This is my “return of the prodigal”.
After High School graduation I wanted to do law, journalism or pursue an academic career, I didn’t complete any of those things, I did actually begin a BA at University of Queensland majoring in journalism in 1984. Instead I completed an Assoc Dip of The Arts in Theatre (acting) at the then Kelvin Grove College of Advanced Education in 1988. Years later I went on to attend NIDA (directing) in 1993 – another course I didn’t complete – I left one month prior to graduation in protest against the then Head of Direction at NIDA.
I have started no fewer than 6 companies, two theatre companies and four business entities. Four of which I would consider to have been successful , one of which – enormously financially successful.
So how do I find myself returning to my parents house at the age of 44 after only nine years in the USA, a father of six children, two of whom are biological (I will explain this confusing bit of information in a later post), single, unemployed, behind in child support payments, nearly homeless, penniless and injured. How the fuck did that happen?? – and all in the space of nine years? The truly disastrous occurences in only four short years??
Short answer – I’m still not really sure.
Definitive answer – It doesn’t really matter. I love my kids – and those of my kids who can remember who I am (and I number amongst them my two biological babies) love me too. My remarkable ever loving and supportive family love me – My Mum and Dad, My brother and sister-in-law and their children – my nephew and niece. My fabulous friends have open arms and my beloved homeland although significantly changed still welcomes me. I still have hope and heart and the ability to start again.
I remember the last pope or the bloke before him used to kiss the ground when disembarking from a plane upon arrival in a new country. Nice gesture. Qantas should have those landing stairs attached to the aircraft of every returning international flight reserved for returning ex-pats – that way we could kiss our golden soil – we’d know why we were doing it. There’d be no gesture about it.
My Dad Mum and Brother
Brother, Nephew, Holly the Newf and wide open spaces at Portsea Beach
Coffee at Seven Seeds - we take our coffee seriously
The view of The Yarra Valley from Tarra Warra Winery and Art Gallery
Lunch at Yering Station Winery Yarra Valley
