This life of camping out. ( Autobiography)

The moving about, even just in the mind can be unsettling. Ten days in Bali, ok, let’s move there. Two days at the Eco-village in Queensland, lets go! No wonder my Helvi is getting nervous. “You will still take your own with you. The black curmudgeon sits on your shoulder night and day”, she says.  “People know that,  they can see it,”  is added for extra impact.  The dream of living in like-wise communities is what plagued me since birth.  And that’s how it goes. The attraction of living somewhere were low impact on nature is shared within a community, does pull. That’s apart from the bonus of a ban on fences, especially colour-bond fences, and  electricity burning air conditioning.

It is true that the social skills of easy laughter and merrymaking in company of others is wanting. A demeanour of a seriously looking  man exudes around, and leaps in front like a warning, well before actually meeting.  It can’t be helped, even when wearing my partial dentures.  However, lately I do go around smiling more which helps, but only in combination when walking with our Jack Russell ‘Milo’. I got a smile back last Tuesday at Aldi’s tying up Milo at the trolley bay. I saw her again inside the shop as she was bending over the carrots next to the capsicums. My H is the opposite. She has a Mona Lisa smile. It comes naturally. She feels the smile. People often talk to her which I envy. She draws in people. I seem to repel but am working on it. It is never too late and I can still climb stairs two steps at a time. That has to be worth something.

With the autobiography or memoirs if you prefer, it seems to have stalled. The moving about has rippled into the consciousness of everyday living. The living in a town- house  of seven others in the compound is magnifying the stark differences between communal design and the exclusive or excluding design where privacy dominates.  People might peer from behind the blinds. Perhaps not even that! A garage door rolls up but the owner is already in the car. We can’t see him as he drives off.

In Eco-village last week we saw people moving about inside their houses. There was proof of life. Some were working in the garden. Children were running about. Kangaroos were lulling about sunning themselves on grass with the black water-hens picking morsels out of the compost bins. A man with binoculars was trying to spot birds. He had lost his wife some time back but he had not given up. He recorded all birds and had bought cameras to photograph whatever he felt like photographing. He was happy.

You know that at the age of over seventy five, the egg-timer is slowly running out of sand. One is not totally without optimism. My mother was 96 when she quit. A good omen. Dad smoked but enjoyed it till the end. At his funeral and going back afterwards, my mum cleaned for the last time his ashtray. He was still alive the day before and drove his car. He hated hospitals and going to the doctor.  No sooner when he was taken to a hospital, he died. He died at 78 but not because of smoking. So all up. If we split the difference, ( one has to be fair) it would allow another ten years before the egg-timer would run out of sand.

I would be happy with that. So much still to smile about.

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16 Responses to “This life of camping out. ( Autobiography)”

  1. Carrie Rubin Says:

    Like you, smiles aren’t my go-to facial expression. For most introverts, they aren’t. So I, too, envy people who always have a welcoming countenance. But the world needs deep thinkers too, so I think we all have our place.

    By the way, I’m still laughing at your comment on my post. THAT got me smiling. I keep seeing noodles on theater seats. Hehe.

    Liked by 2 people

    • gerard oosterman Says:

      Years ago, when old movie theatres had upstairs balconies, a wit had tied his ice cream to a string and kept bobbing it up and down on my head sitting beneath the balcony.
      It was during a period when people smoked during the movie to their hearts content. Of course, people and the stars featured in the movie were smoking as well.
      Now the stars are often on a table (or against it) fu#@ng like rabbits.


  2. bkpyett Says:

    I wondered if the eco-village would unsettle you. Still, every place has its own advantages… 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. bkpyett Says:

    Moving is such an upheaval, sometimes it’s easier just to dream!


  4. nonsmokingladybug Says:

    I think we are well off as long as there are still things to smile about.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. kaytisweetlandrasmussen83 Says:

    I think I have been “trapped” inside my studio or at my computer for so long I may be an introvert, yet on the other hand, I think I am friendly. I like the privacy of closed doors, but when they open, I’m prepared to have a good old time. There are so many new people here and I don’t speak the language, so that can be a problem too. You and Helvi seem to balance each other, we have the same here. I think as long as people are able, it’s better to stay put. Stay vertical Gerard


    • gerard oosterman Says:

      I’ll remain upright for whatever it takes, Kayti. Even if it means not peeping over the neighbour’s fence anymore and deciding to pick up Milo’s ‘package’ on the pedestrian footpath in front of the ‘Kitchen-Cooking’ shop.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Patti Kuche Says:

    Keep smiling and climbing those stairs. Wherever you are!


  7. Andrew Says:

    Don’t move Gerard. It’s is slowly killing me. I am not an outward smiler but I do manage an occasional inward one. Or is it wind? Our clocks tick at different rates. If I got to 75 I would be both shocked and dismayed. I think 70 is plenty. The world will probably have imploded by then anyway.


  8. gerard oosterman Says:

    Yes, but the impetus to keep going sometimes fades with getting older. Now, the idea of airports and Border Control fills me with dread. Still, my ticker seems to be reasonable enough to have a final change. With H it needs more time. In fact as much time as it takes even if it means never moving. We shall see. I’ll look into the eyes of the dove, that you photographed so beautifully, for an answer.


  9. elizabeth2560 Says:

    Unfortunately my father died quite young so it lowers the average.
    However, my mother lived to 88 years, so I am aiming for that one 🙂


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