When I first started visiting my mother from Sydney it felt like the ends of the earth, but that impression passed. In Bundaberg no one is a stranger for long. At the IGA checkout where I used to shop for Mum’s habitual bits and pieces - a box of tissues to add to the stockpile, sweet biscuits that would remain in her bedside tin until my next visit - I never left without a piece of wisdom or a kind enquiry. It came standard with the receipt. Once it was the secret to the best chocolate cake going. It’s instant coffee, by the way, a teaspoon, not too much.like a motherless childThe first thing to go was the door. “This’ll burn for heaps long!”, Gordy had exclaimed. As such, whenever he needed anything else from our unit he could only lean in through the splintered doorframe and call, ‘Knock knock!’ ‘Don’t mind if I take this camera, do ya?’ ‘Got any moisturiser? Hand cream or that? For the Missus, I mean!’ – Etcetera.
It was a strange time.decolonyHer faces and moods, like her wardrobe, changed weekly, if not daily. Flared jeans for one date, an Armani suit jacket for the next; a D&G dress for one, then Nikes and slacks for another. And when she talked to people from different backgrounds, although she did not like to admit this to herself, her market research experience helped in discussing the things they liked. She knew, for example, that E34's used Ecover washing powder and supported Greenpeace, and that F41's liked Star Trek: the Next Generation and read Harry Potter even though they didn't have kids. It wasn't that she was two faced; if anything she was 82 faced, or 34 four faced, that being the number of lovers she had in her twenties, as was fairly normal for people of her type at this point in time.the 82 types of person in the world•A Journal of Quality Short Fiction From Australia and Beyond•Contents