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I remember your smile and your laughter. Your deliciously dry sense of humour and your jokes. The way you loved to garden and how Mum always took out a glass of lemonade to you when it was hot weather.  I remember you getting ready to go to a gig; that aftershave you wore and that hint of eyeliner you wore for being under the stage lights. That very tiny nip of sweet sherry you took just to calm your nerves. On Sunday nights, after a gig, you would drive for miles out of your way just to buy a small bag of sweets for my sister and me…the shops used to close on Sunday nights back then. How you loved a beer with your dinner in the summer. How you invented those dreadful cocktails for any guests who visited us. How handsome you looked and sounded on stage with your violin and monologues. You loved to listen to Perry Como and Vic Damone records.

You loved animals, especially our pet dogs.  You always cried during sad movies and loved The Two Ronnies, Benny Hill, Porridge, Morecambe and Wise, Parkinson…

You were dreadfully impractical when it came to DIY around the house; if wallpaper did not stick properly you would nail it to the wall. You once tried to create an indoor fireplace by placing the BBQ on the living room floor…and burnt the floor. You were the worlds worst driver. And your exaggerated stories…about your age especially. You loved to listen to the John Laws Show on the radio everyday.

Your desperate fight to recover after your illness, the asthma that left you so debilitated you could no longer work around  your beloved garden. Your trips to the hospital that grew more frequent, and the stays longer.

Your passionate and unstoppable love for your family; I was the apple of your eye. You always bragged about my swimming achievements, my progress on the organ and piano; and you always read my little poems to all your friends.

You have notched up 3 more grandchildren since you left us. And guess what? I finally became a professional musician - a violinist like you.  I know that you would have approved in the end…I think we both knew all along I was never going to be the concert pianist you hoped I’d be, but I have to say that I tried…I really did.

 The space where you once existed has never, and never ever will be, filled.

I was terrified of the dark when I was young; you would let me sleep with Mum while you went and slept in my bed whenever I was frightened at night. Your temper and your moods; you could be so difficult at times. Your kindness and deep compassion; you were always such a softie. You bought some hens so we could have fresh eggs, and then you could not bear to take those eggs from the nest.

Those last few moments with you; I brushed your hair ( you were always so fussy about your appearance) and I put some cream on your lips - they were all chapped and dry from the oxygen mask. Then I had to leave…I whispered in your ear that I loved you. How I wish I had done that so much more often and so much sooner. But I told you, and I just know that you heard me, I know that you did…and how very long you had been waiting for those words from me, your Wen. Too damn long.  A few hours later your soul took flight from this world. I am so sorry I was not there to place your hand into that of an angel’s.

Afterwards…discovering the love I had for you that I never knew the strength of until after I lost you. Picking the phone up two days after your death to tell you about your favourite show being on TV…and then realising a second later that you were no longer there to tell.

You always wanted me to write a book, you always said I had a flair for writing. Well, I have not written a book - yet - but I have written something far more valuable…this - just for you.

You would have been 95 today. But you wouldn’t have looked it, and you most certainly would never admit to it…

Happy Birthday Dad

With love, your Wen.

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Today’s Hollywood…what’s gone wrong!.

What is it with todays female stars?. If it isn’t Britney chopping off her hair, forgetting to wear her knickers and attacking cars with tennis racquets it will be Lindsay Lohan lying comatose in the back of a car drooling out of the side of her mouth.  Supermodel Kate Moss, who can have just about any man she chooses, opts to kick it around instead with a bedraggled badly-in-need-of-a-bath drug addict. And now we have that poor little rich girl, Paris Hilton, being locked behind bars for drink driving offences. 

Just a few months ago Brit and Paris were pals in club crawling, Paris kindly supporting barely-there Brit as they left their latest trendy watering hole.  Well, isn’t that what best friends are for?. Now, Ms Spears is on her way to cleaning up her act and going on the straight and narrow while La Hilton languishes in her own private jail cell. I wonder who rubbed off on whom the most?.

Why don’t we see this behaviour amongst the young male stars?.

You don’t see Orlando Bloom falling out of taxi cabs in his undies, or Daniel Radcliffe appearing starkers except on the stage where he is contracted to be starkers!.

I’m wondering if it is different for the girls…if it is too much pressure to be famous for your ‘looks’ rather than any real talent. Talent, if you have it, is an easy load to carry. People recognise it and respect it. Merely being a ’stunner’ or having a very rich daddy calls for an effort to maintain an image that is obviously very difficult to make. Why?

Because ‘looks’ fade (especially under the influence of drugs and booze); and, ‘Daddy’ might lose his fortune. Whoever said ‘your face is your fortune’ has a lot to answer for.

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Life Changing Decisions.

How many of us are ’stuck’ in a rut?. How many of us are living our everyday lives the way ‘we should’ and the way ‘people expect us to’.?

How many of us could do, and be, a hell of a whole lot better?.

How many of us actually do anything about it?.

As I’ve said before, I grew up in a household of music. My Dad, George Raymond, was a professional violinist/comedian, and my Mum was similarly musically talented…a pianist and singer, though she never had the chance to ‘go pro’. Family came first with her. She was a product of her time…a wife of the ’50’s.  A Mum of the ’60’s and ’70’s. But she had been a model during the ’50s, that’s how she first met my Dad. And a stunning girl she was then, and still is today, even though in her ’70’s. More about her another time…

Anyway. As a child, through my Dad, I learn’t the piano and organ. That was his wish for me…to be his accompanist one day on stage.  To be an accomplished pianist/organist. And so I began to be.

But, I had always harboured an inner desire to be a violinist, a string player. He would not allow it.  He wanted his daughter to be a pianist and that was that.  So, no violin lessons…ever.

At school one day, at Stella Maris College Manly in 1976, the NSW Conservatorium Big Band paid us a visit and performed for us. The keyboard player on this occasion was none other than Micheal Keiran Harvey, a teenager my age and who is now one of Australia’s foremost musicians. His mother, Anne, was my music teacher at Stella, his Gran had been my very first piano teacher, and we had been in the same class in primary school in Harbord. His Mum had organised the bands visit as a treat for the school. It certainly proved a treat for me.  For that is when I decided that, one day, I would make music my career. AND, as a string player at that.  It was to be quite a while before it happened.

January 1991. I am at home with 2 small children and wondering where on earth I will be in five years time. So, deciding that ‘now’ was the time to change my destiny, I went out and bought a violin and enrolled with the local music school. I never looked back. At the Central Coast Conservatorium of Music in Gosford NSW, with Sylvia Knox as my teacher, I began my journey of self discovery. Why had I waited so long?.

By 1995, through sheer hard work and practice, I had reached a standard where I had passed all my music exams with high results and had been accepted as a player in the regional orchestra. In 1998, I took up playing the viola and progressed even further. By the year 2000 I was tutoring in Chamber music and had raised the courage to enrol as a Diploma student at the Australian Institute of Music in Sydney. This I did at the age of 38, alongside kids of 18, 19 and 20 years of age. I was accepted on my merits, passed all my exams and was a working, professional, musician. At the ripe old age of 38. I had achieved my dream.

Whatever your age; whatever your dream…

GO FOR IT!.

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