Heavenly Beverley : Bubble, Bubble, Bloop, Bloop...

What triggers memories? Sights or sounds or smells or suggestions. I think that each New Year evokes remembrances in us all. The long and lazy days of summer, often with business closures allowing precious time with family and friends, provides opportunities for our minds to wander into the past, along with hopes for the future.

I was making porridge the other morning. Not as we used to prepare rolled oats for breakfast. As I retrieved the dish from the microwave, I heard the unforgettable chorus of Bubble, Bloop, Lub Dub. And I was immediately transported to another place and time.

Back in a few years until I was ten years old, we would travel from Brisbane to the remote Sunshine Coast to stay in a huge Queenslander style building owned by the Presbyterians opposite Alexandra Headland surf lifesaving club. This was always a week or ten day period after Christmas. Through my research for this post, I have discovered this massive camp under a roof was called Alexandra Hostel/House. This was a dormitory style holiday. I absolutely loved every stay. I am quite sure my parents would have hated every stay, but this was a cheap alternative for a summer holiday.

Apparently, the Aboriginal tenants had been delegated to the Cherbourg community many kilometres inland, so that families like ours could have an opportunity for a beach stay. Fuck a duck...

We were served communal meals via a vast kitchen. This was where I first heard the sound of bubbling porridge, which was served every morning. I never had porridge at home, so I would smother the ladle of gloop I received with milk and brown sugar. Absolute bliss.

The water was questionable and often caused gastro. The number of people living under one roof would often lead to gastro. The food was possibly not quality controlled, which would often lead to gastro. We became used to the sound of somebody chundering, usually onto the wooden floorboards.

Yet, I loved these holidays. I remember touching base with two other girls who came with their families. Libby was the youngest of five and the only girl amongst her siblings. I'm ashamed to say I can't remember the name of our mutual playmate. And I hero-worshipped Susie Swan, who travelled with her family from Toowoomba. A teenager, Susie was either bored shitless by the lack of any privacy or was so sweet-natured that she just put up with me - a buck-toothed, red-haired and freckled damaged individual who would soon become a loner. Wherever you ended up, thank-you to Susie Swan for those couple of summers when I adored you.

My beloved brother Michael and I were very close, but the holidays at Alexandra Headland allowed me to spread my wings. I actually have no idea with whom my older brothers associated. I was too busy being part of a tribe. The three of us discovered an abandoned cubby house behind the hostel. Full of spiders and other undesirables, we would attack the interior of the structure with sticks and leaves to drive out any nasties. I remember that the last summer - 1971 - we were nine, ten and eleven. We were fascinated and appalled by bodily functions and were desperate for information. So we created our own scenarios, most of which were completely out of left field.

The following summer, when I was eleven, our family had moved to Sydney. Some of the family, anyway. David and Simon remained in Brisbane. Michael, my adored childhood companion, went off the rails and into a harrowing existence of drugs within six months. Our family was shattered for forty years.

Mum's death for the catalyst for our reunion. We rediscovered our sibling links. We are all very different, but at least we have been able to reconnect at a fabulously intimate level. The Beverley Hillbillies are planning to begin the Grand Loop in September 2020. We promise to drop in on any family members as will have us.