Wednesday, August 8, 2007

1 Midlife Crisis



They thought it was mid-life crisis. I was 45, irritable, couldn’t settle, knew I needed something but didn’t know what it was and sniped at her whenever the smallest opportunity arose. I started a peculiar behaviour of patting trees as I passed them on the way to work. Nobody saw this because it was in the Black Mountain Nature Reserve frequented only by crazy fast runners like Rob Decastella, and then at speed.

Maybe I needed a lifestyle change, maybe my own big space, like a property in the country, instead of a restrictive small suburban house. It had never been restrictive before. It had a nice little shed where I could do my wood carving, mend my bike and be surrounded by big-breasted centrefolds from Playboy on the walls. And with the large bench, vice, and lots of hand tools, was perfect for doing just about any maintenance oddies around the house and for inventions. She said I should be content. Her dad had been happy with almost exactly this set-up for 40 years so what was wrong with me. I pointed out in weak defence that he had meter maids from Surfer’s Paradise pinned on his wall and a partial view of a tennis court out the back.

So I had to rationalise this strange and sudden need. The gist was that Toona australis, the beautiful Australian cedar that takes a couple of centuries to mature and is perfect for transforming into superb furniture, was pretty well logged out. I could be one of the few far-sighted people to begin to replenish the stocks by growing my own forest. It would be a nice earner for the multi-greats grandchildren too. Only problem was that Toona likes warm places and I hate them. Canberra was my ideal climate and I was already there.

But the irrational urge ignored the comfort issue and anyway, when I was old, I might like a warm place. She agreed to go with me one weekend to see a perfect property in northern New South Wales, not far from the coast. She agreed because she actually liked travelling and it didn’t matter where to as long as we could stay overnight in a nice motel.

The property was 250 acres, had natural springs and was just $45,000 including the 3-bedroom house. What a bargain. Except it had no access apart from a track through a neighbour’s property that was not trafficable in winter, no electricity, no phone, and the house was dilapidated. But worst of all it was covered in unmanageable perennial weeds. Sadly, my dream place was a disaster quite unlike the adverts. “It’s only $45K I argued stubbornly and it’s the right climate and it’s big”. She wasn’t impressed and discussions about separation began in the car on the way back home, between long silences.

I gave in temporarily, making no further mention of the dream. Was pretty busy at work anyway and I loved my job, sort of discovering things and inventing stories about them. The job resembled a mental big shed but with more tools than at home.

It wouldn’t stay down though and off we went again to look at a place in the gold country near Bathurst. It was more money, approaching $100K, was only 100 acres and had no facilities. In short it was a total rip-off but once again I enjoyed patting the trees and imagining the spirit of the land that had been interminably raped by the miners. You’d be stupid to buy this she said. I disagreed on principle.

She kept telling me that I should buy something more local. There were nice properties in the high country at low prices, plenty of water, isolated to suit my hermit leanings, and I could go there every weekend and grow my things while still working in Canberra. But I had spent many hours convincing myself and others that Toona was the key. No way would Toona grow in the high country. It was freezing there. Grow something else she said, or just be like others and enjoy it as a weekender.

I was pretty fed up. One day though, she came home from Uni where she was doing a Law degree with an ad from the property section of the Sydney Morning Herald. It was a tiny and scrappy ad torn out of the paper by her student friend Charlotta who might secretly have been taking pity on me. The key message was that a 65 ha place was ready for immediate occupancy. It was between Nimmitabel, Bombala and Bega, 2 hours drive from Canberra, had 1 km of river flowing through it and had large sheds, fenced paddocks and a temporary dwelling. Permanent water is a must for growing anything and maybe it was near enough to Bega so I could grow exotic trees. The price was right at about $75K, negotiable. Let’s have a look she said.

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