Hard Cuddles. James Harding

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СКАЧАТЬ Gramps used to tell me some amazing stories about his life in Ceylon. My grandparents had a unique way of communicating. They had a certain place where they would meet where there was a big piece of cardboard. My grandpa would write my Nanna love notes on the ground with a rock and cover it with the cardboard. Gramps was very good-looking and spoke three languages: Singhalese, English and Latin. A highly educated man, he had a really eccentric way and loved to talk to people about their lives and financial situations. If you walked past his house, he would demand to know what you brought him or how much you were earning. He thought this was the height of good humour—to put people on the spot. He had a Norton motorcycle and was quite the man about town. His brother, Gem, was an entrepreneurial businessman who started tourism in Ceylon. Gem got up to all sorts of illegal shit and at one point smuggled gold to and from India. Gem also owned some of the original hotels in that beautiful country. The other brother, Earl, was the strongest man in Ceylon. He worked on the railroads and was able to bend a coin over on itself with his thumb and forefinger. Earl was a hippie and back then often wore a flower in his hair. He was also an artist and did what he liked, wandering around the country to the beat of his own drum.

      Gramps had an obsession with England and anything English: cars, clothes, the monarchy, he even followed the English cricket team. If we saw a Jag driving down the street, he would point at it and say ‘tops’. Gramps took me to the TAB and showed me how to bet when I was about twelve. We spent a lot of time together and it was never boring.

      Nanna, on the other hand, could be very fiery and had a habit of faking illnesses if things didn’t go her way. Gramps was a tight-arse and they would always fight over money. You knew if you saw Gramps in his chair with his chin resting on his chest he was in the dog house. Nanna was the best cook; it didn’t matter if there were two or twenty people around there for lunch, as there often was. Gramps was treated like a bloody king at lunchtime every day. He would go and sit himself at the head of his table and wait. Nanna would produce the most amazing curries and all the bits and pieces that accompanied it. You could smell it from down the street. There were always people there and Gramps would hold court. He was capable of talking on any topic, but his real passion was to talk nonsense and he was really talented at it. Nanna was always telling him off for talking crap. You see, the stars aligned for me, I was born just when Gramps retired. He was a very stressed out sort of character before that, from what I am told. I never got to see that side of him. Occasionally he would reverse the white Valiant Charger out and we would go for a drive. All this time spent with such a wordsmith helped me hone my communication skills and he would teach me how to speak like an adult. Gramps would also chat with me about adult topics: politics, finance and world news. He loved it when I shared my opinion.

      One Sunday afternoon when I was at their house with my young cousins, we went next door to their neighbour’s house. The neighbours weren’t home, so I decided to destroy the joint. I started smashing pot plants and throwing things into their pool. My cousins joined in and we had a really good time. For some reason it didn’t occur to us that we would be identified as the culprits. Later that week my parents questioned me and it was revealed that my cousins had accused me of being the ringleader, so I was given a sound thrashing. My cousins were very good at putting me in it. Their mother had it in for me, she couldn’t bear to think that her boys were capable of that sort of behaviour. So blaming me became a consistent theme when I was growing up.

      Often Gramps would wander up to our primary school right on lunchtime to buy my sister and I whatever we wanted from the tuckshop. Gramps would ask us if one of our friends wanted something as well. It was hilarious—when the kids would see my Gramps coming towards the school, they ran after my sister and me, keen to forge a quick friendship. What a bunch of fuck-knuckles they were, sucking up to the two of us in a desperate play to get some sweets.

      With most of Dad’s side now passed away and him being an only child, I was raised with a proper Sri Lankan upbringing. This comes as a big surprise to most people, including my wife. It wasn’t till I took her to a family party did she understand the full extent of how Sri Lankan I was.

      My time spent with Gramps most definitely helped form strong communication patterns. He never spoke to me like a child. It was extremely enjoyable to be asked for my opinion by such an educated man. Gramps enjoyed telling anyone who would listen that I was going to be a politician.

      THE BIG H

      ‘Delay is the deadliest form of denial.’

      — C. Northcote Parkinson

      Mum was one of five and arrived by boat after three months at sea. She was five when she came over to Australia. Her sisters called her London Lady because Mum didn’t continue with the immigrant concept of sticking with your own. She had lots of friends outside the family and this was challenging for her sisters. My mum was also naughty and had an addictive streak, like my good self. It wasn’t till recently that Mum explained that she was expelled from her high school. She had a charmed childhood being the youngest. She was very tall and had beautiful coloured skin.

      After Mum was expelled she attended a business college—this had been decided by my grandparents and her eldest sister. In her family, the eldest sister had a big say in things. Mum went on to marry a man who had been badly abused as a young boy. This young boy grew up and repeated those violent habits with my mother.

      Mum’s first marriage ended after her abusive husband was caught red-handed by Gramps. The man was then removed from the situation. I imagine it was a big deal. Being Catholic and divorced would have been very tricky. Enter my Dad.

      Mum told me she needed to work through a lot to feel comfortable to love again. Counsellors and healers weren’t around as much back then. So Mum had to get through this by herself and trusting men would have been a massive challenge.

      From all reports Dad was a full-blown stalker. Picture Matt Dillon in Something About Mary and you’re on the right track. Poor Mum was still very fragile from her previous marriage and you have my old man wolf whistling at her work. Mum used to hide behind poles when she saw Dad’s Kingswood coming but that didn’t stop him. He just used to pull over and say ‘Is that you hiding there Trish? Jump on in.’

      Their first date was a debacle. Dad overdid it on the scotch-and-cokes and spewed all the way home. What a mess. Apparently he had his head out the window, giving her the ‘I’m not normally like this Trish’.

      I have seen photos of the two of them in their day and they were a really cool-looking couple. Dad was a surfer, so he was always bronzed and Mum had the Sri Lankan tan going herself. They looked really happy and healthy. Dad saw a good thing in Mum and he wasn’t going to miss out. Shows what a terrific judge of character he was. Thirty-nine years of marriage, three children and seven grandkids is not a bad return for effort.

      Dad was born and raised in Northcote, a completely different area to what it is today. His dad, Big Al, served in the war in Papua New Guinea and loved a drink. Dad’s mum, Claire, also loved a drink and between the two of them it was challenging. There was lots of love, but the effects of alcoholism can be disruptive for a young bloke trying to find his way in life.

      Dad never complains about his upbringing. You can tell there is still genuine care and deep emotion for his parents. Apparently Big Al had a bit of the devil in him, like myself. He loved to hang out at the pub with his mates for too long, he loved a smoke, a beer and a bet. He was also a bit of ladies’ man, very competent on the dance floor and generally just loved a good time. The only problem with people like Big Al and me is our capacity to enjoy ourselves is completely different to everyone else’s.

      Dad’s greatest accomplishment was bucking the trend of alcoholism in our lineage. After doing some work around addiction, I found that the effects of war can be felt generations on and alcoholism is one of the reasons for this. When those men came home from war, there wasn’t support СКАЧАТЬ