It turned out, though I hadn’t realized it until now, that he had known Ros vaguely as a girl, that they had friends in common still, and that he had heard about her from time to time. ‘See you in another hundred years,’ he said to her as we parted.

Sometimes Australians can make you feel like a space-gaoler, responsible for leaving them marooned on some beautiful but futile star, a million light years from home.

8 Lost Orisons

Eight
 
Lost Orisons

Once Easter was over we moved out of the Parmelia to a block of serviced apartments in South Perth, right opposite the zoo. From our living room window we were able to watch the pelicans gliding in on thermals, well-preserved West Australian ladies playing bowls, and in the evenings the South Perth Rugby Club having a gentle practice under floodlights. On this side of the river the city felt even more remote than usual from the business and commotion of the rest of the world.

There is something about the air in Perth, some quality of refinement or attenuation, which makes it easier to lift your foot up and put it down again. Already I’d noticed how relaxing it was to walk about the city, how little purpose or desire for purpose accompanied my steps. But in South Perth this sensation of blithe aimlessness threatened to melt away all our resolution. We put ourselves into bottom gear. We made forays to the shops for single items. I bought local newspapers, enticed by such headlines as GIANT TREES TO BE AXED. We even talked about retiring here not later, when we were old, but now, right now in the full bloom of our youth. If we retired to South Perth, we estimated, we would live till we were a hundred.

It threatened to take that long to get from South Perth to the city by ferry, a distance the slowest pelican could manage in under a minute, thanks to the exasperatingly charming assumption that no passenger was in any hurry and that no passenger would therefore object while the ferry waited, not only for hopelessly late stragglers, but even for those who weren’t dressed or out of their apartments yet. I swear that on several occasions I saw people come out on to their balconies in their dressing gowns, make a sign implying ‘fifteen minutes at the most’ to the ferryman, and saunter down the gangplank a full half-hour later, absolutely secure in the knowledge that they would not be left behind.

Pretty soon you learn the trick of ferry-stalling yourself. On my second morning in South Perth I gave a little wave, ambled towards the water, and then sauntered back to have a look around the nearby shops. An advertisement on a public notice board outside the Foodmaster Supermarket had caught my eye. It read:

Dennis and Cheryl Stoll present colourful slides and temple dances – donation $5 (five dollars)

Thursdays 8–9.30

16 Jan    Wonders of the Nile