Queensland Art Gallery: American Impressionism & Realism exhibition:  Bruce's daughter Linda in the middle, with husband Wayne and daughter Holly:  What was Bev doing?  |
Around Brisbane
Another lovely day! Now we were into a routine which saved a lot of time.
After doing a little more hand washing as on the day before, I was beginning
to realise I’d need to experiment with a caravan park laundry before too
long as a large wash pile was already beginning to accumulate.
This day was set aside for a visit to the Queensland Art Gallery to see the
nineteenth century Impressionist Exhibition which I’d read about in Sydney,
and later to dine with Bruce’s daughter Linda, husband Wayne and daughter
Holly. The day was again warm as we hurried back up the long slope of
Zillmere Road to the main highway and the bus stop to town. We rested,
waiting in the first bus shelter we reached. After several buses whooshed
past us, we began to realise we were in the wrong shelter. The right bus
approached rapidly. We ran as fast as our out-of-practice legs would carry
us to the right bus stop and jumped on board. I hadn’t made that kind of
effort for years and was puffing heavily, unable to speak for a few moments
as I relaxed in the bus.
At Southbank bus stop adjoining the Art Gallery we alighted. Bruce hurried
ahead towards the GOMA [Gallery of Modern Art]. I remonstrated with him,
calling him back to the older Art Gallery behind us and at first he wouldn’t
listen. I was getting frustrated. How could nineteenth century art be in the
GOMA? My gaze fell on advertising banners along the promenade making it
clear I was correct. Happily triumphant, for even Bruce could not argue with
that evidence, I pointed them out to him and we walked together to the right
place. As we entered I could see familiar and much loved works by Nolan,
Williams and Boyd on a distant wall.
My backpack hung from my shoulders. I was approached by an attendant and
asked to check it in but I was unwilling to leave it with all my essentials
on board. As I began to protest, the attendant said: ‘It’s OK if you carry
it.’ Somewhat miffed, wondering why she hadn’t saved me the trouble of
arguing my case, I smiled with all the grace I could muster and we walked
on. Stopping for a brief pause to eat ice creams before entering the
exhibition, we then passed a satisfying hour or two enjoying the paintings.
I was particularly gratified to see several Australian impressionist works
of the same period by McCubbin, Streeton and others of the Heidelberg School
being shown alongside the American work. They compared very favourably.
When we’d had enough, including a browse in the art gallery shop, we went
outside to sit by the Brisbane River in front of the gallery to eat the
lunch I’d made, before we climbed the nearby steps back towards the bus
terminal. We didn’t have to wait long and were relieved to be sitting down
again. It was a sultry, hot afternoon and we were now quite fatigued. I
began to doze when Bruce’s ‘phone rang. He was told our skillet, ordered
the day previously, could be collected. How convenient! We could pick it up
when we alighted at Aspley! I promptly fell asleep again until Bruce woke
me to get off the bus. Somewhat vague as one is after being woken, I felt
quite disoriented, but Bruce knew where we were going. Soon the skillet was
wrapped and we were on our way again. All we had to do was walk the
remaining kilometre or so in the melting heat back to the caravan park. We
made good progress and as we approached another set of warehouses some
distance along, I recalled we still didn’t have a teapot. Becoming alert, I
persuaded Bruce to walk the extra couple of hundred metres to look around,
but unfortunately, no teapots were to be found anywhere. Taking a deep
breath, we pressed on to the park and were very grateful to finally put down
our possessions and relax.
Bruce made some coffee while I retrieved the still damp washing and hung it
back on the palm trees surrounding our picnic table. There we sat drinking
and relaxing in the shady warmth looking very like ageing hippies from
Nimbin, but I didn’t care. Once sufficiently revived, I took a stroll around
the park, wandering into the laundry to get an idea of how it was set up. I
wondered it if were safe to leave washing on the line and how to operate the
machines, but decided not to pursue the matter right then.
Evening was approaching, time to meet Linda and family at the ‘Lone Star.’
We were half-way up the same old hill when Bruce realised he’d left his
camera behind. ‘You go on ahead to meet them,’ he shouted as he hurried
back to the park. I reached the café and stood outside in the gathering
darkness, turning my head one way to watch for the young family and the
other for Bruce to show up. I was still tired but enjoying the coolness and
noticing the evening traffic swishing by. Just as I caught sight of Bruce
hurrying towards me, my name was called. I turned towards the voice and
there the three of them were. I hurried towards them, explained what was
going on and in another moment or two, Bruce reached us. We moved inside
the café and ordered drinks, talking all at once. Holly had only days
before been diagnosed as having Type One Diabetes. Her grandmother, Bruce’s
former wife, had noticed she was drinking a lot and needing to urinate a lot
and thought Holly should be examined. She had spent a few days in hospital
being tested and then taught how to use her medication. Holly, now
fourteen, had taken all this in her stride. Already she was careful to check
the menu for what she could safely eat and later, she demonstrated how she
would have to check her blood sugar every day. Bruce and I were impressed
with her sanguinity, though still privately concerned for her future.
Linda and Wayne were very cheerful. Together, we passed a lively hour or
two before making our farewells. They had a busy day coming up and we would
be leaving early for the next leg of our journey. Blowing kisses to them,
we walked back down the hill to our van, made up our bed once more and with
thanks and relief, fell into it, quite ready for sleep. It had been another full
and successful day.