracker tucked safely away in my jocks. If the tent blew down again, I

wasnt having some Swedish broad wanting to pull it!

42

I didnt sleep very well, I think because of the heat, and because I was a

bit disturbed by what Rebekka had said. I thought about Janey back in Aus-

tralia. I thought about the hot blooded excitement and energy of Trudi and

wondered if I would ever see her again.

I looked over at Rebekka lying in Waldos arms and wondered how they

could bear the sweaty contact of each others bodies, although envying them

their closeness and affection. I thought of little Cherry, smiling peacefully in

her slumber inside the Kombi.

Then I looked over at Maylene, lying next to me on her smelly rubber and

old socks air mattress.

It was quite dim inside the tent and I could only just make out her shape,

but not her features. But she looked peaceful and relaxed, so I thought again

about what Rebekka had said that morning.

Were you looking at me?

No, of course not. Ive got my eyes closed.

Liar. You were!

Well, I did glance over to see if you were asleep, I lied. How did you

know, Maylene?

I was looking at you and I saw the whites of your eyes flash.

Well, thats all Im flashing tonight! I said, trying to cover my embar-

rassment. Ive left my jocks on!

Cant you sleep?

Its a bit warm.

Lets go for a walk.

I pulled on shorts and a shirt. My thongs were outside. Maylene was just

in her knickers, no bra, so she slipped into a little dress. We unzipped the tent

flap and went out into the moonlight. It was really bright again that night, as

I guessed it would have been.

We walked between the caravans and tents down to the beach. There was

a bonfire going up the coast a little way and we walked towards it. Neither

of us spoke for a while. When we got closer to the fire, I felt Maylenes hot

little hand suddenly clasp mine. My first impulse was surprise, but I thought

it was kind of nice. Really friendly and probably done for the benefit of the

people sitting around the fire, most of them drinking beer. She probably didnt43

want the complication of any of them thinking she was on the loose.

One of the men spoke to us in a language I didnt understand and he tried

a couple more, realising we must be tourists.

Do you speak English? I asked

Ah, you are Australian! Have a beer, my friend!

Oh, thanks. But we didnt bring any. We didnt mean to crash your party!

You are not intruding. The more the merrier, eh? There is plenty of beer

for everyone!

Several of the party goers spoke English. Some as a first language, and

we found ourselves talking to a very handsome American serviceman and

woman on leave from a posting in West Germany. They introduced us to

some other Army couples and a bunch of Germans, who had the short hair

of professional soldiers, who were on vacation with them. They were accom-

panied by some very elegant women, none of whom spoke much English.

Everyone was friendly and well mannered. Officers and gentlemen! My type

of people.

We had a couple of glasses of beer and some sausage on little sticks, like

frankfurters. The Yanks called them weiners and I told them that in Australia

they were known as little boys. I think some of them were amused, but the

Germans didnt seem to understand. Maylene said they probably thought I

was a paedo!

On the way back, she grabbed my hand again and pulled on it.

Lets have a skinny dip!

Are you sure you want to? I was cautious. Only that morning she had

been shy about her nudity.

Well, Im not going in with my clothes on and getting them all wet!

And she shrugged off the shift, pulled down her knickers and ran down

the beach in the moonlight. We were far enough from the bonfire now to not

be seen, and not back at the camping site yet.

I couldnt help gawping! This was most unexpected but I liked what I saw.

What the hell! I thought. And I chucked my clothes next to hers and

raced in after her.

But she kept her distance! I had expected her arms around my neck and

44

our wet bodies intertwined in the surf (although the Adriatic was like a mill

pond that night!) She splashed at me and provocatively stuck her bum up at

me when she duck dived but she left out all the hot, passionate stuff.

I wondered whether she was waiting for me for me to make the first move,

but I was a bit slow on the uptake. Eventually I grabbed her and picked her

up like I would a child in my arms, feeling the softness of her body against

mine. Then I threw her as far and as hard as I could into the sea. She squealed

and came back for me to do it again. I was getting a bit aroused and didnt

know whether I should be. I threw her a couple more times.

Youre wearing me out! I complained. Come on, lets go in now!

On the way in she made a lunge at me and shoved her hand between my

legs from behind, poking me in my nuts. I wasnt too sure how to react and

went to the beach, got dressed and started walking back to the tent. This was

a lot more serious than flirting!

Maylene came up to me and squeezed my bum. She kissed me very softly

on the lips.

That was fun! she said. Well have to do it again some time.

Someone left my cake out in the rain

I dont think that I can take it

Cause it took so long to make it

And Ill never have that recipe again

Oh, nooooo

And all next day and the day after that and the day after that, we never

mentioned it. Although we found ourselves looking into each others eyes a

lot. And, God, I really wanted to kiss that mouth again!

We drove eastward from Dubrovnik. Thats inland, Cherry. Okay, turn

left. No, that wont put us in the sea. Turn the map around, we are travelling

southwards. Yes, you are allowed to turn a map upside down. We started from

the north, where England is and we are going south east where Greece is.

Yes, thats right, you wont be able to read the names easily if you turn

it upside down. Because they have to print it somehow and it is common pro-

tocol to put south on the bottom. Because thats the way it is, thats why. No,

I have just explained the reasons to you and no, they do make sense. Okay,

they dont make sense to normal people like you, but please be assured that

to people who have learned to to read them, they do make sense. 45

Yes, I am sure if you smile sweetly and ask them nicely, they will print

maps specially for you that have South at the top. No, I am not being sarcas-

tic. That is one of the inexplicable laws of physics. Now are you going to

make some sandwiches and leave the map reading to me, or not? Oh come

on, surely thats not worth looking sad about! You are a good sandwich cutter,

I am a good navigator. You understand salami and tomatoes and bread and

stuff. I understand maps and compasses. No, I havent got a compass.

How do I know where east is? Its where Greece is. How do I know

where Greece is? We just passed a signboard that pointed to it, saying G-R-

C-K-A and an arrow pointing east. Yes, left! Thats is the Croatian word for

Greece. I dont know why.

Help me out, please, one of you!

I might have exaggerated slightly there, but the others had no inclination

towards map reading. It might have been Greek to them. Or Grcki for that

matter.

There was a water wheel over a little brook that had been running along-

side the road for a while and it was so picturesque that I decided I wanted to

take a photograph of it with a view to possibly painting it in oils at some fu-

ture date. We stopped the car and I got out and crossed the road, unslinging

my Kodak Retina. I got off a couple of really good