1985 - Lost in Bendigo

Possibly the most miserable year of my life, 1985 saw me confined to an army married quarter in Bendigo, largely jobless, with a husband who was sent on every live-in course known to man, leaving me alone in a strange town with no money. So why would I want to write about this? Well, there were moments of joy I remember very clearly - particularly Live Aid and The Young Ones.




In Australia the national broadcaster - the ABC - decided The Young Ones was so controversial it could only be broadcast really late at night. On a weeknight. Which meant it was heaven-sent for a chronically-unemployed army wife. And I would have missed it, if I hadn't been staying up to watch Rock Arena - and Suzanne Dowling told me not to turn off the TV. What followed was so surreal and so hilarious, I couldn't sleep once it was over.




I wasn't to know that virtually the whole country would eventually embrace Rick, Mike, Neil and Vyvyan as whole-heartedly as I did that first night. Back then I could only wonder at the loopy genius that brought me the episode called Boring, with dancing vegetables out of the fridge and Kitchener sitting at the kitchen table. I guess I could empathise with Boring - because my life was pretty tedious at that stage.




My lifeline was the library, where I think I read every science fiction book they had. And then there was the pretty boring live music scene, where I followed one band around because I was smitten with the lead guitarist. Who was married and had a girlfriend. I mentioned I was married, right? It was a relationship that wasn't to last much longer, and no doubt my truly awful behaviour while living in Bendigo didn't help.




Although I had no money, I still had the telephone, and could call friends in Sydney. The phone bill reached dizzying heights as I called - often late at night - to try and chase away the mind-numbing boredom. My friend Elaine posted me marijuana (with no return address) as of course I had no friends and no source of illicit joy. I recall a marathon phone session with her, both smoking our stashes, while Live Aid was on. We'd talk for half an hour, hang up, have a break, then call back. It's hard now to recall which performer struck me the most, as I've seen much of the footage over and over again since on music channels. But I do remember Madonna on stage in Philly saying "I ain't taking shit off today" and the majesty of King Freddie and Queen and Bowie and U2.




Shortly after this I got some temporary work with Telecom (now Telstra) and made friends with Jackie, a serial fantasist who would introduce my then-husband to his next wife. Funny how life works, isn't it?