By PHIL JARRATT
Grandsons
The old gag, about how wonderful grandchildren are because you can give them back to their parents when they misbehave, is not entirely without substance. But what a joy they are most of the time!
We had a family gathering on Father’s Day that coincided with grandson number three’s ninth birthday, so the three fathers in attendance had to take a back seat to the young master, who was feted with all kinds of cool gifts and huge quantities of cake. When I see our four handsome and spirited grandsons interacting on occasions like this, I feel so grateful that their arrival brought us back to Noosa.
Empty-nesters at last, we were more than happy with a life abroad, with Noosa a place to drop back into a couple of times a year to check on the progress of our grown daughters.
Then Jack came along a bit more than a decade ago, and suddenly there was a need, shared but at first unspoken, to get back home again. By the time Beau came along, two years later, I had forsaken the corporate life for something much richer. We were home, and soon the tribe was increased (and enhanced) by the arrival of Hunter and then Hamish.
I remember promising myself that I would be a much more attentive granddad than I had been a dad, perpetually distracted by a career on the rise, and now, as the first-born approaches his teens, I realise I’ve done nothing of the sort. I hope that there’s still time, but now it’s a race against the clock, mine winding down, theirs winding up. May we share some good times before I’ve forgotten everything I’ve known, and before they think they know everything worth knowing. It’s a fine line, but they are good boys and they give me great cause for optimism.
Rockabilly, and all that jazz
After going to the country music muster and hearing nothing but the blues, we dropped into the Noosa Jazz Festival last weekend and heard nothing but country. Oh, there was plenty of jazz going down in the Lions Park and other places – you could tell by the number of double basses being wheeled along the footpaths – but we found some seats at Cafe Le Monde right in front of Pete Cullen and the Yeehaws and never moved.
After years of living in Noosa, Pete is Brisbane-based these days, playing gigs four or five nights a week, and what an accomplished musician he’s become. His rockabilly band, the Saltwater Cowboys has played at the surf festival the last couple of years to a great, foot-tappin’ reception, but last week’s set was with a combo called the Yeehaws, with a couple of jazz players sitting in. And they were amazing! From old time country to rockabilly to Texas swing and rhythm and blues, Pete and the boys had the punters up and dancing all afternoon.
The secret wetlands
With swell events being a little scarce in recent weeks, and finding myself temporarily housed in deepest Tewantin, I have been getting my daily sanity fix – an hour or so away from the desk – by walking and cycling the backblocks of the ’hood. And who knew what a wonderland of trails and cycle paths we have around the rim of Lake Doonella!
Is it just me, or is this Noosa’s best-kept secret? I haven’t found too many signs directing people to the Doonella Wetlands, and I just kind of stumbled into them at the bottom of the street. Maybe it’s a conspiracy of silence from the residents who don’t want to share this little piece of paradise, in which case I apologise, and promise not to tell anyone else.
For the past couple of weeks I’ve been exploring this vast network, making a wrong turn occasionally and emerging into an anonymous suburban cul de sac, before hurriedly scurrying back like a frightened bandicoot into the dense ground cover. And just between you and me, it’s beautiful in there!
