It all seems so long ago, the last day of sunshine. But even the penultimate day, when Lorelle came down and Roland brought young Mason over for our fond farewells, the weather in Brisbane had been unsettled. Really it wasn’t until my last day that the rain had stopped with finality, eventually, after about a week (or so it felt), and the sun looked like it was out to stay. Someone said it was going to be thirty-one degrees and we celebrated that, and my imminent departure, by driving out in my brother Bill’s vintage FC Holden,1958 model.

It was perfect. The temperature soared and we wound down all the windows, just like in the old days when we were kids and none of the old cars had air conditioning. The FC’s souped-up engine purred as it idled while waiting at lights and roared as it tore away on green, and loose strands of my long hair lashed my face.

“Is it too much?” I asked Lita who, on account of being smaller, was in the centre on the bench seat at the back (my nephew Michael was on the other side).

“No,” she said, “I love it!” (She had already given up trying to keep her hair in place.)

“Wellington Point?” Bill asked and everyone made sounds of agreement.

All roads lead to Wellington Point if you have a mind to revisit Gumdale along the way. The FC Holden homed in on Molle Road, which is where we spent most of our formative years. Our old road still floods, especially after a week of heavy rain; the  man-made lakes (flood measures) cannot contain the force of nature. Bill, Henry (our younger brother just down from me) and I laughed wryly, recalling our falls and spills, and days off school because we couldn’t get out when there were also floods at Chelsea Road. Dear old Gumdale… it’s full of millionaires now, but they still get floods. Nature doesn’t discriminate.

We all love Wellington Point, not too far away and full of happy memories from our childhood. Our late father used to take us on exciting, but precarious walks, up on the cliff; or out to the island when the tide was out – and you couldn’t be too long or you’d be stranded by the incoming tide. We trusted our dad. If he said, “Jump and I’ll catch you,” you jumped… and he caught you.

Henry jumped out of the way of a couple of vicious magpies that had attacked him on both of his last forays to Wellington Point. He had thought they “had it in” for him but this time, without his glasses on, they didn’t recognise him; and we managed to park alright.

We didn’t stay long as I had to be back in time to pack finally. For a special treat my Aussie family picked up some fresh prawns from Capalaba en route and we ate them under the gazebo in Bill’s garden.

It seems so long ago, so much has happened. There was that Chilean lady at Melbourne Airport, she couldn’t speak any English and I took her under my wing; then I lost her to an official for a short time while I went through security – then I worried that he wasn’t a bona fide official and she might be sold as a sex slave; luckily, she spotted me at Duty Free and we ran all the way to Gate 8, where I deposited her with the right Airline officials (hopefully!). I found I could speak Spanish after all – “Gate Octo!”. Then there was my perfect travelling companion, Evelyn, a lovely lady from Berlin. She said she couldn’t speak English but we understood each other very well…even if the flight attendants couldn’t. In a nearly full flight we were lucky enough to have about the only spare seat available between us so we managed to spread out a little and get some sleep. 

How can it be only nine days since Chris picked me up from Heathrow? Two degrees below zero! The road outside our house was dug up for resurfacing and the queue of traffic was over a mile long, and then we had to park in a road around the corner… We had to drag our cases in the freezing cold… And I cried – twice. Then came the worst snow in thirty years… 

The snow has gone now but while it lasted my heart was warmed by a visit from Lady Penelope and her parents – Bless them! On the day before it snowed they drove down from Brighton and “the rest is history”, as they say.