I STARTED writing this column while sitting in a rental car at Stonehenge in the United Kingdom, last week.
My daughter was too tired to spend the afternoon traipsing behind daddy and mummy duck.
I’d been to Stonehenge during a solo trip but my husband hadn’t so I made an executive decision to wait and spare him needing to manage the 10-year-old’s moping.
To be fair, we’d had a hectic two days, my dear mother’s (mama) funeral was held at a grand old hotel in Swindon.
While our daughter enjoyed the games room, playground and swimming pool with her cousins, my siblings and I gave each other strength through hugs and the retelling of stories.
I learned things about mama I never knew through letters read out during the service.
She had a group of girlfriends and when they decided wine and shenanigans were in order, they called a ‘board meeting’.
Board meetings were the signal to gather and her friends said no notes or minutes were taken.
During some stays away they’d dress up and do funny, random skits as entertainment.
I have always known that I am a little bit of an acquired taste and say and do random things, too.
Like now, right now before typing this sentence I wrote ‘I am a little bit of a required taste’, I’ve just changed it but my mama endearingly muddled words at times.
We called them ‘Shelaghisms’ so I guess mine would be ‘Laraisms’?
Dad’s speech was beautiful and he spoke of meeting their friends Dino and Phillipa.
Both are from South Africa but live in Swindon.
Dad was at a Swindon pub watching a rugby union game on a big screen.
The Springboks were playing whatever team was beating them.
South African’s are passionate supporters of their country’s national team even though there are more losses than wins.
‘Can I buy you a drink?’ Dino asked dad.
‘I can buy my own bloody drink!’ dad said thinking Dino was trying to chat him up.
But no, it wasn’t that at all.
Dino heard the accent and was keen to bond with a stranger who could enjoy a bit of banter as their team invariably lost to … everyone?
There were other coincidental friendships in Swindon.
They met Reg and Beti-Ann McLean after joining a church and discovered Reg was at school with my father.
Dad went to school in Zimbabwe and while Reg went to the same school and was in the same year, they didn’t know each other until meeting in the UK many decades later.
We took dad to Bodiam Castle in East Sussex and tried to make the most of our time with family.
This week’s Ramblings began when I was in the UK and ends with me back at my desk in Queensland.
I have two homes, one in the United Kingdom and the other in Australia.
Home to me is not a building but a feeling.
It’s where the people you love most, live.
My children and my husband live in Australia, my dad and extended family live in the UK.
Stonehenge is a marvel but so is the Great Dividing Range and other historically relevant places in South East Queensland.
And while I may not have convict history or generational ties to the land, Australia will always be home to me.
