Back to the Rafters

I love you.

With all my heart.

Six years ago, we set out on our road trip.

Ready, Rubes?

- - Yep.

One life ended and another began.

No firm plans, off into the great unknown.

- Bye! - See ya.

Bye!

Our much-loved green van

unfortunately didn't last the distance.

But we weren't about to stop.

Before we knew it, we'd been on the road for four years.

We'd move, settle for a bit,

back to Sydney for visits, head off again.

Life had a rhythm.

I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with..."F."

Lame, Mum.

It wasn't lame yesterday.

It's been lame for a long time.

It was "foliage."

"F" usually is.

Whoa!

What's...

But it couldn't go on forever.

Or for "flat."

Who knows where we might have put down roots

if we hadn't blown that tire.

- I can do it. - It's too dangerous.

- Dave, it's on a slope. - It's fine.

- I'm not a kid, Dad. - Next time.

You said that last time. He did, right?

You'll have plenty of chances when you're older.

What if we stop moving?

Why don't you go and tell me what that sign says?

Yeah, good idea. Let's go check out where we are.

I'm not stupid. It's called a diversionary tactic.

It'd better be next time.

Come on.

Diversionary tactic?

Every family has its old soul.

Ruby is ours.

Maybe it's being a late-life baby.

Come on, grumpy.

Maybe the years on the road or maybe it's just her.

Buradeena.

Buradeena, Dave!

Buradeena!

Never heard of it!

- Dave! - Dad!

We changed a lot of tires along the way

but this was a broken axle.

Still, every cloud, as they say...

Our silver lining.

While we waited for repairs,

we fell in love with Buradeena.

Amazing.

There's, like, three ice cream places in this spot.

In the blink of an eye, we found our new home.

Oh!

I'm too old for this.

I was a bit lighter last time we did it.

We found peace here.

Quiet.

Sometimes.

Dave found motocross...

Whoo!

..a mate...

Whoo-bloody-hoo!

Ah, will you look at that?

..and we found a lodger.

Was the cake lady there?

No. But the broccoli boys were.

Haha! Your lucky day.

The perfect tenant for our garden flat

and the best apprentice Dave's ever had.

- Yuck. -

I fluked a boss, next-door-neighbour and friend.

All in one.

The family come up as much as possible. I go down to see Dad.

Has anyone got a ten?

The kids are wonderful with him.

- Go fish! - That helps so much.

You do lose touch with people, though. It happens.

Time happens.

Buradeena happened.

And here we are, two years later.

And here I am.

Big day. You?

Busy afternoon. Country Women's girls are out in force.

Oh, stop it.

It's about the fifth one of those.

Hm?

New-agey things.

You looking for answers?

No. I'm just sick of novels.

That's the good thing about not reading. Can't get sick of it.

That's us. With our 35th anniversary approaching.

Dave settled.

But my first thought every morning

is that something's missing.

It was Ruby that put me on the road to an answer.

You sure you don't need a lift?

Stuff to do on the way.

- Lugging all of that? - I'm alright.

With a painting...

- I'll see you there. - Don't be late.

...and some poo.

Who says life's not strange?

Yappy!

Hi. Yappy.

Hi! Ay you.

Donation gratefully received.

Oh, hello, you.

Hi. Um...

From one small act, great change.

Yoo-hoo.

Ah! In here.

Is Ruby on a clean-up kick?

Hm?

She just grabbed Yappy's crap from the front yard.

- Oh. Dave? - Yeah!

Why would Ruby be grabbing dog poo from Tessa's yard?

Hey. Search me.

Paddo! Come on! You're dragging the chain.

Stress will kill you, mate.

Thanks, Mrs. R.

Cougar cool there, Tess.

Oh, I wish.

Move ya arse, big fella.

Boys will be boys.

Ah, second childhood. Hey, don't forget the art show.

I'll pick you up.

So... poo.

Uh... Ruby's Ruby.

Alright, come on. Paintings on the wall.

Place your sculptures carefully on the tables. Oi!

Nice work there, girls. Well done.

Oh, beautiful work there, Hugo. Well done.

Alright, come on, guys.

C'mon. I want you here straight after the final bell.

We're expecting a lot of parents.

Well done, Ruby. Come on, let's pop it up.

Uh... it's meant to be like that.

Why?

Ruby?

Otherwise they'll roll off.

Ruby...

Is there a problem?

Hello.

Oh, Mrs Spade.

What's she done now?

- Dave? - Yeah.

The school, they want to see us both.

Don't tell me - the poo.

How do you know?

Wild guess.

A primary school art show

is no place for faecal matter.

It's a health issue.

She's got a point, Rubes.

And "Stubborn Old Men?" A title designed to offend.

It's true, though. Climate-denying politicians.

After last summer, Ruby is worried about the future.

Global warming, pollution...

So she chooses some sound grab from the media as her title?

She's too young to even understand what she's saying.

Oh, I think a lot of our children understand these days.

Try debating her on it some time.

Actually...

Whatever I feel about her notions,

it's not a political rally.

I hear you.

Most art is political.

Not at Buradeena Primary end of term exhibition.

The issue, Mrs. Rafter, is doo-doo.

Doo-doo?

Doggie doo.

Or don't do.

Don't express the fears our children

have of inheriting a world too polluted to live in.

A world left to them by stubborn old men.

- The title fits. - Settle.

I think it's the one interesting statement in the room.

We did not ask for statements.

The title is unfortunate. The doo-doo unacceptable.

And without it?

A perfectly lovely abstract of the world from space.

Another title, preferably.

Right.

Mrs. Rafter...

Julie.

Lose the doo-doo, darling.

Oil. Not just for the car.

There we go.

No health issue there.

Oh, and new title - "Fossil Fools."

Says what you want to.

Loving it.

Ah, seems to fit the criteria. Do we have a deal?