Blanket Bay
There's an empty boringness barely under
the surface of Dunedin's facade. Engulfing
me, getting off the Sunday afternoon
Gazell bus from Kaitangata. With
Gaylene. I wonder if she notices it too?
This is something we haven't talked about.
It's too late to bother trying to notice
if the emptiness is there, when I ride
the apprentice steam train in. Then it's a half
hour walk over to North-East Valley, after
11. Dear Aunt Dot says to John and Margaret
"I think Fergus would like you picking
him up"
I can't hear loud enough on public phones.
It's always so no-sweat seeing them, I do
this painting for their wedding gift.
The sluice and roar of Train 143,
that bashed-around doziness, the last
stretch to Dunedin. I've been doing a block
course at Christchurch Polytech, hand made stuff.
Mum loved riding the trains...
Why didn't you tell me Dad jumped the Totara
in Lyttelton, and onto an unpredictable jam-
packed wartime express to Balclutha, to
ask you to marry him, and he has to be back
in the navy the next day? I like romance...
1972 acrylic on paper 600 x 100mm