Ozcloggie

After lunch, today, I’ll drive to Surf Rd, in Cronulla and collect my five framed paintings.
Then drive to Short Street, Oyster Bay and drop them off at the public school. (Today there is a teachers’ strike.)

Last year was the first time that I entered paintings in the 37th Annual Oyster Bay Art and Craft Festival. A clever way to raise funds for that school.
Retired from 37 years of teaching primary school kids, it felt funny, to cross right through a busy playground, full of kids, after a break of seven years, looking after very elderly parents. (Unbelievable. Seven years, already?)
I parked beside the playground and there were some girls sitting at the gate, obviously having fun, directing lost souls, like me and I turned into a school-teacher again.

Hard to describe what it’s like to be in that atmosphere again (of running, playing, laughing, shouting, talking, moving kids) after six years of hospital visits, nursing homes, and being with people in their eighties.

It happened again, last night. I rang the school. I had rung the home of one of the organisers. A very polite young lady explained that her mother was at the school, getting things ready and could ring back later that night. So I took a punt and yes, the principal answered the phone.

It happened again. The lost feelings returned. Mark and I had shared refereeing our school soccer teams quite a few times, through the years.
Our schools are located only about two suburbs apart.
His wife and I have taught at that school for quite a few years.
For a few minute I was a chalkie again.

All five paintings are of children I’ve known. Although two of the paintings are of a fictional child: Remi, from Alleen Op De Wereld, by Hector Malot (translated from Sans Famille.) (Alone in the World, read to me by my mother, several times over in the 1940s.)

The girl in the portrait (now seven years older) knows she’ll be hung. I found her (No thanks to The Body Shop, in Miranda), in the phonebook.
Two girls, in the group painting may just be surprised, if they still live in the area and happen to visit the fair. **
It’s all good fun.