SPICKS AND SPECKS by THE BEE GEES. Story by Tina Hocking.

 Point Lonsdale, Victoria, 1966

It was the summer of ’66, and with my first year of uni over, I headed home. I looked forward to time with the family, but I also needed to earn money.

Heading for the now-defunct Commonwealth Employment Service in search of something exciting, waitressing at guesthouses down the coast seemed to be my only option.

The previous girl at the guesthouse I was referred to had ‘walked out’, so I was told. Sounded ominous, but I decided to give it a go. Six days a week, weekends included, live-in, basic shared accommodation. Guests could start the day with an early morning cuppa served in their rooms, followed by breakfast, lunch, and dinner, at designated times in the dining room. I was to serve the meal, clear away, then set up for the next session. As for my meal, I’d snatch a bite in the kitchen when I had a spare minute.

The guesthouse business was seasonal, so apart from three long-term live-in regulars (an older couple who cooked, assisted by an even older kitchen maid), and a local woman on housemaid duties, additional staff were temps like me. I’d have a couple of breaks – between breakfast and lunch, and again between lunch and dinner – making it a long day.

The guest-house proprietors were an odd, mismatched couple, in their fifties, I’d guess – he, short, understated, a little creepy; she, a tall matronly type, usually sporting a well-practised smile. The boss had an eye for young girls, but it was the curly blonde schoolgirl he took a fancy to, not me.

Life was a little lonely, as I soon tired of my own company. The beach was just across the road, for daily swims and walks, but I missed people from my age group.  It upset me that I could not be on campus when the exam results were posted; I’d have to wait for the mailman instead. Fortunately, a thoughtful friend checked and rang my results through to my parents, who in turn, rang me. My grades were not fantastic, but I was happy, given my ongoing struggle with Physics and Maths.

As Christmas and the holiday season approached, the town came alive, and with it arrived more guests and extra staff. Schoolgirls from Geelong, trainee teachers from Melbourne, and a prospective nurse from nearby. Shared rooms soon filled up and a rough bathroom roster materialised.

Now in the company of a like-minded younger set, the fun started. Off to the fish and chip shop for a coke or milkshake. The Bee Gees’ Spicks And Specks, a favourite of mine, was playing on the jukebox:

Where is the sun, That shone on my head, The sun in my life, It is dead, It is dead

Nostalgia and regret, slipping through fingers, carried along on the thrump, thrump, thrump of a piano key.

The picture theatre on the beachfront awoke from a winter slumber and opened its doors. At the Surf Club, young folk bopped and stomped into the night, trudging home tired but exhilarated afterwards.

And Spicks And Specks played on.

Afternoon breaks saw us heading out the side gate, towels slung over our shoulders, ready for a refreshing swim. One day, some bright spark decided if we worked harder on breakfast cleanup, we could knock off early and manage a morning swim too. Well, that backfired on us. Next morning, after breakfast, the silverware suddenly needed polishing.

Christmas Day was exceptionally busy with a full house of guests and several extras for Christmas Dinner. We could hardly catch our breath, but the tips flowed that day, be it a note from a local family or holiday maker, or a few coins shyly pressed into a hand by an appreciative pensioner.

Summer moved on, and holidaymakers gradually headed home, returning to work or study.

All of my life, I call yesterday,

The guesthouse closed its doors, and the town put on its sleepy cloak, to reopen briefly for Easter before the following summer brought it to life again. No longer needed, the casual staff packed their bags and were gone. Would I be back next year or would it become part of:

The spicks and the specks of my life gone away

Time passed and although I occasionally visited the town, I never returned to the guesthouse. I heard it had changed hands, perhaps converted into holiday flats, and then there was a fire.

I caught up with one of the trainee teachers a couple of times during the following year, but then we drifted off in different directions.

The Bee Gees Spicks And Specks still invokes fond memories and that sense of nostalgia and longing for what was, or what might have been.

Stereo Story 836

See also seaside/summer work stories by Maria Majsa and Nick Gadd.