I Have Never Minded My Own Company---The Loneliness Myth
Without Prejudice
The powers that be suggest that Loneliness is the new killer of this the new age of technology. Especially for the elderly. The O.B.E's. The Over Bloody Eighties as one over eighty I used to clean for called it. She didn't seem lonely living in a retirement village in Cheltenham. Neither did any of the older people I worked for, whether they were single or partnered.
They lived in an older area which was once full of the seventies boomers and stayed. Sad to say but most of them were widowed women who had lost their hubbies twenty years ago or so. Lots of them were still in the marital home, children up and gone. All of them realised the children kept a beady eye not just on them, but the old house too.
Worth a fortune these days near to the beach at Mentone and close to the " get yourself lost shopping centre" , Southland.
I once was lost in Southland and it took me a good hour to get my bearings and find my car. And I had worked there when my girls were young. Brashs Southland. I was a part time Office Manageress, Thursday night, Friday night and Saturday mornings. Brashs was a music store and a constant delight to me as a place to work. Loud music, hung over staff on requisite Saturday mornings. A great Pommy boss who adored me and played Eye Of The Sky and The Secrets Policemans Ball in the empty shop while I cashed up.
It was easy then to get around Southland. Brashs was on the lowest level, far from the loos on the first floor and minus any sunlight. The record bar girls and I said we were donating our bladders to Jeff Brash if he ever came to visit. He was my first caller on the day I started and I managed to cut him off after delivering the long spiel greeting of, " Good Morning, welcome to Brashs Southland, Janette speaking, how may I help you ?"
At Christmas it was extended by " Merry Christmas", Good morning, /evening, welcome to Brashs Southland, Janette speaking, how may I help you? " quite a mouthful said quickly but I have always been a talker. I talked my way in to the job with the Boss and had a message on my home phone waiting for me when I arrived home. I had the job.
I wanted to work there so much. I was delighted I was offered the job and soon made it mine. Grabbing a Christmas job for my oldest daughter when I transferred to Chadstone. The salesmen were all young trainees mostly and the record bar girls super trendy and fashion mavens. I first heard Khe San there by Cold Chisel and Fall Of Rome by James Reyne. Sadly I also heard The Fureys and bought on discount, which my girls hated, and for $1,200 a Beta max video machine which was going to surpass VHS machines, boy was That wrong.
One of the young salesman was the most drop dead gorgeous man I had ever seen. A young Croatian, who partied hard every Friday night after work. He would often come in the back office to chat to me and tell me how disgusting he felt, hungover. One morning he said even his hair hurt and he needed a fuck. The hair on the back of my head stood up and I went beet red. I just put my head down to my work and ignored him till he went away. Don't worry I sure don't think he was referring to me but just life in general.
Southland and Cheltenham were genteel places in those days. The glitterati were Myer clothed, Estée Lauder perfumed in low heel brogues and unstretch pleated skirts from Fletcher Jones, with white georgette pintucked blouses buttoned to the neck. I used to wear Pie Frill necklines but never even
went in to a Fletcher Jones store. To me, at 30 it was dull and pretentious, two of my big no no's. But
I loved the Darrell Lee store with the cartoonish uniforms of the ladies that worked there. The giant yellow bows on their neckline were particularly horrid. But every Sat without fail I would dash out from work and buy my girls something lush.
Rocky Lea Road in a tray mostly, and a Tattslotto ticket at the Newsagents next door, until I realised that I had as much chance of winning as being kicked to death by a duck, so I stopped. At the bottom of the escalators were moccasin ankle boot slippers for $10 and I wore them in the U.K. on my next trip in 82 and was immediately offered money to buy them off me. The poms had never seen ugg boots before. I thought they were low class items but thought they would be comfy to wear on the plane. Obviously I was also pretentious in those days.
I made one of my teen daughters to take a pair of low rise black moccasins back to the shop she had bought them from. Stating at the time, that they were " too Doveton" Doveton was a low class suburb in the early eighties. Keysborough, where we lived, was ok, but Dingley was where you aspired to if you had wealth. We had some money and drove a Rover ( a lemon ) and sent the girls to Mentone Girls Grammar School where one of them at 4 pooed on their posh lawn. Rhonda Burchnores kid went there and I couldn't stand the woman. She was soooo popular with the staff it made me want to perk, but I just smiled politely, like you do.
I never felt so lonely I my life as I did when a young Mum, there. It certainly was not Keysborough, Toto, and the women were genuinely unfriendly to newbies like me. I went to their meetings and once a pet show where my ordinary tabby cat, Mohammad, won for best behaved cat and one of my girls fell in the science pond and came down the garden stairs in front of all those posh people dripping green pond scum. Everyone stared. I rushed child and cat off home swearing never to go to another " do ". Obviously I was de classe.
After a while we changed the girls back to a little rural school in Keysie as Keysborough was shortened to and we joined the Freedom Club and were best friends with people more like us. Battlers, trying to raise many kids and improve our lot in life and theirs. There was Sharon and David Frost, Darryl and Judy Sergeant, Jill and Jimmy Cooper, Robyn and Alan Gould, Laure and Alan Stark. We barbecued, hung out, drank a lot, smoked a lot and partied to Bob Seeger and Meatloaf. It was great.
To be continued ......
The powers that be suggest that Loneliness is the new killer of this the new age of technology. Especially for the elderly. The O.B.E's. The Over Bloody Eighties as one over eighty I used to clean for called it. She didn't seem lonely living in a retirement village in Cheltenham. Neither did any of the older people I worked for, whether they were single or partnered.
They lived in an older area which was once full of the seventies boomers and stayed. Sad to say but most of them were widowed women who had lost their hubbies twenty years ago or so. Lots of them were still in the marital home, children up and gone. All of them realised the children kept a beady eye not just on them, but the old house too.
Worth a fortune these days near to the beach at Mentone and close to the " get yourself lost shopping centre" , Southland.
I once was lost in Southland and it took me a good hour to get my bearings and find my car. And I had worked there when my girls were young. Brashs Southland. I was a part time Office Manageress, Thursday night, Friday night and Saturday mornings. Brashs was a music store and a constant delight to me as a place to work. Loud music, hung over staff on requisite Saturday mornings. A great Pommy boss who adored me and played Eye Of The Sky and The Secrets Policemans Ball in the empty shop while I cashed up.
It was easy then to get around Southland. Brashs was on the lowest level, far from the loos on the first floor and minus any sunlight. The record bar girls and I said we were donating our bladders to Jeff Brash if he ever came to visit. He was my first caller on the day I started and I managed to cut him off after delivering the long spiel greeting of, " Good Morning, welcome to Brashs Southland, Janette speaking, how may I help you ?"
At Christmas it was extended by " Merry Christmas", Good morning, /evening, welcome to Brashs Southland, Janette speaking, how may I help you? " quite a mouthful said quickly but I have always been a talker. I talked my way in to the job with the Boss and had a message on my home phone waiting for me when I arrived home. I had the job.
I wanted to work there so much. I was delighted I was offered the job and soon made it mine. Grabbing a Christmas job for my oldest daughter when I transferred to Chadstone. The salesmen were all young trainees mostly and the record bar girls super trendy and fashion mavens. I first heard Khe San there by Cold Chisel and Fall Of Rome by James Reyne. Sadly I also heard The Fureys and bought on discount, which my girls hated, and for $1,200 a Beta max video machine which was going to surpass VHS machines, boy was That wrong.
One of the young salesman was the most drop dead gorgeous man I had ever seen. A young Croatian, who partied hard every Friday night after work. He would often come in the back office to chat to me and tell me how disgusting he felt, hungover. One morning he said even his hair hurt and he needed a fuck. The hair on the back of my head stood up and I went beet red. I just put my head down to my work and ignored him till he went away. Don't worry I sure don't think he was referring to me but just life in general.
Southland and Cheltenham were genteel places in those days. The glitterati were Myer clothed, Estée Lauder perfumed in low heel brogues and unstretch pleated skirts from Fletcher Jones, with white georgette pintucked blouses buttoned to the neck. I used to wear Pie Frill necklines but never even
went in to a Fletcher Jones store. To me, at 30 it was dull and pretentious, two of my big no no's. But
I loved the Darrell Lee store with the cartoonish uniforms of the ladies that worked there. The giant yellow bows on their neckline were particularly horrid. But every Sat without fail I would dash out from work and buy my girls something lush.
Rocky Lea Road in a tray mostly, and a Tattslotto ticket at the Newsagents next door, until I realised that I had as much chance of winning as being kicked to death by a duck, so I stopped. At the bottom of the escalators were moccasin ankle boot slippers for $10 and I wore them in the U.K. on my next trip in 82 and was immediately offered money to buy them off me. The poms had never seen ugg boots before. I thought they were low class items but thought they would be comfy to wear on the plane. Obviously I was also pretentious in those days.
I made one of my teen daughters to take a pair of low rise black moccasins back to the shop she had bought them from. Stating at the time, that they were " too Doveton" Doveton was a low class suburb in the early eighties. Keysborough, where we lived, was ok, but Dingley was where you aspired to if you had wealth. We had some money and drove a Rover ( a lemon ) and sent the girls to Mentone Girls Grammar School where one of them at 4 pooed on their posh lawn. Rhonda Burchnores kid went there and I couldn't stand the woman. She was soooo popular with the staff it made me want to perk, but I just smiled politely, like you do.
I never felt so lonely I my life as I did when a young Mum, there. It certainly was not Keysborough, Toto, and the women were genuinely unfriendly to newbies like me. I went to their meetings and once a pet show where my ordinary tabby cat, Mohammad, won for best behaved cat and one of my girls fell in the science pond and came down the garden stairs in front of all those posh people dripping green pond scum. Everyone stared. I rushed child and cat off home swearing never to go to another " do ". Obviously I was de classe.
After a while we changed the girls back to a little rural school in Keysie as Keysborough was shortened to and we joined the Freedom Club and were best friends with people more like us. Battlers, trying to raise many kids and improve our lot in life and theirs. There was Sharon and David Frost, Darryl and Judy Sergeant, Jill and Jimmy Cooper, Robyn and Alan Gould, Laure and Alan Stark. We barbecued, hung out, drank a lot, smoked a lot and partied to Bob Seeger and Meatloaf. It was great.
To be continued ......
