A Parallel Universe
A
quirky memoir of growing up in 1960’s New Zealand
Mary Egan Publishing; RRP $30.
Earthquakes
in New Zealand have always been a reminder of its geological idiosyncrasies,
and occasionally when the earth moved, so did our little house on
Christchurch’s sandy suburban fringe.
My
father – declared a near-genius by my mother – was a mechanical engineer,
collector and inventor of such useful items as industrial tile cutters,
lawnmower sharpeners, a hovering conveyance platform, a collapsible boat and an
ingenious multi-chicken decapitator – to name but a few.
My
mother, on the other hand, was a complicated woman with Jekyll and Hyde
tendencies, a creative bent and certain knowledge that civilisation was
irrevocably doomed. There was much talk of ending up in the nut house.
Living
on a shoestring required creative recycling and reimagining.
Disappointingly
for my mother, her Ten Toothsome Ways with Gourmet Offal were not a success.
‘We
didn’t appreciate how lucky we were’, she said. Trying to lip-read Mr Ed
through a shopfront window wasn’t my idea of lucky. Owning a television wasn’t
hers, but she was prepared to reconsider when New Zealand got colour.
Fortunately my father couldn’t wait for something that might never happen;
instead, we became the proud owners of a black-and-white nineteen inch legless
Idiot Box.
No more sing-songs around the piano,
reading a book after dinner or lengthy debates on the merits of cod liver oil
as a laxative. The world and one corner of our lounge had just become a
brighter place.
Editor’s
note: Cheryl Nicol was born in Christchurch, New Zealand in
1955 and gained the benefit of hindsight somewhere around 1996. Besides A
Parallel Universe, she has published two historical biographies as well as
international prize-winning humorous short fiction. After three decades lost in
Australia Cheryl has re-embraced Kiwi life and now lives on a few acres in
North Canterbury with her husband and an assortment of animals which mostly
belong to the neighbours.
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