Chapter 8.
Mother,
never one for sitting around, went hiking when not serving tea or volunteering for
the many causes she belonged to. Together we trekked the countless bush-tracks near
our small country town. And when tramping, Mother would often burst into song.
She possessed a great singing voice,
and a knack for mimicking artists such as Elvis Presley, Dusty Springfield and
Janis Joplin. Her favourite song though
was —Rehab— by the late, great Amy Winehouse. I can see mother now, gyrating in the
middle of a bush-track, doing those very
distinctive Amy Winehouse moves, hands
cutting the air , snake-lidded eyes, while protesting in a soulful voice that
no-one was going to put her into rehab.
But after, once we were further along the
track, mother would murmur softly, ‘damn shame.’
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