Series 02: Alan Gibson Stewart papers, 1987-1989 - Page 219
Primary tabs
Transcription
a9292222.html
98
Five: A new boy at school
The early light from the eastern window woke me. Since my farming days I have relied on the rising Sun to start my day. Automatically, I slid out of bed and peered out of the window to assess the morning. The sky was blue and birds were singing, harbingers of a warm spring Sunday. Soon people would be moving out of their homes: To the beach: to the Harbour; to picnics in the bush; perhaps even to church. But for the moment, the street outside was empty.
Then the dull ache in my head reminded me of the night before. I stared out into the street again. This Sunday was not mine to dispose of. No longer could I make a choice about leisure or work as it suited me. Somehow, I was now public property.
I went downstairs and surveyed the debris from the party. The family started to appear; subdued, still tired after only a few hours sleep. Over coffee, David offered some consolation: "Don't worry Dad -- at least you have a job for the next three years." My mother-in-law came to the point: "My light fitting will have to be fixed," she reminded me.
I sent off a cable to my father in England, saying simply, "We won Manly", and hoping he would understand.
The Sunday papers arrived and we pored over the election results. They told of a mighty victory: