Carla Gypsygirl's Blurty

Jane Austen goes bush

“This better be worth it,” I thought, as I lugged a larger-than-life-sized toy sheepdog through the rainy streets. This thought persisted as I purchased giant fake flowers, miniature Australian flags and checked pants with flowers on them (they were only a dollar- you could totally see why). Sometimes, a girl’s just gotta do what a girl’s gotta do when there’s a bushdance coming up on the weekend. “You look like you’re a George Bush supporter,” my Mum told me, as I painted up a “BUSHDANCE” banner.

After decorating our old church hall to barnyard perfection (though we did have to get the boys to carry the haystacks and logs in), Meg and I scooted back to her place to pretty ourselves up. I called out an assurance to our friends before leaving the hall: “You won’t recognize us- we’ll be the best cowgirls ever!” I wore a cotton dress that was a dirty blue colour, with slightly puffy sleeves and flowers embroidered on the bodice. I had my hair in two pigtail plaits, with red velvet ribbons tied in bows on the ends. And, of course, I had to wear my purple Doc Marten’s, because a girl can’t trek the fields in stilettos, can she? After Meg got dressed, we decided that I was the good farmgirl who milked the cows and toiled the fields, while Meg was the hot cowgirl who got to have all the fun. She wore a red flippy skirt, a black singlet, funky suede boots and a red cowgirl hat (she’s the pretty blonde girl in the picture above).

Once the dancing started, I couldn’t help but feel like I was a Jane Austen character who got shipped off to Australia for stealing bread or something (though I think the shipping off bit happened a couple centuries later). There was lots of whispering and giggling amongst the girls, as we observed who was dancing with who. There was also lots of clapping and cheering, and then sitting down when we had danced too much. And there were the yucky bits of standing around, waiting for a partner. I confided these Jane Austen vibes in Geoff, who is also a confessed “P and P” (“Pride and Prejudice”) fan. We pondered the obvious question- if we were Jane Austen characters, then who would we be? I decided that I was Lydia, because I was puffed out from dancing and giggling. Geoff said that he was “Mr Darcy, of course!”

Unfortunately, on the dance floor, it was quite obvious that I was not anything like the nimble-footed Lydia. I was more like the blundering Mr Collins. That’s right- I’m a terrible dancer. Two left feet, cement-footed- you name it, I was tripping over it. There was this one dance where we had to face our partners and then raise our hands up to touch theirs, thus making an arch. Then the couple at the end ran through the tunnel we made with our arms. However, in my excitement, I forgot about the arch bit and ended up dancing towards my partner. “Watch out, Carla!” Geoff yelled, and pulled me out of the way- just in time, too, as a couple came barreling down the tunnel.

The cutest little band was playing- a group of senior citizens playing the guitar, harmonica, keyboard and the fiddle. And they meant business, too- one of the men joined us in dancing, so he could show us how it was done. “You have to keep time with the beat!” he told me sternly. The whole Carla-the-good-farmgirl versus Meg-the-hot-cowgirl story proved correct, as Meg was engaged for most of the dances to a dark and handsome boy. Unfortunately, the boy was seven years old, and his skills in seduction were far from smooth. In joyful excitement, he asked Meg, “Are you sweaty?” after most of their dances. While Meg was dancing the night away with the kid, I attempted to keep her boyfriend, Nathan, company. But then one of the men from the band walked up and yelled at us for not dancing- he even called Nathan “punk”!

So who won the best dressed award? It wasn’t me or Meg- it was our friend Bron, who went along as a cow. That’s her in the picture at the top, talking to Meg. Somehow, I don’t think that true cowgirls like Bron get the blues, because she got a box of chocolates for her troubles. Plus, everyone wanted to talk to her and be her friend, because she just looked so darned cute. But being friends with a true cowgirl always pays off, especially when you’re offered a chocolate. Once again, those little purple boxes of joy remind me that certain efforts are always worth it.