Well - it must be 10 O'Clock somewhere!!!

Many of my friends and family knew that this was the catch cry from my father on almost all of our outings on the boat, or boats should I say.
Dad loved being on the water, he was a shocking swimmer having spent most of his school life in Warwick, although each holidays was spent at his family's beach house at the Gold Coast near where Labrador is situated. 

He would never go down into the surf as a child and would only venture in when his mother (Granny Nutting) would threaten him that if he DID go into the water that she would scold him. As a child who always liked to challenge his mother he would do just that, and head down for a swim "I'll show her I bet he thought".... Shows that cunningness went through the Nutting blood.

So ultimately this was probably the only reason why he was able to keep his head above water, that and doing his time in the navy during WW2 protecting the heavily shark infested waters of the Arafura Sea north of Darwin.   

Anyway as long as I can recall Dad always owned a boat, Harmony was the first that I can remember as a child but also recall Sea Wife from footage he would take on his old Super 8 camera which was very state of the art. My real time started on the water with Bounty (named after Bligh's famous vessel) she was a high speed Bertram and could get from A to B in rapid speed and zero comfort if you didn't like a rough, bouncy ride. Next came Gee Whiz a 38 ft ex air-force patrol boat and lastly San Suri a 46ft semi Morton Bay cruiser that most of my friends school, softball, nursing etc have been on. She had sleek lines slept 6 comfortably and another 6 party goers without too much trouble which was often the case.

Many of my birthdays I would request a trip on the Bay as a way to spend my party and where we would go would depend on the weather of the day. Sometimes we would go the the "Sand dunes" of Morton then to Tangalooma for a smorgasbord  other times we would go behind the wrecks on Morton to scramble over and swim around them. Always involved fishing at some stage where many young girls can recall their first catch of whiting. 

It also always involved the consumption of alcohol! Quite often Dad  would kick off with a "Morton Bay Porridge"  which is a combination of Bundaberg rum and condensed milk that would be sipped whilst cleaning down the grime resting on the decks spewed out from the trucks, cars and buses that motored along Kingsford Smith Drive 24/7, washing off the flotsam and jetsam along the gunnels, getting the engine running, radioing into the morning Skid to tell them of our journey and ultimately giving the girl the spring clean that showed her beauty.

San Suri would set out at 8:30 am on those beautiful Brisbane winter mornings filled with young men and women all excited about a day on the Bay and as we would exit the mouth of the river and peek the bow into the waters of Morton Bay I would hear those familiar words "Well, it must be 10 O'Clock somewhere"!! Turning around I would see the big cheesy smile of my fathers as he would head towards the galley," take the wheel" he would say "I'm off to sort things out".  Ten minutes later Dad would emerge with a jug filled to the brim with Pimms #1, lemonade, ginger ale, slices of orange, lemon and of course the final necessary ingredient - the slice of cucumber.

How Pimms poured into the famous black and red striped Gusine tumblers went down a treat! That really started the day and - well - kept it going... beers, champers, wine, and for the home cruise out came the Bundy and coke. Don't get me wrong it wasn't a trip that was ALL about booze but it was a trip that included it in constant doses. Memories of most of us crammed along the bow of the boat, feet dangling over the side trying to touch the crest of each deep blue wave as we would ride down them on the following seas making our way home. With eyes peeled to see if we could glimpse a pod of dolphins that may have wanted to share our swells.

As the sun would cast the long shadows of the Breakfast Creek bridge into that green-blue creek we would get the tenders ready and the mooring of the boat would commence. Sometimes this would be

a mammoth effort if the tide was against us as Dad would have to turn San Suri around in a small space of water with the current pushing us away from the jetty and not towards. He always managed to solve this issue and the mooring would be as soft and steady as a mother stroking her child to sleep. We would tie her up, clean her down and secure all parts of this magnificent vessel to await her next voyage, everyone slightly sun burnt, wind blown and happy for the day.

Having completed the final procedure our eyes would turn to the hallowed halls of The Brekkie Creek Pub where we could smell their famous steaks sizzling on the grills and off we would go for a massive T-bone and the proverbial "roadie" in the days that you could actually get away with that much booze and driving. Looking back on those jolly days and the memories that they invoke, it seems yet again facilitated by Dad and his catch phase that I still hear from many a friend today - "Well - it must be 10 O'Clock somewhere" ;-) .....

What do you give someone who has everything???

I know that this is digressing a touch but worth a small article on. When Dad hit the ripe old age of 80 he decided to have a very large get together of all those that he felt close to. Which meant that the venue had to be large enough to take all those who actually felt honored enough to attend. So 100+ enjoyed a magnificent afternoon of wine, food and speeches (ugh) at Royal Queensland Golf Club.

A year or two passed with each year getting harder and harder to find that something special to give him. He always said "please don't get me anything" Mum would say "hankies or a scratchy will be fine" but he was amassing a handkerchief tower that Mallory couldn't have climbed over and I hate buying gifts of luck! I finally came up with the perfect gift..... Something that almost all men would appreciate.... not too costly but always memorable. 

Wine, women and song (well chocolate petite fours actually). Dad has always loved to be both in the presence of pretty women and loved to spoil them. Four years ago I called my great girlfriends Debbie, Elizabeth (Lob), Tracey and Janet and asked if they would mind joining me in surprising Dad for a few hours on the evening of his birthday to help celebrate yet another year on this planet.

"Yes" was the reply and so still a secret I arrived a little before 6:00 to say "Happy Birthday" to him. "Dad I have a present for you but it's not here yet "- the front gate buzzed, "oh here it is now", and with that a gaggle of gorgeous girls entered the house with Moet, tulips, fine chocolates from the boutique store in the city and enough energy to light up a small country township.

Tracey, Deb, Dad, Lob and Janet

Both Mum and Dad sat in surprised silence followed by Dad breaking into his big gummy grin that filled the room with an excited eagerness of one who really didn't have a clue about a surprise party." Glasses, we must get the champagne flutes" and "you really shouldn't have", and "what a wonderful present". Mum standing and getting a vase for the flowers that would sit in prime position on the kitchen ledge to catch the morning sun. Hugs all round and the chatter of women discussing what they are doing with their lives now, who is married to whom, how old are the children, what holiday's has Dad planned for that year, what car did he have now and when was he planning to "model up".

Deb, Dad, Lob, Janet and Moi 

It feels like yesterday that we stood together there in that kitchen like one big extended family sharing all the memories whilst Dad would be refilling flutes with the champagne which would merrily bubble in our glasses as if responding to the atmosphere in the home. A tradition was born.

Not always all of the girls could be in attendance but would always give their best wishes to be passed on. Deb, Lob, Janet and I had always managed and we would travel round Brisbane to maintain the birthday ritual. One year we had to steal our way into St Andrew's War Memorial Hospital boldly parading the champagne and cake. As all of us were ex-Registered Nurses we knew the ropes, if you could find that ONE cool nurse on the shift then you could get away with almost anything. Next thing we had make-shift wine glasses.plates, forks for the cake and one very happy father who was nursing fractured ribs and a sorely bruised back from falling down a huge number of steps exiting from the Brett's timber yards near the golf club.

31st of May this year was Dad's 87th birthday and we all embarked on the sojourn to Mum and Dad's place. This time we had savories to nibble on many thanks to Deb, Vintage Moet courtesy of Lob, of course a second bottle of French had to be opened on such a special occasion. Janet brought the bouquet of flowers that Mum again found prize place on the kitchen ledge and "little Tracey Gillinder" bought oodles of memories up with Dad regarding the time she worked in after sales at Mercedes Benz . 

We all knew that Dad was struggling by this stage, as the post radiation side effects had made his speech a little challenging. But the more he drank the easier it became to hear and understand him. Maybe our ears were all tuned into the alcohol or maybe the bubbles in that exquisite nectar picked up on the loving energy within the atmosphere and helped us de-code Bill Nutting's speech for his last birthday hoorah??

Traditions start for any number of reasons, many well planned and executed, others whimsical yet maintaining an impetus that keeps the event rolling like that perverbial stone that collects no moss. I am not quite sure what caused a group of girls 30+ years younger than the birthday boy to decide to share his precious day but I am very, very glad of it. 

A tradition which is sadly now at an end...

Life for me equates to an EverReady battery!

Quite a long time ago, I was talking to a dear friend of mine about life in general. We have been great friends since I first arrived into my new primary school when my parents moved from the South side of Brisbane to the North side. Grade 4 came and into my life so did Janet C! The hip term is "BFF" or "besties" but we have been that for 40+ years. 

Janet C "BFF"

She has known my father as I have known hers, since we were 8 years old. The Eulogy at Dad's "Ceremony of Life" was given by people that our family respected in which they recounted tales from four different annuls of his life and included many, many memories of things that would now be frowned upon. One such reference regarded him driving a group of young girls to a venue for a birthday party... my party! Five innocent 10 year old girls from St Margaret's  squeezed into the back of a "Pontiac", Dad behind the wheel and driving at a speed that he loved but probably not one that my older sister in the front seat applauded. 

We approached one of Brisbane's first round-abouts, which retrospectively was more like a swerve in the road, Dad slowed slightly on entry and managed to spin said Pontiac a full 360o! "Impossible" he said, "ridiculous" he mumbled and to prove a point that it could never happen again he retraced his steps and drove the car back up the road to prove to us all how it should be done. 

Sister Penny sweating in the front seat, he took off to demonstrate that his American Cadillac was made of sterner stuff and this kind of automotive behaviour was not going to happen again, especially as he was such an experienced driver. We hit the same part of the road at the same speed with the same sister in the front now showing signs of apoplexy and all of us still giggling in the back seat. WHEEEEEE as we spun again the full 360o ...... Sister now in complete silence, Father furious with the Qld road system and five little girls thinking this was all inclusive of the party frolics, we headed to the final destination and I am pretty certain that none of the birthday invitees mentioned anything at all to their parents' and nor did Dad. 

When we left St Augustine's Church for Royal Queensland Golf Club where his Wake took place Janet said - "I was in that car and remember the whole thing". Funny how little memories travel with you for your whole life and manage to get passed down the line to others.

Missing Felicity who was taking the photo and Bill who would have been
hiding somewhere

Back to the chat with Janet and sitting together at one of Brisbane's many cafe's sipping Flat White's discussing this intermingled life we share. We were talking about our parents and how when we were young thought that they were bullet-proof (it now seems looking back that our parents believed that too), and at some stage in life we look at them again and re-appraise our points of view. 

Mum and Dad had moved from Hillside Crescent to Sykes Street Hamilton before he had his first "turn", Janet and I had written our initials in the newly wet cement pathway directly out front of this family home which was something that no-one was happy with including the council workers who had to repair the vandalism. Janet said "how are your Mum and Dad?" to which I would normally say "good" or "the usual" or "cranky as ever". This time however I had a slight sea change in the way I looked at someone I never thought would leave us. 

The house on the hill at Sykes Street, Albion

"Janet, I thought that Dad would always be an EverReady battery - bright, strong and that he would just simply go on and on forever, but lately I am concerned that he may have morphed into a normal, slightly less than perfect alkaline cell, you know the one that has lost a little of it's shine." What I was worried about was the time when he would eventually change from that dependable but slightly tainted type of battery to the "Black and Gold" variety. You wake up one day and realize that your father has a "use by date" he is a little slower and you know in your heart that some day hopefully not to soon unlike like the battery, he will simply just stop working...  

Dad and my last journey together - over a few posts!

This isn't an easy post to write and I have been thinking about it for about two weeks now. It has been three weeks today since I sat with my Dad, stroking his head, watching as a mother does to a child, as he lay in a semi-comatosed state. Breathing which during the day had been more like gasping and distressing was now becoming easier, each breath a little shallower, further apart but with no effort. Dad was finally comfortable! And I knew that this would be the last time we would be together, just the two of us, and to make him comfortable was all I could do for him. I sat and talked to him trying to re-assure that I was there while he took his final breath.

Let me go back a little so that I can give value to a man who managed to touch so many lives... 

Many of you remember that earlier this year, during my morning run, I tripped and broke my wrist. This was at the same time as Dad was in hospital having had radiation treatment to a couple of tumors on his brain. We decided that if he was up to it then we would takeoff to visit the cousins down in Central New South Wales. That proved to be a fantastic journey which if I hadn't had my fall would never have happened, and that "road trip" to Mudgee with my father was one that gave us both the opportunity to re-kindle a bond both as father daughter and also as close friends.

 We had never spent time together at length as I have always been too busy raising 3 kids mostly as a single parent. Working as either a registered nurse with shocking shifts, or a poverty stricken aerobic instructor, and finally having my own business as a Remedial Therapist (and we all know the hours "on tools" when you own your own). The fall was a blessing in disguise as that week in April gave a bond that we both cherished and one that I will take to my grave. 

Well in my latest MRI we found a cyst on a bone in my wrist and cartilage still torn so I decided to sort it out for good! I went in for  surgery on the 27th of June to have an Ulna Osteotomy and tidy up. The next few weeks were supposed to be time to heal and allow my wrist to finally mend. What it turned out to be however was yet another journey with Dad, but this one locally in St Andrew's War Memorial Hospital and not with an ending that any of us expected!!! 

But more to come....