Memoir of a single mum

Often it is good to revisit past places of happiness. I remember buying my son his first small yacht. It was slowly dissintegrating on a stand at a local yacht club. Under the tutorship of three wonderful older men, this boat was stripped, repainted, re-sealed, patched and readied for sailing, proudly carrying the sail number 123 on a faded pale blue sale. It was a minnow named White Knight after the confectionary and we left it so.

She had a magnificent old polished wood mast whilst other newer craft had aluminium ones and this made for ongoing maintenance issues for an eight year old and his non-sailor mother. Another kind male mentor found us a free second hand alumnium mast and my son set sail amongst the red group of the sail training fleet at Blairgowrie Yacht Squadron.

Each summer weekday, we would end school days here. Meeting at the school gate to collect him, rigging her up and him sailing happily until sunset. I set up and cooked the BBQ on the yacht club deck or lawns, whilst he showered and readied himself for home and night-time routine.

When we could not afford to purchase the next sized yacht, a Sabre (then $3,000, used and in need of TLC) we sold White Knight and my son never sailed from BYS again. They also changed membership fees at that time that I, as adult could not be a non-sailing social member without an adult sailing member. My son's annual junior sailing fees were worth every cent, just for the closeness we developed through these years.

The lack of sailing, the lack of access to a Sabre, then subsequently the lack of a Laser, meant a particular moment in mother son relationship was no longer able to be that special part of our shared family history. This is turn meant the reliance on cheaper , 'more macho' team sports which at least offered more male mentors... but from that moment on my son and I began the inevitable drift away from each other as he neared adolescence.A distance which remains today with even the hint of blame in my son's judgemental moments, the blame of being a non-working Mum with an income and being responsible for his infrequent visits from his father.

This brings me to the first year after my son had sold White Knight we strolled the lawns for old time's sake and he actually cried (not a young child) when he saw that the new owners had t-boned her and crashed her causing scratches and dents that remained unattended to as she sat on her rack, with the season drawing to a close. He and I could not cope with the lack of respect and love shown this craft that meant so much to us. We stopped going near BYS.

Late one recent Friday evening, I returned for the first time in over ten years. I found what I believe to be White Knight on a rack, still scratched, gunwall needing much TLC on under side. The proud BYS sticker and sail number no longer on her stern.

I felt tears welling up again. Money can buy kids anythings these days but it will buy back our days sailing White Knight (adults can but my son no longer wants anything to do with this rich person's hobby). Nor can I save White Knight. She is slowly rotting away and I am sad that I cannot buy her back, restore her again and keep her cocooned for any grandchildren I may (or indeed may not) ever have.

She did not deserve this after all the years of pleasure she gave the girl who owned her before my son (at RYC) nor now. I wish I had the money to buy her back. I know adults sail minnows but that is a part of my son's life he left behind when the reality of the Australian class system confronted him for the first time, face to face. I think I will post this thread on the BYS site... if they have a blog or at least link to it (which they do and I couldn't).

I felt the Board and Management needed to know how important a part this special place played in the youth of one small local boy and his full-time mother.

Another 'Fryday' even though it is Wednesday...

Yesterday was another of those meetings where I got to witness just how many work hours are bogged down by management people just ensuring that i's are dotted and t's are crossed to ensure compliance with institutional policies, frameworks and practices.
It was interesting to see how the biggest fear infecting discussions and decision-making procedures is PRECEDENT....

Some times circumstances just do not fit neatly into boxes created by monolithic institutions and institutional thought totally dominates and stops innovative and creative responses.

I cannot be specific about any of the particular academic issues discussed but it also brings into sharp focus the need to 'be seen to be operating fairly across ALL disciplines' and for policy to be CONSISTENT across disciplines.... even when disciplines themselves are so radically different as are their ways of being taught. One model cannot fit all.... no matter what the more bureaucrats amongst us say. This is a ludicrous guiding assumption that ensures that Universities do not function at the highest level of innovation... there are inbuilt biases against exactly thattype of 'out of the box' thinking.

That my particular discipline cluster is Creative Arts, it immediately becomes obvious how (literally) soul-destroying such meetings are for me to participate in, and to observe exactly how some terms and conditions are used to systemically discriminate against our preferred disciplines and skill sets.


Who decides on artistic abilities and hence Quality Assurance of a degree... based upon what insight or experience?

Why do arbitrary limits and demands HAVE to be adhered to if a case can be made that better demonstrates merit or competence?

I simply have to get back to working in research disputing the corporate managerialsit mindset that infects our Universities... please someone hire me. We can never achieve a sustainable and equitable nation where all young people (and formally excluded older people) can access the highest level of education in their recognised fields of expertise whislt bureaucratic blinkers remain the decision filters. Enhanced cultural capital is not such a bad goal for 21st century Australia and I want to be at the vanguard of this recognition... not a victim of marginalisation and tokenism.

This is exactly the head-space where I am in danger of 'dropping my bundle' when the world appears so out of sync with my beliefs, abilities and sensibilities.

I am so glad the sun is shining. I am feeling like I can draw on some shreds of energy left to get back on my 'campaign horse' and write it out of my system... but I must act quickly before the angst puddles and pulls me down into my stagnant sludge of apathy.

This invariably leads to the bottom-ward gradient on my mood-state graph. Let's just say today, after yesterday I am sitting at about a -2!

Add to this, today is the 'chosen day' my son wants to dine out for his 21st (with father, ex-boss and wife), an evening I am not 100% looking forward to. Well now, I feel as if by speaking about it (and viewing it) in such a negative way, I have caused The Fates (or would that be The Furies?) to reign down their displeasure...

... My son's boss's wife's sister (wow, so many possessive apostrophes in one clause) has come to visit her, and as many family events can be, the timing is very bad to get out of this commitment, so my son's dinner out is not viable under the circumstances. They have had to postpone.

Next, his father still wants to go out as he is looking forward to it (for him of course, not my son). I can't eat most of the food there and my son couldn't give a shit to go out with his father. So I will have a disappointed son arrive home soon, a likely fraught exchange between everybody later and most probably a dinner for three of us who really don't like sharing a dining table anyway!

Next complication not so easily

My son is keen to cook for a friend to thank her and her husband for his birthday gift (which neither of us were expecting).

He does not know how to actually say Thank you, it seems out of his lexicon, so he wanted ME to ring her up and say thanks on his behalf!(Cooking is his only way of saying thanks when I think about it) Yeah sure... I am about to do more family emotional upkeep, I think not. It would be so simple if I could just ask these two friends to dinner but that means the whole 'ex-boss and wife' thing would have to be postponed (which it obviously has to be)... and I will be up for two or three dinners at this lovely restaurant where I cant eat (or drink... as I am designated driver).

And to think in my last blog I believed the big frantic emotional days of 2010 were about to subside into memeory, and the tense 'don't mention the elephant' state descended upon us for another fortnight or so.

And people wonder why I see my hospital stays as a spell in a tranquil haven.

Perhaps reading these blogs not only will my friends gain and insight into Bipolar Mood Disporder, but into an understanding of my life also. Yep, I need to wallow in sympathy at present so I feel valued.

And if in the text above I have used any split infinitives... today's news is that the Australian Government Style Manual for 2010 allows them. Now I just have to work out what they are!