Chapter 19: Old Time Rock and Roll

Doctor Morris

September 14th, 1983

On Wednesday, I had arranged for David to take my Computing IIC tutorial class, since I had my graduation ceremony down in the Science Theatre at 2:30. After my Computer Networks lecture, I had time to get back to my office, change into my suit, and put my new doctorate robes on – Michelle helped my get the hood hanging correctly, and the bonnet sitting correctly on my head – and walk down the short distance to the Theatre. Unlike the main graduation season, in April, this time of year there were only two ceremonies, as the bulk of those graduating finished their courses at the end of the year and they held a full week ceremonies, two on each day, since there were so many students graduating.

I had arranged tickets for my parents and Lisa; they were waiting for me outside the theatre. Lisa took several photos of me in my gown and with my parents. My father took some photos of Lisa and me together, and then it was time for me to take my place inside, and wait for the proceedings to start. As the official procession – the Chancellor, Vice-chancellor, Faculty heads and official guests – entered, we all stood up, and waited for them to take their places on the stage.

First, the Chancellor, Justice Samuels welcomed everyone to the ceremony; he introduced the guest speaker, Senator Susan Ryan, the Federal Minister for Education, and the others up on the stage. He then said a few words, commenting about the breadth and depth of research and education at the university, and praised the work of the academic staff in maintaining the high standard and reputation of the university. He then handed the podium to Senator Ryan.

She spoke about the importance of tertiary education in Australia, how it was the Federal Government’s policy to ‘transform Australia from the lucky country to the smart country’, and how it was her intention to keep University education ‘fee free’ while ever she remained the Federal Minister. Then it was time to present the graduands with their degrees, starting with the Faculty of Applied Science, then Arts, Commerce, and then it was my turn, when graduands from the Faculty of Engineering were presented with their degrees. As getting the highest degree being given for the faculty, my name was the first one called, the Dean, Professor Svensson shook my hand, followed by Senator Ryan, the Vice Chancellor, Professor Birt, and finally the Chancellor handed me my testamur.

“Congratulations, Will, or I should say, Doctor Morris,” the Dean said to me. “That was very well deserved, you did a great job.”

As I returned to my seat, holding my doctorate degree, I felt incredibly satisfied; I had just achieved the next step of my long-term plan; it had taken eight-and-a-half years, long years, and lots of study and hard work since I commenced my undergraduate degree, but I had made it. I would have to see about getting a second copy of the testamur; and have them both framed to match my bachelor’s degree. One would go up on the wall in my office here, the other on the wall of the study at home. I had to wait while the rest of the degrees were handed out, then it was time for the official party to exit the theatre, followed by us graduates, and then the rest of the people attending the ceremony.

Outside, I saw Professor Allen standing with Professor Svennson and the head of the school of Electrical Engineering, Professor Rees; they called me over to where they were standing.

“Congratulations, Will, your doctorate is very well deserved,” Professor Ress said to me. “Do you have family with you today?”

“Yes, my parents and my wife are with me,” I replied.

“You know we’ve got a small afternoon tea set up in the conference room, get them to come up with you and we can all celebrate,” he said.

Lisa and my parents came over to where we were standing, the three professors all knew my father, since he was not only a graduate of the Electrical Engineering school, but was on the curriculum advisory committee. We made our way back up to the Electrical Engineering building, and in the conference room next to my office some food and drinks had been set up for a celebratory afternoon tea. This was the first time my mother had seen my office area; I showed her inside my office, and she was impressed with the space I had, and the view out through the windows to the main walkway to the upper part of the campus.

Someone – Michelle, I assumed – had done a good job setting the room up; there were some coloured streamers and balloons, a big sign at one end – ‘Congratulations, Doctor Morris’. Quite a few of the other Computer Science staff were there to congratulate me; of course I thanked Professor Dunworth, as my thesis supervisor, for all the hard work and assistance he had given me over my time at the university. Lisa stood by my side, holding my hand as the others congratulated me, eventually it was time to pack things up. My parents and Lisa headed off home, while I had a quick meal before teaching my evening classes. I was pleasantly surprised when I entered the lecture room for my evening Computing IIC lecture, there written in huge letters across the blackboard was “Congratulations Doctor Morris”. Everyone in the classroom stood and applauded me as I made my way to the desk.

“Thank you, all of you for those wishes,” I said, once they had quietened down. “However, I don’t expect you to refer to me as ‘Doctor Morris’, just keep calling me ‘Will’, as you have done so far.”

After the lecture and tutorial, I walked back to my car; my head was filled with thoughts of what Mary Beth had talked to me about last night. At one point, she had said ‘I was a dangerous man’, because somehow I gave off a subconscious ‘aura’, a subconscious signal to women that I can give them the best sex of their life. I still wasn’t sure what I thought of that – I mean, I wasn’t discounting what Mary Beth had said; one thing that I had learned over the years that when she – or her sister – made some remark about me, or my behaviour, or what was the best decision for me to make – she was invariably correct. At times, she was annoyingly correct in what she said about me.

I wondered if what she had said was related to Chrissy’s observation that all of the women I had been involved with were either bisexual, or were ‘bisexual curious’. Maybe those women were more sensitive, or more susceptible to receive these subconscious signals that I was sending out? Chrissy was pretty much spot on with her observation; the only one of the women I had made love with who wasn’t bisexual was Mary Beth; at least as far as I knew. I wondered if somehow a reason why Mary Beth didn’t pursue a deeper relationship with me was a worry about getting involved with another woman. All academic anyway, given how things had progressed.

Overnight the first race in the America’s Cup finals was to be run; I would try to get up in time to watch the direct telecast. The race was meant to have been sailed on Monday, but the weather was too bad, and the start was postponed for twenty-four hours.

Australia II – Part Two

Mid - Late September, 1983

I got up early to watch the telecast of the race, but I wish I had stayed in bed. It appeared that something broke on ‘Australia II’, even though the crew made running repairs on the course, they finished over a minute behind Liberty. I was in a bad mood when I got to the University, and I told Merry that I probably wouldn’t be all that good company over lunchtime. She told me that she had an assignment to work on for one of her other subjects, and would spend the time in the library.

“Don’t forget you are helping me move all my stuff on Saturday,” she said.

The race on Friday morning was a repetition of the previous race; again equipment failure cost Australia II the race, losing by over a minute and a half to the American boat. I was started to feel that despite all the hype over the radical ‘winged keel’, and the legal challenges from the New York Yacht Club, it would still be the same old story, the cup would remain firmly bolted to the floor of the NYYC in Newport, Rhode Island.

Saturday morning I attached the trailer to my car, and Lisa and I drove over to Merry’s place at Dulwich Hill. I wasn’t sure just how much stuff she would have, or if I would need the trailer at all, but I thought it was better to have it, and not need it, rather than not have it, and need to make two trips.

Merry’s place was in one apartment of an old four-family apartment, just a little way down from New Canterbury Road and next door to a pub. We pulled up outside the front, and knocked on the front door; at least she lived on the ground floor, so we wouldn’t have to carry things down the narrow stairs. She already had things packed into some boxes, and between the three of us and her soon to be ex-flatmates, we had the boxes loaded into the trailer in short time. Merry made one final check of her place, to make sure she had everything, gave her key back to one of her friends, and then we were on our way back to Lane Cove.

“This is so exciting for me,” she said, as we drove up through Petersham. “I’ve never lived on the north side of the Harbour before, I’m sure it’s going to be a whole new world for me!”

“It’s not quite the same as the inner west,” I said. “There’s still lots of interesting places, little restaurants and cafes, you just have to know where things are.”

“I’ll be able to show you around,” Lisa said. “I’ve been living in Lane Cove for as long as I can remember, and we can go exploring.”

“At least I won’t have to put up with the noise of living right next to that pub,” she said. “Friday and Saturday nights were the worst; and at least one night a week there would be a big fight, cops called, all of that stuff.”

“Wow, I don’t recall anything like that when I was living in Erko,” I said. “Sure there were pubs, but nothing like fights in the streets, cops called or anything like that.”

“And the lower North Shore is even quieter,” Lisa said.

When we arrived back at home, we helped Merry carry all her boxes upstairs to the Studio; and she picked one of the bedrooms; a double bedroom, next to the bathroom. I mentioned to her that there were still some issues that I had to resolve with the Ramos brothers, some minor tasks still outstanding. That included the heat lamps and fan not working properly in the bathroom, as well as the door of the linen closet not latching properly.

“They will be around this afternoon, and I’ll show them what needs doing,” I said. “If they can’t fix things on the spot, then they, or one of their workers, will be back on Monday to fix it properly.”

We left Merry to unpack all of her boxes; she said that some of them would wait until she moved into her ‘permanent’ location, once we had moved to the basement bedroom. She said she would probably see about getting a set of bookshelves to put in her bedroom; we could get them at the same time as we went up to Ikea to get the king size bed for our room.

For the afternoon’s rehearsal session, we started planning our next album. The theme would be ‘Old Time Rock and Roll’, as well as having that song on it, we needed to work out what other songs we would record. The suggestion from George was that we have a mix of rock covers, and several new songs, but all in a similar style.

“What songs do we know that have ‘rock and roll’ in the title?” Phil asked.

“The Stones ‘It’s Only Rock and Roll’,” Paul said.

“Beatles “Rock and Roll Music’,” I suggested.

“The words aren’t in the title, but ‘Promised Land’ would fit that genre,” Allison said.

We felt those four, plus a number of new songs that we (and George) had been working on would be right for the album. We spent the first half of the afternoon working on the arrangements for those four songs; ‘Old Time Rock and Roll’ was sounding pretty good, as we had been working on it recently.

After dinner, Lisa and I went to bed early; two reasons – we were planning on getting up early to watch the telecast of the next America’s Cup heat, and secondly, we decided to ‘welcome’ Merry to the house by having her share our bed. The intentions of getting to sleep early didn’t really pan out; after the three of us had made love, several times, it was after ten pm before we got to sleep.

Early Sunday morning, I got up to watch the race; the winds were very light, and the race had to be abandoned as the time limit had expired with neither boat finishing the course. However, ‘Australia II’ looked particularly good on the upwind legs, being able to pull away from ‘Liberty’. I guess we would have to wait until tomorrow morning to see if they could continue.

“At least they seem to have sorted out their equipment problems,” I said to Lisa, as we drove up to the sailing club.

Today’s race was the first heat in the Quartet Bowl series; we checked our starting time, and while we were waiting to go out to ‘Koolong’, a few of us were talking about the first two America’s Cup heats.

“Just shows how important it is to regularly check and service all of the equipment and fittings on your boat,” Norm Field said. “It doesn’t matter if it’s one of the world’s top racing crew in an America’s Cup race, the Sydney to Hobart race, or even here in club races on Pittwater, a broken part can ruin your whole day.”

“There’s an old saying,” Don said, “don’t spoil the ship for a ha’p’orth o’ tar. Basically, you don’t risk a big job by trying to economise on trivial things.”

“I thought the original saying was about ‘sheep’, not ‘ship’,” I said. “Farmers would put tar on cuts, to prevent infections...”

“And if you’re spending anything like a half penny on something, you are definitely going to the wrong ship chandlers,” Roger said. “I can’t go to Whitworths and get some replacement parts without shelling out at least twenty dollars!”

“Sheep, ships, it doesn’t matter,” Don said. “The whole point is that it’s a false economy to skimp on the quality of even the smallest part.”

“You know you’ve jinxed yourself now,” Ron said to him. “You’ve challenged the sailing gods, and something trivial, some insignificant part will break on ‘Koolong’ today, Don! That’s the only way I’m likely to finish ahead of you, the way you guys sail. You give me a minute at the start, but you’ll be ahead of me well before the Palm Beach mark, and I’ll be staring at your stern for the rest of the race.”

“Well, we will see,” he said. “Provided Will and Lisa are on their games, I’m feeling good about the race today; the wind seems like it will suit us. All the recent rain has increased the river current, it’s got to be running at three or four knots.”

The bantering continued until it was time for us to get out to the boat and rig it; Don said we would use the largest spinnaker, as the wind was around ten knots, maybe peaking at twelve.

“Do you think you can handle the big kite under these conditions?” he asked me.

“Not a problem, I’m feeling strong today,” I replied.

Ron’s predictions were correct; we got a good start, caught ‘Sama’ just past Stoke’s Point; had a fast spinnaker run to Juno point, caught the river current back to West Head, and then had an equally fast run back down Pittwater to get the gun at the finish. It had been a great race; no mistakes, no equipment problems, glorious weather. In fact, as perfect a day’s sailing that one could hope for.

Early Monday morning we watched the restart of the third heat; ‘Australia II’ dominated the race on every leg, winning by over three minutes. What impressed me was the boat’s performance upwind; it appeared to be able to point a few degrees higher than ‘Liberty’, while still maintaining a good VMG towards the mark. She also appeared to be much faster tacking; although whether that was due to the keel design, or the skill of the crew was a matter for debate. But watching the crew work, particularly during the spinnaker hoists, gybes and drops, was magical; they worked as a machine, without any unnecessary yelling or drama on the deck. Each person on the boat knew their task, and carried it out to perfection.

“That’s how to gybe a massive spinnaker,” I said to Lisa at one stage in the race. “The kite hardly seemed to stop drawing; that was beautiful to watch.”

“You do it just as fast on ‘Koolong’,” she said to me.

“But that’s with a pole maybe a quarter of the size, and a much smaller sail. Those foredeck guys are artisans!”

The result had put me in a particularly good mood; even having to sit through the tedium of the Faculty meeting when I got into Uni didn’t dampen my spirits. The next day was a lay day in the racing; ‘Liberty’ had called for a day off for them to check over everything on their boat. However, in our Science and Social Values class Bill Albury handed back our essays, I was delighted to see my result, an ‘A’. Merry did even better, an ‘A+’. We celebrated our results with some pretty serious playing around in my office afterwards; at least this time I was prepared for her wet reactions by removing my pants and undies and spreading an old towel over the seat in my office.

Our excitement at ‘Australia II’ winning a heat was short lived; early the next morning, we saw ‘Australia II’ lose the fourth heat by 43 seconds. ‘Liberty’ only needed to win one more race to retain the Cup. Thursday morning we rose early, and just after the start I thought it was all over, ‘Australia II’ started poorly, and ‘Liberty’ had a decent lead of almost 40 seconds by the first mark. However, it was the American’s turn for gremlins to affect their performance, they had a halyard jam at the end of a downwind leg, and they were very slow getting their genoa hoisted. ‘Australia II’ went on to win by almost two minutes. Two heats left, and ‘Australia II’ had to win both of them.

Friday morning’s race (actually, Thursday afternoon in the US) also went to ‘Australia II’, they won by almost three and a half minutes; the biggest winning margin for a challenger in the history of the Cup. There was a real chance that the US would lose the cup, putting an end to the longest winning streak in modern sporting history.

On Saturday afternoon we continued working on the songs for the next album; we hoped to have things ready to record it in November, so the album would be out in time for the Christmas rush. That way we hoped to maximize sales and we would do some touring over summer, promoting the album. Sunday, Lisa and I were at the sailing club for the first ‘Family Race’ and barbeque of the season. We were happy to get fifth across the line; it was a pretty laid back race. At least that made up for the disappointment of the final (and deciding) heat of the America’s cup being postponed, because the wind was so light and variable the race committee couldn’t set a course. I’m sure the several thousand spectator craft were even more disappointed; since it was a Saturday in the US, most people were able to have the day off, and those who were close and had any sort of boat were out on the water. We would have to wait until early Tuesday morning, our time, to watch the race.

We were all up early on the Tuesday morning, watching the telecast in the family room. Merry and Ange had made hot chocolates for us all to drink, and when we turned the TV on, as well as the two usual commentators, they had two ‘special guests’ sitting in with them.

“Good morning, Australia,” one of the regular commentators said. “For this critical, deciding race, we are fortunate to have two expert commentators here with us. First, we have Iain Murray, who most people will know as a champion 18 foot skiff sailor, and more recently as the helmsman on one of the unsuccessful challengers, ‘Advance’. And with him, a senior sports editor from USA Today, and a champion sailor in her own right, Lori Earle.”

I was stunned; there was Lori, looking just the same as she was three years ago, when she was last here for Cathy’s wedding. Mary Beth looked pale; and turned to me.

“Are you going to be okay to watch?” she asked.

“Sure, I’ll be fine,” I said, even though I wasn’t all that sure I would be. Seeing her was a real shock to me, I hadn’t seen her, or spoken to her since Mary Beth’s wedding several years ago.

The wind was still very light, and it was touch and go as to whether they would start the race. There was one postponement, but the wind increased to seven knots and the ten minute preparation signal was made. The telecast was showing the pre-start manoeuvres; and Iain Murray made the comment that both skippers were being very conservative and playing it safe.

“The last thing that either of them want is to cause interference, cause a penalty and have the race result determined in the protest room,” he said. “What do you think the tactics should be, Lori?”

“Well, we practiced this plenty of times on ‘Advance’,” she said. “I’m sure both John and Dennis want to get a good start, and the usual tactics apply; clear air, maximum boat speed, and don’t cross the line early! But you are right, Iain; causing a protest, no matter how insignificant at this stage would be fatal.”

At the starting gun, ‘Liberty’ crossed the line about eight seconds ahead of ‘Australia II’, although John Bertrand had managed to get into the favoured position, and by the top mark was ahead. Their lead on the downwind leg didn’t last, and when the boats rounded the bottom mark for the first time, ‘Liberty’ had a decent lead, and continued to increase her lead on every leg. We were all feeling rather despondent; until the start of the penultimate leg. Connor made a serious tactical blunder, not covering ‘Australia II’, and the Australian boat sailed deeper, picking up some favourable wind shifts, and rounded the leeward mark in front. Their spinnaker trimmers were almost perfect; they had the big kite – with the boxing kangaroo on it – set very quickly. As they picked up the wind shifts and lifts, they kept the sail drawing properly. I was impressed with the quality of their work; I wished I was half as good as they were.

“Connor really screwed up on that leg,” Lori said. “If ‘Australia II’ wins, then that was the turning point. ‘Liberty’ is toast, unless something bad happens on ‘Australia II’.

“He certainly did,” Iain Murray said. “The cardinal rule of match racing is to always cover your opponent, you have to stay between him and the next mark. Now, in these wind conditions, ‘Australia II’ should have the speed and pointing ability over him.”

John Bertrand on ‘Australia II’ didn’t make the same mistake his rival did, he kept a close cover on ‘Liberty’, despite Connor engaging in a fierce taking duel. The advantage of the winged keel showed here; every time a boat would tack, it would lose some speed, but the novel keel design – I was told it gave ‘hydrodynamic lift’ – helped ‘Australia II’ accelerate faster after the tack was completed.

“They are better at spotting the wind shifts and lifts,” Iain said.

“That’s like when I raced on an Etchells back in Australia,” Lori said. “One of our crew was an expert at seeing the lifts and knocks coming, I was sure he was able to smell them! Not only could he see them before anyone else on the boat, he was so accurate in calling when it would hit us; he really help me helm, anticipating every small shift.”

“You can see that’s what’s happening on ‘Australia II’,” Iain said. “They’ve been able to increase their lead over ‘Liberty’, they are about to reach the starboard layline, maybe in fifteen or so seconds. They have to be at least twenty-five seconds ahead; it’s looking good for an Australian win here.”

‘Australia II’ put in a perfect tack, and were now on a line to cross the finish line in first place. We all held our breath, hoping and praying that nothing broke on the Australian boat, and when they crossed the line to get the gun, we all burst out cheering.

“Forty one seconds!” Lisa cried out. “That’s a huge win!”

We were ecstatic about the result, and the telecast switched to show the celebrations at the Royal Perth Yacht Club, where the Prime Minister, Bob Hawke was watching. He was wearing a sports jacket covered in ‘Australia II’ logos, and was being asked questions about whether he would declare today a national holiday. He said that wasn’t within his power, but it was a State government responsibility.

“But any boss who sacks a worker for not turning up today is a bum!” he declared, to much cheering from the assembled crowd.

He was in his element; celebrating an Australian sporting victory. I had no idea where the rather atrocious ‘Australia II’ sports coat came from, but he seemed to enjoy wearing it. With the race over, it was time for a shower and breakfast; everyone pitched in to make huge servings of bacon, scrambled eggs, toasts, Mary Beth’s special ‘home fries’.

“Was that you that Lori was referring to about the crew member able to smell the wind shifts?” Lisa asked. “You’re certainly pretty good at it.”

“I guess so,” I said. “I’m surprised she remembered us sailing on ‘Koolong’, a lot of things have happened since then.”

“She seemed a little different on that broadcast,” Mary Beth said. “I can’t put my finger on it, but she sounded a little ‘harder’, like she has lost her sunny outlook on life.”

“Well, it was probably a bit nerve-wracking being there on a national telecast,” Chris said. “If you’re not accustomed to being on a panel on TV, being interviewed, having to sound knowledgeable, then probably most people would be a little put off.”

“At least it was good having her and Iain Murray on the commentary team this time,” Merry said. “Having them explain what was going on, for us non-sailing types, made it much easier to understand.”

After breakfast, I got dressed for the day at Uni; as per usual, I dropped Ange off in the city, before continuing on to the university with Merry. I gave her a quick kiss, saying I would see her in our Science and Social Values lecture a bit later in the morning. After our lecture, Merry and I were back in my office for lunch and coffee; and probably some ‘fooling around’ before my afternoon tutorials.

“How are you feeling after seeing Lori on TV?” she asked. “That must have been a big shock for you, seeing her after all this time.”

“Yeah, it was a bit of a shock. I hadn’t seen her since Mary Beth and Chris got married a few years back. And that wasn’t a pleasant meeting, as I think I told you. But at least seeing her; I know now she’s well, and she seems to have progressed well in her job, she was introduced as a ‘senior sports editor’, or something. So I’m happy for her, in that respect.”

“I guess that makes sense; but I assume you’re still upset about what happened between the two of you?” she asked.

“Upset is the wrong word; maybe confused, hurt, something like that,” I said. “But I’m not angry at her, not now; I’m pretty sure there’s a whole lot more as to why she left here than I know. Maybe one day I’ll find out the full story, but regardless, I’ve moved on, all of that’s behind me.”

“Well, that’s good. I don’t want you getting all upset over things that happened years ago, that you really can’t change now anyway. Besides, you have Lisa, Ange and me, we can give you plenty of loving.”

“I know; and I am so grateful for all of you, that I have you in my life. I know just how fortunate I am. Now, were you wanting to do anything before we have to get to our afternoon appointments?”

“That’s an excellent idea ... what if we get all of these unnecessary clothes off?”

I locked the office door, as Merry removed her shirt and skirt, and then her bra. She kept her panties on, and I removed my shirt and trousers, and pulled her towards me. I backed down onto the chair, pulling Merry on top of me. She quickly positioned herself so she had one glorious breast pressed to my lips, I opened my mouth to start sucking on her erect nipple. Merry started moaning as I sucked and worked on one large, sensitive nipple; my hand was between her legs, rubbing her pussy through her panties.

I used my fingers to push the crotch of her panties to one side, giving me access to her pussy; pushing her labia open to rub right on her clit. She moaned as I pushed a finger inside her, while continuing to suck on one breast. Merry pushed my face away from her breasts, and stood up.

“I need you inside me, right now!” she said, as she pulled her panties off. “Get your undies off, Will!”

I stood up, removing my undies, and spread one of the old towels over the seat. Merry pushed me back down so I was sitting on it, then mounted on top of me, her knees straddling my legs. She lowered herself down onto me, guiding my prick inside her as she did.

“We are fucking, right here in your office,” she whispered to me. “If I’m good enough, can you upgrade my mark in the last assignment to a high distinction? I promise to give you the best fuck of your life, Doctor Morris.”

I smiled, she was playing out a fantasy, no doubt inspired by some of our examples in Bill Albury’s class. I decided to play along; share in her fantasy.

“If you are really good,” I said softly, “then I’ll give you an HD. But I think so far, you are worthy of at least a Credit ... Yeah, keep doing that.”