Heavenly Beverley : Truly Madly Deeply... A Christmas Love Story

Another Christmas has been done and dusted. On this second last day of 2019 and a week into our summer break from the East End Gallery, I am enjoying what is colloquially known by us as a slob day. Eventually, I will change out of my jarmies and dress appropriately for a late afternoon walk with the dogs and a sunset soiree with friends Adam and Gem. But not quite yet. I am very happily reflecting on a remarkable family Christmas, both here in Heavenly Beverley and at Callum and Bron's home in the wilds of suburbia.

Christmas Day was hot, as has been most of December. We were already up carrying out the usual hot day drill of watering our potted garden paradise. Stella and Pip were delighted to see her. After a most pleasurable exchange of gifts and a hearty breakfast, Michael retired for a well-deserved midday nap. A late Christmas lunch was hastily rearranged into an evening Christmas dinner.

We were joined by Greg, Jan and Macca as well as two waifs en route to Esperance. Yury and Betty had decided upon Beverley as a stopover on their way from Jurien Bay. No family, no festivities, so we promptly invited them to dinner. A fascinating Ukrainian and Indonesian couple, they were currently working as a GP and an accountant in Jurien. Needless to say, they had plenty of interesting anecdotes which led to a lively evening.

Plus Jan gave me two new outfits to add to the gorgeousness of my wardrobe. How lucky am I that I can inherit very nice clothes from a bloody awesome friend and my number one backup for the East End Gallery.

We have been welcoming strays to Christmas for any number of years, both here and previously in the Big Smoke. The most memorable was hosting nineteen people and seven dogs plus Santa at my house in Manangaroo which fortunately had a very large pergola and a swimming pool. Only two of the attendees and two of the dogs were actually related to me...

Everybody should have the opportunity to be included in a holiday celebration, regardless of their circumstances.

Boxing Day was quietly amusing, with the Pirate Parrot joining in the hijinks by flying into the Christmas tree. I believe his landing spot was an act of desperation rather than choice as he was being pursued by Stella the wrecker, who was intently determined to catch him. Fortunately, there were no injuries or reports and Red did not succumb to an anxiety-induced coronary.

We were all excited to join a rendezvous in Banksia Grove the following afternoon. We arrived, fatheads in tow at around three o'clock. Thus we had a lovely couple of hours to see our beautiful little granddaughter, Imogen Ivy, on our own with just her adoring parents.

What followed turned into a Day of Wonder. Alex arrived later in the afternoon. Imogen did very little except squawk and squeak and feed and snooze, intermittently filling her nappy, much to the delight of her besotted Nanny Kate. However, we were all in love with her and in her own baby way, peace and harmony descended under a roof in the suburbs.

Which meant no arguments, no grumbles, not one single whinge. Michael and I walked the dogs with Alex. Alex's joy was evident all over his face as he cuddled Imogen in complete awe and love. Michael's new role as Grandpa saw him as gently relaxed as I have ever seen him. Bron was ecstatic for the luxury of a long and leisurely shower and Callum, master of ceremonies, watched over his family with his usual genial charm.

All brought together by our Christmas baby. Imogen Ivy would have to be the most precious gift of this Christmas season.

And I now understand the unmistakable brouhaha of becoming a Nanny. I am looking forward to many more happy occasions when I can be within her orbit.