You can’t expect too much from two braindead brickheads – 2nd November 1994

Pic: Lawnsmell at Phantom Records 1997

These entries are a bit less frequent for two reasons, two opposite reasons. First is that we’re pretty damn busy doing crucial things like sorting our lives out! Second is that we’re not doing much, like in particular, like nothing really worth writing about. Occasionally, I’ll think of things that would be cool to write but it’s usually at a time when I don’t get chance to write it down and my memory, better it is getting, but it’s so jam packed with things, new things, new learning processes, that I inevitably don’t remember.

Something I do remember though is going to sleep a couple of nights ago, there was a big thunder storm, Libby came over with Reg and Gough, we walked them back up to the railway station and stood at the park, on the hill, waiting for the train and watched the huge swirling masses of grey thick air meeting with the light delicate coastal air and the clouds made faces like the gods that were controlling them, all this happening right within our eyesight about a mile away, great shots of lightning burst across the sky or down to the ground in a spectacular style, big drops of rain fell but only a few lonely globs of wet, it did rain hard after we got in and the fireworks had finished, though about an hour later another rip of darkness came over with some more shorter bursts of fire. It fell dark and the air smelt dank and musty and powerful.

So after all this and later when we was dropping off into that land of madness, it was deadly silent, no wind rushing through the huge gums outside our window, no bow and creek of the wood in the sway and no footsteps and no cars, no airplanes coming into land, no goods trains running through the station, no sound and I started to wonder if outside was still there and if it still existed and where it may have gone, I wondered if the hall outside the bedroom door was still there, if we were trapped inside this room like a strange Tardis, where would we wake, hmm I fell asleep soon and forgot about it until now.

And today has been a good day, with the pursuit of information about a college type course in computing, a mad fuckin’ Englishman gave us details in his own peculiar manner, he couldn’t stop his mouth and couldn’t stop his brain, listening to all the conversations going on around him and putting in his own two-penneth worth, interrupting his conversation with us or whoever he was talking to, he was keeping three of us going at once on the counter at the information desk, mad chatterbox, organiser, know all, friendly type weirdo, we ran out and laughed our heads off.

From there I went to the city to introduce myself to a guy called Joolz, or maybe Jules, or I guess even Jewels, who runs the record shop Phantom Records, and he was a sound bloke with lots of interesting stories and information and I asked him to let me know if there was any openings in the shop in the future.

You know there was lots of other stuff in between like walking through the city and getting on the train and stuff but it’s starting to feel a lot more normal to me now and not worth mentioning, like I would never used to write about work because even though it was half interesting to me when I was there, like the internal politics, it’s not something I’d want to look back on in years to come and think about for a second time, it would be cool if i can get into some job that is interesting to write about and remember in my twilight, here’s hoping. (or maybe I’ll just do some job that earns me enough money to take the time to go off and do interesting things -ha ha the catch 22 of life and work).

And yesterday I sat and read a book from start to finish, man, lazy old day, cool, man.

Your senses are bombarded by the roaring that you hear – 20th October 1994

Last night we drove back from Bathurst, over the beautiful mountains, unfortunately covered in a dense fog, scary for me to drive through, up those tight turn tracks with ten ton trucks overtaking in their haste and knowledge of the roads (poor little scared foreigner I am) straight into the city like an arrow from the mountains.

We quickly stop off at the flat to dump a car full of Broni’s stuff (more clothes, workbooks and electric piano(yeh, brush her up on her ivory work because she’s great when she gets her act together on the piano)) and then we’re off again, we don’t ever stop, to Marrickville for a family and friends meeting on mental illness.

Broni’s brother G_ suffers from schizophrenia, he was there with his elder triplet brother C_. (the triplets, C_ is the one who made good, so to speak, and has a job, wife and five kids, A_, the middle trip started the mega famous band Icehouse and could be described as on the rock and roll journey of experience and has been known to go off the rails from time to time, married and divorced and a child by someone else and then there’s G_, born tiny and recognisable in boyhood photos as the not so happy chappie, now 37 and coping with his illness)

For someone who sometimes loses control he’s quite together and the meeting tonight helped me understand a little bit about mental illness plus I get to see a bit more of G_, like all the rest of the brothers and sisters of this Smith generation are fairly simple to work out, you know where they are coming from, G_ needs a bit more time to consider.

So, the meeting’s cool and there’s more to be covered over the next three Wednesdays, so we promise to go to them for our own interest as much as for G_’s comfort. We give G_ a lift home, not far up the road and drop C_ off at the train station but we end up driving him all the way up the north of the city home cos hell, we feel like it and he promises us some food and drink, something we’ve forgotten in our long day.

We drive for miles and miles eventually reaching his place, where the promised goods are delivered, we also pick up Broni’s piano music which their kids had been using while Broni had been in England, so after this short relaxing break we trek back across the city, on the harbour bridge at midnight, wow what a sight, the city’s lights tiny beacons of life, parties happening, people working late, lights for no good reason, and then we get lost and then we get found and then we get home and get ourselves tucked up in the security of our luxurious double bed, spoonlike.

We get up early to take the hire car back, which we do with no hassle and stop off for breakfast in a beautiful vibrant but secluded cafe. The waiter is a charmer, sweet french accent, soft tone, looks intelligent and moody, the waitress, his girlfriend or wife, beautifully sexy, all in black, moody and sultry, they’re both running around like crazy at this crazy hour of the morning, their french friends sat at the end of the cafe sneaking quick snatches of conversation. The food is delicious. Betty blue sits on the wall in posterol glory no spelling error, the very definition of France and its beauty.


A cold whisper of darkness came over me as I stood waiting for service in the post office.  Both doors were wide open as normal, outside blue sky and sunshine. When I’d finished and stepped outside onto the wide clean sidewalk I saw the reason for my cold shudder. Up in the heavens something was a-brewing. The sky had divided into two, one side bright blue the other a steely grey, like the rumbling of oncoming evil and bad tidings, a low bubbling cloud so unlike the beautiful clear sky that it was now taking over.

The building on the left is the 24 hour pub, conveniently located opposite the station and usually occupied when I was catching the train at 7am.

I ran home excited and at the turn at the top of the street I saw out into the distance the enormity of the storm as it came in across the ocean. As my eyes flicked across the long horizon a bolt of lightning shot down to earth about a mile away. The wind was whipping the tall eucalyptus trees into a frenzy of excited rustling noise, deafening the low mellow tone of thunder in the distance.

Blue circle – our apartment was around here.
Red circle – the 24 hour pub

Botany Bay is directly south just a couple more blocks

I dragged Broni out to see, she’d promised me storms and here they were, and we ran back up the street, over the road and up to the train station for a better view. Things were now very grey, but still visible a line across the sky where this storm was invading our beloved sunshine.  Cracks of thunder and shots of lightning whizzed around in the distance as gradually the drops of rain became harder, heavier and more numerous. We stood in the eye of the storm, getting wet in the delicious rain, soaking our bones and then ran home to dry off in the shelter of our flat.

This photo from the station bridge is the same spot we were observing the storm.

All photos on this page found via search.

The thunder cracks against the night, the dark explodes with a yellow light – 4th July 1994

From bad to worse. Julie turned up Thursday night/Friday morning, broken fingers and avoiding explanations. Drunk again Friday night and claiming poverty re the phone bill. And the list goes on but enough.

On Friday I took my baby and John-boy and Sarah up to Southampton to see the mighty John Otway (one-hit-wonder and star). On the way we got caught in the most magnificent thunderstorm. I had to slow down to about 30 miles an hour on the motorway due to poor visibility, the dark skies lit by sudden surging flashes as bolts came down around us. Such a beautiful feeling of refreshment in the air as we passed through.

We met Mick and Lisa, with friend Michaela and lovely puppy dog Floyd. And then laughed our socks off for an hour as Otway and pal did a manic performance of huge proportions! We grinned so much our faces hurt.

After getting back home again we stayed up and watched some comedy on TV before going to bed but my rest, and subsequently Broni’s was disturbed by my fits of uncontrollable coughing which seems to be the last remnants of my cold.

Saturday was big meal day as my sweet and I went for breakfast in Boscombe and stuffed ourselves silly before paying for our flight to Australia (no turning back now) and the sun was out for us just to let us know what it was going to be like.

Later we went Indian and, stuffed again, went down to the river near Wimborne and played on the bridge over the murky water, the light of day now gone. Home again, bed again and another night I coughed us awake.

Despite all that we got up (dragged up in my case) in cheerful mood, Broni off for a swim while John and I crash banged our way to the beach on our bikes, racing through the woods and paths of Branksome Chine. It being so nice there we thought we’d come back later with Broni and Sarah. The sun was baking, high in the hazy sky. So, racing back up paths and woods I turned and twisted and fell on a tree stump and cut my knee open just like I used to daily when I was about 5 or 6, giving me plenty of practice at scab picking. I wonder how my knees may hold out in later life.

So, Sarah came over in her open-top jeep and we took balls, food and water down to the beach, me and John hanging on in the back as people looked on in wonder. And at the beach Broni took it easy, coming down with tonsillitis and tiredness (and did I mention the mouth ulcers, big as Moon craters). John and I ran into the water and played ball, I surprised myself by actually enjoying being in the water and was reluctant to leave later. Sarah waded in a bit but understandably wasn’t too keen on getting soaked all over (as we were). Me and John played for ages, throwing, heading, skimming, passing all manner of balls from then I felt like Superman, spurred on by John’s manic activity.

Back in the jeep and home, Broni fell asleep as I watched football (Sweden beat Saudi Arabia 3-1, a good game too). Then, after some munch, John and I went to play football tennis at his friend Lauren’s. Despite the cloudy mist, we sweated buckets in the evening’s still. Then back for more football (Romania brilliantly beating Argentina 3-2) as Broni fell back to sleep, then me following until some early hour, us both awake again with my worst fit of coughing so far.

Today Broni’s off work at my request (she was not well enough, despite her protests and I think she’s welcome of it too really) Well, during today I got a bit better as rain started to tipple down but now the sun’s back out and the oppressive atmosphere is claustrophobic on my chest. I’m looking forward to getting back down the beach again sometime despite it knackering me out today.

Due to circumstances, it looks like I’ll be doing some more driving at work which is cool with me – I gets chance to write this! Found out Kerry smashed her face surfing on the weekend, poor girl, losing part of her front tooth and tonight we go to celebrate the last day of her diet in which she lost three stone and looks much better (in herself) for it. Of course, I’ll be there coughing up my guts, Broni with sore throat and ulcers and Kerry, a-bruised – sounds like a good reason to party to me! This, after we watched Ireland play Holland to stay in the World Cup.