THE GREAT ESCAPE.
by Lola Fulton
Here I sit, cup of coffeee in hand, and the mornings work behind me. With nothing important to occupy my mind while I sip my coffee and relax after the busy morning rush, my mind wanders back to Thursday mornings in Geelong. It is Thursday today isn't it?
Thursday is badminton day. Up at the crack of dawn to get my husband off to work. It's cold these mornings, and even before the kettle goes on, the heater is turned on.
The children wander in in dribs and drabs, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes, and stretching their small bodies back into life. Even from the first moment they are fighting for the best place at the heater. Yes, it's another normal start to a day.
The rush continues, with breakfast time over and the washing started. The children are dressing in front of the heater, and they're still fighting over the best spot. Why weren't houses built with three heaters, that way they could have one each and rid three children families of at least one of the mornings hassles!
At last they are dressed and with cases packed are ready for their school day - two of them at least. There's no time to waste now, flying through the house like my life depends on it. Has anyone ever considered introducing housework as an Olympic event? The beds are made, floors swept, the bathroom can wait, dishes done and finally, the clothes are pegged out on the line. This seems the most dreaded chore these cold winter mornings. My fingers are almost frozen stiff with only three pairs of nickers pegged up so far.
By now the race against the clock becomes desperate. It's twenty passed nine and I'm still not dressed. Meg calls out from across the fence. "Whose car are we taking today?". "Mine" I reply, as I think we took hers last week. I'm dressed in a flash and as I rush out the door I make one last check of my bag. Cups, racquet, apple for Robyn, purse, keys - thats near enough.
Meg is over already, and with us all settled in the car, we make the short drive to the Leisure Centre. We aren't the only ones heading here though. Sharon will be dropping Mary-ann at her mums, Annette, Hilary and Louise should be on their way also. And those other dreaded women. The Ladies Badminton Club.
We almost wish doom on them, with their white frocks, and hoity-toity attitude to us "socials". Requesting, often without politeness, complete silence from our one court and our few children, while seeming to be unaware of the noise of their dozen own ladies jumping around the other seven courts, and their own children yelling and screaming through the auditorium. Mostly we manage not to let their stuffiness upset our pleasure, but occassionally, just occassionally, they get the better of us.
Our skins are pretty thick though, as we continue to front up week after week. The tension of not knowing whether they'll be their or not subsides as we realize today we have the whole complex to ourselves, and a feeling, almost of victory, takes the place of that minor tension.
And have the place to ourselves we do! No-one else has arrived yet. No-one rang in sick so we know they'll all arrive - sooner or later. I wonder quietly why we don 't just secretly tell the office lady we'll take the court a quarter of an hour later and eliminate the pressure of the work rush. It's only a passing thought, and Meg and I are soon on the court slogging away at the shuttle for our warm up.
Sharon rushes in apologetically and quickly joins us on the court. We start a game between us as the others aren't here yet, all the time watching the clock and listening for their voices. At last they arrive, twenty minutes late, but I wonder also, are they twenty minutes late, or are we early.
They wander in very casually but their consciences must be pricked as they start to apologise. I think we must be the originators of the worlds best excuses. We throw them back a very tongue-in-cheek "Good afternoon Ladies" and stop playing.
After our usual greetings, and warm-up 'chat', we move onto the court, with the exception of two who will watch the children and chat while the first game of the day is in progress.
What a game it is. Meg, Louise, Annette and I are playing first up. It's a good match. As usual Meg and I are playing opposites. A mutually agreeable rule of the Thursday Morning Social Badminton Ladies.
The shuttle is slogged back and forth, sometimes barely skimming the net, other times almost reaching the roof. A mistake here, and a mistake there, and the serves quickly change hands. Most of our serves are good now-a-days, but I hit a beauty - under the net, and we all break up laughing. The shuttle is back in play, and Annette lobs a little one - just over the net, Drats!
The game continues, with each of us managing to land one just out of the reach of the opposition. The game is a long one, we've been playing for nearly fifteen minutes and the scores are tied - love all.
We play for what's left of our hour and a half, rotating players, and then pack up and proceed to the relaxation room for coffee, and more chin wagging. We have hit out all our frustrations for the week, and our bodies feel good but tired, after the work out they've had. Not a muscle seems left un-excercised, and we all know that, though our weight is not affected, at least our bodies, and minds, have been toned up.
Almost reluctantly we leave, some to collect children from kindergarten, others to get lunch for their children. One has to cook lunch for her husband, and so the ladies disperse for another week....
Oh well, my coffee is finished now. As my shake myself away from my reminiscing my body tells me it misses the weekly excercise. I suppose there's always Ed Allen on T.V. but he's a poor substitute for my friends at badminton.
I'd better start moving again. The timer on the oven has just rung to let me know my pavlova is finished. Farewell my friends, and I'll think of you all as I eat my Pavlova - topped with strawberrys and cream.