SIGNS FOR WOMBATS – The Games People Play
For as long as I can remember, I have always had a soft spot for the cuddly looking package of furry marsupial we call the wombat. This fondness, I am sure, was encouraged by listening to the radio episodes of Ruth Park’s “Muddle Headed Wombat” on the ABC Argonauts children’s hour.
On one of her visits last year, my granddaughter Eloise and I made up a new game. Whenever we went into an underground car parking area we pretended to look for wombats. Were they hiding in those dark, concrete corners? Were they lurking behind the many sleeping cars? Had they burrowed their way into the air conditioning vents?
Our findings always resulted in failure, as the exasperated Eloise so appropriately expressed, “no signs for wombats, PaPa”. I continue to play this game even though Eloise is, I think, now seriously starting to question my sanity with dismissive glares in my direction.
On my last visit to Melbourne to see Eloise and her family and welcome in the arrival of a new member, the lovely Caitlin Rose, I wrote this little poem about our antics in the car parks looking for wombats.
Looking For Wombat
Down in the car park
There in the dark
With the greatest of wisdom
No signs for wombat!
On the way home I took some photographs of signs on the Hume Highway.
Signs for wombats, Eloise!
5,6 May 2008
Poem: © Briar Hill 2 February 2008