RACHEL'S COLUMNS
These articles appeared in Rachel's column every Friday in the A3 section of The Age
Get off the leash, if you can stomach it
7th May 2004
Last weekend, knee deep in debt and broken promises, I decided to head out of town, somewhere off chartered ship lanes and away from the Citylink tolls and tunnels. Tired of making conversation with people whose dental work displays a boring uniformity, I was desperate to find some cows and horses into whose gentle eyes I could gaze without having to submit my Tax File Number.
"Go for a drive Rach," pleaded my well meaning friends, having had a gutful of my whining. "Get some wind through your hair it'll clear out the cobwebs", my neighbor yelled as I drove off.
I opened every window of my car and drove to the limit, hoping that the cold wind would indeed remove the cobwebs and pluck out the chicken-bone lodged in my throat. I needed to tidy up my headspace and the highway is a very effective dust-buster. I don't know how it works, but the combination of the white line and cars whooshing by, shifts my problems into past tense. Inevitably by the time I get home my pelt is glossy again and I bark as you'd expect – like a dog allowed off it's leash.
Not far out of town my skin started to erupt and I couldn't stop scratching. There's a scourge on the highway, an epidemic that's spread as far as the eye can see and then some – the Display Home! These vile pests grow in most soils in temperate and tropical regions and are easy to notice because of the way they boldly stand out like dog's balls against the landscape. They're set up to look comfy, secure and familial, but the whole concept is flawed – homes are everything but those things! Why doesn't someone erect an authentic display home, where you walk in and hear people arguing and yelling at each other? A bunch of children should be sitting on the floor squabbling over the remote control while an ironing board stands between them and the television.
Outside there'd be a car parked on the nature strip because it doesn't fit into the garage. The garage needs to be full of lawn-mower parts, mismatched gum boots and jars of rusted nails that aren't good to anyone except maybe a Danish sculptor. A few beer cans littered across the front lawn would be a sentimental touch and The Age newspaper should be lying in the only puddle in the street. For the final convincing touch of reality – they should be out of toilet paper!
Further along the highway to aid and abet the delusion of picture-perfect homes and gardens, sits that great beast of the outer suburbs – the hardware and home improvements emporium. I'll admit I'm a pushover for Poly tubing and the smell of ceramic tile adhesive, so I decide to have a peek. This warehouse is so vast, a sales person stands at the door handing out a store map that boasts a foolscap size product directory. It's like entering a huge ship, with sections designated for every D.I.Y fancy. I step into the Outdoor Garden display – where a couple wielding sticks tipped with nails are arguing over what colour grout best suits their water feature. I'm drawn to a pink water lily floating in a huge water-filled ceramic urn. I pick it up and take a closer look - it's plastic. The label stuck to the faux petal says genuine imitation water lily; that's re-assuring, I wouldn't want to be tricked into buying one of those fake imitation water lilies.
I glide through building products, home-wares and power gardening tools to arrive at the edge of a grand vista of doorknobs. To my right is the timber drive-through – the D.I.Y enthusiast's version of the Tunnel Of Love. To my left is the café, which is OHMYGOD – directly opposite the stacked packets of Blood & Bone and bagged mulch! Who came up with that idea? Was it (a) the café staff who want to make sure that no-one comes in so they can slack off and take the leftovers home, or (b) a dog who genuinely thinks that the food and Blood & Bone combo is an attractive proposition? Next time I want to see the countryside, I'll do it in a balloon!
