Who Wants to be Normal?
This question was one of many essay prompts for my Year 12 English class in 1987. Here is what I wrote. My apologies for my teenage attitude!
The first thing any visitor would notice upon entering our property would be that they had just driven between two red brick gate posts with nothing attached to them. In my opinion, this would be enough to make anyone reverse their car and drive away. But the adventurous ones, and those who visit for a purpose, have a lot more in store for them.
The next thing they will notice if they happen to look higher than eye level, is the twenty-seven foot tall railway signal. Then, looking further down the drive, they would see a railway whistle post and a railway crossing sign. However, they may look to their right and see two sheep quietly grazing - that is, devouring every flower within their reach. The grass around them is usually a few inches high and untouched.
If the visitors look in the direction they should, they will see an open carport with three decrepit cars in it. If they are fortunate enough to visit us in the middle of winter they will be amused to see the bonnet of each car smothered in pieces of carpet and blankets. It is a sort of psychological warming device for the engines.
Out the back, the visitor would be greeted by two boisterous dogs connected to a “flying fox”. It is easy to establish that the various bald patches and tracks in the grass are caused by the movement of the dogs and by the diet of the sheep. Upon surveying the tumble down fence around the no longer existent vegetable garden, it becomes obvious that it is the “pen” into which we “tuck the sheep to bed” at night. Observant visitors may perceive that every tree on the one and a quarter acre block has been eaten to sheep height, and all of the flowers and leaves below this level have been demolished.
Before entering the house, a visitor sees the spectacular views, and perhaps begins to forget all of the faults which have already been noted. However, realising that we do not possess a trampoline, a swimming pool, or even a spa, people soon become discouraged again.
The door being opened to a visitor, he will be surprised at walking directly into the kitchen/dining area. Perhaps if he looks straight ahead into the lounge room he will be confronted with the elegant sophistication of clothes drying in front of the fire. If he chances to walk down the hall in search of the bathroom, our visitor could accidentally attempt to open the first door on the left. As a result everything that has been packed into that room would fall on top of him. The lesson that the “linen cupboard” is out of bounds would be forcefully brought home to him.
Further down the hall, he may glance into the second door on his left, to be confronted by a wall of books - about trains. There are number plates - trains, signs - trains, curtains - trains. The bedspread is of trains, the posters are of trains, the light is from a train. Strangely, the papers on the desk show no mention of railways, as all of our letter writing and accounts are done here.
The hall has a distinct curve in it and the floor creaks. Passing the room third on the right, our visitor will notice a piano with its lid raised and some rather complex music displayed on the stand. He may find out later that no one in the house can actually play it. He will also see a rather short music stand in the middle of the floor with a closed book resting upon it - BACH. It is enough to put anyone off, but as our hypothetical visitor reverts his eyes to the hall again, he will spot a mess of magazines and papers on the top of the piano and sprawled over the desk. These have nothing to do with music; they are part of the theatre “homework” of the man of the house.
Another bedroom branches from the left of the hall. Completely covering one wall are some forty pictures of a teenage idol-cum-film star. In the centre of the room, the visitor will see a rather plump bean bag which has to be hurdled in order to find one’s way the wardrobe or the bed.
Finally the main bedroom is open to the end of the hall. The double bed is centred against a lovely square of wallpaper. But our visitors will be puzzled to find that there are no other furnishings in this room. It is devoid of dressing table and bedhead - a concession to financial limitations.
On the way out, the final fact will hit home: This house does not have a television. Not one of those mediums defiles this “last bastion” of Railway, Theatre and Sheep. Without knowing us, a visitor would conclude that he was in an establishment beyond categorisation.
He would probably be right, but anyway, who wants to be normal?
Nikki
This photo was taken a year or so after we had moved to other climes.