Of Friends and Family

Last week saw the Tullochs back in the car and heading to the old home town of Adelaide. Those from Adelaide get a little antsy when you call the place a town, but it is a welcome relief coming from a city four times the size. So, Adelaide dwellers, please realise that, I call it a town with fondness, not derision.

A 43 degree heat in Melbourne, 45 on the Wimmera and 44 in Adelaide, made for a long, warm trip for the Commodore. Built for practicality in Oz, rather than the fancy trimmings of some other brands, it is no wonder the Commode (as we like to call it) is an Aussie's best friend on the road. We sat in the airconditioning, oblivious almost the entire trip, except for pee and petrol breaks.

Adelaide has that warm (actually very warm, as the heat lasted for another three days) feeling as you drive down through the Heysen Tunnels. Then along Portrush Road, narrowly skirting foothills (by a suburb or two) and enjoying the early 20th Century architecture that the beautiful people of Adelaide roll into huge mortgages. Adelaide feels like an old friend to me. Even though I ignore her most of the year, Adelaide welcomes me anyway, with her familiar streets and quieter lifestyle. Nowhere is this more evident than in the North Eastern foothills, where I grew up. We stay at The Blue Gums Hotel in Fairwiew Park and the staff tend us with easygoing friendliness and an attitude that makes us feel nothing is too much trouble.

Brian, an old school buddy of mine, and I used to work out at the gym next to the pub and would occasionally treat ourselves to a quiet ale afterwards. It feels like home and is only 10 minutes away from both my two old homes, and the unit my Mum lives in now. In fact Brian is about the same distance away, and I know he and his family would welcome us if we called, but where do you find the time?

Believe it or not, a week is a very short space of time, even when you have small families like ours, and many friends are not seen for years. I feel for the Italian and Greek Australians when they return to their Mediterranean homes; their feet must never touch the ground. Our parents are our top priority and sometimes even family misses out. Four of my family will have to wait for another time.

Every year I try to catch up with some old friends somehow, and my oldest friend Craig (chronologically, not age-wise) often makes the effort to keep in touch with many of us from school. He is generally first on the list if we have the time to spare.

If you regularly read my blog you know my brother and I have a 'boys day out' whenever we can. With a tight schedule I squeezed the two into one and we visited my friend Craig at his home/shop for a bit of boys' time. At this point I should let you know that Craig has an Aladdin's cave (if Aladdin was an aircraft nut) of aviation and military books, models, and paraphernalias. Craig was kind enough to open his shop, Aerowerks, for us, even though he is on his Christmas break. There is a kind of selfish magic about being the only ones allowed somewhere, and my brother and I trawled up and down the aisles filled with countless boxes of kits and books (I'm glad I don't have to do the stocktake at Aerowerks).

The Tullochs managed to catch up with another friend of the same era, Michael (and his gorgeous wife and wonderful mum) but that was it, others were left out of the loop. Like Craig, Michael and I became firm friends in our first year of high school. Unlike Craig, Michael and I fell out of contact soon after we left school. This was my fault rather than Michael's and it was only by chance that, about five years ago that I came into contact with Brian, Craig and Michael; all in a month.

Craig, being much more nostalgic, and far better organised than myself, called me about a school reunion. I hate these things with a vengeance, but I was to be in Adelaide for a wedding and could hardly pass up the opportunity of catching up with some of the old crowd. I rang Michael, via his father and managed to catch him packing for London. The reunion was out for him, but we kept in touch elecronically, and now both our families keep in contact (I correspond more with Michael's Mum on Facebook than I do with him).

At school we had a reasonably loose friend core of some nine boys (although Michael moved in the first year). Some of these people I hadn't seen for over 20 years, even though most of them still lived in Adelaide.

The reunion loomed as the wedding passed and I was on my way to my parent's house to change. It was then I realised I was running late and decided to go straight to the reunion, complete with a claret coloured vest and matching dickie bow tie. It had been cold that day and I remembered I had donned a white T-Shirt underneath. Thinking it a bit off to show this through an open-necked shirt I left the tie on. When I got to the reunion I found Craig wearing a pink casual shirt. Let me say, we looked well suited for each other.

In the midst of a 30-40 something crowd I looked hard for a familiar face (actually a friendly one would have sufficed). Even with the addition of nametags I only saw one other person I could recognise. I really mean that. With the exception of this one bloke from our year level, the others may as well have been ancient Hebrews or Mayans. I did not recollect any other face in the building. Obviously Craig and I stuck together pretty well, yelling into each other's ears over the music.

They say that people's clothes say a lot about them. I think ours, combined with our close proximity yelled "GAY, GAY. STAY AWAY!" It was, as I had feared, a slow death of snubbing and boredom. By 9:00PM we had decided to ring Brian and have our own reunion, ten minutes away at his place. I met his boys for the first time and caught up with his lovely wife after many years (about 12 years face-to-face). You will find it hard to believe that, Brian was one of my groomsmen (the other I haven't seen for probably 20 years) and I his best man.

I suppose inevitably, we all go our separate ways and even those that still live within an hour's drive of each other rarely catch up. Out of the original crowd we have (I think) a builder, a trainer, an engineer, a linesman, a technician, a sole trader, a writer, a marine archeologist, and the ninth I have no idea. Our past is getting further away and our families are those most important to us (or at least it is that way for me). We have Facebook I suppose and I keep in loose contact with about 4 of the original friends this way. But the next trip to Adelaide sees us with a family 18th, 21st and 80th, possibly all crammed into one weekend. Friends will need to wait, yet again.

Maybe we'll have a friends' reunion in 2011 and I'll wear my claret coloured vest and dickie bow tie.