There was never a place for them at the beach then, ever. They interfered with our game, they changed our priorities and introduced into us a fathomless longing for something other than a shallow ride on a wave – and in so doing they played a wholly inconvenient game with many of our sensibilities.
Girls consumed our daylight with the same limitless hunger as homework did our night. These puresome waifs, they drifted in and out of the tightest male cliques with an enviable insouciance.
In transit.
Girls, in their feminine contrariness, fed on our immature inadequacies with the same lethal enthusiasm as a fox’s hunger does when its master capers about a fat rabbit.
Forever drawing closer.
Girls had no appreciation of the technical aspects of, say, successfully handling a steep take-off; they would certainly listen to us blustering away – coyly perched on those ancient sun blackened boulders at south Bondi – as the subject was discussed at great length, but their eyes were not associated with their ears, and the discussion faltered from time to time whenever one of us looked over and was lucky enough to gaze into, and meet, if just for an instant, one of those dark and watchful pools of light.
Girls couldn’t travel, wouldn’t travel, they were unable to throw four weeks kit into a duffel bag, tie a board onto a roof rack, and vanish off up the north coast for a month or two.
Girls would rarely drink in Beer Gardens, and never in Public Bars, they avoided the beach at night and were always in time for the last bus home, from anywhere. They knew the value of a goodbye, and they slipped in and out of our Saturday nights like tricks of light, leaving us wondering what to grasp of them.
Girls were never alone, they moved about in knitted up alliances with other girls, and they developed an impenetrable cross communication of half-words, sharp glances and subtle gestures that confounded us all.
Though it all made sense later.
Nice one Pete
Another stellar sketch from Mr Bowes. I chuckled at ‘ always in time for the last bus home, from anywhere’. God wasnt that the truth?
I wish this was longer.
Doesn’t google images do a fine job when you want it to ?
Hi Pete, having been one of them gals at Bondi circa 83-85 I can sincerely say: “bravo”, albeit youve left out a huge chunk. Like what we girls we really thinking about you surfers…perhaps that’s for me to write.
Thanks for the inspiration.
Cheerz,
V
Vita, dont tease, give it up.
otherwise whats changed
haha that’s great….im still musing over what to write. good to know i have an audience already.
hey V, there was only so much a sixteen year old boofhead could read into what you girls were up to – having two daughters later on was a big help, kind of, but that’s another story.
too true about the boofheads’ lack of awareness…sooner or later i’ll type out my takes on the flakes of yesteryear…and u can see if it’s congruent with yr dotters experiences. altho as u say that is another story. there’s a plethora of stories out there/here.
Vita, We Kurungabaa crew will be stoked to receive some writing from you . No pressure .. Just want you to feel welcome.
Taa mate. I’m musing about what to write as we speak ~.
Pete, What decade or period are u referring to in “girlfriends’? im just writing my piece now and reading yours back over, Im thinking it must have been before the 80′s.
ciao,
vita
hey Vita – now don’t be frightened – but it was about 1959.
I have my mum’s long term memory.
haha im not frightened by that. au contraire, it ‘s good to see how things shifted between then and my time in surfiedom. at least we had a place at the beach. sort of.
È troppo bello, quando si tratta in India auguro che possa fare un posto a dondolo per ragazzo .. speranza che si avvera.