Part one of the official history of Villa Twaklinilkawt:
History is encountered in the boudoir.
It is explored through the main science studio.
It is experienced along the Twaklinilkawtian corridor.
It is likely to be discovered through long galleries A and/or B.
It is often observed through the administrative and curatorial offices.
It can be enjoyed here whilst attending a Twaklinesque literary festival.
It can be rediscovered, reinterpreted and investigated further at the ethereal workshops.
It can become part of the present during sprezzatura performances in the little private theatre.
The district upon which the suburb around Villa Twaklinilkawt now sits was, after colonisation in the later 1830s, firstly pastoral and then primarily horticultural. In the 1930s and 1940s, it was known mainly for monocultural crops of tomatoes.
In the early 1900s, farmers and market gardeners from several cultural backgrounds owned most of the land upon which Villa Twaklinilkawt itself was subsequently developed. Suburbs began to sprawl over the area in the 1950s and 1960s with the expansion of multicultural migration and tariff-protected manufacturing.
Learning about the physical, historical, economic, social and cultural aspects of Villa Twaklinilkawt, and its Adelaidean neighbourhood, is possible in many ways. Learning about its digital, artistic and private history is not so easy.
To gain privileged access to Villa Twaklinilkawt requires a considerable understanding of historical matters. Even with ordinary, digital access, many privileges are involved in experiencing the ethereal Adelaidezone and its environs.
If you are to gain sufficient enlightenment, you will initially be required to take the time and make the effort to consider history in relation to your own leadership. After all, you are only provided with this initial digital access to assist you in making the world a much better place than it would be without you.
Part two of the official history of Villa Twaklinilkawt:
You may be fortunate enough to discover that it is certainly possible for you to learn about the ethereal neighbourhood at least a little.
The usual guidance on matters of history and privilege can be found in the library.
Premium guidance can be found by gaining access to the celebrity visitors' centre.
Exclusive guidance can be found by attending special occasions in the room for celebration.
Additional guidance is supplied upon reaching the arts laboratory reception area and universal viewing room.
The most pleasant access will usually include beautiful views.
And all access to Villa Twaklinilkawt, in one way or another, is regarded by enlightened persons as privileged access.
There are also, occasionally, as already mentioned, a few true sprezzatura performances in the little private theatre here in Villa Twaklinilkawt. They tend to presenting relevant interpretations of history. Those performances also tend to become part of history themselves, as do the performers.
Reflecting upon interpretations of history is certainly also possible within the courtyard of compassion.
The same applies when visiting the not-so-new interpretive centre.
Knowing about the social, economic and cultural history of any area of the world can obviously be enlightening, even long before gaining non-digital access.
It helps, too, to have at least a little knowledge of maintenance arrangements.
How do you usually gain access to history?
How have you gained access to the past more generally?
How have you acquired awareness of the context of current conditions in the world?
How do you know whether you will gain access to the future?
Part three of the official history of Villa Twaklinilkawt:
During the late 1800s and early 1900s, in the areas now within the western suburbs of Adelaide, migrants and their descendants developed farms, orchards and market gardens for the delicious delight of Adelaideans and even Melburnians. Several families of new arrivals, in the mid 1920s, had escaped from Fascism and poverty in the north of Italy. America had been closed to them. Canada was too cold. The political situation in South America was too unstable, as was most of Europe. Australia provided their only hope.
The modern suburban house, behind which Villa Twaklinilkawt digitally sits, was built in the early 1960s. It was owned and occupied by one of the entrepreneurial sons of an Italian migrant family.
The young man had been born in Adelaide in 1930. His parents, cousins and older siblings worked in orchards and market gardens for many years, mainly in the hope of buying their own plots of land, as he did himself.
From the mid 1950s, and for the first half of the 1960s, the young Italian-Australian businessman had gradually purchased land. From his land, he supplied lawn seed and turf for the expanding new housing subdivisions being established around Adelaide by the Housing Trust. The rapid success of his business in the late 1950s was why he was able to build his own suburban house in the early 1960s.
He soon also discovered that he probably had the means to follow his dream. During his childhood, he loved to read about the lives of composers and musicians of earlier centuries. His dream was to live in an Italian villa overlooking a lake, where he would spend most of his time playing the piano and composing music. His home and business in Australia were therefore just stepping stones towards his main ambitions.
Yet his parents and siblings wished to stay in Australia. His parents had visit Italy by ship in 1953 but decided that Adelaide was, by then, their true home. They had several other friends and relatives with businesses around the suburbs of Adelaide, too.
The lawn development enterprise was doing well, and the land under it was valuable to property developers, so the young man managed to sell his business for a very good price to two Greek brothers in the building trade. Yet, no-one in the Italian family, or in their wider community, wished to purchase the suburban house for their own purposes. They all had homes of their own, and growing families, as did the Greek brothers. The house was therefore put on the open market and sold shortly thereafter.
The sale meant that the still relatively young former businessman could sail off into the sunset with his beautiful but volatile young "housekeeper" to purchase a large, run-down, long uninhabited villa overlooking Lake Garda. That was in 1964.
Part four of the official history of Villa Twaklinilkawt:
The second owners of the suburban house had migrated to Adelaide from a small, Scottish town as a young couple, just a few years after the Second World War ended. The man's father, uncle, grandfather and two older brothers were police officers in their homeland, as was his wife's father. Being a policeman was not for him, much to the dismay of his family. He had given it a try but he preferred a warm, dry, office-based occupation.
Escaping Scottish weather was one of the main reasons why he and his wife wanted a different way of life. The couple therefore migrated to South Australia with their four small children, the two eldest having been adopted as war orphans.
The couple wished to bring up the children in accordance with strict Presbyterian principles and traditions in a peaceful and sunny environment. The Scotsman mainly sought a respectable, clean, tidy office position. He hoped that would provide enough income with which to buy a nice, orderly, modern house in which to bring up nice, orderly, obedient children.
On arrival in Australia, the young family had been uncomfortably surprised to find themselves living in a basic and crowded migrant hostel . They thought the long journey by sea had been bad enough. Nothing was as they expected it to be, even Adelaide's weather.
July in Adelaide was as cold as a Scottish summer. The couple had expected warm and sunny weather all year round. They even thought the environment at their destination would be similar to how they imagined the Holy Land to be.
To be out of the hostel as quickly as possible, the Scotsman first took a clerical job in a legal practice. His wife was deeply homesick and experiencing severe culture shock. The children were making new friends, several of whom spoke little English.
The man and his wife saw themselves as devout missionaries, though they were surprised that Presbyterianism in Australia was not as they expected. The family soon discovered there were many other beliefs and experiences competing for public attention in Australia, both within and outside the limits of the legal system. The whole family also found that many Australians did not understand their strong, Scottish accents.
Coming from a place where everyone sounded the same as they did, and thought in similar ways, they had expected to experience something similar in their new life, except with much better weather. That was what they had been promised by the Australian migration officials.
The couple kept themselves to themselves when not mixing with other strict, Presbyterian Scottish people. They were adamant they would not live in any sort of public housing or far from a suitable church. They had their pride. They wanted independence.
It was somewhat reluctantly, therefore, that they moved into a house owned by the South Australian Housing Trust. That was only as a desperate effort to escape the migrant hostel.
The short term turned into five years, by which time the man had returned to his former occupation as a trainee police officer. He had found that working in an office all day was not for him. He and his wife also wanted to ensure they could make a significant contribution towards providing a clean, tidy, orderly society for their children.
By the middle of 1954, the family has saved enough money for the deposit on a house of their own. It was only a small, older house with two bedrooms. The couple did not believe it was respectable to take on too much debt, which is why they were reluctant to make the decision earlier.
The house was in the Adelaide Hills, in scenery reminding them of the Scottish Highlands. The children no longer had Scottish accents. The wife was dutifully involved with the Australian version of their church. She began to feel that they were moving up in the world.
One Sunday, in January 1955, as they were in church in their new community, the alarm was raised that there was a bushfire nearby. The sabbath turned into hell. The house was lost along with all their belongings. They lost all the family photographs. They lost all the letters from their family members and old friends still in Scotland. They lost all their personal documents. In that Black Sunday bushfire they also lost the irreplaceable family Bible.
Being a migrant, from any background, can have many unforeseen challenges. Migrating is not the same as having a holiday, though it may feel like a holiday at first.
A clear sense of identity and a sense of belonging may be lacking once the mundane realities of life occur. Yet there are some people who lose more than others, either through the migration process or at some time afterwards. Whether those feelings occur sooner or later, there is still a sense of loss and of yearning, and of nostalgia.
Even after many years in a different country, a migrant may still feel like a visitor or even an outsider or impostor. Many migrants, even long after becoming citizens, may feel as if they are guests rather than equally entitled to participate in civic matters. This is regardless of their place of origin, their length of time in the newer environment and the reasons for leaving their earlier place or places of residence.
The Scottish couple and their children returned to a Housing Trust home after the catastrophic bushfire. Members of their church, in yet another new environment, were understanding. The couple never wanted to return to the Adelaide Hills again.
Yet they worried about the Cold War and communism. They had heard from a military friend that there were possible dangers in Adelaide from the British nuclear tests at Maralinga. Nothing much was said about that in the newspapers at the time. All anyone wanted at the time was to feel secure.
The children were grown up. They were sometimes unruly. They were mixing with all sorts of people, some of whom were a bad influence.
The woman still longed to go home to Scotland, even just for a visit. Unfortunately, that was too expensive, especially when the intention was to buy a house in the suburbs of Adelaide. The couple wanted some financial security for their older age, if possible.
It had been a decade since they had last taken on a mortgage. Their next house would need at least three bedrooms. It would be detached and spacious. It would be modern, clean and tidy.
In 1964, they appeared to have found the perfect place to call home. Many years of frugal living meant their debts would be small and shortlived. They began paying off the small mortgage on the suburban house of their dreams.
Everything in the house was acceptably new and fresh, unlike their relationship. They had, by that time, been living separate lives in many ways, and for several years. Many other couples of their acquaintance had been doing likewise.
Maintaining the facade of a happy family has long been seen as an acceptable tradition, in many parts of the world. Yet the then police sergeant had been in a secret relationship with the wife of a fellow police sergeant since 1962. Their respective spouses only found them out in 1973. It was scandalous. Fortunately, the children had grown up by then, except for the Scottish couple's soldier son who had been killed in Vietnam four years earlier.
The adopted children, both girls, had long wanted to find their real families. They therefore went to Scotland in 1972 to search for them and had not yet returned to Australia. The other child, by then a young woman herself, had become a scantily-clad entertainer in Sydney, much to the distress of both parents.
It was a surprise to everyone who knew them when the couple divorced in 1975. The house was soon sold. The rooms held too many memories, even without any of their earlier possessions.
To cling to the past was not modern. Yet changes were happening too rapidly and chaotically in the world. The former couple did not know whether their religious faith would last much longer than their marriage. The woman, in fact, decided to return to Scotland, at least for a while, soon after the house was sold.
Part five of the official history of Villa Twaklinilkawt:
No-one appears to have known about the existence of Villa Twaklinilkawt until recently. Where was the spirit of the Adelaidezone at that time? Why are there so many mysteries yet to solve?
Not just migrants but anyone may feel apprehensive upon reaching the entrance to the grand hallway of Villa Twaklinilkawt. Will they feel welcome there?
Will anyone experiencing a distressing sense of loss feel welcome after finding the lost proper tea office in Villa Twaklinilkawt?
How many reasonably enlightened persons,with a sense of history and great respect for good leadership, are likely to feel welcome to explore the current main science studio of Villa Twaklinilkawt?
Who knows whether anyone will feel welcome at the invisible ticket office? Will it depend on the circumstances at the time?
When editing a work of history, would you feel welcome when sitting above the editorial orchards for a while?
Are you likely to feel welcome while relaxing in the guest wing of Villa Twaklinilkawt?
The next owner of the suburban, Adelaidean house in front of Villa Twaklinilkawt was an unmarried man and a confirmed atheist. He liked things to be neat, clean and tidy too, especially if someone else did most of the cleaning and tidying.
He knew how to take care of the lawn, his own appearance and his own interests. That was enough of a responsibility as far as he was concerned.
Mondays have usually been a washing day in Adelaide, regardless of the weather forecast delivered on a Sunday but the homeowner, being a single man, had always done his washing early on a Saturday morning, before going off to watch one sport or another. He would then mow the lawn first thing on a Sunday morning, then put the clippings in the rubbish bin, ready for the council to collect on Wednesdays.
He liked to stick to his routine. He never mentioned his war service to anyone. He would rather have a beer or three and talk about sport than have the memories of his youth return.
He loved his sport, as long as he was not expected to play. He loved game shows on television, though he never thought about going on one of those himself. He would have liked to have invited one of the glamorous game show assistants to have a drink with him at his regular pub, or to attend one of his backyard barbecues, or go to a sporting match with him, or help him with the cleaning.
At one time, he thought he might like to marry Rita Hayworth, until he found out her father was Spanish. He also liked the look of Lauren Bacall, until he found out her parents were Jewish.
He did not think he had any prejudices. He just thought he was a typical Australian bloke.
When he was a little older, he took a shine to Sofia Loren, until he noticed she looked much like the wife of the Italian greengrocer who lived across the street. Mrs Scicolone did not speak much English but she always looked like a film star. He found out that her sister had worked as the housekeeper for the first owner of the house in which he now lived.
The new homeowner's weekend routine continued uneventfully until one warm November Sunday in the early 1980s. After drinking too many bottles of pale, brown ale soon after finishing yet another bout of mowing exertions, he tripped on the hosepipe.
He had been intending to have a few friends over, as usual, for a mosquito-infested barbecue on his freshly cut lawn that evening. When his rather ordinary-looking, long-time lady friend subsequently visited him in hospital, he was horrified to find that everyone had left the back lawn to its long, feral intentions. Though the front lawn looked as if it had been roughly cut, he felt it had been done in a half-hearted and somewhat hard-hearted way just before his return home.
His friends all said they had been too busy mowing their own lawns to worry much about his. They knew, too, that his mower was a temperamental old thing, just like himself. It was therefore left to his lady friend to struggle with an old, push mower for several hours, with little thanks or consideration for her efforts.
As soon as the home owner recovered enough to go home, he decided something needed to be done about the lawn, and probably about his second-hand, petrol-driven rotary mower, too. His accident had certainly given him time to think about many important things.
He had, for at least eight years, been considering popping the question to his lady friend, just as he had thought about buying a new mower, doing a spot of home decorating and going on a Pacific cruise. Unfortunately, his lady friend had always complained that his household habits were not up to her standard. Nor was she particularly taken with his drinking, smoking and gambling habits, or the type of calendar he chose to display in his kitchen wall.
It was for those reasons, amongst others, that he had not yet bothered to buy a ring. Having a lady friend around to help with the cleaning, cooking and tidying up was one thing. Having her trying to rule his life for the sake of a bit of jewellery was quite another.
His accident had also given him time, too much time, to think about the past. He had only lived in the house for a few years. Before that, he lived in a small flat above an old suburban pub, or hotel, or inn, whatever you prefer to call such an establishment. Life seemed so much simpler then.
After recovering sufficiently from his accident, he decided the back lawn could be cleared of its nuisance effect. That could be achieved during the renovations he had been intending to make to the house. The mildew-infested, beer-stained and cigarette-burned rugs were therefore removed and placed on the lawn. They were then covered with dampened old newspapers and a thick layer of sand, topped with gravel.
Once the house itself was renovated to the home owners own satisfaction, he arranged for one of his mates to help him extend the concrete patio slab. It would be much more convenient for the barbecues.
There was already a narrow, concrete path leading part of the way to the Hills Hoist. His mate suggested they could widen and extend the path properly so that it reached the laundry drying destination. He also suggested they could put a large circle of concrete around the base of the hoist for all weather use.
The mid 1980s owner of the house behind which Villa Twaklinilkawt sits believed himself to be a real Australian. He mainly mixed with a small circle of friends he had known since primary school.
They at least spoke English so that he could understand them. And they ate the same type of food as he usually did. His friends never talked about the war either. Nor did they talk about their wives and children or their factory work or most other aspects of their lives. They talked about sport, mainly.
They also thought they were generous, given the fact that they liked to share a beer or two on a regular basis, and helped each other with concreting or lopping trees, but not necessarily the lawn mowing. Mateship, to them, was all about sharing a slab of beer and talking about the prowess they had witnessed in a football ground.
They sometimes talked about politics, until it caused them to argue too much, which is why they reverted to talking about sport. They knew they would never like foreigners, which is how they referred to the New Australians. The mates had not fought a war for their country for it then to be invaded by people who did not know Australian Rules.
Then the home owner died. He had a heart attack while mowing his front lawn one Sunday morning in January 1987. He had never mentioned the possibility of marriage at all to his lady friend. Nor had he written a will. His next of kin was his elderly mother.
The old lady did not want her son's house and furnishing. She already had more than enough clutter of her own. Nor did she want to make the ongoing payments on her son's Defence Service Home Loan, or the debts he had racked up with his bookmaker.
She did not even want any photographs of him. She had not been on speaking terms with her son since 1967. That was when she gave him the ultimatum to provide her with grandchildren. He had been her only child, and her main disappointment in life.
So the house was sold, along with most of its contents.
Part six of the official history of Villa Twaklinilkawt:
A wealth history can be found in the digital archive of Villa Twaklinilkawt.
More valuable insights into history can be gained with an invitation to meet our most senior ethereal tour guide.
Many other historical discoveries are possible by gaining access to the trustworthy museum of the future.
There may also be a sense of history inside the lovely walled gardens.
Time never stands still. The subsequent owners of the ordinary suburban house in front of Villa Twaklinilkawt were a newly wed couple. The young man had lived on a farm near Meningie all his life. He came to the city looking for work after having an argument with his father about how to run the farm during the early 1980s recession. Then he met the girl of his dreams. She thought he came from Medindie. They were married shortly afterwards.
For a few years, they lived with the young wife's parents while saving up. They then took on a large mortgage when they bought a house beyond their means. They were then forced to sell as interest rates continued to rise. The house behind which Villa Twaklinilkawt sits was cheaper but the ever rising interest rates, the cost of moving and the added expense of improvements meant that they still had to struggle to pay the bills.
The young husband wanted more shed space for his own home renovation projects. At that time, there was only the garage next to the house, the patio at the back, the barbecue, the picnic table and the Hills Hoist.
So the new sheds were installed, next to the patio, on the way towards the Hills hoist. The concrete was extended all the way around the sheds so that rectangular rainwater tanks could be placed next to the fences. A large, round rainwater tank was then put in place on a concrete slab behind the brick garage, extending from the patio. That tank still collects the rain from the roof of the house and the garage. The young man had always disliked the taste of Adelaide's tap water.
The rainwater from the big tank is plumbed into the house for use in the solar hot water system, the toilets and the laundry. The well-washed roof areas of the sheds provide higher quality water, even before filtering. That water has often been used for drinking and cooking purposes.
The previous owner had found that weeds, along with the roots and shading from neighbouring trees, had made growing anything except a lawn too much of a challenge. His life had been busy enough with his sporting activities, social activities and home maintenance activities, much to the annoyance of his now very lonely lady friend.
With the backyard area becoming mostly concrete and gravel, the new owners needed to be imaginative if they wanted to grow their own food crops. They installed eight raised garden beds with old railway sleepers in a formal arrangement, four on either side, at the bottom of the garden.
The young man was also determined to give his wife the home of her dreams even though they had sold the first dream home in unfortunate circumstances. They planned to raise a family.
By the early 1990s, the young couple, still struggling to pay the mortgage were not so young any more. Nor were they as happily married as they once had been.
They both lost their jobs in the recession of that time. They could not keep up with the repayments on the house. There were difficult decisions to make.
The young man often felt homesick for his family farm near Meningie, where his father was struggling to keep things going. The young woman, on the other hand, wanted to stay near her family in the suburbs. She dreamed of one day living in a large house in Medindie.
Besides a still large mortgage and high interest rates to pay, the couple had two small children and a large dog. They fought mostly over who should keep the dog.
So the house was once again on the market.
Part seven of the official history of Villa Twaklinilkawt:
Reflecting on what it means to have a home is possible in many areas of Villa Twaklinikawt. This is especially the case when enjoying the grounds for gracious causes.
It is also likely to be the case in the ethereal coaching coach house and climate stability stables.
Whether insights on the subject can be found through the keyhole of a storage shed is a matter of opinion.
The history of those reflection may be written about in the light of history within a little writing hut.
Discussions on homes and histories and all sorts of other matters can be experienced by visiting the parlour meant for you.
Enlightenment in relation to any matter at all can be experienced by participating in the World Enlightenment Forum each year.
The house was then purchased by an environmentally-conscious scientist, who had recently arrived in Adelaide from Canada via Sweden. He was pleased about the low-maintenance garden and the great crop of tomatoes left by the previous owners.
The first thing he bought, after moving in, was a drip irrigation system for the crops. He then bought four composting bins to place next to each side fence, down by the raised garden beds. The bins have been used for various storage purposes. The garden beds themselves have been used for growing organic vegetables, salads and herbs. They have particularly been used for growing tomatoes.
Also on a concrete a slab are the brick barbecue and dilapidated table. The stacked, plastic chairs had been left behind by the divorcing couple. The scientist repaired the table enough to use it to grow seedlings on. He did the same with the barbecue, near to the shed to the east.
The wheelie bins are usually kept next to the shed to the west, away from the house and barbecue. They sit on concrete paving bricks, along with a compost tumbler.
The scientist does not live in the house for long. His career took him to Minnesota in 2002, Munich in 2004 and Manchester in 2006. When he returned to Australia to retire, in 2009, he based himself in Melbourne.
The house was rented out by the scientist to university students from 2002 onwards. However, it did not take long before their nightly band practice and weekend parties had totally ruined the quality of life of their neighbours.
Part eight of the official history of Villa Twaklinilkawt:
The gentle, peaceful qualities of Villa Twaklinilkawt may be experienced by going around the poetic Twaklinian potting shed.
The past has often been considered quieter than the present, most usually because it has not been remembered sufficiently.
Sounds in relation to history are, of course, to be heard at the door of the music room here. The activities in the music room in Villa Twaklinilkawt never undermine anyone's quality of life. In fact, they enhance the world for everyone.
Knowing whether anyone's quality of life has improved or become worse requires a deep understanding of history. That knowledge can be obtaining by training through the service wing of Villa Twaklinilkawt.
Many servants of enlightenment are usually busy preparing for big events in this vicinity, as the history of their activities clearly shows.
People, including individual people, are an essential part of an enlightened view of history, especially local history. That is why it is advisable for anyone touring Villa Twaklinilkawt to consider learning about the digital room guides and other volunteers.
Conversations about history are possible along the sublime pathways.
They are also possible in the original training pavilion.
In 2005, seeing that his career was not bringing him back to Australia, the scientist sold the still ordinary suburban house to a middle-aged Greek-Australian builder. The builder wanted to demolish it, clear the area completely and put two luxury townhouses on the site.
While the plans were going through the development process, he rented the house out for a year or so to three Malaysian medical students. All property was only an investment opportunity to him, not an indication of real home. His family already had their own houses in Australia, and in Greece.
They left Greece to escape poverty in the early 1960s, joining other family members who had already migrated to Australia. They all thought the move to Australia would be temporary.
Before the necessary approvals for the demolition of the house could go through the local council, in 2006, the builder had an accident whilst driving a rented moped near his old family home on one of the Greek islands. He had been drinking too much of the local wine and thereby voided his holiday insurance policy.
The injury to his shoulder took many months to heal. The builder could not use his right arm for much of that time. As a consequence of the accident, to pay his medical bills, maintain his family, pay his creditors and keep his building company from bankruptcy proceedings, he was forced to sell the house, plus his own house and two investment properties.
Part nine of the official history of Villa Twaklinilkawt:
Learning about the long-term management of any situation requires a full understanding of the relevant history. This is possible at the gatehouse of Villa Twaklilnilkawt. It is not necessarily possible to do so in the annex.
To ensure the possibilities of understanding are sufficient, Villa Twaklinilkawt is staying open for leadership for the foreseeable future.
Sufficient leadership is usually necessary when climbing the ethereal observation tower.
Whether sufficient leadership and understanding have always been provided along the Twaklinilkawtian corridor is a matter of much debate here at present.
Such matters are obviously debated whilst attending a Twaklinesque literary festival, either here or anywhere else in the world.
When considering the pre-colonial history of Villa Twaklinilkawt, many insights can be gained when viewing the apparitional pavilion.
Further insights may be gained whilst attending the ethereal workshops, though their focus in mainly on the present and the future.
History shows that the ideas boom gate remains necessary. Its purpose is to prevent inadequate imaginations from imposing their misguided views of history and inevitability onto everyone else.
In early 2008, when the students' lease expired, the newest owner of the house moved in. He does not know much about the history of the house or much about the history of anything. Mr Rational is a technically-minded person with a concerned interest in environmental issues. He had the solar panels installed on the roof shortly after settling into the house, just after major maintenance work on the roof and guttering.
In the middle of 2009, the long-term girlfriend of Mr Rational moved in with him. They married soon afterwards.
One of the first things the woman, Reality, had noticed about the ordinary, typical 1960s suburban house was that it had no character. She also noticed the rotting wooden gate, situated on the side of the house away from the garage. The gate had peeling paint and rusted hinges.
Another thing Reality noticed was that the front lawn often needed mowing and Mr Rational did not own a mower. They had a discussion on the matter and decided it would be best to dig up the lawn and replace it with low-growing shrubs and low-maintenance mulch.
One weekend, while she was digging, Reality seemed to hit a large stone or brick. As she dug deeper, she found it to be an object about the same size as a typical Adelaidean, 1960s house brick yet, when she lifted it from the ground, it turned to dust in her muddy gardening gloves.
What was left in her hand was a large key, inscribed with the words Genius loci.