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| Mt Frankland, by Elizabeth Edmonds |
The teachermen are back in the hollow just down
the hill from my place. They convoyed in yesterday. I sit in bed reading Patti Smith and in their camp they
play Neil Diamond and Leonard Cohen and shouts go up as one of them wins a
hand. The first year they arrived here, all nine of them, Cohen had just died,
and as the strands of his Hallelujah’s drifted through the trees, I knew they
would be good people. They drink rum and beer and wine and sing a lot. They
light a campfire and lay out swags. They are kindly men; these teacher men and
they seek seven day’s healing at the inlet after a year full of teenagers and
politics. I wonder what the teacherwomen do. Maybe I'll get to go up the mountain tomorrow.
Those male bonding camping trips are a bit weird to my mind. In Britain, men just go fishing on their own to get away from the women.
ReplyDeleteThe thought of a bunch of teachers together leaves me cold, whatever the sex.
ReplyDeleteWhy so negative people? These are a lovely bunch and their sound track is great.
ReplyDeleteBecause we're tight-arsed poms.
DeleteYou’ve probably got a bit to be grumpy about at the mo.
DeleteI agree Sarah. At least they aren't playing hippy smacked-out jungle beats or thrash metal.
ReplyDeleteWe had one mob playing Bangara dance music and smoking hookahs.
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