Mum, the movies and old Graceville

'That's where Grandma used to play tennis.' I slowed to a halt outside a house in Bank Road, Graceville, not because I wanted to see the house, but because I was trying to picture my Grandmother, born in 1897, playing tennis. She lived to 90, and I was trying to reconcile the elderly lady with a more athletic one in tennis whites, as she surely would have been. Grandma did things properly.


Grandma, middle, at Coolangatta, 1922

I'd just taken Mum to see Lion at the Regal Cinema, Graceville. I'd already seen it, but Mum had read and enjoyed the book and was keen to see it, and I was happy to see the gorgeous Dev Patel a second time. Access is easier at the Regal than other cinemas, and we'd both enjoyed the film. But perhaps the best part of the day was taking Mum back to her old 'stamping ground' and hearing her stories.

As the ads and trailers played before the movie, Mum, told me snippets of history. 'I came to this theatre in the 1930s,' she said. 'Mum would give me threepence to spend on lollies, and I always felt guilty spending it, because it was The Depression.' Talking movies arrived at The Regal in the 30s, and it was an open air cinema, but a bit different from the one at Southbank today. An ad came on the screen for the Graceville Croquet Club, with the current members on the lawn, smiling and dressed in casual clothes. 'Grandma always wore a white dress to croquet (which she always pronounced croaky),' which I can actually remember. By all accounts she was a good player and an excellent teacher of the skills of the game to new members. Tennis, croquet- Grandma's starting to sound like an athlete!

Mum had grown up in Graceville, and the house was 'across the line' from the cinema and about 50 metres from the railway station. As we left the cinema, we stood on the top step and Mum told me another story. As a young woman going to work (and she started at 14), she could hear the train when it was leaving Sherwood station and race down the back street in time to catch it. 'There was wire on both sides of the lines, but nobody took any notice of it, and we just used to duck under it and run onto the platform'. Workplace Health and Safety would have something to say about that today! She pointed out the tip of the steeple of Graceville Uniting Church, (Methodist in her day) which was a couple of doors down from her place.

We drove further along Bank Road (me having recovered my equanimity after the tennis reference) and turned into Laurel Avenue. 'Slow down,' said Mum. 'That's the house where we used to leave the oars for the boat. Grandad and I would walk to here, collect the oars, and then go down to the riverbank to where the rowboat was tied up. Then we'd row across the river to visit his relatives in Fig Tree Pocket.' They would tie up near the new Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, and walk the rest of the way. Walking, or 'Shanks's pony' as it was known, was as natural as breathing in those days. Mum and her father used to walk to One Tree Hill, now Mt Coot-tha, for something to do. The other method of transport was bicycles. (My grandparents never owned a car.) Mum and her friends would think nothing of riding their bikes, ungeared and with back pedal brakes, to the Oasis Gardens at Sunnybank for a swim.

 

We enjoyed the rest of our drive along Laurel Avenue, surely one of the loveliest streets in Brisbane, and then headed to Indooroopilly for lunch. (Mum used to swim at the sandy beach under the bridge on the Chelmer side in the 1930s!) I feel so blessed to still have Mum, and to hear her stories. This Saturday she will be the same age as the Queen; good manners and warnings from Mum prevent me from revealing her age. She can run rings around me some days, just as her mother did to her: sharp as a tack, articulate and with a brilliant memory. She has just bought a new laptop, and loves Netflix on her smart tv. I know that not everyone who reaches a great age is able to enjoy life as much as Mum does, but while she can, we will keep having our outings, and I'll treasure her memories.