Heavenly Beverley : Farce, Fiasco and Frustration

November 2017 will be bookmarked as a month to remember, and not for all the right reasons. I can't seem to lessen my anger at the unfairness manifesting in our lives at present. And even when we have cause for celebration, my natural positivity and enthusiasm are sadly lacking.

Yesterday should have been a Momentous Day. After five months of battle, Western Power was due to install our Green Dome, move the offending powerline from above our house and place a new power pole to deliver electricity safely and legally to the workshop behind our house. A flurry of activity had been visible over the last ten days. Holes had been dug and refilled, witches' hats had festooned various spots and the cable laid in readiness to hook our dome to the Great Electricity Grid. A scoping manager had visited the site to ascertain materials and manpower that would be necessary. All was on track for Blast Off. We could hardly contain ourselves.

Thanks to our guardian angel at Western Power, the work had been scheduled for a Saturday. The traffic management blokes arrived first. The rest of the Western Power crew were supposed to be onsite at nine o'clock. This time came and went and I began to experience that old familiar spectre of doubt.

The crew eventually arrived with a flurry of trucks, equipment and much fanfare. One of the crew began work on the connection of our green dome. That was such a relief.

However, the minutes ticked past and there was no action on the rest of the work. Conversations with Michael and Richard (owner of the workshop) were lengthy. The position of the power pole to service his business had already been moved twice in planning. Now, with the workers on site, a serious problem had risen. The Western Power crew, due to raise a power pole, had become extremely anxious as the position of the underground fuel tanks. Nobody appeared to know exactly their location in relation to the pole.

So, after several hours, with their trucks idling in the laneway, work on the power pole was abandoned. There was no point in blaming the crew. Electricity and fuel don't mix. Our green dome had been installed, which was marvellous. But somehow, six men had been sent to site on a Saturday with insufficient information. They would still be paid and I hope the work is rescheduled soon. But I was stunned by the sequence of events, all created by a lack of communication or planning or both.

We have no choice of electricity providers in Western Australia. Western Power is it. And after five months of dispute over delay, price and design, we had hoped all would go smoothly with the scheduled operation. It didn't.

Don't misunderstand. We are delighted with our green dome. Tomorrow, the electrical contractors who wired our house will finish the domestic connection. The living room air-conditioner has been ordered. At last, we will have the means to keep the house at a steady temperature. This improvement will be far better for Michael's lungs than the inadequate situation we have at present.

Those of you who read my blog may recall our previous dealings with the Water Corporation. After months of insisting their water main did not run along our boundary, the team from Northam actually agreed with us when they eventually inspected our site. This precipitated the sinking of a new, second water main down the middle of the laneway, where it should have been in the first place. The bad news was that the compacted, relatively dust-free gravel lane of the northern side of our house, was seriously disturbed and thus was transported an environment similar to Saudi Arabia. We have been unable to open half the windows in our house as a result.

So I approached the shire at the beginning of November. I explained the urgency of returning the lane to its previous less dusty incarnation due to Michael's health conditions. I asked for three possible solutions - using the water truck to dampen the dust on a weekly basis, closing the laneway until winter or bituminising the surface. I was told to write to the Shire President, which I did the same day.

My detailed explanation about Michael's health, in relation the dust problem, did not Move Mountains. Council Protocol had to be followed. I had hoped that a discussion and decision could be reached between council meetings. Alas no.

We have endured the inundation of fine dust into our home for almost a month. Michael can't dispell fine dust from his lungs. He has had several episodes of raspy throats and coughing, leading to increased reliance on Ventolin. We have also added another preventative medication to his regime to try and keep him as symptom-free as possible. And still, we wait for our situation to be discussed at the Council meeting.

The piece-de-resistance was Vanessa's rejection by the GradAcsess programme. My daughter has spent the last ten years of her life on a quest to make her employable. She has studied Arts/ Humanities/Politics/World Economics and International Relations to Masters level. She has studied at arguably the best university in Western Australia. She is tremendously focused in the fields of research and analysis.

Vanessa wants to work in a profession that will use her skills, intelligence and tenacity.

Instead, she has had six months of knockbacks.

I'm trying to remain optimistic and cheerful as I sit in our Gallery. Last week we sold nothing. This weekend, we sold one of Michael's metal spiders. So, we have received $40. We are bulging at the seams with beautiful artworks and amazing artists. We have artists waiting to join us. We are very aware that we are not in a location of wealth. We aren't in Floreat or Fremantle or Yallingup or Margaret River. We have to wait for the money to come to Heavenly Beverley.

As I look back on recent events, I am so frustrated by the farce, the inanity, the meaningless and the obstructive that I just want to scream. I feel trapped in a very bad remake of "Catch 22" or "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World".

I have had enough.