In April 1980, one small girl child was born to a couple of teenagers in the small town of Rushworth, Victoria. Ok, the mum (who was married, just in case you’re thinking she was Teen Mom-ing MTV-style) went into labour in Rushworth, had the baby get stuck millions of hours later, had a caesarean in the next big town, and went back to Rushworth in time to whack the baby’s head on the tap during her first bath.
The small girl child lived here and in surrounding towns for the next few years, and travelled back every so often for family Christmases and to get drunk on the high school oval and get lost going home two streets away. She also attended schools in this town for a bit here and there, mostly to paste Bros posters on her folder and learn all the words to The Proclaimers songs.
The visits became even more sporadic as an adult, and the last time she’d visited was 2001, when she had a lip piercing and a stone-cold, dead heart.
She will also now stop describing herself in the third person and show you what she found when she went back this year. A time warp, people. Shit that hasn’t changed since she was a kid. Except there’s now a bakery and most of the shops are shut. And they replaced the burning-hot kid-unfriendly way-too-high metal slide she once fell off and was convinced she’d broken her arm with a much more boring red plastic affair. RIP slide.
This isn’t even the right town, it’s the next one over, but how pretty is it?!