Road Trip

This morning the Minister for No Fun is setting off from the Ministry for Bimbi her ancestral home, 10,000 acres of prime wool producing sheep country situated on Wiradjuri land. It’s a trip she has made many times before, but this time there is an air of finality about it. Jim is up front behind the wheel of the Toyota.As she glances sideways her residence looks oddly surreal like an historical snapshot of a place in time laden with memories and up on the corrugated iron roof what is that? An apparition of Teddy? Could that be? Strange the tricks the mind can play on you.As she puzzles over this, a strange sense comes over her that the meek might yet inherit the earth which is a bit of a turn up for

her because meekness wasn’t an attribute she had cultivated much as she had gone about her business of putting wrongs to right where possible, on the assumption that that was what one should do.

“We’ll need to drop into Lib’s Jim “the Minister says ticking off another item on her to- do list for the day. “Minnie will enjoy the holiday and it will be company for the other Minnie too.Dogs love company don’t they Jim “,she gives him a wink both cheeky and provocative .

There are two Minnies now because the Minister could not bear the hole in her life that followed Teddy’s demise and it occurred to her to reprise Minnie number one whom she had bequeathed to E Rowling with another dog of the same breed ,same age, same

colouring such that no one could tell them apart . When they get to E Rowlings, Minnie number one is already at the gate with her carer ,dog bowl and bed and dog food all packed up ready to go.She springs into the back of the ute and begins joyously prancing and slobbering over her travelling companion who sits quite mute awaiting instructions from her mistress that never seem to come.

They drive away, E Rowling waving them on looking guilty and concerned. Guilty perhaps because she should’ve gone with them and would have but for that Mineral Council meeting on Friday that really she couldn’t afford to miss in case someone poached her prospects. There was always someone ready to exploit complacency

in the recruiting game, in any game, as the Minister knew only too well.(she was thinking of a former boyfriend A Green who had been whisked from under her nose by an ex member of the Brains Trust)

And concerned that her ‘baby’ would not be looked after as she would’ve wished .The Minister had always been at pains to point out any shortcomings in E Rowling’s care of her companion pooch.And now there were two Minnies alike in every regard except their mistresses which allowed a ready comparison of the care each one bestowed. Both animals however seem to be blissfully unaware of these considerations.

So they pass down Bridgeport Street past the Deli (next to the IGA )which the Greeks used to supply with bootleg moussaka.

Well ,I put a stop to that little scam didn’t I,though she did stop short of reporting them to the social security department feeling certain they would not have declared the cash income. …hmmmm .

She begins to reminisce …so many occasions hereabouts engaging with the denizens of Albert Park and their dogs looking awkwardly aside as they sniffed each other’s hindquarters …..hmmmm so many occasions, checking each other out she thinks to herself bemusedly. Are we really any different to dogs ?

Past Lena’s wine bar they seem to glide on a blanket of air.Out the front on the pavement is a group of regulars, the Friday night after work gang trying to drown out the anxieties of the week. The Minister recognises some of them. Leone who has already died of a brain tumour is there in spirit.Many a toast had been raised in her honour as now when even the thinnest excuse for another drink seemed to run dry.Not much chance of that with Kev around ,the Minister chuckles to herself, who has seldom failed to concoct a reason for raising another glass or “ jar” as he quaintly puts it.There is Richard Gates smirking incessantly .

Hanky too about to expound on yet another conspiracy theory that could bore the leg off a chair and Lib grinning like the cat who just got the milk as usual while Richard gets the next round.( Richard has a very generous expenses allowance with the Bank he works for and everyone knows it)

Is that P Casey the prick who blocked her access to the Albert Park

Tennis club?

She isn’t sure. Then someone gets up from the table beer in hand and comes towards the ute.It’s Kev who had once claimed to be a descendant of Raphael of Cordoba (a sailor on the Spanish Armada back in Henry the Eighths day)

My arse!

Why does he insist on such outrageous ‘porkies ‘which only add to his already well established disingenuousness ?

Raising his glass in a kind of salute he mouths the words “see you there “gesturing up the road. I don’t remember inviting Kev ,the Minister thinks to herself but then again he’s been known to invite himself plenty of other times ,to plenty of other places, even when his presence was unwanted uncalled for and unwelcome.

“Jesus it’s cold in here ,turn the aircon down Jim for Christssake”.But Jim usually compliant is silent on this occasion.

“Now we just need to whip over to Monas and pick her up,”Jim.But no sooner had the thought occurred to her than she notices Mona already in the front seat ensconced next to Jim in a lively flirtatious banter as if she ,the Minister ,didn’t exist.

…the nerve ,the hide of her

surely she knows I,m in the back

maybe she doesn’t care.

She rolls her eyes up.

It’s family after all .

It took a while to get out of the clutches of the city. Soon they were sailing up the Hume through rolling countryside. She is heading home.She sometimes wonders why she ever left .

She wonders if they’ve finished shearing by now,

if Jackies mob are still camped out in the back paddock by the seasonal creek bed (probably dry this time of year) or maybe they’ve gone walkabout. She begins to meditate over events of the past week ,those matters that will most likely need her attention but events of the distant past keep intruding annoyingly.

It’s true like all girls she had wanted to get married and have a family but that stockbroker who seemed at first a likely prospect had set her back a bit perhaps for good. How could she have married him ,after he had shagged her sister and who knows who else.How could she have trusted him? What mountain of heartache would she have had climb?… oh God !.She needed to keep her feet firmly planted on solid ground.

That’s what her mother used to say chin up girl shoulders back and feet firmly on the ground.

As they sail along reminiscences float by in her mind’s eye.The theme was broadly speaking her “druthers”.

She had had plenty of them but now as she sifts through the past it is not regret or disappointment she feels despite all those who have let her down,had a lend ,done the dirty on her .Some had escaped justice no doubt and some would likely get their just desserts in the next life but today was about abandoning not retribution.

Jesus Christ! It suddenly comes to her attention that the situation

in the front seat has escalated beyond banter .Could that be right? What the fuck! What is Mona doing tangled up in Jims trouser front?Has she dropped something down his pants?

What is it she seems so hell bent on retrieving? Surely it could wait.Why is’nt Jim saying anything? …keep your eyes on the road for Chrissake Jim ,Jim,jesus Jim…

Jim of course is silent as the Sphinx .

Why are people so pathetic ?I dont want to end up wrapped around the trunk of a tree !

When she’d recovered from whatever she was doing Mona turned

towards the Minister with a guilty smirk on her face .The Minister could do nothing but turn a blind eye disgusted with her sister but somehow secretly complicit.It reminded her of a time when Teddy would beg for her forgiveness after he’d been a very very bad dog.

Before long they arrived at Scone. Instead of heading out to the homestead Jim pulled up outside the catholic church Saint Monicas.

It looked like a service of some kind was about to begin.Locals were filing into the church dressed in their sunday best that made them look ill at ease . A few men loitered out the front smoking ,their heads down cast thinking about death and rain and market prices ,the eternal preoccupations of countryfolk.

Suddenly somehow they were at the foot of the altar. Jim and Mona were seated in the front pews,her sisters and

husbands and kids ,all the crew from Mollymook were somehow deployed around them .

What is this she thought, a bit perplexed. She looks across to Jim for some clue but his eyes are downcast like everyone else’s.

No clues there

God ! what is it with some people ,never there when you need’em

A hymn strikes up from a choir behind as the priest enters from the side and mounts the pulpit.

“this looks like a bit of fun.”

He begins in the customary solemn tone “We are gathered here today…. ”

The Minister looks back at the pews left and right and sees familiar faces ,some local shopkeepers, sons of farmers and their wives, her school buddies from primary school days ,some mates from boarding school and among her Melbourne associates Kev Hanky and Pat Casey and Lib (“good ol’ bottled sunshine ‘ as George from the Monty used to call her).

Lib glances up briefly and seems about to offer one of her life affirming aphorisms but no Lib ,not here ,not now ,not a good idea her inner voice restrains her natural enthusiasm.

And at the back Jackie the blackfella and his family sit looking a bit perplexed too in this solemn place of whitefella dreaming and celebration . He too feels a natural urge to whoop and dance but curbs it.

People start to speak ,to reminisce ,to eulogise

…loyal confidante ….always ready to lend a hand, have a go…. champion of the under dog…

hmmmm sounds about right

…we shall not see the likes of her again .

well thats true.

For a moment it even sounds like they might be speaking about her.

And then finally the priest approaches the coffin and says the fateful words

“Into your hands ….”

It was only then that she knew that it was a funeral and she the Minister for No Fun was its subject.

She seems to hover now above the congregation then above the town. She can see the farm in all its minute detail .

Before long she is so high that below her the whole tapestry of her life seems to unfurl before her all at once.It’s a sobering vision ,a tale of small things and daily effort.

At last she sees in one blinding apparition what the Minister for No Fun,s life has amounted to ,something which had eluded her until now.

She sees in an instant that nothing would change. That nothing had ever been any different.

That in some way all she had ever done was to push the river in order to change it in some way for the better and now she saw the utter futility of that task.

She had spent her life attempting to adjust the weather,wrestling with clouds but now drifting above them she saw that the sun was shining as it always does and has always done.

Mona gave Jim a wink across the pew that said ‘you owe me one sport ’and it looked like the front seat wrestle on the way up was to be reciprocated in some way. Kev couldn’t wait to get out and down to the pub for a celebratory ale ,one being too many and ten not enough, the first shout on him the rest on whomever was mug enough to play along.

Lib was there, looking a little crestfallen but ready to turn on her ‘

“come in spinner ”grin as soon as the first round of drinks was called.

And the two Minnies ,what were they doing in the church ? Surely dogs were not allowed.

Surely both Jim and E Rowling knew better than to bring a canine however cherished into a place of worship .

She wanted to point the finger of scorn at them and caution them to behave commanding them by the gruffness in her voice but she couldn’t.

She realised she had no voice ,no power in her body and then (no will ,no voice no power which meant she couldn’t do anything ) that’s really when the Minister for No Fun knew she was gone,offed ,disappeared, dead in the water, yesterday’s bread.

Outside it began to rain.A goanna slithered across the slippery steps of the Church entrance as the congregation emerged.

Jackie had ducked out ahead of them and was busily coaxing smoke from a fistful of gum leaves he had set alight on a piece of bark stripped from a nearby tree.

The smoke wafted over them ancient and ceremonial.The priest grimaced and coughed as it stuck in his craw swatting it away like a plague of flies on a stinking hot day as he emerged from the church.

The cortege began its slow procession to the cemetery ,the car lights on full beam though it was the middle of the day out of respect.

A CFA truck pulled up alerted by a civic minded member of the public about a possible grass fire in the vicinity but the driver as it turned out an old beau of the Ministers took the false alarm in good spirits and after some discussion led the way red light flashing and bells ringing to the graveside.

The head stone already in place read:

The last resting place of The Minister for No Fun and her loyal companion Teddy.

A flock of black cockatoos rose up screeching and wheeling overhead and flew off into the distance.

The two Minnies looked at each other. God knows what they thought but whatever it was they remained respectfully silent during the vigil.

But you can be sure that afterwards they took a private moment or two to do what dogs do, just like old times ,out of habit or instinct perhaps , an act of peristalsis( not on the coffin but respectfully off to the side )in honour of the Minister for No Fun .A final gesture of affection for their beloved mistress who had reached the end of the road.