Lorna Killer...

I remember the 'Lorna Killer' well. I guess like the hydrangea head lop, this was one of my first forays into utilising the garden I grew up in. Well, that and the DDT sprayed walnuts and the magic NEVER ripening figs from the old decrepit fig tree. I still can't take figs seriously because I didn't see a ripe fig for another 15 years until after leaving home. Up till that point my only experience with figs had been raking up tonnes of the bloody things for about ten years....And to my knowledge not a single member of my family ever ate a fig, cooked a fig, or did anything with figs other then scoop the things up by the tonne and get rid of the stupid things or throw them as hard as you could to see how many houses you could clear. They never ever ripened I swear. But I digress...

We had a tree....come to think of it I really should have researched this before I started writing because I have no idea what sort of tree it was...A rubber tree maybe? I mean later in life when 'L's and 'P's were earned and late night returns in green Mazda Cappelas and clapped out Rust coloured Renault 12's were the regular thing, it became the tree to avoid whilst parking on the lawn at high speed after a night at The Austral. But as a twelve year old it held a different purpose. It used to grow these branches....I mean they were foot long, sturdy yet flexible rubber branch. And heavy. Really heavy. They were perfect to sneak up on friends wearing stubbies or an unexpecting sister and and a nice short whip across a leg would sting for hours and raise a welt you could show all who cared to listen. Although I can't remember what sort of tree it was, we didn't know then either now I think about it. We didn't need to know. It was to become bearer of the Lorna Killers and years later that is still what it remains in my head. You see, Lorna was a lovely old Grandma that lived next door. Well before the Murray's had moved in which was to prompt my downhill slide into Heavy Metal, Iron Maiden and Black Sabbath....sorry, another digression. Lorna was interesting for several reason. The first being that she was at that time the last remaining Matriarch of the 'Balfours' family (on re-reading that I should have prefaced that the 'facts' contained in this writing were facts to a twelve year old in 1985 and therefore aren't actually facts at all). Yes, of the famous Balfours family, the very same Balfours pies, sausage rolls, apricot rolls, custard tarts....In the early 80's the Balfours name was unmatched in pastry and pies. Before the rise and rise of Villi's. When every deli (conerstore, dairy) flew proudly the Balfours name from blue and orange plastic flags and awnings. Many mornings were spent sitting on a BMX eating a Balfours sausage roll with tomato sauce punched into...the proper way...none of this packet sauce stuff. The Adelaide way. Bugger health and hygiene. Just jam the sauce nozzle into the sausage roll and squeeze for your life. God I miss the store in the Rundle Mall.

The other reason was that she had grandchildren that used to come and play with us, Will and Emma. The only thing I remember about Will was that whilst colouring in my 'Star Wars'  colouring in book (it wasn't called A New Hope then) he made C3PO green and brown...and that he didn't stay in the lines...I have never really forgiven him...My horror was not abated by him not really understanding what the problem was.....a blue chewbacca and a green and brown C3PO....still freaks me out. His sister Emma was my sister's age. She went on to become quite famous in her own right...and it wasn't by colouring in Star Wars figures the wrong colour....

Back to Grandma Balfour....Lorna was always loving and very kind every time we saw her. Never once do I remember her being anything but a smiling lovely Grandma....so I am not sure at what point the practice of launching the rubber branches over the fence became a standard practice of disposing of them. The discovery of the aerodynamic properties of 'rubber' branch was an exciting time, prompting all out wars throughout our backyard. As mentioned before the injuries inflicted by these things on contact were exciting enough to make this practice highly exhilarating and painful. One of the last places to be caught out in the open backyard was behind the shed next to the incinerator (remember those?)....Shit, I remember pouring the entire contents of our daily rubbish in and setting fire to it.....Foreign idea now but was completely normal then...Sorry I digressed again....I really should stop or I never finish this thing....

If caught in the open, it became a rubber branch shooting gallery for the unfortunately high stubbie wearing child....the only problem was that Lorna's washing line lay directly on the other side of our shooting gallery.....I think but can't be sure that the legend of the 'Lorna Killer' may have come about from a misguided branch striking over the fence into Lorna's area one day when she may or may not have been at the washing line. Those things were heavy...really really heavy. The sudden silence may have put a few twelve year old pulses racing when sudden silence was experienced on the other side of the fence where not just seconds before a lovely little lady called Lorna had been hanging out her washing.
'Shit! I think we killed Lorna!' And the Lorna Killer was born. For a decade or more later, it was not unusual to see someone who was old enough to know better pick up a rubber tree branch, glance to the fence on the other side of the yard, pull their arm back and launch the branch to the chorus of 'Lorna Killer!' years and years after Lorna had long since sold and left.

On the garden front for those that actually care and I am sure that is no one.....The bald patches on the lawn are now being taken over moss....Not a problem I care to deal with in the midst of a Wellington winter. The impatiens are leggy, naked and refuse to bloom. Apparently they hate the frost, and the wind and the rain. I have some bad news for them. I am about to go out and 'pinch' them....even though I am not entirely sure I know what pinching is. Apparently the pruned stem will re pot very well and very easily. So I am going to repot it along side my already re-potted hydrangea branch and rose branch and see which one heads into spring better....then cull the two losers and give the pot to the winner. I call it Gladiatorial Gardening. It's going to be all the rage next year. You watch. It'll be better then watching grass grow.

Next time I'll tell you about my magical disappearing garden.