As I write the plane is about one and a half hours out from Brisbane. Christine and I are travelling to see her brother Paul. His physician rang us on Monday night, urging that we come.
The in flight movie that I have just watched was Last Cab to Darwin, about a Taxi driver from Broken Hill who drives to Darwin to take advantage of a change in euthanasia law there. In the end he does not take his own life but drives back home to die.
The trouble is that I missed a critical moment in the film – the defining moment when he was hooked up to the machine and had to instruct it to go ahead! Maybe just as well. Maybe there are some boundaries not to be crossed and my feeling is that the play /film works within those boundaries. For instance the moment on the long drive when he ejects his travelling companions and accelerates toward a dead end with what appeared to be a solid obelisk or similar monument. At the last second he jams on the breaks and muses how damn hard it is to kill yourself.
It was moving to see Darwin after so many years. Much more modern, but quintessentially I think unchanged. Mad and also magical might describe it. The sunset from the beach at Fannie Bay or Casuarina, you could almost smell the tropics (did we ever get Durian in Darwin? I can't remember).