It's fitting in a way. I traveled to the final party to be held at Elwood Street, enjoyed myself above and beyond the call of duty, shot a roll of film and the next day stupidly exposed that to light by opening the camera before rewinding it. The pictures then, half blurry, colour all out of whack with half of them missing.

As I said, quite fitting.

My association with the house began with James Scott. He'd moved in there to be closer to Rusden, mystical spiritual home to the clan. Apparently it was also a university campus too.

Over the next couple of years the roster of people living there changed but the house didn't. Mick, Pid, Ant, Jerem, Joe, Shan, Svea, Jon-Jon and various others that stayed awhile or just simply crashed on the couches.

You'd approach the front door and knock until your hand went blue. No one would answer the door. You'd then press the bell, a small device that would emit the smallest 'ting' or 'bongle' (depending on your own interpretation)- for some reason this sound could carry through to the back of the houe, pass the heat-retaining drapes and into the lounge area and someone would answer the door. If it happened when Munro (Blue heeler - pet of Joe) was in town, he'd be sure to make it to the door before any person could. It was always good to see Munro.

It was cold. It was on a large block that you always knew would one day hold units. It had a warmth to it though that couldn't be registered on any thermometer. The human warmth.

Finally, July 2000 saw this house vacant. Well, vacant of people anyway. It will be remembered, through a haze by people, not for what it was but for what it encapsulated. Time will pass but the memories will be partially remembered by all who stepped through its doors for a lifetime.

Enjoy what pictures survived. If you have any others, mail them this way.

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