A mutual friend matched us up in 1979. She was, as the title indicates, a nursing sister, running a ward in an inner western Sydney hospital, no mean feat for someone of her tender years. Eight years younger, a mere 23, but to see her in uniform at her station was to know that she was fully in control of her environment. I'd occasionally call in at night during visiting hours and sometimes felt like I was a member of staff. It was a friendly place and I felt right at home.
Our first date was at a restaurant on Five Dock Road just off Parramatta Road. That really isn't important; more importantly I remember her graceful presence, the sensual way she moved, probably without realising it, and how I instantly felt at ease with her. She was unlike anyone else I've ever met, in a very feminine and lovely way.
I was naive in many ways, and shy to the point of being afraid to enter my government office typist's pool if there was more than one female present! My Lady gave me confidence to come out of myself in her company. There was a sparkle in her eyes which always mesmerized me whether we were alone or in company. We parted in 1980, thanks to my lack of commitment. It would take a decade for my boss of the day (an ex-Vietnam Vet and a bloke of few words) to put me straight and to give me a sudden clarity of vision. "You're capable of a lot more in life; it's a pity you always hold something back rather than giving your best."
Such experiences in life come rarely and sadly, we don't always hold onto them. Memories of times and names may fade, but those evenings of relaxing in the car with time standing still, until the milko's truck headlights appeared hesitatingly over the hill, linger on, becoming more nostalgic as the years roll by.
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