R.I.P. Judith Durham

…1943 to 2022…

Years ago, I started thinking of life and ages a bit like in The Neverending Story with the approach, the rustle, the breeze and then the gale of The Nothing, minus the “nothing” part because I’m a person of faith.

More recently, I’m thinking of it as if there were an approaching twilight as the world turns and it slowly envelopes certain birth years … at this moment, it seems to be taking those born in the late 1930s or early 1940s … some either side as well.

Inexorably.

By this model, I’m still quite some time away but of course, nothing is certain and what our readers in their mid to late 80s … and dare I say  even in their late 70s … think about it all … how they feel about things … is something I can’t conceive of, not feeling mortal in the least.

A dangerous mindset, liable to attract the unwanted attention of the reaper.  So the reaper’s working on the last of the war children right now, eh … hmmmm … interesting.

I’ll never get out of my head being at the beach during one Oz stint, it was evening, a group of us were strolling along the beach I think and up near the pier was a carnival, a real one, and through its tannoys: “The Carnival is Over”.  The night breeze was changing direction and sometimes the music came to us, sometimes it faded.