The Noonit
Without Prejudice
The Noonit, stands on crummy foundations, I've been told, by the intrepid Engineer slash building
Inspector who came to asset inspect it, just last month. No one has been to inspect it in the nine years
I have resided in it.
" That wasn't so painful, was it ? " he asked, but it was more of a statement
I just laughed and thanked him.
I had hovered outside while he inspected, poked and prodded and photographed, skulking in the cold
damp backyard, dressed as if for the snow in trackie dacks, windcheater, a beanie, gum boots and
gloves. I looked not unlike a Yeti.
Attacking dead leaves, broken branches and dog shit with abrisk gusto I didn't really feel.
Melbourne Winters are shite. Cold beyond belief, with a wind that blows arctic cold as it sweeps in
from the Bay and originates in the South Pole. We used to have a Husky once and she loved the cold
weather, fat as she was and when she shed her Winter Coat the backyard was covered in white hair
that looked like snow.
If she escaped she would flee as if the Hounds of the Baskervilles rode on her heels and Brock would
fly out of the side door of the van like a 15 year old Batman and leap on her back, pinning the big
fatty to the ground. Trust me. It was the only Thing that would stop her.
But the rest of us hate Winter with a vengeance, that borders on the insane, and we are, all of us,
insane. Winter and Cranny, leaves us whiny and cranky, cursed with Cabin Fever, Winter Blues.
S.A.D. Seasonal Affected Disorder. And gives us all the Shits.
Cranny or Cranbourne or now the more Posh, Cranbourne East lies in lowlands. Wet boggy, foggy
lowlands, that are interminably dank and cold, the ground steel blue freezing and rock hard in Winter
and splits open in Summer like over ripe fruit. I have literally stuffed fruit and veggies in to the soil in
the backyard when I first came here. I had heard that it would enrich the soil and stop the splitting. I
await results.
" So why is the unit leaning?" I asked of the diligent Engineer, Peter.
" Looks like the foundations were never put in properly in the first place " he answered.
I know that the foundations are what they call " floating " . That because the units are moveable.
Mines, mine for life and can be relocated to anywhere in Victoria free of charge to the Tenant. I
should move it to Swan Hill, Albury or Upper Kumbuttcha. Somewhere warmer.
But my grandkids live here.
And I mean literally.
I live behind one daughter, who has eight kids. Seven boys and now a girl
Thank God the girl came along As now she might stop.
Not all the boys live at home any more. The four oldest have jobs, cars, girlfriends. Kids.
I cried when they left now I cry when they arrive, only joking, but " little kids. Little problems.Big kids, Big problems." Every Mother, Grandmother knows this.
I heard of a Woman the other day that was 89 and still had hopes her Son of 63 would still come
good.
.
The Noonit, stands on crummy foundations, I've been told, by the intrepid Engineer slash building
Inspector who came to asset inspect it, just last month. No one has been to inspect it in the nine years
I have resided in it.
" That wasn't so painful, was it ? " he asked, but it was more of a statement
I just laughed and thanked him.
I had hovered outside while he inspected, poked and prodded and photographed, skulking in the cold
damp backyard, dressed as if for the snow in trackie dacks, windcheater, a beanie, gum boots and
gloves. I looked not unlike a Yeti.
Attacking dead leaves, broken branches and dog shit with abrisk gusto I didn't really feel.
Melbourne Winters are shite. Cold beyond belief, with a wind that blows arctic cold as it sweeps in
from the Bay and originates in the South Pole. We used to have a Husky once and she loved the cold
weather, fat as she was and when she shed her Winter Coat the backyard was covered in white hair
that looked like snow.
If she escaped she would flee as if the Hounds of the Baskervilles rode on her heels and Brock would
fly out of the side door of the van like a 15 year old Batman and leap on her back, pinning the big
fatty to the ground. Trust me. It was the only Thing that would stop her.
But the rest of us hate Winter with a vengeance, that borders on the insane, and we are, all of us,
insane. Winter and Cranny, leaves us whiny and cranky, cursed with Cabin Fever, Winter Blues.
S.A.D. Seasonal Affected Disorder. And gives us all the Shits.
Cranny or Cranbourne or now the more Posh, Cranbourne East lies in lowlands. Wet boggy, foggy
lowlands, that are interminably dank and cold, the ground steel blue freezing and rock hard in Winter
and splits open in Summer like over ripe fruit. I have literally stuffed fruit and veggies in to the soil in
the backyard when I first came here. I had heard that it would enrich the soil and stop the splitting. I
await results.
" So why is the unit leaning?" I asked of the diligent Engineer, Peter.
" Looks like the foundations were never put in properly in the first place " he answered.
I know that the foundations are what they call " floating " . That because the units are moveable.
Mines, mine for life and can be relocated to anywhere in Victoria free of charge to the Tenant. I
should move it to Swan Hill, Albury or Upper Kumbuttcha. Somewhere warmer.
But my grandkids live here.
And I mean literally.
I live behind one daughter, who has eight kids. Seven boys and now a girl
Thank God the girl came along As now she might stop.
Not all the boys live at home any more. The four oldest have jobs, cars, girlfriends. Kids.
I cried when they left now I cry when they arrive, only joking, but " little kids. Little problems.Big kids, Big problems." Every Mother, Grandmother knows this.
I heard of a Woman the other day that was 89 and still had hopes her Son of 63 would still come
good.
.
