Two Weeks in the Life of Dr Len

My dad Len has had an interesting couple of weeks, starting with an unusually dramatic garden club visit a couple of Saturdays ago. There we all were relaxing and chatting on Ozzy's veranda, admiring the stunning view from his garden, looking forward to a talk on orchid propagation and a refreshing cup of afternoon tea. Suddenly there's an ear-splitting crack. I turn to see Len pivoting backwards through the now broken veranda rail and falling down onto the garden bed and rocks below. The drop from veranda floor to ground level is only about 3 feet, but he lands with full force onto his back and his head jerks back onto a rock.

He doesn't move. A number of us rush to his side. There's blood. He manages to raise himself a little, but is completely disorientated and shocked. A towel is brought to soak up blood, and a decision is made to take him immediately to the nearby Nimbin Hospital. Some hours later he is discharged, in typically goon-like good humour having been thoroughly examined by Dr Oscar, and his wound stitched and head bandaged. We're all immensely relieved, especially Kay.

Dad makes a remarkably rapid recovery, bandages off by Tuesday, busy with his usual round of community focussed work by Wednesday and precisely a week after his accident he's off on a 11km bush walk through the Mt Nardi National Park and larking about at the top of a huge waterfall - with a drop of some hundreds of feet. My mum Kay had to walk away not able to stomach his precarious and juvenile antics - afterall, he is 74 and a half! My parents took the walk happily in their stride, whilst Tam and I hobbled the last half kilometre complaining about our knees and spent the next couple of days aching and groaning!

And so another week of meetings, appointments and deadlines for Dad - afterall he is retired - AND preparations for his appearance in the 2008 Nimbin Performance Poetry World Cup on Saturday. Its the first round of heats - each performer has eight minutes to wow the judges with their verbal vitality and virtuosity. Sixteen out of 32 will make it through to the semi-final on Sunday. Dad gives a fabulous performance and is through to the semis. He is delighted, we're all delighted.

So, to Sunday and the semi-finals. The draw has Dad performing first at mid-day - what crowd there is has hardly woken up, he's very nervous, he rushes, we all know its not as good as yesterday. Nervously we sit through the other 15 performers and await the judges decision on the final eight.

Its close, very close - so close that the determining factor is timing - anyone who has gone over 8 minutes is penalised and, given Dad is safely within time and much to our further delight, Dad is through - he's in the final that very night. So its home to get the glad rags on.

Most of the poets perform from memory, whilst Dad always reads, and he knows this is not looked favourably upon by the poetic judges. He is also performing next to some well established and top class performing poets. Typically modest about his poetry and glamorously attired in ugg boots and thermals under his shorts, he is relatively relaxed. Thankfully, he's on fifth out of eight, a good position in the running.

The evening is great fun, with Tug Dumbley, last year's winner and one of this year's judges, giving a rip-roaring and hilarious performance of 'The Dog with the Golden Arse!'. All the contestants give it their best and the standard is notably higher than the semi's. There's a break whilst the judges make their decision. There's only one World Cup Winner with the top prize of $2000, whilst all seven runners up come jointly second and leave with $300 a piece. Dad is relaxed and happy all the performing is over and looking forward to congratulating the winner.

The eight finalists are invited onto the stage.

Tub Dumbley takes the stage to announce the winner.

'And the winner is.......Len Martin'

What can I say - Nimbin's own had won, the audience roared, the Martin clan collectively leapt for sheer joy, cheering and whooping with absolute delight, Dad was completely and utterly flabberghasted - a Stunned Mullet as he said! It was one of the best moments of my life - and I'm so chuffed that Tam and I were there to share it with my lovely drama-queen of a father.

His face says it all - Len, in fetching thermals and uggs, with partner of 51 years Kay (aka Mum) in his arms and Poetry World Cup organiser Gail at his side, astonished, overwhelmed and this year's World Cup Winner!