GLORY DAZE......(part 2).

When the working day is done
Girls - they want to have fun
Oh girls just want to have fun

Some boys take a beautiful girl
And hide her away from the rest of the world
I want to be the one to walk in the sun
Oh girls they want to have fun.

And fun I did have!  My new found lease on life was all due to my new found crotch - pills.  They took me from my introverted, miserable, baggage-carrying self and transformed me into a new person.  A person who was suddenly now confident in both my abilities and my personality and a person who was suddenly now interested in the world and people around me.  I was seeing the world through rose-coloured glasses for the first time in nearly 10 years and I had a ball.

I was clubbing every weekend on Friday and Saturday nights.  My club of choice was the Imperial (the Priscilla Hotel) as it was not only the closest club to me but it was also a great club which didn't quite fit into any category - neither gay or straight  It wasn't in the established Oxford St gay strip just east of the city.  It wasn't even in the newly growing gay enclave of King St, Newtown, rather it was tucked behind it in the old and tiny Victorian  era suburb of Erskineville.  Originally a working class local hotel, the Imperial had started slowly as a gay friendly pub in the upcoming trendy Newtown area and had shot to fame with the filming of the opening scenes of Priscilla Queen of the Desert movie in the early 1990's.

From my  coming out days in the early 1980's I had been friends with two of the original characters in the movie and had actually been part of the real group of well wishers who had fondly waved our friends off on their big adventure - never knowing that a almost a decade later this moment would become a legend in Sydney Gay history.  The Imperial and the area around it would become my home away from home for the next many years.  It was only 20 minutes walk to my school and many of my students lived close by - in fact it wasn't unusual to see some of the parents there on a weekend night enjoying drinks in the front bar!

There were 3 main areas at the Imperial.  The front bar, which was your typical Australian pub during the day and not much different during the night except the crowd was more diverse.  Behind this was the show room where they had a huge dance floor and stage where the drag shows were staged.  The crowd here was very mixed.  Many suburban straight people came on the weekends specifically to see the Priscilla show and a lot of locals as well as the big gay crowd.  Downstairs was the dedicated dance club area.  Black walls, amazing lighting with a dance floor in the middle.  I would start of in the show room and then once the pills had kicked in and the first show had finished move downstairs to dance the night away.

I was 34 and going on 24 and I could get away with it.  The pills enhanced my natural dancing ability (a legacy of the ballroom dancing lessons from my youth) and made me glow with a passion.  In my long shorts and platform trainers and very little else I would dance the night away.  I loved everybody and it wasn't long before I found that everybody loved me.  I was making friends with all the regulars and the staff including the show girls and if I didn't pick up on any night it was only because I was more interested in dancing than going home with someone.

Even though I only lived 15 minutes cab ride away my suburb was generally a no go area for most of the gay crowd who either lived around Newtown or in the city so I would generally go back to my trades house at the end of the night which suited me fine. It was a good excuse to have simple, fun one-night stands.  I wouldn't hang around long enough to get close to anyone using the excuse of having to get home to let my dog out to ward off any clingy partners.  After years of being so dominated by Matty the last thing I wanted was to get into a relationship.  Psychologically I hadn't gotten over him and wasn't looking to replace him.  I just wanted to have good, hot, fun sex with like-minded people.

I soon had another excuse to leave early.  A few months after I started clubbing my principal asked me if I would be interested in starting a school farm  where we would have a range of small animals which the children would be responsible for.  This was supposed to be a way of teaching them responsibility and give them some nurturing skills - something which most of them sadly lacked from home.  So along with teaching 4 grades together, running the school sports, co-running the school breakfast club and being in charge of unlocking the 4 school entrances each day I was now looking after a farmyard full of smelly animals.

A few of the parents and I constructed a large, fenced enclosure in the top corner of the school grounds one afternoon.  For city dwellers we actually did a really good job.  It was a large area with grass at one end, a shaded dirt area at the other and we even dug in and made a pond which we lined with plastic and edged with old bricks from the neighbourhood (natural rocks being in short supply) to make a duck pond. Over the ensuing weeks we had chickens, ducks, rabbits and guinea-pigs which had been bought by the staff and a few of the decent parents and the children loved it.

It was no trouble to maintain during the week. The children all loved having 'baby animals' to look after and play with during their breaks and almost every child in the school took turns in feeding, cleaning and looking after the animals, including taking them in and out of their cages where they would be housed overnight and put safely away into one of the old school sheds.  On the weekends, however I was responsible for going in on Saturdays and Sundays and taking them out of their cages to run around for an hour or two while I fed them and cleaned out the shed.

I would come straight from the Imperial or my trade's house on both mornings.  Normally I would have taken my second or third pill not long before and be peaking to the max.  Full of unspent energy I would go about my rural chores some time between 6 and 9am each morning.  Then I would jump on the bus and be home within 30 minutes.  This was the only time that my school life and night life came together but no one was around to see so I felt that it was no problem.

The last statement is not quite true.  The euphoric effect of the pills and the energy buzz that the pills gave me on the weekends seemed somehow to carry over during the week days.  Not that I was taking any pills but I was carrying that positive energy throughout the week.  The thrill of the weekend would keep me buoyed at the start of the week and the expectation of doing it all again would keep me going to the end of the week.  It was all positive however.  I was having a great time with my class and challenging the other teachers to get into the spirit which they did with glee.  Our principal suddenly found herself as a minor player in how the school was run and in who the students and parents looked towards as the school community leaders.

After I arrived home after a night clubbing I would take my dog on amazingly long walks.  Up to the big park and down along the river and through different streets before returning home, sometimes I would have done 4-5 km before my neighbours had even woken up.  My house was spotless, my neighbours all included in my new love of life - I even used to bake scones (which I rarely ate myself) and give to them - the old man next door was delighted.  He looked forward to our Saturday and Sunday morning chats over the fence and rarely missed them.

I would go out shopping still buzzing and buy cute shorts to wear out that night, have turkish coffee which was available in the

many Greek or Lebanese coffee shops which my area was home to and chat with the owners or perv at the hot young ethnic boys who arrived in their souped up sports cars with their gorgeous girlfriends - all who were as high as I was after a night clubbing.

Of course I was still smoking heaps of dope.  On the weekend days I probably smoked more than ever as still coming down from the pills the dope would hardly touch the sides.  I would end up at John and Trudi's at least once on the weekend and spend a few hours with them often helping out in the garden, which neither of them were particularly talented in doing, but always having a fun time.  They even told me after a month or so that the change in me was amazing.  I knew they were right.  I was finally truly enjoying my life.  I had a great career, a lovely home and community, and an amazing night life and everything about it was positive.

This would be my life for the next 18 months and longer before I finally took the plunge and got into a relationship that would again be a life changer.  In between though I had some fantastically fun times and days / nights to remember which I will delve into next time I write.

 

REFLECTIVE DAZE.

Do you know where you're going to
Do you like the things that life is showing you
Where are you going to
Do you know

Do you get
What you're hoping for
When you look behind you
There's no open doors
What are you hoping for
Do you know

 It's time to stop  and do some reflecting and also to put some perspective into this blog. I don't want this to sound like a homage to drug taking, which it is beginning to.  Rather it is an honest reflection on my life, of which drugs would play a major role for nearly 30 years.

From 1982 until 1996 I had dabbled into pretty much every drug on offer but had never overdone any of them except marijuana.  Besides the cost of other drugs I was also aware of the bad side effects they were purported to have.  My experiences with drug users in my early years reflected this opinion.  I didn't want to end up with my health shattered and looking like a walking skeleton.  So for those reasons I only ever dabbled in heavier drugs very occasionally and purely for recreational purposes.

Why then my fixation for marijuana?  I had for years been what the Americans would term 'a stoner'.  Never far from a joint or bong and totally unable to go without for even one day.  The euphoric effects of smoking dope are coupled with an acute sense of self - consciousness and the feeling that your actions are being monitored by other people - possibly why dope smoking is not a 'social type' activity and is usually done with a close group of fellow smokers or alone.

Why also my inability to curb my dope smoking and to smoke such large quantities? Why had I let it totally control my life and actions?  Why had I let it cause me so many problems and why couldn't I see that it was at the root of my problems?  Why then did I finally, after 18 years, did I take the next step and delve into the world of amphetamines? Letting them take almost total control of my life, to the point where my health was in serious danger.

Sitting here today after nearly 6 years of being totally drug free it is amazing to reflect back on how addicted I was and how I was totally unable to control my habit.  Was it purely physical addiction or was it something deep-rooted in my psychological make-up?  I'm no expert but I would have to say that it was a combination of the two - I definitely have an addictive personality and I definitely was unable to physically go without drugs without suffering sever withdrawal symptoms.

Your childhood perceptions are all subjective but I believe form a very large role in how you adapt to adult life.  I always see my childhood as being one of happy but spartan times.  One of my earliest school memories is when I was about 6.  I don't remember the occasion but it was a 'special' day at school and we were allowed to bring a 'party lunch' from home.

We were all very excited and couldn't wait until lunchtime to open our treats.  When it came I remember watching all the other children eating fairy bread, sausage rolls, cakes, toffee apples and biscuits which their mothers had lovingly packed for them.  I can still feel the embarrassment and shame of 'being a poor kid' as I unwrapped and ate my jam sandwich.

These feelings of 'being a poor kid' were only emphasized by  my mothers refusal to mix with people of our own socio-economic status and try and be part of a social group who were not only wealthier but also who made us acutely aware of our economic status. I was constantly watching other kids playing with the latest toys, when I only had my sisters hand me down dolls to play with, swimming in their in-ground pools, when all I had was the creek in the bush and hearing them talk about all the places they had been on holidays, when all I got to do was go camping in a second hand tent in the bush.

My parents constant scrimping and scraping would, I think, be a major reason why I refused to go without in later life and spent money as quickly as I earned it.

My addictive personality emerged at an early age.  For someone who had nothing, when I did get something which I enjoyed then I would enjoy it to the max. Occasionally my father would join in on the grocery shopping.  We relished these rare family days.  Unlike my mother who bought, rote-like, the cheapest and most predictable grocery items, my father would always throw in 'exotic' meats and fruits and cheeses and wonder of wonders - chocolate biscuits!  Once home the biscuits would be stored away in the cupboard only to be taken out for special occasions.


From an early age I would wait and wait and wait for that special occasion.  Greedily eyeing the unopened packet of biscuits until I could stand it no longer.  Given the opportunity of being alone I would invariably raid the cupboard and find a hiding spot where I would eat the entire packet in one sitting.  Sickness from over-eating or the knowledge that I would be found out and thrashed severely did not deter me.  The taste of 'forbidden fruit' was too intoxicating for me.

'Forbidden Fruit' was another fascination for me from an early age.  Constantly being told by my mother to 'do the right thing' and 'be better than the neighbours' had no effect on me.  I did want to be a good boy but I also wanted to have fun.  I was easily influenced by both my peers and by the media of the early 1970's.  I was a teenage alcoholic, a teenage runaway, and a teenage drug addict.

I didn't want to be like everyone else. I wanted to be like the Hollywood stars and live a life of glamour and infamy - at least I have achieved one of my childhood dreams.

Then there is the unrealistic perception that you cannot function normally unless you are on drugs.  This, for me at least, was backed up by rare experiences of stuffing things up the few times I was actually straight - for example the only time I rode my motorbike straight I had an accident and the bike was totaled.  You convince yourself that your performance is better on drugs because in reality you don't know any different. It is a good argument for believing that drugs aren't negatively affecting your performance.

As the years went by I kept telling myself that I functioned better on drugs and I really believed it.


Moving forward to when I first started taking drugs I had come through a terrible family ordeal and spent my formative teenage years being victimized by  seemingly everyone around me. When I found drugs and prostitution I found not only a psychological escape but also people who accepted me and who I looked up to.  Drugs would become both my means of escaping the situation I found myself in and also my way to 'fit in' and 'be a cool person' for the first time in my life. 

So while drugs gave me the feelings of personal physical and psychological satisfaction they also took away a huge part of my life.  Being stoned constantly for so many years gave me a false sense of personal satisfaction while all the time I was desperately yearning to do so much more with my life.

Ever since I was taken to England by my mother when I was a young boy I had a burning desire to return.  In fact during my final school years it was all that I wanted to do.  When I started working at Belvoir Boys I was determined to save my earnings and move to England within a year.  Things happened, drugs being one of them, and I never achieved that.  Instead I started partying and clubbing all weekend, the money I could have saved and paid for my move back to England, all gone up in smoke and down in drink.

Again when I broke up with Billy and started working at Brett's Boys.  It was only going to be for 6 months or so, only long enough for me to save enough money to be able to get away from Australia and move permanently to England.  Unfortunately my drug habit soared out of control within a few months and then Matty came along.  I know that without the distorting effect of drugs that my infatuation with Matty would have been short lived.

But by this stage, even when I contemplated a move overseas - something I often did when Matty was on one of his benders and verbally or physically assaulting me - I couldn't imagine how I would last on a 24 hour flight without drugs.  Even worse what would I do  and how would I cope once I arrived and I wouldn't know where to get drugs from?! It was the same when Matty was verbally or physically abusing me.  I would often think of leaving him but then I would wonder how I would cope without money and therefor without drugs.  I would rather live in fear and misery than go without drugs!

These now seem ridiculously, pathetic thoughts but they were honestly part of the reason why I didn't try and put some money aside and follow my dream.

Even my decision to become a teacher was influenced by my desire to travel.  Teaching was a job which would allow me to travel and work as well.  At the time it seemed a brilliant and attainable goal.  I would pass my degree, work for 3 or 4 years and then move to England where I could easily get a teaching job.  1996 came and I discovered ecstasy.  I didn't forget my dream, I just knew it was unattainable as any money I could have saved was spent on pills.  Instead I read travel books, watched travel documentaries and got stoned and kept dreaming.

It would be another 3 years before I finally got to travel overseas.  It wouldn't be due to my own efforts at saving and curbing my drug habit - it would be because I had met a wonderful partner who would pay for me to travel with him.

Socially drugs took away many years of my life.  Up until 1985 and Brett's Boys I had led a fairly social life, even while smoking marijuana.  I would go clubbing, have friends around for dinner, go on picnics or to the beach at the weekend, go to museums and art galleries or the cinema regularly.  Life was exciting and eventful.  Within a few months of starting at Brett's Boys my drug taking spiraled out of control and I ceased to do any of these activities.  I would rather stay at the parlour or at home getting stoned.  I was happiest that way or so I believed. What social opportunities and friends I missed out on I will never know.

The biggest loss though was one that I would not realize until it was too late.  It was the loss of my family.  Missing out on sharing my life with my parents and sisters, and more importantly missing out on seeing my nieces and nephews grow up.

Even though I had initially run away from my family, I had eventually returned and for a short while started enjoying their company, while still  being my gay, outrageous 18 year old self.  When I started smoking dope regularly I wanted to get away from them as quickly as possible which is what I did.  For a few years I was able to visit them regularly but once I started working as a prostitute and being stoned 24/7 I was both ashamed to be with them and unable to face them without being stoned.

I did have a conscience about this.  I neither felt comfortable around them nor believed it was the right thing to do to them.  I didn't want to be the drug addicted Uncle who my family put up with out of a sense of loyalty, while secretly being embarrassed and ashamed of me.  So I cut myself off from them as much as I could, only seeing them once a year at Christmas time and on a handful of other family occasions for nearly 20 years.  Again it would be my new partner who would push me back to my family.

It would be too late though.  I had missed out on my nieces and nephews childhood and now they are grown up and I have no idea of who they really are - they are just young people who I see rarely and have no real connection to me.  Similarly my sisters are vague figures to me.  They have had a lifetime of experience of which I have been no part.  They are different people to the two girls I grew up with and I have no idea about their thoughts and feelings.

So we get to 1996 and I discover Ecstasy.  If it hadn't been for my dependence on marijuana then I would have never allowed Matty to dominate my life in the way that he did.  If he hadn't dominated my life in such a negative way then I would possibly have never needed the total escape from reality which ecstasy provided in the first months of taking it.  Possibly it would have been just another drug which I tried and used occasionally, instead it became a physiological escape for me and like all my previous drug use would be taken to the extreme.  Of course my marijuana us didn't diminish, rather I just started using two drugs to excess.

It would be another 14 years of addiction until I managed to break away and finally start achieving my dreams.  Thankfully I managed to do things which I had never imagined and achieve some things which I am proud of - if you are interested you may like to see my Facebook pages Clean and Green up Temple Town (which gave national recognition in Cambodia) and my new page Belgrade Experience (my dreams achieved).

Life was to become a tricky path where I would have  the time of my life but also experience the worst that life can serve up.  Do I blame drugs or do I blame my own inability to act responsibly and stop living a totally hedonistic life?  Was I really my 'own worst enemy'?

 GLORY DAZE.......(Part 1.)

They arrived at an inconvenient time
I was hiding in a room in my mind
They made me look at myself
I saw it well, I'd shut the people out of my life
So now I take the opportunities
Wonderful teachers ready to teach me
I must work on my mind
For now I realize
Everyone of us has a heaven inside

It was the last Saturday of March 1996 when my life would take a dramatic, and I think positive, change.  For 3 months I had hidden myself away from the world wallowing in my own misery.  I was content with my job, my marijuana and having my beautiful dog as my sole companion.  The only socializing I did was with John and Trudi - when I bought drugs, my girlfriend from the laundromat who would occasionally drop in after work and my neighbour, who also shared the occasional smoke with me.

It was he who was to change my life.  That Saturday, the day of the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras, he popped over for a smoke and gave me an Ecstasy tablet.  He told me I could only have it provided I went out that night and enjoyed myself.  He told me he and his wife were worried about me constantly hiding away from everything and ever body.  He was right of course but I could not, or did not see that I had a life ahead of me without Matty.

I had never said no to drugs before and I wasn't about to this time.  However I seriously had second thoughts for most of the evening.  I had a vague idea that the pill would be similar to LSD and I wasn't sure my mind was ready for that.  I was sure that if I went out I would end up somewhere balling my eyes out.  I wasn't worried about taking a new drug just concerned that I would have an negative reaction. 

David popped over again around 8.30 pm.  I hadn't showered or dressed and after a few smokes he asked me if I was going to go out.  I told him I was but had seriously considered staying in.  He promised me that I would really enjoy myself and it would do me good. I decided he was probably right and thought that if it didn't go as he planned then I could always come home again.

So I got ready and took half a pill around 10pm assuming it would take at least an hour or more to take effect.  I took my dog for a long walk and half way home, as the dog was relieving himself I suddenly realized that I was tingling all over and swaying to the music coming from one of the neighbour's houses who were having a party.

I rushed home and took the plunge, hailed a taxi outside the door and headed of to The Imperial.  It was really the only gay place I knew.  I hadn't been out in years.  I could count on one hand the number of times since 1985 when I had actually gone to a club.  The Imperial I knew from living nearby when I was at Stanmore.  By the time we got there I was already peaking - not that I knew what that was at the time.  I only knew that I felt fabulous.  Happy and full of wonder at the world around me and with enormous amounts of energy that I wanted to express.

The Imperial was closed!  I was too far in to back out now.  So I asked the driver to take me to Oxford St.  He replied that being Mardi Gras he wouldn't be able to drive all the way there due to traffic blockades and street closures but would get me as close as possible.  He dropped me off at the bottom of Crown and Cleveland St in Surry Hills.  It was a good 20 minute walk to the other end of Crown St and Oxford St.  How amazing was it to be walking (peaking wildly) past my very first rental.  I can recall standing outside for what seemed like ages and recalling my wild, new wave daze sharing with Ren and Simon.  Then I remembered the 'ghost' and started shivering - it was time to move on.

Oxford St was still packed with people. Some still hanging around after the parade had passed by and others returning to continue their night.  Everyone was happy and laughing and dancing and hugging.  It was exactly what I wanted to do - for the first time in years.  I turned right and squeezed my way through the crowd until I found myself outside Midnight Shift.  I took a deep breath and stood in the queue, my heart racing, my feet tapping and my expectations high.

The Midnight Shift was one of Sydney's premier gay bars.  In my day during the early 1980's it had been a leather bar and somewhere I wouldn't have been seen dead in.  Times change and so had the Shift. The music and the crowd were pumping and so was I.  grabbing a drink from the bar I stood overlooking the dance floor letting the euphoria of the pill and the buzz of the crowd take me away.  It wasn't long before I was on the floor and having the time of my life.  I danced alone, I danced with countless lovely happy boys, and when I was sure I was handling the pill I went to the bathroom and took the other half.

BAMM!  The rest of the night was a blur of lights and colour and boys and rhythm.  I was in heaven and I wanted everyone to be there with me.  I danced and danced the night away.  Only stopping for wee breaks and once or twice going outside to cool off and have a cigarette.  The world on ecstasy is truly wonderful.  Lights twirl brightly, people all seem lovely, the air is fresh and crisp and you feel not only happy and friendly but incredibly horny as well. I couldn't stand still for more than a few minutes though.  I had numerous proposals to go home with boys, not too mention some very intimate gropes while queuing for the toilet, but I had too much energy and just wanted to dance to every song that the DJ played.  I was one of the last to leave the dance floor sometime around 5am in the morning.

Stepping outside I was waiting for a taxi when a really cute boy approached me and started chatting.  We ended up going on to a 24 hour hotel and having a drink before he asked me if I wanted to go back to his apartment and share an ecstasy pill with him.  I should have realized that he was already smashed, but being me I was too caught up in enjoying myself to notice.  We got to his apartment and he brought out a joint and an pill.  He was too drunk to cut it in half and so I ended up doing it.  My first time on Ecstasy and I was already an expert!

After popping the pill and smoking the joint we started fondling each other.  I was just starting to unbutton his shirt when I heard him snoring.  He had fallen fast asleep!  Nothing was going to wake him and so after 10 minutes or so of feeling stupid I decided to let myself out and go home.  I was really buzzing now.  My legs were sore but my energy levels were really high.  I got home and was still rearing to party.  I couldn't believe how wonderfully happy I was feeling.

It was not even 7am and I just wanted to dance and party.  My neighbour was still sleeping and it was too early to go to visit John and Trudi.  I took my dog up to the park and stayed for over an hour relishing the freshness of the morning and the wonder of the panoramic view laid out before my eyes.  Back home I was still full of energy so I showered and hopped on a bus and went shopping!

I returned home laden with new clothes and cd's and spent an hour dancing in my lounge room in my new, and after years of conservative dressing, really trendy clothes.  I was as horny as hell and was delighted when one of my massage clients, a young, handsome tradesman rang me to see if I was free.  It turned out he had also been out and was returning home.  He was just as high as I was and we had a fabulous time, going way beyond our usual massage and hand job.  After he left my neighbour came over.  He was thrilled to see me happy and smiling - probably the first time he had seen me like this.

And so began a new period on my life.  A time of fun and reveling. A time where I would finally regain my self confidence, a time where I would meet many new friends and do new things.  A time where I finally started re - experiencing the joy of life and being me.

I'M BACK!

Been traveling, moved countries and finally settled.  A new chapter on its way in a day or so.

SOLITARY DAZE......(part 2).

Daylight
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I mustn't give in
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin

Sunlight through the trees in summer
Endless masquerading
Like a flower as the dawn is breaking
The memory is fading

I got through the summer holidays and had no idea what lay in store for me.  Unbelievably 1996 would be one of my best years.

The last day of the holidays and I got a call from Camperdown School offering me a one year position which I automatically accepted.  I would still be a casual teacher but have my own class and all the benefits of being a 'permanent casual' - sick pay, holiday pay and a very good wage.

I gave one weeks notice to Taxi's Combined.  As much as I liked working there and benefited from the extra money it gave me, I didn't need the emotional baggage that went with it.  

Everyone there had been lovely to me since Matty's death - in fact too nice.  It was uncomfortable to have to take everyone's sympathy and try and put on a brave face.  Everywhere I looked there was a memory of Matty.  On top of that Christine was finally returning to work and even though we would only see each other for an hour each day it was more than I could handle.

For the next three months I threw my heart and soul into my teaching career.  Again I had a composite class of Year 2/3/4 (plus some year 5 & 6 students) but as hard as this might sound it was just what I needed.  The new year brought with it new students as well as the loss of some old students.  Wayne and Dale were amongst these.  They had been put into foster care while their mother was put on a rehabilitation program.

Our new students brought new issues.  Our old students had, due to the fire incident, formed themselves into two distinct groups.  Based upon their parents view of who was to blame for the deaths of Joey and Serena.  Class teaching wasn't an issue but playground duty became a nightmare for us 3 teachers who would be constantly trying to prevent fights between the 3 groups.

On top of this we had to manage a school with very little support from the Principal.  Camperdown is one of the oldest public schools in Sydney and it's buildings reflected that.  The main building was built in the 1870's and had 3 wings.  The front entrance housed the office sections which formed the middle of the building.  On either side of this area were single classrooms which led to and east and west wing consisting of three classrooms.  The east wing had been turned into the assembly hall.  Then there was the original school teachers house, which was Carol's Year 5/6 classroom.  

The other buildings consisted of three double classrooms, all built in weatherboard and put there during the post war era when the suburb was booming.  Now we were all assigned classrooms in the 'out-buildings' while the Principal had the main building entirely to herself.  Being classified as a 'small school' (with less than 100 pupils) the Principal was supposed to be a 'teaching Principal'.  Basically this meant that she was supposed to give us each 1.5 hours of teaching time off as per Department regulations.

While she was happy to do this for the Kindergarten/Year 1 teacher, Carol and I had to share 1 hour per week between us, where the principal would take Years 3-6 into the assembly hall and do singing lessons.  Not only was this outside of the 'curriculum specifications' it meant that Carol and I had to teach all curriculum subjects as well as deal with behavioural problems and facilitate the non-english speaking children into our very busy schedule.

To top it all off the children hated the Principal.  Inevitability her singing lessons would end in chaos with children running all over the playground or full scale fights breaking out where  Carol or myself would have to intervene.To demonstrate the children's dislike I can recall two specific incidents which happened early in the year.....

The first, while comical, was also highly dangerous and resulted in the expulsion of two students.  The Principal had gone for a toilet break during the singing lessons, leaving the school secretary to supervise. When she returned she apparently had toilet paper hanging from her dress which had got stuck in her waistband.  Unbeknown to her she continued the lesson, amidst the giggles of the children, and at one point when she had her back to the children, one of Jack's sisters borrowed a cigarette lighter from a boy and set the paper on fire.  No serious damage was done, but you can imagine the terror of the Principal as she ran from the room trying to put the flames out, while the kids screamed with laughter and called her a 'dirty bitch'!

The second incident was not only classic but deservedly earned by her.  Towards the end of the term she organized a parent/teacher night.  Or rather she announced that we would be having one.  It was up to Carol, Michelle and myself to do the organizing.  The basic agenda would be a welcome to the parents in the assembly hall which was then to be followed by a showcasing of the new Maths and Computer teaching which Michelle and I had initiated into our teaching programme.

When I had first arrived at Camperdown there were no computer lessons ( only 12 computers still sitting unpacked in their boxes) and maths lessons were all 'chalk and talk'.  Between us Michelle and I introduced a more hands-on interactive maths program.  Carol was by no means unwilling to adopt 'modern teaching methods' but had been prevented by the Principals lack of monetary support and refusal to let her attend development sessions.

Between the three of us we basically bought hundreds of dollars worth of equipment to be able to teach according to the current curriculum requirements.  I would take my class along to Carol's where I would teach both classes and Carol could help supervise and also gain knowledge and skills.  By the end of term we had a really good program established.

The big night arrived and the three of us spent 2 hours setting everything up in one of the connecting classrooms of the main building, while the Principal went home.  Everything was completed and we went out to have dinner together at the local pub to return at 7pm.  We had a fantastic turnout, considering that most parents hardly showed their faces during normal school hours, and the evening got off to a great start.

The Principal made a great fuss of how 'she had instigated a whole new teaching system' and ' how much money she had spent on new equipment'.  The parents were suitably impressed and all followed her to the classroom where Michelle and I were to demonstrate the new maths and computer lessons.  As she triumphantly opened the door we were all hit by the overpowering smell of human faeces!  One of the children had snuck in at an earlier stage and deposited a huge dump right inside the doorway.  We got through the night....

Given all the playground issues, the lack of teaching support from the principal and the almost impossible task of being able to provide the full curriculum requirements I began working on a plan which I believed would solve our problems.

Daily I was at school by 7.30am (this early start meant I didn't have time to smoke dope) I was able to leave straight after school and be home before 4pm.  I had weekends free and my only activities were walking the dog, smoking dope and visiting John & Trudi (to smoke dope and buy more to smoke at home).  So I had plenty of time to re-structure our school program and present it to the teacher's and principal in the hopes we could start it in the second term.

Basically it changed our day from 3 breaks into four with a shorter lunch break and an added mid afternoon break.  This meant the children had less time to get bored, frustrated or wound up and begin fighting.

The biggest change of all though was that Friday would become an 'extra curricular day'.  Meaning that between Michelle, Carol and I, we would all teach each group of children and get our allotted 1.5 hours off.  In the morning I would teach the groups Art while Carol taught the groups singing/music and Michelle had her time off.  I had the middle session free and then took sport lessons in the afternoon while Carol had her time off.  Michelle then had two sessions to teach Computer. 

 Instead of 3 classes we combined Kindergarten, Year One and Year Two into one group and Years 3-6 into the second group, giving us two 45 minute sessions with each group.

It sounds complicated but it worked really well and the children loved it. It not only gave them new social groups to work with, but also ensured that they got to cover activities which we had had little time for previously. 

The Principal was even happier.  Once she realised that she was free of any classroom duties she had 'rubber-stamped' it.  She only had to take over the before school playground duties, which was easy as the official school entry time was 8,30 am and the children dribbled in slowly.  She could also appear to be more involved with the children as their parents dropped them off.

I promise not to ramble on about school so much in the future, but that would be my life for the next 18 months.  As time went on I became more depended upon and the key figure in the school for the teachers, students and parents.  This is what gave me a new life and helped the memories fade away.  That and my neighbour introducing me to Ecstasy which would open up a whole new chapter in my life.......

SOLITARY DAZE


I spent a lot of my time looking at blue,
The colour of my room and my mood:
Blue on the walls, blue out of my mouth;
The sort of blue between clouds, when the sun comes out,
The sort of blue in those eyes you get hung up about.

Actually I spent a lot of my time looking at orange...the colour of my lounge room.  It was school holidays and I had 5 weeks to fill in and try and come to terms with my loss.

Matty died on Sunday 17th of December.  On Monday morning Christine rang me from the hospital saying that I could come over and view his body.  I couldn't do it.  I wanted to remember him as he used to be.  Strong, vibrant and confident.  Seeing him layed out on the morgue table was the last thing I needed.

I got through the day, stoned as usual, re-assuring the dozens of people who called that I was okay.  My parents were frantic and ready to drive the 100km from their new house to stay with me.  It was easier to be by myself and come to terms with my loss in my own way.  I do remember that I finally pushed myself out of my misery to walk my dog sometime in the late afternoon.

Peace Park is a beautiful and large park that was about 15 minutes walk from my house.  It is situated on the crest of a hill and overlooks the Cook's River and a vast area of southern and south-western Sydney.  I used to go there all the time with Toby (my dog) as it was a place where he could run freely.  The park was enormous.  The top half was landscaped with walkways and family picnic areas, leading onto a small bushland area (the last remnants of the original environment) and in front of this falling away down the steep hill was a grass meadow.  Just on the crest of the hill was an old water tower which had been turned into a lookout.

It was here I sat for nearly two hours, watching my dog run freely, and the sun setting on the western horizon of the Blue Mts.  Alone and with the world stretching out before me I cried and cried until my tears ran dry.  This would become my special place over the next few years.  It was the place where I said my final goodbyes to Matty as the sun set brilliantly over 'my city of Sydney'.

Matty's funeral was on the 22 December.  In less than two weeks I had attended two funerals.  My mother came, even though she had never approved of Matty.  His father and new wife came from New Zealand and just about everyone who could from Taxi's Combined attended.  It was all a sobbing blur to me.  Christine was calm and composed throughout the ceremony (later I would find out that she had been given sedatives).  If only I had thought to do the same.

For the first time in forever I had arrived without getting stoned beforehand.  Perhaps I should have.  I sobbed my way throughout the eulogies and when his casket was sent through the curtains for cremation I lost it completely.  I was in such a state that my mother and one of the bosses from Taxis had to escort me outside.

I didn't attend the wake as I was in no fit state.  My mother came home with me in a taxi where we ended up having an argument as she was embarrassed by my emotional and very public display of grief.  It would be months before I could speak to her again.  I felt that nobody truly understood the depths of my love for Matty.  It wasn't surprising as he had always played both hands during our 10 years together.  Everyone knew that we were close, everyone knew that I loved him, but they also knew that he had always had girlfriends and had never publicly stated that we were 'together'.

I spent the holidays in a stoned daze.  Either at home, locked in my own world of memories or working every shift I could at the taxi company.  That wasn't easy.  Besides having to face everyone who had known us for 6 years, I also had to sit and watch every place he had been.  Every desk, every room, every corner of the building was a reminder of him.  To make it harder, catching the train to work meant I had to go past our old houses at Stanmore and relive the memories.  I tried as much as possible to get night shifts to avoid this.

I worked on Christmas Day - the first time in over 14 years that I had not spent with my family.  Both my sisters had re-married and between them had 5 young children all under 8 years old.  It was a time of celebration and the last thing they needed was my misery to spoil their day. I also worked on New Year's Eve, the busiest night of the year at taxi's.  Again I didn't want to celebrate, I felt like I had nothing positive to look forward too and work was a way to take my mind of both my depression and sense of isolation.

My only connection with the outside world was John and Trudi.  Living not far away from me John would often pop in to have a smoke with me and bring me something home-baked by Trudi.  At other times I would catch the bus over to theirs and spend 2 or 3 hours with them.  Getting stoned and always eating dinner with them at Trudi's insistence.  Without them I don't know how I would have managed.  It took the edge off going back home to an empty house and an empty heart.

As I mentioned before, Trudi's sister and her boyfriend had both been executed in Thailand some years earlier for drug smuggling.  She left behind two young boys who eventually ended up being returned to their father (a 'recovered' heroin addict) and were living in a house that was half way between my place and John and Trudi's.  The boys spent more time with John and Trudi than with their father and over the first few weeks after Matty's death I got to know and love them very much.

John organized a 3 day camping trip on the south coast at a beautiful beach in the middle of January.  I was invited but at first refused.  I just wanted to be left alone to wallow in my own misery.  It was the boys who convinced me to go with them.  While John and Trudi played the parental figures they never had, I think I represented the nurturing and loving figure that they also lacked in their lives.  They were just like my pupils at school and I treated them both as equals and with tenderness, always putting them first and letting them experience the fun and adventure that children that age should all have.

We had a wonderful time.  While the boys played havoc with all the other campers, who constantly complained to us about their unruly behaviour, Trudi and I managed to win the 'middle class nuclear' families over by explaining to them about the boys horrific background.  Our campsite (because we were constantly smoking dope) looked like 'a Bosnian refugee camp'.  We had it cordoned off with sheets of black plastic and a driftwood fence that Trudi and I made.  It was just what I needed.  Three days of fun and love and watching two boys who had been through hell and back finally being able to run free and have the time of their lives.

Seeing them revel in the simple joys of a seaside holiday was a tonic for me.  Two boys who had spent most of their lives in foster care.  Two boys whose only memory of their mother was from news headlines of her in the Bangkok Hilton and whose father cared less for them than for where he was getting his next dose of methadone made me realise that I had a lot to be grateful for and that my loss was really very minor compared to theirs.  It wasn't an overnight transformation but it did help me to start pulling myself together and begin to think about my future in a positive light.

Sadly both boys would end up living very short and tragic lives.  With their father a hopeless case, and DOCS (the Department of Community Services) failing to intervene the older boy would overdose on heroin at the age of 17.  The younger at the age of 22.

I worked, I went home, I got stoned, I walked my dog and I cried.  I did manage to spend some time outside working furiously to make a lovely garden around my house.  I didn't have much to work with.  A half metre wide strip between my neighbours house which I weeded and planted with Nicosia and Canna Lillies where the sun shone.  At the end of the strip opposite my front door was an existing overgrown Rufus shrub with lovely dark red leaves which I trimmed and under-planted with Hydrangeas.

I had a small front lawn which I kept mowed with one of the few remaining items that Matty and I had brought together - an electric lawnmower.  But I dug out a metre wide garden bed along the front fence and the fence I shared with my other neighbour.  Again using the same plants to give a cottagy feel.  In front of my sun-room window was a large rubber tree which had gone berserk. This I trimmed down to a neat hedge sitting just above the bottom of my front window.

Around this I dug a curved garden bed and continued my planting theme.  The back garden consisted mainly of a concrete slab (covered with a carport) and a washing line.  Along the side their was a metre wide strip of garden.  The shaded part which ran alongside the house I planted with Angel Begonias and the larger section which was in the sun I turned into a vegetable garden with Tomatoes and Capsicum plants.  A 10 minute bus ride from my door was a large nursery where I could get everything I needed to make it into a prospering garden.  It wasn't long before the neighbours were making comments about how lovely I had made the place look.

Through this I started getting friendly with one of my neighbours.  A young couple with a small baby who was only 3 or 4 months old.  After exchanging introductions and them saying how nice my garden looked we found we had a common interest - smoking dope!  They could look straight from their back garden into my lounge room and I'm sure had seen me sit there night after night with a bong at hand watching TV.

 The other friend I made during these holiday weeks would turn out to be one of my best friends to this day - even though we are separated by a few thousand kilometres.  Bronwyn worked a few minutes walk up the street from me at the local Laundromat.  Being on my own it was easy for me to take my washing up once a week for a bag wash.  I was always stoned when I went there so I had no intention of sitting there for an hour or so off my face watching the machine spin.

It was a few months before we started talking on a regular basis and a few months more (just before Matty's death) that she broached the subject of marijuana.  That was enough introduction for me and I immediately asked her if she would like to visit after she finished work for a cup of tea and some home baking (with special accompaniments of course).  We clicked immediately and became firm friends.

Other than my colleagues at the taxi company and family she was the only person who knew about Matty.  I was able to share all my dark secrets with her without shame or fear of rejection.  She, an older, straight woman, seemed to be the one person who truly understood the agony I had been, and still was going through.  She was both supportive and confidential - to a point.  It would be a few months before my neighbours/friends let on that they knew about Matty and why I had been living virtually as a recluse for nearly 3 months. This would open a whole new chapter in my life......