memories

Dear East Perth Lockup,

I’m wondering whether you still have my fingerprints on file. They may have changed slightly over the years, and acquired a scar or two. Many of your present day members may not remember me, but I do know (and remember) an old Ivan who may remember that night well.

It was night, to be fair, and i don’t believe it was dreary. The small, sparkly, poo-brown sigma had been the vehicle I drove at that time. It had been perhaps, purchased from another former member of your mob, and I happened to be driving it at the time I was caught wandering along Hay Street East.

My passenger, and I did have one if I recall, was a little person, but not a child, who happened to be, you guessed it, sitting in the passenger seat. My clothing, if I recall, consisted of one dress, purchased previously on Barrack Street (but not on the same night), peach, one leather belt, oddly shaped and white (it may not have been, but I did wear it with that dress on more than one occasion) and a pair of white leather slingbacks.

Your constables managed to finally get me to pull over when I considered it safe, that being on the lower corner as one turns left at the bottom of Barrack Street, possibly near where the Army Surplus Store once stood. They then proceeded to take myself and my passenger to the above address.

It may have been quite a surprise to one of the members on staff when the sister-in-law of his former “teammate” walked through the door. He may have indeed said some very inappropriate words along the lines of “What are you doing here” with a question mark somewhere in that sentence. He may have even laughed a great deal at the conundrum his former teammate’s sister-in-law found herself in at that time.

Let it be said, I never said I wasn’t a terrible teenager or young adult, but I did always manage to get to work, and the courthouse on time, regardless of distraction.

Thank you for your time.

Kate Capewell (nee Tew).

P.S. Paddy, also a former teammate, may remember his larks around the Dongara township. I think that’s on file as well, nothing to do with me, and quite a few years later.

I wish them and their families love, luck and hugs. May your ships always enter a safe harbour. CSC.

Dear East Perth Lockup,

I’m wondering whether you still have my fingerprints on file. They may have changed slightly over the years, and acquired a scar or two. Many of your present day members may not remember me, but I do know (and remember) an old Ivan who may remember that night well.

It was night, to be fair, and i don’t believe it was dreary. The small, sparkly, poo-brown sigma had been the vehicle I drove at that time. It had been perhaps, purchased from another former member of your mob, and I happened to be driving it at the time I was caught wandering along Hay Street East.

My passenger, and I did have one if I recall, was a little person, but not a child, who happened to be, you guessed it, sitting in the passenger seat. My clothing, if I recall, consisted of one dress, purchased previously on Barrack Street (but not on the same night), peach, one leather belt, oddly shaped and white (it may not have been, but I did wear it with that dress on more than one occasion) and a pair of white leather slingbacks.

Your constables managed to finally get me to pull over when I considered it safe, that being on the lower corner as one turns left at the bottom of Barrack Street, possibly near where the Army Surplus Store once stood. They then proceeded to take myself and my passenger to the above address.

It may have been quite a surprise to one of the members on staff when the sister-in-law of his former “teammate” walked through the door. He may have indeed said some very inappropriate words along the lines of “What are you doing here” with a question mark somewhere in that sentence. He may have even laughed a great deal at the conundrum his former teammate’s sister-in-law found herself in at that time.

Let it be said, I never said I wasn’t a terrible teenager or young adult, but I did always manage to get to work, and the courthouse on time, regardless of distraction.

Thank you for your time.

Kate Capewell (nee Tew).

P.S. Paddy, also a former teammate, may remember his larks around the Dongara township. I think that’s on file as well, nothing to do with me, and quite a few years later.

I wish them and their families love, luck and hugs. May your ships always enter a safe harbour. CSC.

The year I turned Fifteen …

I had to leave home with my sibling and partner as the kids I was hanging out with were “Not the right people to be hanging out with”.

We moved to Perth and lived in Balga, and I did year eleven there. During that time, my sibling split up with their partner and my Dad asked me to move back home. It was a conversation I had with him in a public phone box. I said no, because if I did move back, I would only be going back to the things I had been doing before I left. It made him cry.

So, for a little while I moved in with my second cousin’s family before they said they couldn’t have me either, and then for the rest of the year I was fostered out to a family who also lived in Balga. It was during this time I resolved to rely on my own morals and not expect others to look out for me. It was also during this time I was introduced to a Youth Group run by the Catholic Church.

By the end of that year I was going to do Graphic Design at a Technical College but due to being a disruption to that family I was then moved to another foster family who lived in Heathridge. I got a job working at a newsagent in Whitford City.

One weekend, while I was away at a Youth Group camp, the mother of the Foster Family had a nervous breakdown due to the alarm on my digital alarm clock going off on the Sunday morning. It had not gone off the previous morning when I had not been there, but apparently it had gone off on the Sunday morning while I was also not there. I was blamed for this happening, and for causing the nervous breakdown of the mother — so I was taken to the local social workers house and stayed there for several months.

After a little while, as they really didn’t have enough space to keep me properly, I stayed at a half-way house. The eldest people, the ones renting the house, were twenty three and twenty four. I was sixteen going on seventeen, and the two boys that also lived there were fifteen and sixteen. They had had it worse off than me and had been sleeping under bridges, so this was a big step up for them.

After a short while again I rented a room from a man in Heathridge who was a truck driver and stayed there for a while, and when I had made enough money from working I moved out and lived with a gay guy my age and his sister. The place was a duplex and belonged to their mother. During this time I was retrenched from the Newsagents in Whitford City and got a job at a Newsagents in Perth, on Barrack Street. I was eighteen.

So, there you go. Two or three years in a nutshell. I know the only person I could rely on emotionally or to get things done right was myself as when one asks for help or for people to rely on, it rarely happens. One learns to rely on oneself. This is why I listen to other people when they are in trouble or need to be heard, because I know what it feels like.

It’s also why they probably don’t listen to me when I need to be heard, because I’m supposed to be the one that listens. It’s been proven time and time again over the years to me, and nothing has changed in that regard.

I’m supposed to write something positive at the end of this story. The positive thing is this: I will never regret leaving something or somewhere because being held “accountable” for performing an act of kindness or helping someone is not something I will ever feel sorry for. Some people take advantage of people being kind sometimes though, and some people see kindness as being weak (although that’s pretty much the complete opposite of who I am). I know when I’m being taken advantage of, and I know when others see my life as an opportunity to use people like me as an example of “what not to be when you grow up”.

What I did get into trouble for was;

Sticking up for myself

Not telling lies about who I am and who I’m not

Being kind to people and asking if they were okay

Sticking to the rules that were made to keep people safe

Not being educated enough

Not having enough money

And not giving a shit what people say behind my back

Personally, as I never used heavy drugs, never got locked up or went to prison, never sold my body for money and never injured anyone (that I know of), I think I did okay. I learnt how to do that all by myself, so there ya go. Miracle do happen.