And February quickens the reminiscence, it wakes us from our dry January meditation – February is flood month.

And the way February is often heavy with cyclone skies up north which on some invisible, malevolent and necessary system come lurching south and fill the gullies to bursting, and every 100, 200, 500 years its makes rivers of our fields and streets and homes.

And so I went down to the Town Hall, down to my rocket-ship the Town Hall to see and feel and remember 1955. 

And there on the wall was the rightful question “Are You Flood Ready?”

And the way I am. I know where I am you see. Just at the end of the street is the river, where it’s always been, and I know where I am and what it can do. 

I’ve heard the stories, I’ve lived with the flood mud inside the walls of my growing-up houses, I know the river tales, heard them from Mr Charlie Apps over a cup of steaming tea, I know?

So I went inside our Town Hall, and I saw my people there, and I knew where I was and that I was, we were, ready.

The way we looked at the photographs and the film together, and how it was quiet and lovely, and it was like I was in chapel again – and how I was where I belong.

And there on the screen was 60 years ago; they were just out there on the High Street, and I was thinking that they are my people too. 

And I could see the sun on their shoulders dear reader, I could see their faces there in the water and the mud, and I felt so sad and happy and proud, and tears came to my eyes as I was watched them all there.

Like all of us, I could see the streets and buildings, caught a glimpse of how it was, and it’s good that so many things are still there – and despite the names of the shops changing, it’s good that much of old Maitland still remains.

I searched for faces of course, looked for dad and the ones I know and had heard about – and the way I suppose we were all doing the same thing. 

And when the bloke came out from the ‘Doch n Doris’ Hotel with a bottle of beer, well, we all smiled - and that’s how it was back then on that beautiful one-and-only street of ours.

I heard Mr Bogan mention Jacky Minch and I saw the shop and smiled and that bloke with the barrow and the flood mud up near the Belmore Hotel and that’s what they did, they shovelled it out and started again - and I felt proud of him and us.

And I knew where I was and what can happen here, and I know it ain’t perfect – there was a sign on the Town Hall wall showing me that 60 years ago, I’d be up to waist in water – I knew where I was, where I am, and I’m OK with that, I’m ready.

I saw the newspaper headlines: Maitland’s Anguish, Desolation in Plaistowe Street, Australia’s Worst Flood – and I saw the strangely smiling happy faces of girls and families and men there together in the brown swirling water, saw them on bikes and in boats, saw them carting coffins and furniture and houses, and the way they smiled and rolled up their sleeves under a rainy Maitland sky.

The way they started again and stayed here – and how I’m so happy they did, so happy they did?

Good night.