Celebrating 40 Years of U3A Melbourne City – Winning Entry
To mark U3A Melbourne City’s 40th Anniversary, members were invited to take part in a special creative writing competition with “40” as the theme. The challenge? Create an original piece—fact, fiction, or poetry—within a strict 1,000-word limit.
Entries were submitted anonymously, first reviewed by long-time Monday Writers Group leader Liz Mullin, who selected five finalists. The final decision was made by Mark Rubbo, retired Managing Director of Readings and a much-respected figure in Melbourne’s literary world.
We’re delighted to share the winning piece here—an inspiring example of the creativity and storytelling talent that thrives within our community.
Forty Degrees of Memory
by Julie Badger
1985
The heat in Delphi clung to Leon like a second skin. The September sun was relentless, turning the ancient stones into radiators. Leon adjusted his backpack, stepping into the meagre shade of a cypress tree to wipe the sweat from his face.
He was contemplating his empty drink bottle ruefully when a familiar accent cut through the heavy air.
“Hot, isn’t it?”
Leon swung around, momentarily thrown. The woman was flushed from heat and exertion, strands of fair hair sticking to her temples. She pressed an Avra water to her cheek and moved into the tree’s shadow. Despite the dust clinging to her skin, there was something striking about her—sharp-eyed, self-assured.
Leon squinted in the glaring light. “Didn’t expect to run into another Aussie here.”
The woman smiled wryly. “We’re everywhere.”
“Yeah, but mostly on the islands, not slogging it out at archaeological sites.”
She shrugged. “Some of us have priorities.”
Leon laughed. “Fair enough.”
She held out her bottle. “Want some? You look like you need it.”
He accepted, taking a quick sip. “Thanks. I should’ve brought an extra one.”
“First time in Delphi?” she asked.
He nodded. “First time in Greece. My family’s from here, but I grew up in Mildura.”
“So, you’re rediscovering your roots?”
Leon glanced around—the Temple of Apollo, the amphitheatre perched on the hillside, the valley of olive trees stretching out below. “Something like that.”
“Anyway”, she said, “I’m Kate”
“Leon.”
They wandered on together, their conversation easy and engaging. She was from Melbourne, a newish secondary school teacher of Greek, on a short break between terms. He was hoping to stretch his travels as long as possible, picking up work where he could.
“So, you actually teach Greek?” he asked. “I’ve only got a few words. Should’ve made more effort.”
Kate laughed. “Teaching it is a tough gig. Half my students would rather be anywhere else, and the other half think I’m some kind of oracle because I can read inscriptions.”
“Are they right?”
“Definitely not.”
They found a spot in the shade of a ruined wall, sharing what was left of Kate’s water.
“Where to next?” she asked.
“Crete,” he said. “Knossos.”
“I’m off to Corinth tomorrow. Another steep hike. Then back to Athens to fly home.”
Leon hesitated, feeling the pull of something he couldn’t articulate.
Lamely, he suggested a bar.
“Sorry, no. I need to find a laundromat.”
They stood there, regarding each other, dimly aware of the cicadas buzzing their endless song.
The sun hung low in the sky.
“Maybe we’ll cross paths again,” said Leon.
Kate’s gaze lingered. “Maybe.”
2025
The late-February heatwave had settled over Melbourne like a weight. The Lonsdale Street footpath radiated heat. Inside the Greek Centre, Leon could hear the air-conditioning chugging, struggling, while he waited for the lift.
He wiped his forehead and checked his U3a schedule – ‘Rediscovering Greek’ – Room 2.1. Retirement had finally given him time to focus on the language he’d let slip away.
He joined a group of third-agers, some chatting, others scrolling through their phones. The afternoon light streamed through the windows, painting long shadows across the room.
Then the tutor walked in.
“Kalós orísate,” she said, setting down her notes.
“Welcome.”
“I’m Kate. You would’ve received an email from me”
Leon barely looked up at first—until something in her voice struck him. A rhythm, a warmth.
She continued to talk, scanning the room as she spoke. Then, mid-sentence, she looked his way.
For a moment, nothing. Then recognition flickered across her face. Chased away by surprise and doubt.
Kate paused briefly, scrutinising her class list.
And then she said, in English, “I hope everyone has a water bottle – maybe an extra.”
The memory hit Leon like the Greek sun at midday.
Delphi. The impossible heat – at least 40 degrees. The moment he’d discovered he was hopelessly underprepared, and not only because his one small water bottle was empty before he’d reached the amphitheatre. Wearing thongs for a climb in that terrain was another rookie mistake.
And Kate, in her solid, sensible sandals and wide-brimmed hat—rolling her eyes, sighing, then pressing her half-full bottle into his hand with a mock-serious, “If I die of dehydration, I’m blaming you.”
They’d both jumped at the sound of a shrill whistle, scolding a reckless tourist for scrambling over a barrier. Kate had laughed at Leon’s relief – he wasn’t the only neophyte on the mountain.
It hadn’t been momentous; just one of those small, ridiculous incidents that stick, not because of what happened, but because of who you were with.
Leon stared, the heat of forty summers pressing in on him.
Composed and confident Kate.
He could see, from the slight curve of her lips, that she remembered too.
She nodded, as if confirming something unspoken, and went on with the lesson.
The session over, Leon waited as his classmates drifted out. Kate gathered her notes, then turned to him.
“Well,” she said, leaning against the desk. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I suppose I’ve finally decided to take Greek seriously.”
Kate tilted her head quizzically. “Forty years on?”
“I like to take my time.”
She laughed, shaking her head.
“I retired recently. No more excuses. And I want to go back to Greece, probably next year.”
“Good plan.”
He studied her. “So, you’re still teaching.”
“Always,” she said. “Still based in Melbourne too, but Greece has a way of pulling you back, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah”
Outside, the sun still blazed: way too hot to loiter.
Kate smiled. “Are we taking separate paths?”
Leon took a breath. “Maybe not this time.”
She held his gaze.
“Coffee? … Or shall we go to a bar?”
Without waiting for his answer, she turned and set off, knowing he’d follow.
About the Author
After a career spanning universities and TAFE colleges, joining U3A Melbourne City in retirement felt like a natural next step. Over the past six years, I’ve explored a wide range of subjects and had the pleasure of leading a few courses. Creative writing was a new adventure for me. Previously, I had only written non-fiction, so winning the 40th Anniversary competition is a thrilling milestone.
I hope you enjoy my story, Julie.
About U3A Melbourne City
From creative writing and philosophy to languages, art, and history, U3A Melbourne City offers a wide range of classes and activities led by volunteers. Whether you’re looking to learn something new or simply meet like-minded people, there’s always something happening.
If you’ve enjoyed this story and feel inspired to explore your own creative side, you might like to find out more about your nearest U3A community. You’ll be warmly welcomed.
Heading off on your own Melbourne adventures? Join our Facebook Group and share your stories, ask questions and connect with others for further inspiration.
