In December of 1980 I had left 216 Pyrmont Bridge Road, and moved
into 44 O'Connell Street, Newtown, with Andrew.
I left before that Christmas for 11 weeks in England and France, partly
a holiday, partly to see Susan Pearce
to sort out our relationship that had run by letter the preceding year,
her family having removed to Cowbridge in Wales.
She was still mixed up, her letters had not reflected her
feelings, I took this photograph ("Terry meets Julie, Waterloo Sunset...")
as the sun set fast on our relationship, and I was out of that place just as the year ended.
I escaped Wales, and powered into 1981 via Scotland, majestically
covered in snow, shrouded in mist.
After spending Hogmanay uneventfully (or at least without
record) in Edinburgh, failing to track down an old maths
teacher Ian "Le Tapis" Pate (a prototype of Billy
Connolly, I swear), I reached on New Years Day
my father's mother in Lemington, near Newcastle.
She was by then about 89 years old, and I imagined I would never
speak to her again.
I spent a day and a night in that dark, sad house, in the sheetless
bed in which my father died...
...with its scenic view of cooling towers.
Lemington was appropriately named.
As soon as I could, I politely went on my way.
I was right about never speaking to her again, though
she wrote and I replied. I could not have been honest
about my life to her, but I told her I was happy with as little
mention of (my lack of) God and Good Works as possible.
I toured England in my little blue Mini Minor station wagon, seeing
cathedrals and castles.
I felt as if it was a tour of duty to see the old country.
The real estate was magnificent, but the people were dark,
constrained, needing to budget every last beer, that aspect was grim.
Did I say grim?
I visited Stonehenge in the Salisbury plain.
It was almost sunset, snow still covered the ground.
The sight was stunning,
it was cold, I was swift (as always).
I caught it on film with both cameras.
I did not, on this visit, see the horrid astroturf that is now
Stonehenge's backdrop, nor did I wait to pass gates, but I jumped fences.
My swiftness and the multiplicity of cameras both payed off.
I was done by the time the guards had their snow shoes on
and had covered the distance from gatehouse to monument.
They politely explained that visitors were not welcome that close to the
stones (I was inside them) since the stonework had been spray painted
some 28 times, presumably by some of the many disgruntled and
disaffected Englishmen. Some of the slides were
damaged---mechanically mangled---in processing, but most survived, and for years to
come this photo adorned my wall.
Did I say grim?
Oh yes, the real estate could look lovely as here, but great patches of the
place are ugly, and much of the populace. I formed the opinion that the English were
miserable, and lots of them must have known it.
Nationally they would not admit it, but the atmosphere
was dark and desperate. I was not of that ilk, I decided.
When I was bored, I worked for a while
designing a model train control for Ron Keeley,
formerly the drummer for Radio Birdman, who was by
then editing an electronics magazine in London,
and raising a girl of about 8 years of age.
At the end of the trip I spent two weeks in Paris, funded by a
kind grant of A$2k from my grandmother in Australia.
I travelled there on the hovercraft. It was a delight to the engineer,
it roared and rose like a huge animal and carried me across the
channel. The tube was an engineering delight that will last for
centuries, the hovercraft a magnificent curiosity
everyone should have ridden once.
Sadly if you have not, the Chunnel has replaced it.
France was heavenly after England. On the whole the
people were friendly,
the food was delightful and cheap,
the architecture inspiring.
I roamed the Seine at night, the markets and museums by day.
I saw Emanuelle in French, drank dollar-a-gallon wine,
and took photographs that stir memories even now in 2003.
I devised the idea of using my own photographs as postcards.
This one of me outside Notre Dame at midnight
was one I sent back to Nan in Aus.
In the markets North of Pigalle I saw a cape and bought
it for the lady to whom I was returning. I sent her a postcard saying that I
wanted a realtionship with her very much. I gathered
later that she had not expected this, and the arrival of my
card, days only before my own return, inadvertently created
an ephemeral triangle. The situation was never to cause me grief.
I finished my time in London with a few memorial acts. I
photographed myself with Peter Pan, recalling a photo of my mother's
with me aged about 2 years;
I photographed myself before and after losing my beard,
and I flew home.
"Down Under" was a hit at the time I returned. I had left
with a strong feeling that I was English, but I returned
knowing I was Australian, and that song resonated very strongly.
There was quite a group to meet me at the airport...
this was a surprise, and a very pleasant one.
They had even cooked breakfast in the arrivals lounge!
Back in Sydney, I was driving a Honda S600 convertible.
This car---designed with only roller instead of journal bearings,
and with twin rear chain drive---has a huge redline and low mass.
It was so small Richard Lesze looked over the windshield, and it
passed under Sydney University's gate barriers.
I wish I had been able to keep that car!
In our house in Newtown, Andrew and I had dinner parties and BBQs.
Career-wise I was having fun.
I was a postgrad with the Air Navigation Group under Godfrey Lucas,
and the Police Radar fiasco was breaking.
I was also writing for ETI magazine, and the two came together as
we worked out how the devices went wrong.
We set up a demonstration on an old runway at the Fleurs Radio Telescope grounds.
My supervisor Godfrey Lucas on my bicycle and my small car fitted with
radar absorber, each carrying a corner reflector, were the calibrations.
(Stealth fighter---pooh.)
This lead to a lot of expert witness work over the next few years.
In town, there was always the weekly Chinese Lunch expedition
to enlighten the spirit, mostly organised by Dick Small.
There was some SCA activity.
Here you see Andrew in his armour for a tournament in
Centennial Park.
I went to costume parties as an Merlin-style wizard as a change from
Radagast.
I had got a small slotcar set. This was augmented.
I eventually bought a lot of Scalextric, with Richard Lesze.
I designed electronic lap counters, controllers that simulated
fuel tanks, expanded to 4 lanes. Eric had the idea of fitting
magnets to the cars to improve the grip on the track.
(Pity that idea was not patented, many a set on sale these days has that
facility.)
There was a Science Fiction Convention in the old Hydro Majestic hotel
in Medlow bath in the Blue Mountains. I think it was the first official
"dirty weekend" that Carolyne and I had.
Jane made a very good Ice Queen.
I recall we played Zoom.
Richard and I were quite good at that game.
It suited my competitive nature, and we had a number of people
with good reflexes and tactical ingenuity.
The room was filled with raised elbows.
Nobody is interested in playing with me any more....
That year Air Nav was getting interested in electric vehicles.
Paul Hinds and I built the electric bike that won the AEVA annual
challenge. Here you can see him riding around and around...our bike travelled
twice as far as any other entrant, but then we had put a dreadful lot of
work into it.
I designed and built a MOSFET-based switchmode controller for the
permanent-magnet PC motors, Paul had high efficiency belt drives,
and we had selected the batteries and cycled them to maximum capacity
using a program I had written for the HP9825.
Naturally, I wrote us up in ETI.
That Winter Carolyne, Eric, Andrew and I went skiing.
I think a good time was had.
Carolyne seemed to prefer hurling snow balls, she would have made
a superlative snow bunny, given the training.
We stayed at a place called "Crackenback Farm".
With good intent the man of the place had run pipes between the fireplace and the
spa in the covered pool-and-spa area, visible behind Eric and the
kangaroo inspecting each other, in an attempt to heat the spa.
Sadly the snow through which the pipes ran in between got any of the
heat that did not escape up the chimney, and the photo of the heads
took nerves of steel, or ice.
The socialising continued.
One memorable event was brunch, and I managed to force various
people to toss their pancakes using only the pan. Here Dave Roberts
is landing a high flyer. Louise managed to hit the ceiling... she was
going to make sure she had plenty of time to line up for re-entry.
We had what would become an annual event---a Toga Party, after
Animal House.
Lots of people came to our parties, even my mother.
At left you see the fellow who would become my brother-in-law in
about 16 years time, drowning his sunburn sorrows.
There is also Roger Smith, debonair even
when breaking your downpipe.
There were various other parties... here is Tony Green
and Jane at one. I had to look at this photo carefully
to see that it was not one of Kay! Of course a quick bit
of mental arithmetic reveals that Kay was only 15 at the time.
I dimly remember using the long hallway as a target practice range.
I has posted myself an air pistol from the UK (these being illegal
and unavailable in Aus). It arrived with the barrel pointing out of the package,
but no questions were ever asked. I should have bought the crossbow
I saw in Cambridge....
I loved this photo of Carolyne;
it hung on my wall for some time.
I was having a great deal of fun
in my relationship with her. Kay says that this photo is
"very characteristic" of me, I apparently still grin
as she says I must be doing here slightly off camera.
If that is true, I know exactly how I must have felt as I took this picture,
capturing a very happy moment.
Carolyne was living in Normanhurst, in the North of Sydney, and she
arranged a surprise party of some magnificence for Eric and Andrew that November.
Here Dave, Andrew and Nicholas are helping clear up, the morning after. Richard Lesze
had roasted a whole beast on the spit.
Eric was surprised. I took few photographs, the event was dark and spread out,
but here he is sitting (Carolyne and I liked to think) tickled pink,
enjoying the live music.
Whatever happened that December, I did not record it so I guess it was quiet.
I suppose that there must have been evil events, though I cannot remember
any so they cannot have been that evil.
What was Kay Ramsbottom doing?
My future wife was 15 years old, but she was practicing.