Alas, no. Time is flying and I have to deal with this new reality. Back in the Days in the Old Schoolyard, I would count down the days of each term. We only had three terms then, so holidays always seemed an eternity away. Pregnancy was the worst. Time would drag, as anxiety was my close companion. Now I have three grown-up children...I used to call them young adult children, but as they are thirty-three (!), twenty-nine (holy cow) and twenty-seven, no wonder I have grey hairs.
My aging hair colour is another huge disappointment. I hoped that I would develop a sleek cap of beautifully silver or white hair. No such luck. My natural colour is that of rusty steel wool. Totally unattractive for a woman approaching sixty. Every time, I uncover the dreary locks, I ask Michael whether I should go grey or keep colouring. We have both decided that my personality is not one of rusty steel wool. I plan to go Mango for my next colour.
We had Great Expectations of our break between Christmas and yesterday. We were going to whip the yard into shape, move firewood and bricks, build a rock wall around the lemon tree and create a permanent parking spot for Digger the caravan. And extend the dogs' watering area so our courtyard was no longer home to erect poohs. Ye Gods, we Had a Dream...
The New Year came and went in a blur. We farewelled Poppy, embraced Lynn on her homecoming and endured some very hot days. We love our pool passes for the summer. The Beverley pool has saved us on several occasions, particularly on three days above forty-two degrees Centigrade. Those of you who still use Fahrenheit - one hundred and seven (ish) degrees.
We did achieve some of these plans. And we decided to revamp the Gallery twenty-four hours before our 2019 opening. We had welcomed two new artists. The Gallery needed to accommodate them.
Plenty of time (or so we thought)! Two nights ago, we worked until midnight. Having consumed quite a few glasses of vino to aid us in our endeavours, we weaved our way home. Michael promptly let the Problem Child out the front door. The Beagle then vanished into the inky blackness. We called her, whistled and clapped - with absolutely no response.
Michael retired to bed and was quickly snoring his box off. I lay awake, imagining all sorts of horrible fates that could claim the Bloody Beagle. Until I heard her panting at the door at one-thirty...
Last night, after Australia Day drinks, I crashed at eight o'clock. In spite of Michael's wakeful episodes, I slept for nearly twelve hours. Bliss. Today, I finally finished new labels and the dusting and vacuuming of the Gallery.
Tomorrow, we are open for the official Australia Day holiday. Drop in on us on your way home to the Big Smoke. Or take the day trip to the Avon Valley and discover our Gallery.
We look forward to seeing you. Hopefully before January disappears.
Scenes from Beverley Pool - January 2019
The Problem Child (at rest) - January 2019
Hello Lynn (second from left) and goodbye Poppy (second from right)
The East End Gallery - 27 January 2019 -
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