Listen to the ocean singing
Of ships, dreams and the endless sapphire sea...
A short recap of a cruising memoir
Hear the Ocean Sing was launched in October, 2019. This is the final section of Jan Mitchell’s cruising memoir that covers the Mitchell’s nearly 40 years of ocean cruising.
In this volume, Jan tells how she and Ian tried to cope with a beautifully-designed forty foot steel yacht, Libelle, but found her too heavy. They sold her to Tim Lamble and returned to their aspiration to own a Brolga 33, eventually finding one in Queensland in 2004.
Together, the Mitchells sailed Osprey A on three long cruises and two shorter ones. By 2012, Jan’s head injuries (originally damaged when Osprey tipped over in Bass Strait in 2005) meant her balance and consequent sea sickness stopped her from continuing to make ocean passages. Two in a Top Hat came out in 2011 and in 2015, Jan published the second book of her ocean sailing memoir, Crossings in Realitas. Now the memoir is complete with the launch in October 2019 of the third volume.
Short Stories- Excerpts from past works
Yoshi closed the bathroom door, shutting out the sound of his wife’s voice. He opened his cosmetics case, inhaling the familiar odour of greasepaint. He balanced his case on the edge of the cracked basin, and commenced making up his face. The mirror reflected his changing image as he plastered on white face paint, under his eyes, on his cheeks, forehead and around his mouth. With a brush, he outlined the mask at the outer edges. Next, he took a finer brush. Picking up a pot of scarlet paint, he began the meticulous task of painting the ancient Japanese clown designs on his chin, cheeks and forehead. He added the bright green colours of the pattern with a clean brush. Finally, he checked that his eyebrows were penciled into prominent arcs over his dark, almond-shaped eyes.
Finished, Yoshi cleaned his brushes and repacked his bag. Lastly, he paid attention to his clothing. His dark suit was clean and his white shirt properly buttoned, open at the neck. All was ready for his workday in the city. Yoshi left the bathroom, grimacing as he prepared to face his wife again. As he passed the kitchen on his way to put on his shoes, she screeched again.
“You good for nothing, hopeless little man! How do you think the bills would get paid if it weren’t for me?”
Yoshi ignored Juko’s outburst. He picked up his bright green hula-hoop, his black hat and his bag, then hurried out onto the pavement.
‘Let her nag,’ he muttered, and walked rapidly to the station. ‘She doesn’t understand the importance of what I do. She seemed to at first; not like my parents.’
Yoshi shuddered at the memory of the rows he’d had with his parents when they found out that he was attending clown school instead of studying to be a supervisor.
His father’s face became very red. ‘You are a disgrace to the family.’ As he hissed these words, Yoshi’s mother put her head down so the men couldn’t see her tears.
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"Clown Face" was commended in the Alice Sinclair Memorial Short Story Competition 2016
"Tony is Angry" was commended in the Alice Sinclair Memorial competition in 2018
Tony was dozing in the sun when he heard the news. Garry Nesbitt had appealed his conviction. He laughed to himself. Garry’ll never get off. He’s destined to suffer in gaol just as I have done. Terrific to see normal members of society get a taste of what they inflict upon us crims.
He leaned back in his armchair, remembering the day he’d spent in the Hunter Valley, finding the right place, the right person to take his revenge on. Nina and Garry Nesbitt had been the first. Oh, the satisfaction he’d felt when he’d brought that lump of concrete down, through the car window and onto her head. And then to see Garry arrested. The next one had been in Bathurst. He’d strangled the woman that time and a cop was arrested. What satisfaction! Maybe it was time to choose another location.
He rose and went to find the map of New South Wales, spreading it out on the table. Tony closed his eyes and stabbed at the map with his index finger. Opening his eyes, he looked to see the name of the place. Waterfall. That sounds interesting. And it’s on a train line too. Tony smiled in satisfaction. He could feel his excitement rising already. Another bastard will get to experience the joys of prison life, the degradation, the boredom, the mind-numbing sameness of it all.
The planning was thrilling. It gave Tony almost as much gratification as the act itself. Waterfall, he found, was the last station on the Illawarra line south of Sydney, bordering the Royal National Park. Whatever he planned, there were two essential requirements: He couldn’t be seen and his random act had to involve someone who would cop the blame and suffer the torture of prison life.
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"That Morning"- A submission to the Newcastle Herald Summer Stories Competition in 2019
Marie gazes out of the kitchen window. Her heart fills with love for her two lads. Young Donny is valiantly keeping up with his brother, Chad, as they hare across the paddock. The sun glances off their tow-coloured hair.
School holidays on the farm! Thank goodness the boys aren’t underfoot like city kids. They can’t wait to get outside to play.
Marie looks down at the empty Weetbix bowls. She sighs when she notices the children didn’t drink their orange juice. She’d squeezed it freshly for them as she always did. Soon, the boys have gone from sight.
That morning remains fixed in her memory. She wishes they could have afforded to buy the dog the boys wanted. Perhaps they wouldn’t have disappeared if they’d had a dog.
Marie looks out of the window, past the kitchen sink and across the empty expanse. He heart aches for the lost years. There should be grandchildren running across the sunny paddock. Where are the piping voices, the hugs and cuddles, the tickles and shrieks of laughter? She has missed those so much.
The ache in her heart grows. It moves down her left arm. Marie feels her jaw tighten and her breath shorten. She pants as though she’s been vacuuming. Suddenly she’s dizzy and loses her balance. Lying on the floor now, she feels for the alarm button she wears around her withered and wrinkled neck.
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Anthologies in which stories by Jan Mitchell have been published.
The Corella’s Shower in We are Australian – Stories of Australian Life by Aussies edited by Linda Visman, Gail Hennessey and Linda Brooks (2010)
A Ghost Story in The Ness Fireside Book of God, Ghosts, Ghouls and Other True Stories Edited by Lachlan Ness (2013)
The End of the Line and A Whale of a Tale in Beneath the Surface – An Anthology of Writing from Lake Macquarie edited by KJ Mair, Pam Garfoot, Alison Ferguson and Linda Visman (2020).
Rewriting a Life in Seniors Stories Volume 8 (2022). (To be released in October/November 2022.