restoration

Friday morning.  Melbourne.  Southern Cross railway station.

A train that looks suspiciously like an old British Rail 125 waits at the platform.

Breakfast is bought, coffee is drunk and we are off.  Destination (for me): Wagga Wagga.  Ian was on his way back to Sydney, a full 12 hours on Ivor’s big brother.

One thing that had struck me wandering around Melbourne – it didn’t feel like a city of 3.5 million people.  It felt a little like Edinburgh.  A reasonably small, compact city centre that’s a dichotomy of the old and the new, bursting with cultural pride despite the suspicion that there was a little seediness just around the corner.

The train out of the city changed my perception.  Endless suburbs, rail yards, industrial precincts rolled by, until we burst out into, well, the brown countryside.  Then there was some more brown countryside.  A brief respite for the occasional town then some more brown countryside.  I had been warned that Australia didn’t have a lot of locally diverse geography, though it is punctuated by some moments of serene beauty, but was surprised none the less.

We rolled into Wagga Wagga and a knot of excitement grew in my stomach.  I was there to visit David & Jennifer Read and their-now-very-extended family, who I hadn’t seen for 18 years.  They left Edinburgh in 1990 after a three-year stint, taking new born son James home with them.  Over the years I’ve had updates through my own folks but truly never imagined I would see them again.

Then Mum & Dad came to Oz in early 2007, mainly to see the Reads en route for New Zealand, and the photos, memories and stories lead me to see that there was no way I could plan my own trip to Australia without a detour to Wagga Wagga (pronounced wogga wogga not waagga waagga).

Stepping off the train, my eyes peered through the crowed platform searching for any members of the Read family.  Just as a fellow passenger stepped aside, I saw someone sitting on a bench turn their head and look straight at me.  It was Jennifer.  Sitting next to her was a striking looking young man, this was James, a little bigger than the last time I had seen him.  The surprise of the reunion was not just my own, as I’m sure I’ve changed a little from the awkward and shy 15-year old that Jennifer remembered.

For the rest of the weekend, I managed to simultaneously catch up on 18 missed years of life and get to know the children: James, William, Elizabeth, Andrew and Catherine.  All each distinct personalities, yet fascinating to see elements of their parents flowing through.

James has just finished his HSC – Australian equivalent to A Levels/Highers – and was experiencing the joy of release and freedom, yet being pragmatic about his next step. William is a complex character, but shows all the signs of having the kind of depth associated with the voice of James Earl Jones.  Elizabeth is the delicate flower, poised to break hearts in the years to come, finding her own song as the middle child.  Andrew the part-hyperactive, part-sloth like, 8 year old, happy to play and happy to find his own amusement, a creative spark awaits.  Catherine, the youngest at 6, a cheerful soul, full of fun and joy, yet poised at the fork in the road between dependence and independence.

They’ve bought a new house recently.  When I say new house, what I mean is they have acquired a ramshackle, labyrinth of a building, the greatest fulfilment of the phrase “needs renovation”.  The desire is to create a place of gathering and welcoming, where people in need can come and just be.  I can confirm that this ethos already pervades the home, providing me with rest and relaxation.  No great desire to see the sights and rush around, just to “be” for a while.

My family got to know the Reads while they were in Edinburgh through a mutual connection to St Martin of Tours Episcopal Church in Gorgie.  The years that have passed have dimmed the memory of the strong people of God that they are.  I was inspired, challenged and cheered during my time in Wagga; more than I have been in some time.  Maybe this was the beginning of my own rediscovery of fervour, considered absent while work stress has been the first thing I think about in the morning, and the last thing on my mind at night.  This was not what I expected from a couple of days in deepest, rural, New South Wales.

Thanks David, Jennifer, James, William, Elizabeth, Andrew, Catherine and the menagerie of dogs, rabbits and geese.  I loved seeing you, sharing life with you and being with you.  My only regret is that it was too short, so I’ll need to come back.