Rich's 90th

We attended Rich’s 90th birthday, on the entertainment terrace on the top floor of the posh twilight home. It’s nice compared to where my mum is, poor Lottie got death by cattle class. Of course, all of the Waterdale clan gathered for the event. The patriarch 90 years old, of course they gathered. Rich’s sisters, amazingly, although the youngest sister is much younger, a change of life baby, as they would have said. The children, and from all accounts everyone of them is talking, well, at least at the beginning of the show, that was. And the grand children, there is a clutch of them now. The cute cousins, cute Max he never changes. Handsome Brett. Sam likes them blond and blue eyed, and was somewhat taken with him. We purposely tried to engage him in conversation, just to see what colour of his eyes were, for quite a considerable part of the party. It was he wanted to talk, but was shy, which was endearing in itself. 

And there was Rich, wheeled out in his wheelchair and nose drip. His nose dribbling uncontrollably into tissues in his hands. It was like a viewing, I swear. Wheeled out after everyone had gathered. His last big entrance, I’d guess. 

I had to make myself walk over there and sit in that chair next to him. I had now known him for years, I had to. Besides, I like Rich, he’s always been nothing but charming with me, despite is fearsome reputation. He kind of looked up, tilted his neck, like he couldn’t move his head very far. “Christian… my boy.” He reached out for my hand, but it was as though his arms no longer really worked. 

I asked him how he was feeling. 

He said he’d felt better. 

I said that he attracted quite a crowd, motioning to those gathered all around us. 

He nodded. 

I said that I had trouble remembering all of their names, even after all of these years. 

He laughed through hid breathing tube, and said, he had trouble too. 

It felt a bit sad, that that was probably the last time I would see old Rich. He was always kind to me, nothing but sweet. 

Remembering that for 5 years of the time I have known him, I was in a threeway relationship with his son and another man. 

He only cares about his success and the empty feeling that he has that he never achieved it. Stupid, I know. What else do you want man? 

The food was good, we tried nearly everything. Well, I did. Club sandwiches for days, mini quiches. Sam had never has asparagus rolls before. He forced a smile and said they were okay... looking over at me with a questioning look. Seriously? He clearly hated it. There was lemon slice, caramel slice, mini fruit flans, which were extremely sweet, and chocolate cake. Let’s get real. 

The youngest generation had a big, noisy play time with balloons, being warned not to let them off over the lower roves of the floors below. As soon as the parent’s backs were turned, they waved their hands in the air, screamed, and let the balloons off excitedly into the sky and over the surrounding neighbourhood. 

Jane came out and told them all to cut it out. Then she looked and Sam and I sitting back on the deck chairs. "Surely you are the adults out here," she said. I had a balloon in my mouth. 

Kids are great. They are just full of such fun, just naturally. 

Brother Rob had a go at Mark about money, like a stealth bomber from left field. He mumbled hello and then that he wanted money. Except Mark and Rob have never discussed why? Just gruff Rob making some demand, usually after he has had a few sherries, so it must have been fore front in his mind today. Sister Chris seemed to fill in the details for Mark on the terrace, like mother Marge would have once. Good on Chris for putting in her interpretation. 

Rob and Chris were in control of the family business at the end. 

Apparently, it is about money that Rich gave to Mark, Rob now considers it a loan and wants it paid back. I remember on one occasion that Chris said Mark should just take the money from Rich and not feel guilty about it. 

“He (Rich) has millions,” Chris said. 

But, that was before Rob’s money seemed to disappear. He and Marge should have had plenty of money from the sale of the family business to pay for their care now. They owned half of the business, after all. Rob seems to be living very well, for someone who only owned a quarter of the business, very well indeed. In fact, so does Chris, living very well on her 5% ownership. 

Mark has never asked questions about the, I would say, but then I am a bitter exwife, obvious disproportionate spread of wealth. Rob’s never hidden his 200K Range Rover, his 2 multimillion dollar properties, or his 400K boat, which he traded for a 900K boat. Chris has never hidden the fact that she never has to work again, with a large superannuation fund and investment properties providing her with an income. Not bad for just a few years work. Mark has never wanted to question this, the very integrity of his brother and sister. Mark didn’t care, he responded by building a bigger empire with new businesses. 

It didn’t seem to matter, as Rob has the same success issues as his father - daddy never told son that he was any good, presumably because father Rich was never told by his father that he was any good. In a backward kind of way, Rich was looking after the family now, he was finally the man of the family, as he didn't mind picking up the shortfall in the bill for the care of their parents. 

Mark always said, good for Rob I hope it brings him happiness, I’m going back to my forest. Or, I’m going home to my newly adopted country. 

Except now Rob is going through a costly divorce and he no longer wants to pick up the tab for the extras for the 2 parents. His super has shrunk. Chris’ next egg has shrunk too and she isn’t giving an inch either. The thing is though, the parents should have twice as much money as Rob, so this shouldn’t be coming up at all. 

Are you following? It’s very Dynasty, you know… minus the big hats and the shoulder pads, you understand. 

Families and money, it never ends. On, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on… 


We took photos of the spectacular sunset, from the terrace looking west. Just spectacular. 

Sunset. A distraction from the oldies

Rob wheeled Rich's cadaver like husk back downstairs stoically. Rich was still dribbling into his tissues, one in each hand. Marge seemed to be having a great time, but she seemed completely lost, happy, but lost. Vacant, in a nice, smart suit. So it was over early. Lovely.

The worst thing was that I had dropped my glasses some where, (the worst thing was that I heard my mother’s voice in my head, as I said it) just as I was ready at the lights on Dandenong road, with cars behind us ready to leave the party too. There were no car parks handy, just a sea of head lights as I looked in the rear vision mirror… as I selected gear and waved my glasses good bye.


Jane and Jay were staying after the party and Anthony was coming over to see everyone when we got home. We had to call him when we were on our way home.

Anthony arrived smelling like a brewery, he drove. Don’t question me. Hands in the air. Then he proceeded to chain smoke, alternating between sitting outside on the chairs and returning inside to collect his next cigarette from his packet on the lounge room coffee table, then it was back outside. He repeated this ten times, maybe.

He headed around to the milk bar and bought 6 Crownies, which he poured into a glass on the back bench of the kitchen drinking them with his back turned to us. He was intending to drive home but Rebecah talked him out of it.

After 6 crownies, Anthony was the life of the party. We all laughed until late.

He disappeared off up the princess tower in the wee small hours and wasn’t seen again. Literally.