Allison Wright

Little known Beckettian facts

Published on October 10, 2019 by Allison Wright1 Comment

The sum of all my yesterdays is all I have. No, that is not true, for they do not form a solidified whole. The patchwork of yesterdays flaps about in the wind.

There is always a new song. Old sounds, altered lyrics. Same rhythm, syncopated rhythm, none. The silence stretches. It is fluid like the yesterdays that come in waves.

I wait, watching for yesterday’s new narrative. Where is it? It is here. Or soon is. It will come to shore. A distant drum. The beat says yes, the voice will tell a story.

When? There is something in the wind.

Pictures

Published on September 29, 2019September 29, 2019 by Allison Wright1 Comment

So many pictures, all in frames. I am good at drilling holes in walls. I am. My father taught me well, you see. Plus I have had practice. Plenty of it. All the places I have lived.

I won’t be exercising this talent this time, though. I am letting go. Such things are burned already into my soul. I have kept one. My sister knows which one. She and I took turns with the handle of that press.

Her first wood engraving. Nothing else matters. I have an easel on which to display it – as if it were something special. It is. I’ll clean up the easel and the picture this week.

Kleiser, G., (1917)

Published on September 13, 2019September 13, 2019 by Allison Wright3 Comments

Kleiser, G., (1917). Fifteen Thousand Useful Phrases. Eleventh edition. New York and London: Funk & Wagnalls Company.

I think your candor is charming.

(Lost the page number).

102 years later, candor autocorrects to candle.

Charming.

That, by the way, is listed as a conversational phrase.

Official portrait

Published on September 6, 2019September 6, 2019 by Allison WrightLeave a comment

When the company moved offices, there was the matter of the Official Portrait of His Excellency — to consider. The secretaries to the CEO and CFO said to the secretary to the Company Secretary of a blue chip company that hers should be the office to accept the honour of hanging the Official Portrait on its wall.

Of course, the Sec. to the Co. Sec. had to accept such an honour. Not to do so would be unpatriotic. It was noted, however, that she did position her desk with her back to the Official Portrait. At least there was one beautiful face visitors could look at when they entered her office.

Black for business

Published on September 5, 2019 by Allison Wright1 Comment

James, the geologist, had to walk through my office upstairs to his. That day, he came in after lunch with a new black leather folder that held a pad of A4 paper, and fastened shut with what purported to be a brass clasp.

I greeted him and asked how the interview for the new job had gone. He was somewhat astonished at the question, since he had not mentioned anything about looking for another job to me.

“How did you know?”

I smiled, and took out of my desk drawer my own new folder, identical to his.

“Don’t say anything,” he said.

“I won’t if you won’t,” said I.

Old things

Published on September 4, 2019 by Allison Wright1 Comment

Everyone else thought the candle museum in Sydney was amazing in 1986. So many shapes and colours. To me, it all looked like those useless porcelain figurines people attach value to. On the top floor, there were some other arts and crafts. I was taken by the handwoven cushion covers. Piles of them Any 4 for $10.

I must have spent 30 minutes choosing which ones I wanted. I spent another 30 minutes deciding if I wanted to spent a whole $10. I got good use out of those cushion covers. Decades later they looked a bit shabby, except for the blue one, which was merely frayed around the edges.

I took a piece of denim, and appliquéd two sides to the cushion I made for João’s first wheelchair.

Years later, she got a real cushion, designed especially for her new wheelchair. I stuffed the cushion cover with a new piece of foam rubber and sat on it for years at my desk.

I used it this summer on top of another chair to put my swollen feet up while working

Today I gave an old chair I was refurbishing to a friend. I cannot take it with me when I move. She preferred this old cushion cover to the piece of foam rubber I had not yet covered.

She has a special shack where she sits and thinks at the bottom of her garden.

I remembered about choosing the original cushion cover in Sydney. I had forgotten about the rest until now.

My friend looked nice sitting on the old cushion in the old chair, trying it out for size. She’ll put some life into those old things. I know she will.

Brief exchange

Published on September 3, 2019 by Allison WrightLeave a comment

I saw my neighbour with his small tractor and trailer taking old furniture to the communal rubbish bin this afternoon. When he returned, I hailed him.

He stopped on the other side of the road. I stood inside my gate and told him the latest news. He could not hear me above the noise of the engine so he just turned of the ignition in the middle of the road.

A car behind him slowed down and overtook him.

It was a brief exchange. He started up his engine again and went on his way. My nostrils flared at the smell of diesel. They always do.

Sawdust

Published on September 2, 2019 by Allison WrightLeave a comment

Pine chest upon pine chest were stacked taller than I in our “end room”, the one with a door to the back, with its lean-to shelter and concrete flooring. That is where Kunaka and João worked outside on the weekends.

They planed by hand and sanded by hand, and did everything by hand. The timber was sanded so finely. I loved the smell of the sawdust, its fine softness.

I was inside, sewing velvet interiors for the jewellery boxes they made.

Kunaka had a club foot, but he had a bicycle. João’s eyesight was failing, but she would not let me screw the screws in, and so often struggled to fix the screwdriver in the screw slot – using both hands.

I had to let her do it. I was not allowed to say anything about her shaking MS hands.

Each chest took between eight and twelve layers of varnish and the colour was especially blended by João, from several different tins. That was twenty years ago, so it was.

I am keeping one, as I step into my new life. She and I called it “Mega” to tell it apart from all the others.

Being here

Published on September 2, 2019September 2, 2019 by Allison Wright1 Comment

The house I saw today — where I hope to be able to move to — is at almost the same degree of latitude as my current abode.

Almost is relative. I love maps. So I can tell you now that the two town centres (as opposed to actual locations of the relative dwellings) are separated by 0°2’38” latitude (that’s 0 degrees, 2 minutes and 38 seconds).

The distance that miniscule difference in latitude represents equates to 3.026894 miles, or 4.871314 kilometres.

But when someone calls me and says, “Where are you?”, I simply answer, “I am here”.

The best

Published on August 31, 2019August 31, 2019 by Allison WrightLeave a comment

“I’m the best lesbian,” Cath announced suddenly, as she sipped her mug of coffee, sitting with her feet up on the three-seater Queen Ann couch they had had recovered in dark blue denim.

“Says who?!”

Andrea sat down in the remaining space at the end of the couch.

“My mother. That’s what she told her friend Vanda. Her daughter, Tália, was also lesbian. They were so competitive, those two. I heard them, one day in my twenties, discussing who was the best lesbian. My mother won the argument, as usual.”

“Well, that’s that then,” said Andrea, slurping her coffee, grinning.