I'll always love you, I promise I'll always love you, 'cause I think the whole world of you and you can't change that, no, no (Raydio)

Tonight and forever (You may say I'm a dreamer - Chapter 6, part 3)

When the accident happened on April 20, 1984, the cassette in the car was playing songs from a Nambassa concert.

As our Chevette went through the Devon St., lights, I indicated to turn right into The Devon Lodge, our wedding reception venue for the next day, slowed to a stop and glanced into my rear vision mirror.

Margo Clay and Chris hang out

The next few seconds would play out in my head in slow motion as I watched the car behind me travelling fast, too fast, through the lights in the right side lane. Instinctively, I knew he was going to rear end me - my fear was that he'd push us into the on-coming traffic.

Nothing I could do but warn Jacky in the passenger seat, and brace for impact.

Which came.

Bride of the century

Our heads snapped forward and mine hit the shade vizor in front of me, leaving a few cuts and bruises; Jacky had some whiplash. Luckily we only moved forward a few metres and avoided the cars coming towards us.

In a numb shock, we all waited on the curb for the police to show up to get statements. Someone must have contacted the police - I don't remember.

It may sound silly, but we'd been lucky. Our car was severely damaged though (insurance would fix it eventually by joining a whole back section to the car) and we were due to go on honeymoon in two days time. Ah well, what are you gunna do? 

During April 21, 1984 Jacky was getting ready in Lorna Street while I was having Margo apply makeup to my cuts and getting dressed at the Devon Lodge (while Singing In The Rain played on the TV in Margo and Clay's room).

Soon enough it was time to head to St Joseph's Catholic Church for the wedding of the century! Of which I loved every minute!

When doing our vows, we both faced the congregation of friends and family - that was a nice touch. 

The Purdys and Smiths

Dad and Ross were there, Margo and Clay (my best man), Greg and Wendy, Phyllis, Roger and Deirdre, Patrick, Chris, Michelle and her first husband, Warwick, Mervyn and Catherine...and a whole load of people I didn't know (friends of Brian and Sallie's I guess - he paid for the reception so that was fine with us).

GNP with Alison, Mabelle

As luck would have it, rain and wind meant we needed studio shots rather than the normal ouside ones taken at weddings. This proved a blessing in disguise - the photos are great!! Lots of combinations of the Purdy and Smith axis, as well as Margo, Clay, Chris were possible.

Greg, Wendy, Phyllis at a table with Terry Heaps and the Ryders

The reception was back at the Devon Lodge and I loved that too. The traditional speeches went well - Clay and I spoke. During the night we all danced and had a great time. 

Patrick and his possie, including Lindsay Loveridge

Thanks to Sallie lending us her Honda Prelude, our honeymoon was spent in Wanganui and Wellington, places I'd never been to. The Sharella was relatively new and right opposite the botanic gardens - a great location for walking and exploring Wellington.

During our stay we were abruptly woken at 1.00am with a shrill fire alarm sounding in the room. The flashing words 'Panic Panic Panic' were sent from my brain to nerve endings throughout my entire body. Jacky, bless her, was a picture of calm and poise as she ushered me from the room, down the fire escape to the car park in the drizzly rain. Whatever had happened was dealt with and we returned to our honeymoon.

Days were spent shopping (Unity Books!!), and visiting touristy spots like the gardens and museums and the zoo.

I had a blast!

Love and peace - Wozza

Pushing the barriers, planting seeds (John Lennon)

The power and the glory (You may say I'm a dreamer - Chapter 4, part 2)

Hair update - the fringe years were over, although
the George Harrison 1968 fetish was alive and well.

Master of Arts (1980-81)
First I had to do battle to stay the course. The teaching studentship people argued against me enrolling in the master's programme - they wanted me at Teachers' College in 1980.

Politely, I declined to acquiese to their request. They blinked first.

At the start of 1982 I was capped MA (Hons) in front of my family, my friends, my peers. Finally, the dream had come true.

Film festival tickets 1981: good
times, good times!

The previous two, utterly self indulgent, academically stimulating years, had been amazing. 

Retrace the route with me as I take the bus along Dominion Road or drive to the gully car park in my mini, go to the movies, go to lectures and tutorials, browse the record and book shops, work for hours on my own in the library, meet friends at the coffee shop or in Albert Park, see plays with friends, and all the while totally engross myself in my studies: 2oth century drama, 15th century drama, Chaucer, 2oth century poetry, the novel, and language papers. 

Student life was very heaven.

The result - second class, first part honours was beyond what I had hoped for ten years before.

MA students perform - Wozza left, Margo second right.

Relationships were becoming more intense as well. Up to this point, girl friends had been just that - friends who were girls.

Coralie Bines was my first date back at MAGS. Mike Budd played middle man and introduced me to her. We went to the school ball and she was still on the scene when I had my 21st dinner party at the White Heron Lodge (Purdy's are pretty classy). Coralie was (and, I bet, still is) lovely but we were just friends.

Phylis Omand was a friend of Greg's and we went out a few times (me and Phyllis that is, not Greg; he was busy with Wendy I suspect). Again though, we were just friends. Soon enough she'd moved on to Anthony Harris.

Friends from my courses, who were girls, went with me to movies, the theatre and lunches but nothing serious was ever on the agenda.

When 1980 rolled around, I meet fellow MA student, Dallas Smith. She was a thing apart, a different prospect, and certainly didn't fit the model of my previous female friends. Intense, moody, artistic, she was a crazy mixed up kid if ever there was one. Fair warning - she told me she was trouble and she was right.

Dallas collage 1981

Of course, it didn't last. She deceived me and I was crushed. So it goes.

Christine and Chris kirkham 1981

Another relationship, began at the same time, has definitely endured. I would have loved an older sister in my house growing up. Christine was away in England getting on with married life to Chris Kirkham, and email was a way off yet. I loved her letters, cards and cassette tapes but she wasn't as easily accessible as she is now.

Margo Buchanan-Oliver was also a fellow master's student, but in a different league to the rest of us! A curious mix of English refinement, social rebel, academic genius, tough business woman, tender and loving feminist - Margo is one dynamic package. 

She'd been married and had gap years in business before deciding on further study, with first the masters degree, then her PhD. Quickly, she became a big sister.

Clay, Margo with Mr and Mrs Purdy

But wait, there's more: Clay Bodvin was and is Margo's partner: an American Vietnam vet, artist, painter, gentleman, visionary, big brother substitute.

What a perfect twofer package! As friends they became a huge part of my life. When I got married, Clay was my best man, Margo - director of ceremony.

In 1980, I was 24 and yes, gasp, still pretty naive. Still living at home, but growing, incrementally, more independent. Academically I was definitely hitting my peak. Through their adoption of me (and kindred spirit, Chris Loud), Margo and Clay helped introduce new worlds - arcane worlds of possibilities and intellectual argument. They can cut through bullshit in a nano second and I love them dearly. 

Chris Loud

It was the most stimulating time of my life. The windows were thrown open, the doors of perception were hinging off their hinges.

I was immersed in great literature: The Romance of the Rose; Chaucer; Robert Bly: Robert Creeley; Moby Dick; Huckleberry Finn; Wordsworth; Coleridge; Shelley; Allen Ginsberg; Ferlinghetti; the Wakefield pageants; medieval lyrics; Pynchon; Titus Groan; Easy Rider; Star Wars; Ionesco; Beckett...

Great people influenced my thinking: Wystan Curnow; Stephanie Hollis; Roger Horrocks. They turned me inside out. As I progressed through those five years I kept an eye out for their courses. I was there!

Wystan and Roger formed a dynamic duo on poetry, film, Americana and art. Thanks to them I was turned on to artists like John Coltrane, Patti Smith, Charlie Parker, Dylan. A previously untapped world of poetry and film as art and expression. It's a debt I can never repay.

Peter Dane made Wordsworth's words, images, and experiences from The Prelude come alive and breathe for me. I can still hear his voice when I read from it.

Stephanie opened my eyes to Chaucer. After one lecture one night, I walked through Albert Park in a heightened state of mindfulness - I saw leaves on trees, bark, the filtered light - everything, it seemed to me, for the very first time. I felt transformed!

By becoming so immersed in what they taught, these people provided models that I could learn from; they provided priceless experiences to sustain me for the rest of my life. Is there any greater gift?

Sadly, as 1983 dawned, the five self indulgent years devoted to study and a search for self had to eventually come to an end. It was time to move on. 

It was time to learn a trade.

Love and peace - Wozza 

Old friends, memory brushes the same years (Simon and Garfunkel)

Time it was, and what a time it was, it was...a time of innocence, a time of confidences.
Long ago...it must be...I have a photograph.
Preserve your memories; they're all that's left you.

More from 21st April 1984:

Patrick, SWMBO and Lyndsey

With Clay (best man), Margo
(MC) and Chris Loud

Patrick and Jacky's friends

The Knowles 2 sitting left with other friends

The Marbecks 2 standing back right

Love and peace - Wozza