Heavenly Beverley : To Dream Some Highly Unlikely Dreams.

Friday 17 February 2017

To Dream Some Highly Unlikely Dreams.

Oh, the delights of normality. Today, I'm back! Sitting purposefully behind my desk in the Gallery, bopping along to U2, enjoying the peace and quiet of Heavenly Beverley on a lazy Friday afternoon.

Unfortunately, my current appearance leaves a bit to be desired. At a quick glance, one might assume I've escaped from the set of the "Bride of Frankenstein". A longer gaze might suggest that I actually am the Bride of Frankenstein!

Skin cancer surgery on my nose is not a pretty sight. This is the third time I have gone, not terribly willingly, under the knife just on my face. I've also had basal cell carcinomas lopped off my right arm and my left shoulder. Then there have been the biopsies, the frozen zapping and the inspections of my gorgeous physique at least once or twice a year.

Michael, on my insistence, has taken a few glamour shots to remind me of my past foolishness. To remind me that I must never step outside without a hat and sun protection. I am quite aware that most of the damage was done every summer until I was sixteen. Along with everyone else, we would barbeque ourselves by the pool or on the beach in the quest for that all important tan. However, I can still cause more unsavoury lesions through stupidity, if I so choose. Which I don't and hence the photos.

Wishing for no further skin cancers to emerge on my fair Anglo-Saxon skin is highly unlikely. I was humming "To Dream the Impossible Dream" earlier and I drifted through a plethora of other equally unlikely dreams that I'd love to think are possible.

And so, in no particular order, here is a quick trip to my FantasyLand -

that Centrelink would have to courtesy to phone and sort out once and for all the value of our assets
that politicians would tell the truth, particularly during election campaigns
that the poor, the unemployed, the sick, the vulnerable and the disabled would have as much of a "Fair Go" as anyone else in this Lucky Country
that Sascha the Weimaraner would desist from going on early morning walks
that our little unit's floors didn't look like tumbleweeds every day
that summer days would always be like today and that winter be cool and wet with no frosts (that's a big wish I know)
that Michael would be recognised by the wider world as a genuinely innovative metal artist
that our money doesn't run out
that Ruby the Beagle would refrain from her quite atrocious culinary habits
and if the photos of my surgery save one other person from this rather painful experience, then my job is done.