Susan Wilson is a remarkable woman. We began our friendship on Facebook, then met her briefly in person over a meal at Mundaring Dome. She has a blonde mane of to her waist, a uniform of cargo pants and tee shirts, the voice of a jazz singer and the demeanour of a coquette combined with an aircraft carrier.
To call her eccentric would not do her justice. She is fearless, funny, engaging and energetic...in truckloads. She is the ultimate energizer bunny, darting here, there and everywhere. She has been known to become hilariously lost, which does not faze her one bit. She could lead a polar exploration or a jungle expedition (except she dislikes heat) without any thought of danger.
Born in New Zealand, she moved to Perth to attend Teachers' College. Over a career spanning forty odd years, she has taught most ages and subjects in a staggering number of locations. From the north-west of Australia to Canada, she has been, seen and done it all. Her grown-up children in Perth are her primary motivations for returning to WA from time to time. She has travelled extensively and is at the moment towards the year of a gap year, which has lasted eighteen months. So Susan.
Her house in Melbourne is another one of her passions. She declared she should have moved to "Melbin" decades ago. So, when she is not flitting all over the world, this is her home. She cheerfully and unapologetically lives by Melbourne time, so on a visit to WA, she is up at the crack of dawn and asleep by eight thirty.
She arrived on Tuesday at the East End Gallery whilst we had some other friends visiting. Ray and Marie had come on a day trip from Perth. As Ray is a teacher of a similar vintage, they immediately clicked. Susan marched purposely around our Gallery to look and settled on one of Margaret's quilts to buy. Once she set her eyes upon the quilt, that was it.
At home, we all set up our computers around the dining table and had an afternoon snack before heading off on an evening walk. The marauding mosquitoes descended on us in plague numbers, which she chose to ignore while she was taking photos. Later, the nasty bites made her less than entirely comfortable, but she was soon back on track with a wet flannel and an anti-histamine tablet.
She nearly didn't have dinner. We are not renown for our early dinners at the best of times. Still on "Melbin" time, she waved away my apologies about the meal's timing, quite happy to retire with or without dinner. Somehow, I managed to feed her before she needed to go to bed.
Michael's use of his body deodorant after his shower nearly caused a catastrophe. His liberal spraying of "Voodoo" caused Susan to have a paroxysm of coughing. She left for her bedroom to die as quietly as possible. Once I had ascertained that her death was not imminent, I left her to sleep. She assured us that if she was not in the house when we woke, not to worry, as she would have moved on towards Margaret River.
She was as true as her word. There was no trace of Miss Susan when we surfaced the following morning.
Later that morning, we were treated to a series of posts describing her rather round about way of heading south. Without a map, phone reception or really any idea where she was going, she managed to drive around the Wheatbelt for a couple of hours before finding herself on the Albany Highway. Being Susan, she was not perturbed for one second. She merely decided to go to Margaret River via Albany.
I promised I would write a post in her honour, even if she refused to allow me to take a photo of more than her hair. This has been an exercise of sheer delight.
I have yet to track her progress on Facebook today. I have no doubt that when I check up on her, there will be another memorable story to enjoy.
Go Susan!
An old friend, Ray, enjoying the East End Gallery...
with Susan (mane of hair) and Ray's wife, Marie.
Another rear view of Susan,
not to mention the backsides of the dogs and me.
Sunset in Heavenly Beverley - photograph by Susan Wilson
Even Madame Cat was pleased to meet Susan!
