THE COUSINS’ LUNCH AT DARLING HARBOUR Virginia
Gow 06/05/12
Early morning birdsong greets the
voyager stepping out of the cosy cottage. She moves lightly up a meandering
path hidden by weeping cherry trees. Bright, crisp wisps of mountain air gambol
with autumn leaves around her. Down
the well-worn dirt track, carried along by sturdy walking boots, Ginny heads
for the railway station. She is off to meet with her cousins for a day of
celebration.
Someone else is walking in this
sunshine landscape. They have a chat and he asks a peculiar question “Do your
cousins know of Fermat’s Last Theorem?” I’ll bring it up in conversation,” she
replies.
Blackheath Railway Station is one
of the remarkable features of this mountain town. The trees that
frame the station are of a superior kind, residing in stately composure. The
station proper is blessed with a delightful mural depicting a man on horseback leaping
over the edge of a mountain precipice. Govett’s Leap is the local myth
portrayed in this piece of railway art. It is skillfully rendered for commuters
to enjoy as they flow on their way.
Blackheath Railway Station also is
the proud possessor of a library in its waiting room. The honour system that
operates here allows one to pick up a book, leave a book, read a book. Take a
book on the train to Penrith, Sydney or Lithgow.
There is a railway crossing with an
automatic drop down gate. Red lights flash, boom gates close, traffic halts,
and cargo carriages rumble past. Some of these trains have over fifty freight
cars. Enormous engines toot as they chug their way down the mountainside to the
seaport of Sydney. Haulage of fine black coal is in demand and affords
Australia a comfortable lifestyle.
After a blissful two and a half hour
trip down the Blue Mountains, Ginny arrives at Central Railway Station. Here is
Sydney, all hustle and bustle, aglow with its brilliant climate. A quick trip
to Darling Harbour by metro light rail delivers her into the delightful company
of The Cousins.
Off they escalate to ‘Cinta Ria,’
the Temple of Love Malaysian restaurant, to feast in the shade of a giant
Buddha. Bohemian in its texture, this restaurant bustles with efficiency.
Service is refined. Exotic dishes are served on colourful plates. Dipping into
a palette of hugs and smiles, the cousins politely voice their news and
opinions. There is no sign here of emotional vampirism found in so many female
gatherings. The air is light and conversation flows in tune with the water and
the wine.
Of course, Fermat’s Last Theorem is
discussed and dismissed. The Cousins know but do not care about 17th
Century physics. Photos are shared.
Triumphs on the golf course are greeted with applause. Whisperings of family
histories share pride of place. Tales of fairy dells and gypsies in Ireland
herald new delights. The World Championship Irish Dancing in Ireland and Pink
Shopping Trolley goes dancing at Ivy’s Night Club amuse and stimulate the
group. Cousins who missed out on this gathering are remembered with loving-kindness.
One is in a hospice, and plans are made for a visit. One is making coffee in a
café and more plans are made for a connection. One is lost on
a sea of sorrow and bemoans the fact that she has no family. Bobbing up and
down like a cork in the ocean, eventually she will find the shores of Darling
Harbour. The Cousins are persistent.
As sunset shafts the City with rosy
orange-yellow hues, the train trip back up the mountains is snuggly inviting in
its silence. Ginny hugs her day to her as if it is a warm duffle coat.
Darkness muffles the rattling coal
train as it scuttles along the railway track heading for Lithgow. Its empty
coal bins eagerly await their feed of black gold. Ginny ambles alongside the railway
track. She is far from empty. The tasty memory of the Cousins’ lunch
at Darling Harbour is her nighttime snack.
Softly singing an Irish ditty she
is soon home in the cosy cottage. She will message the cousins who missed out
and pass on good wishes. At last she wonders about Fermat and why a triangle
would ever want to be a square.
