Mademoiselle Headstrong is to be baptised next weekend. As a confirmed and unrepentant atheist, I am quite certain my level of enthusiasm for said event is easily ascertained. Nonetheless, I am but one member of a large and loving collective of family and friends in possession of many and wildly disparate loves, tastes, beliefs, philosophies, politics, what have you.
And they all love me. And I, truly, madly, deeply, love all of them.
This past weekend, The Husband, Captain Chatterbox, Mademoiselle Headstrong, and I, joined three other friends/couples/who/now/have/kids-types in a plunge-pool-equipped home in Crow’s Nest for a BBQ. There were older kids. There were younger kids. There were toddlers. There were fairly-new-borns and actual-new-borns.
It was … loud.
I am so, so lucky to know these people, to be welcomed into their lives, and to joyously bring them into mine.
En route to said BBQ (which involved home-made pulled pork … totes hipster ;-), we drove across the Harbour Bridge (whereas, normally, we swim).
Not for the first time, but for the first time in ages, I started thinking about The Rocks, about how I once was obsessed by the area, an obsession fed by obsessive reading of Ruth Park’s classic children’s novel, Playing Beatie Bow. Every time we came to Sydney and visited The Rocks, I loved wandering along the cobbled streets named in the novel – Harrison, Argyle – slinking along still-there laneways like The Suez Canal, walking under The Cut and arriving at The Garrison Church … and yesterday, I did it again, thanks to a lunch invitation from an old friend I hadn’t seen for several years, to whom I will refer as Charlie Mike Bravo (her initials).
She is one of those people I just “click” with (and, I think, vice versa). Settling down to our coffees on Walsh Bay Wharf, we prattled away for a couple of hours as if no time had passed at all. Topics ranged across food, nutrition, illness, birth, children, siblings, husbands, working, not working, films, literature, New York … and, naturally, Playing Beatie Bow. I told Charlie Mike Bravo that I had purchased the Kindle edition that very morning and that it was just as good as I remembered it. She immediately resolved to re-read it, too.
And, naturally, what did I feel compelled to do last night? Watch the 1986 film version on YouTube. Man, 80s fashion was baaaaaad … good movie, though …