Back of Beyond by Jenny Old

Author:Jenny Old
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2018-02-09T05:00:00+00:00

It was on this trip to Rockhampton that we met Rosemary and Ian Bender, who were to become great friends. They lived on a property north-west of Moree in northern New South Wales. I warmed to Rosemary instantly: she was vibrant, with a wicked sense of fun. Ian reminded me of my father—tall, gentle and smiling, with impeccable manners. Although he looked out of place in the city, he was born and raised in Sydney like Rick.

Rosemary and I were ready to party, two bush girls let loose in the big smoke.

‘Let’s have our hair done,’ I suggested.

‘Yes, what a luxury.’

We wandered along the shopping strip near our motel until we found a salon named Scammell’s. We entered the empty salon and asked if we could make an appointment.

‘What time would you like?’ asked the girl.

‘Can we have our hair done now, please?’

She scanned the empty appointment book for quite some time before replying seriously, ‘I think we can manage to do you both now.’

By this time we were trying to suppress explosive giggles. Another hairdresser was summoned, and we sat side by side at the basins. We should have run then.

‘Do you think this is a good idea?’ I asked Rosemary.

She couldn’t reply as her hairdo had begun. Next minute my hairdresser attacked my head as if it was a punching ball—I’d never had such a physical shampoo in my life. I noticed Rosemary was being pummelled as well. When we finally emerged, red-faced and wide-eyed, we were unable to control our laughter.

‘I’ve just been scammelled,’ Rosemary spluttered.

Our hair was glued into curls on top of our heads, frozen in place with copious amounts of hairspray. We could barely recognise the people we’d become.

Rosemary needed to do some grocery shopping, so we found ourselves in the vegetable market. We filled a trolley with pumpkins, potatoes and other vegies. Once through the check-out, we realised there was a problem: we had to carry the produce all the way to the motel. Being law-abiding girls, we didn’t even think of taking the trolley.

We managed to pick up the heavy boxes. However, as we crossed a busy pedestrian intersection, the bottom fell out of one box and pumpkins rolled across the road. This really was the point when insanity set in—we just couldn’t stop laughing. Patiently waiting motorists were laughing too, either with us or at us. Perhaps our glamorous, immovable hair won them over. Thank goodness there was no road rage.

We finally managed to get ourselves together, picked up the offending bruised pumpkins and moved off the pedestrian crossing.

Our astounded husbands could hardly believe their eyes as two unrecognisable, coiffed, hysterical women staggered into the room carrying boxes of vegetables and babbling about the funny experiences they’d just shared.

‘What are you two on about, and what have you done to your hair?’ Rick demanded.

Ian was plain gobsmacked. He’d never seen his wife with cemented curls before.

The men didn’t think our escapades were funny at all. Rosemary and I shared a large Cherry Ripe to make us feel better before we showered and washed the hairdos away.

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