Love, romance and all things Spring
So I’m sitting on my exercise bike out on the deck, pumping the old pins around in circles as fast as I can. That Piccolo Latte is my prize if I make it to 5 minutes. Who am I kidding — I’ll drink it anyway.
That’s how I came to thinking of that first day of Spring and how the number 2017 could possibly sound significant. It came to me in a flash — 17, Spring, love, romance — that is enormously significant in my love life.
In my family I had 5 siblings — yes there were 6 of us — 5 girls and 1 boy. I was the 5th child and had 3 older sisters and 1 brother. I had watched the girls date their boys, fall in love and get married. But our father had a very strict rule — no dating until you turn 17. I had been working since I was 13 so I had lots of opportunity to date boys I met outside of home. I also attended night school in the city after work so my time away from home was significant. But the no dating rule was sacrosanct.
But then I turned 17 and Spring was fast approaching. When Graeme told me about the wonderful new movie opening in town I was hooked. We both worked with returned servicemen and had heard many of their stories in the staff rec room. The movie was an epic war film,The Longest Day, and it ran for 178 minutes. Of course I checked with Dad for permission to go and his proviso was “Be home at 10pm”. It didn’t matter that we lived in Montmorency — at that time at least a 45 minute drive from the city. We would just have to leave at interval. And that’s what we did that Saturday night, and every night that we saw movies together. Dating someone in 1962 meant he paid for everything and she shared kisses — but only in the car out front with Dad peering into the darkness from the front door, his hand flicking the light switch on and off as a signal of impending doom. We only broke curfew once but that was when Graeme’s car broke down. Dad jumped into his car in his dressing gown and headed down the back road which went past Mont Park Mental Asylum. That’s where he ran out of petrol. He spent the next hour ducking in and out of hedges in his dressing gown every time a car passed by. He was sure they would think he had escaped. By the time he got to us he was fuming and lectured me in Graeme’s little Mini while Graeme waved his torch outside for the RACV emergency truck.
Patrick drove a van that brought machinery parts to the Engineer’s block where Graeme worked. I was in the Admin block beside the guarded gates. He would wave to me as he drove in and out. Cheeky furtive smiles, blushes, and a quick turn of the head was all he got. So one day he got out of his vehicle and came to the Admin block. The typist-in-charge was furious at the interruption and told me to get rid of him immediately, so that’s how I met Patrick. Dad was quite pleased when I said that Patrick wanted to take me to the Spring Ball. He got right into the excitement of my choosing a frock and fur stole, buying pointy toed heels and generally getting ready to become a lady instead of climbing the pine trees across the road. Patrick was a black eyed, raven haired Irishman whose parents owned a florist shop. He was deliciously wicked but I never told Dad that bit. There was never a time when Patrick broke curfew although he did try to break a few other rules. One time he had told Dad we were going to a movie but then he took me to his parents’ shop instead to show me the “beautiful flowers”. We hurried through the blooms and then he led me upstairs to see his hideout. It was an empty room with a street light barely breaking through the grime on the window. All I saw was a naked mattress on the floor. Now that deliciously wicked beau lost his appeal and I hightailed it back to the “beautiful flowers” and a cup of foul tasting instant coffee from a chipped mug. So that night we were home well before curfew.
Patrick started visiting our place on Saturdays and Mum loved him. He certainly knew how to charm the ladies. I was still dating Graeme and he started taking me to the footy on Saturday afternoons. He was a passionate North Melbourne fan. And so this double dating thing got into a most uncomfortable rhythm. Firstly I was afraid that Graeme and Patrick would work out that they were both dating the same girl — after all, they did unload the goods together in the yard and that’s the sort of stuff boys brag about, isn’t it? I dreaded the thought of them competing for my affections — or worse
Grand Final Saturday in September, 1962 brought a swift end to my double dating fiasco. It was more than I could handle when Patrick arrived in a black fishnet singlet and stovepipe black jeans, hair slicked back and an unruly bang drooping over his right eye. He looked handsome — and unmistakably deliciously wicked. I knew that Mum would see through his charm in that outfit. Nevertheless my little sister and Mum were soon laughing and joking with Patrick but I knew it was the end for us as a dating couple. Just then Dad came in from the garage. He said someone wanted to see me outside. I thought it would be a neighbourhood friend but when I saw that it was Graeme panic set in. I knew it was his birthday and he was supposed to be going to the footy with his parents. I slipped out leaving Patrick holding the fort in the kitchen. “Back in a mini!” Graeme said he was just passing and thought he’d call in — Montmorency is not on the way to anywhere! I couldn’t invite him in so we just slipped into the car for a chat.
“Graeme, I know it’s the Grand Final and you were supposed to be there with your parents. But I’m glad you have popped in for a moment because there is something I need to tell you. It’s our grand final too Graeme. I don’t want to keep dating you. In fact I don’t want to keep dating at all. I really want to go to New Guinea and be a school teacher so I need to do a lot more study.”
Poor Graeme. I didn’t mention his birthday. I’m sure he was expecting at least a cake from Mum and she would have knocked one up on the spot if she knew. So Graeme backed out of the driveway and made his way back to Spotswood.
I went back inside and Patrick wanted to take me off to a party he was going to that night. I made a similar speech to him and so ended my 2 months of dating. It was a whirlwind of romances — too innocent to imagine in 2017 — but that’s how we played the game back then.
I did go on to become a teacher in New Guinea in the mid 1960s — a totally immersive experience that I draw from every day since. And I did live in England, Europe and Scandinavia. I met some wonderful people (read Men) but I never dated again until I fell in love with the man who would eventually become my husband.
Ah, here’s to love, romance and all things Spring.
