How To Cram Several Days Into Just One...

Thursday was always going to be a day of haste and anxiety. Michael was finally booked in for his endoscopy (downoscopy) at Northam Hospital to explore his troublesome gut once more. Neither of us ever sleep well the Night Before Procedures and Wednesday was no exception. We were bouncing off each other and the walls for the duration of the hours we are generally resident in Cloud Cuckoo Land.

Hence. we were both rather the worse for wear at the particularly frigid watery dawn. I let Michael sleep on whilst I soaked my head in the shower. I was enjoying the deluge of warmth so much that I almost missed the deadline for shovelling out his tablets before Fasting Commenced.

In the end, I only woke him an hour before departure. There was no point in turfing him out of bed beforehand. His usual morning routine had been disallowed and he was definitely Not Happy about this turn of events.

Off to Northam. Michael drove to distract his mind from food. Ten kilometres out, my phone rang. Raelene from the Day Surgery Unit was wondering if we were close to Target. Michael would be next in, so she advised me to just pull up at the entrance and boot him out. This action was executed with gusto and I left him in the care of Raelene and her crew.

I then accelerated into Overdrive. Not knowing when he would be given the All Clear for home, I scurried about faster than the squirrel collecting his nuts. New knickers from Best&Less. Half price jeans and additional tee shirts for our trip at Rockmans. Prescriptions, over-the-counter drugs, burn cream, the Drops of Death (antiseptic) and Stingoes from the chemist. Supermarket followed by essential medicinal libations (vino) and thick bamboo socks for wearing with my boots. Specialist veterinary biscuit for the Canine Clowns and Madame Cat.

After drawing breath, I checked my watch. Almost High Noon. I'd dropped Michael at the Northam Hospital door at nine-thirty. I immediately ascended to Panic Mode and rang the Day Surgery Unit...

Michael was fine. The downoscopy was done. He was just having a coffee and a sandwich. He was even dressed and almost ready for pick-up. Whew.

About to leave the vet's carpark, my phone rang. Our Autistic Superstar was on the other end. I was a tad concerned. Sometimes, unexpected communications with Alex forewarned of a disaster. This was no different. Having emptied his account to pay for his Grand Tour over east, he had no funds to get an extra key cut or buy supplies of dental floss.

What could I do? I transferred some money into Alex's account. And promised him that we needed to have a Serious Talk when he returned from his trip to prevent any reoccurrence of this situation.

Back to the hospital. Michael was released into my custody a short time later. I nearly fell over in fits of exhausted laughter when I signed his discharge form as "the responsible adult".

We weren't done yet. I needed food urgently. Much to my surprise, Michael also wanted another sandwich when I placed my lunch order at the ever-reliable Lucy's Cafe. A blast of carbohydrates and protein reignited my flagging energy levels. We stopped to see Ryan, our accountant, briefly. Another marathon session to Centrelink the previous afternoon had the desired effect that Ryan could now enquire on our behalf about our alleged debt. And I had entered into a payment plan with Centrelink to get them off our backs whilst Ryan gathered appropriate information.

Last but not least, we fueled Goldie and turned her in the direction of home. Arriving with no reports or injuries, we emptied the car, packed away the groceries and fell into bed for a late afternoon nap.

Michael was not through eating. Upon arising, he devoured the rest of the leftover pizza, two mandarines and then proceeded to eat pork schnitzels, baked potatoes and veggies when dinner was cooked. Whilst watching the telly, he also demolished a decent helping of Vanessa's delicious and freshly-baked pear and nut cake.

I do not remember falling asleep. I just know this happened very rapidly. I woke Friday morning remarkably refreshed. And ready for the next exciting installment in the Beverley Hillbillies' action-packed lives.

If Michael's stomach could talk...

His Majesty's views on Thursday morning...

Left in the care of the Day Surgery Unit...

First port of call...

Onward and upward...

Before turning into my alter ego...

Making and receiving phone calls to all and sundry...

 

 In charge of a three-ring circus...

And then...FREEDOM!

How Michael felt about food for the rest of the day...

Sojourn with Ryan, our Accountant to the Stars...

How I felt whilst picking up essential beverages...

Post nap, time for vino!

The Joy Of Unusual Spectator Sports

Building a house has been quite the experience. Part nightmare, part frustration, part insanity and eventually triumph are all key ingredients. I've heard that building a house is one of the great causes of stress. How about we throw into our mix (over the last eight years) Michael's forced retirement through ill health from the mining industry, relocating to a country town, buying a crumbling building and attempting to wrestle her back to a sort of quirky gentility. And money. Reliant on our Centrelink benefits as our primary income, we have skittered close to the edge of the financial precipice on more occasions than I would care to remember. Somehow, we always have held our nerve, held our breath and saved ourselves from fiscal disaster. How? Usually wishful thinking and receiving an unexpected windfall in the nick of time.

So, we are not trendsetters or socialities or beautiful people. Our idea of a great evening was last night's pub meal with fellow artist, dynamic woman and fab friend Jan George followed by watching the delicious Aidan Turner in "Poldark". Oh, be still, my beating heart!

And we can become quite excited about what others may view as mundane or boring. Take building Station House for example. We never knew that such activities could be seen as spectator sports.

Watching the surveyors peg out the block with pink ribbons. Demolition of the neglected foliage. The site works performed by Dan Wilkinson from Little Eco Hill. Even the cat explored his big boys' toys. Preparation for pouring the slab. Plumber Craig scampering around installing all the necessary plumbing before the concrete truck rolled in. Robbie Higginson and his team from All Round Concrete pouring our house slab.

The house frame shot up in no time. Then the roof sheets and our walls. And bingo, we had a shell of a home. Internal work and electrics completed. Kitchen, laundry and bathroom fittings and then the tiling. Internal painting to Michael's Executive Officer Gary and backpackers Aude and Seb. External painting by Michael and Gary.

All orchestrated in style by John Rozema and Lindsey Doyle, Avon Builders to the Stars.

Along with the good has been the bloody awful. Shenanigans by Western Power and the Water Corporation, which literally took months to resolve. An extension cord from the Forbes Building to Station House was our connection to electricity for five months. And the dreams of our courtyard were delayed by the Perth-based Water Corp elite who refused to believe the water main was on the edge of our property. Once the crews were actually allowed to fix our problems, the water and power issues faded into a vague and distant nightmare.

Our courtyard has been built and has exceeded our wildest dreams. Many thanks to Mark Libby and Joel from Kernowstone for a beautiful addition to our property, using one hundred and twenty-year-old bricks salvaged ( by Michael and Gary) from an underground water storage tank situated on our front block.

And Friday brought the penultimate chapter in the story of our home. Robbie and his All Round Concrete team laid the two carports' slab in a fantastic few hours. We are almost at the end.

We're taking a breather and having a few weeks off. Come August, we want to have our two little seating areas - front porch and the guest room's private outdoor space paved. We are almost too thrilled to think of the end of the project. But, our house will be completed in the spring, eighteen months after we began this incredible journey.

I wonder if I'll put my feet up then...

A very condensed version of our build March 2017 - June 2018

Hooray For The Winter Solstice!

I am not a fan of winter, particularly during the days leading up to the shortest day of the year. If I am warm, then I cope better. Within the confines of Station House, we remain snug and cosy, due to efficient insulation, a north facing courtyard and regular usage of our reverse cycle airconditioner.

However, the Gallery is a different story. If I am not physically up and about in the Gallery, I sit with a heater between my feet. Being a hundred-year-old building, she tends to be cool in summer and unfortunately the same in winter. I try to find jobs every hour or so to keep myself moving. Even so, my feet often stubbornly remain as two frozen appendages on the ends of my legs.

Even so, this particular winter solstice has been a rather lovely day thus far. This morning, I braved the great outdoors of our courtyard to plant a new Nandina (Sacred Bamboo) and a punnet of Begonias. I started at nine o'clock with the fog drifting lazily away and dissipating, leaving a beautifully sunlit sky above me. I actually became warm enough to undo my dressing gown and expose my vest and tracky-dak clad body to the world. Luckily, only the plants saw this vision.

I had just finished my garden work when there was a knock on the front door. The Canine Clowns alerted me and I opened our door to Shane Moad, one of our favourite artists, all around good guy and a wonderful friend. Booting Michael out of bed (it was ten-thirty), we thoroughly enjoyed Shane's morning visit to our happy abode.

Upon opening the Gallery, locals Lynn, Linda and Clive dropped in. How lucky are we that the East End Gallery seems to have become a place where people meet. Last weekend, whilst Jenny and Mick Cotter (jewellery designer and master wood craftsman) were visiting the Gallery, York photographer Rob Pampling and his wife Melody strolled through the doors as well. Within the next half hour, Jenny and Melody were reminiscing about times spent together as teachers in Coolgardie and discovering they only lived thirty kilometres apart. Six degrees of separation? Bollocks to that. Come into the East End Gallery and meet old friends or colleagues!

A letter waiting for us in the Gallery revealed another auspicious occasion. After almost six years of the back block having the awkward title of "Lot 420 No Street Address", we were informed in writing that we have been issued a street number to add to the street's newly appointed name of Anzac Lane.

We now live in Station House at 6 Anzac Lane Beverley 6304. What a bloody golden moment.

Even better was to come. Our friendly concreter, Robbie arrived on cue with John and Lindsey, Local Builders to the Stars late this afternoon. After consultation with the Three Musketeers, Michael and I gleefully gave the go-ahead for our driveways and carports to be concreted. Which will occur tomorrow. At sparrow fart.

After this exercise, all that remains is the brick paving to complete Station House's exterior. We are still hoping that our bricklayer will be available next week. Once the concrete slabs begin in the morning, we will be on the phone to him straight away.

Photographing the courtyard coincided with the last of the daylight. Vanessa is preparing a Winter Solstice celebration feast. Lynn will come over to share this momentous evening. And as of tomorrow, the days will begin their slow lengthening towards the spring equinox.

For the shortest day, we managed to pack a great deal of activity into it!

Dawn of the Winter Solstice in Canberra with a bunch of lunatics at Lake Burley Griffith...

A tad nippy, methinks?

We live on Anzac Lane!

View east down Vincent Street...

Our courtyard unveiled...

Knock, Knock, Who's There?...

Today has been an ultra-frustrating day. Today, we seem to have been thwarted at every turn in our quest to resolve an irritatingly niggly issue. In the end, we spent a mind-numbing couple of hours
shaking our heads and wading through the unwieldy murkiness that seems to be the hallmark of those that should be there to help us.

The morning began reasonably amiably after the welcome resolution of previous inanities, courtesy of the Water Corporation. Where our house water meter had originally been placed, the installers, in an extraordinary act of incomprehension, anchored the meter at ninety degrees to our fence, rather than parallel to the fence. Which meant the meter impinged onto what was to be our second driveway.

After much gnashing of teeth, we requested a relocation of the device. To move it less than half a metre and rotate it by ninety degrees cost us a cool $456. We paid the fee and waited for an acknowledgement of a day and time. And waited some more.

Finally, towards the end of last week, we were visited by Bill, who rocked up as a most intelligent representative of the Water Corp. He apologised profusely for the delay. Apparently, nobody at all, apart from Bill, had read and tried the phone number on the work order. Everyone else assumed this minor plumbing job was somehow attached to the ongoing works at the new Cornerstone Building. So, the Shire of Beverley had been rung repeatedly about our job and had come up a blank. Bill was the only one who had the sense to try ringing the number on the order. And thus, we met this outstanding individual.

Bill promised to move heaven and earth to have our meter moved as soon as possible. But we were still very impressed when a Water Corp crew rocked up this very morning and completed the task swiftly and efficiently. And we can safely assume that the $456 fee didn't go directly to the willing workers.

At least the job had been done.

That was the high point of the morning. We then endeavoured to sort out the mysterious cancellation of Michael's Driver's License. Somehow, the Department of Transport - DoT (doesn't that sound touchy-feely) - had identified an issue with Michael's medical certificate provided by our GP and failed to follow this problem up. With the GP or us.

Hence, Michael's license duly expired on 29 May and we only realised he had no license this week. I began orchestrating a telecommunications juggling act between ourselves, the doctors' surgery and the DoT. What did not help at all was Telstra's continuing failure to provide us with a line that did not drop out. We do not live in a remote area. We live in the centre of town. We use Telstra phones. Give. Me. Strength.

I will not go into the protracted nature of these multiple phone calls. I just kept looking for a handy wall onto which I could beat my head. Finally, at two o'clock we strode to the Shire office in triumph, assured that we would just walk in, pay the license fee and walk out.

Almost. We decided to check the status of any pensioner discounts for which we may be eligible. To our surprise, we were due for DoT refunds. Which involved another form each after the other forms we'd filled in and downloaded. We shall receive the credit in due course; about six weeks from now. In cheque form, rather than directly into our accounts. DoT loves forms, loses forms, delays forms and sits on forms.

Now for my soapbox. Prime Minister Turnball and his Liberal colleagues wish to deliver a staged series of tax cuts, favouring the most highly paid. This concerns me as I wonder which services will be underfunded in order to achieve this goal. I have sat on the phone for ninety minutes to speak to Centrelink, thirty minutes for the DoT (I know this is a state government agency) and listened to the ongoing rumblings of a potential privatisation of the ABC. Our national independent broadcaster. This can't be allowed to happen.  Telstra, which has been privatised, in an ongoing series of failures and the National Broadband Network is still a disaster, caused by the current government's mismanagement.

The day was saved by our retreat into the courtyard for more arranging of pots and knick-knacks. The frangipani no longer resembles the Leaning Tower of Pisa, having been re-positioned in a much larger pot. Our precious little pottery, metal and fibreglass animals and chooks and caterpillars are taking up residence with the plants. We have worked out where the BBQ is going. The glass outdoor table is in place. Our courtyard is coming to life.

What a wonderful end to a somewhat trying day.

Who's there?

Yep...

Which means that people like us living in regional areas are still f#@*ed!

Service charge - massive   Water Use Charges - depends on the season   Our Bill - every sixty days...

Not the excuse that the Water Corp used for our delay!

 

Hahahahahahahahaha...

 Is anybody there?

Many thanks to Sheridan at the Shire of Beverley licensing office for her professional knowledge, her cheerful attitude and for completing the renewal of Michael's driver's license as painlessly as possible.