Heavenly Beverley : Up On The Roof...

"When this old world starts a getting me down

And people are just too much for me to face

I'll climb way up to the top of the stairs

And all my cares just drift right into space

On the roof, it's peaceful as can be

And there the world below can't bother meLet me tell you now..."

Carole King and Gerry Goffin originally wrote "Up On The Roof" in 1962 and was first recorded by The Drifters. Released by a number of artists back and forwards across the Atlantic, including by Carole King herself. James Taylor re-orchestrated the song around his acoustic guitar and tenor voice, releasing "Up On the Roof" in 1979, raising its profile into a regular constant in his concerts.

In 2007, they joined together to play "Up On The Roof" live at the Troubadour Theatre in Hollywood. This led to the Troubadour World Tour of 2010 across Australia, Japan, the United States and Canada.

The James Taylor version of "Up On The Roof" remains one of Michael's and my favourite songs. We both closely identify with that craving for calm away from the chaos. Particularly after a couple of jam packed visits to the Big Smoke. The three days around my birthday were consumed by appointments, overnight with the kids and the second night at a hotel as my treat. We were so tired we didn't even venture out to the surfeit of local cafes on offer. Our most recent trip involved two tests over two days for Michael, a visit to optometrist Ernie, finding a laundromat to wash our mattress protector "topper", shopping for our longed-for trip plus an unscheduled appointment with cardiologist Jenny.

Which resulted in another unexpected shock to the system. Michael has a blockage in one of his coronary arteries. So, next Wednesday, we troop back down the Hill to Joondalup Hospital for an angiogram, a clean out and a possible stent.

Jenny's advice to Michael was to avoid strenuous activity until after his angiogram. However, he was most anxious to finish a project he had started...guess where...up on the roof. Ye Gods. I tried to talk him out of this task. He wanted to tech-screw and apply silicon to his corrugated iron patches to repair some major leaks above his Studio. In the end, I was resigned to the fact that his decision was irrevocable. *sigh* And as he rightly pointed out, this blockage had probably been there for some time, so his chances of having a heart attack whilst on the roof were no more likely than when he was lying in bed...

Of course, his time up on the roof, although physically taxing, provided an opportunity for him to

"just drift right into space". Michael loved the freedom - nobody, apart from me, disturbed him; he drank in the air, the sun and the view and he was able to focus entirely on the job at hand. He climbed down the ladder triumphantly in the late afternoon, smugly satisfied with his endeavours.

He can now leave the new roof leaks until after his procedure...!

Over the years that Michael and I have been together, we have both developed helpful strategies to remove ourselves from "the madding crowd". When my mood is low, escaping into my jungle of pots inevitably buoys my spirits. I can spend an entire afternoon muddling about in our two courtyards, tending to my beloved plants, always ending up with dirt on my nose, bleeding from a cut or scrape and a joyful weariness.

Michael's escape (apart from being on the roof) is his Man Cave, with or without a project. At present, he has begun the process to create an artistic sign, which will promote the Vincent Street attractions and businesses. We are denied signage for Vincent Street on the Great Southern Highway approach to town, due to Main Roads restrictions. Instead, whilst crossing our fingers that visitors actually turn off the highway into Vincent Street, we hope the sign Michael is producing will just knock their socks off.

We hope to present this submission to council within the next ten days. After that, with (hopefully) all medical issues in hand, we are planning our delayed escape - back to the Goldfields. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where we will really find ourselves "up on the roof".

Let me explain. Nearly sixteen years ago, Michael took me out to the Goldfields for the very first time. As a city girl, I thought the Goldfields was somewhere you drove through to get to anywhere else. A night under the stars, on a camp bed, in a swag, deep in the Great Western Woodland changed my mind forever. Michael introduced me to places and names that have remained in my memory forever. Mount Palmer, Golden Horn, Copperfield, Mount Ida, Siberia, Davyhurst, Linden - none exist any more except in my mind's eye. Then there are the settlements that remain stubbornly alive, often against the odds - Yalgoo, Sandstone, Menzies, Westonia. History lovingly preserved for posterity - Gwalia. Regional towns that provide some of the creature comforts - Mount Magnet and Leonora.

And he also introduced me to the glorious activity of fossicking. Michael's standard formula - pick a starting point, walk slowly, scan the ground left and right and always check between your feet. Look for specific or unusual shapes. Don't be afraid to give a good swift kick to examine what might emerge. There is a uniform - jeans, steel capped boots, sensible shirt, hat and rigger's gloves. A sturdy straight metal offcut to poke around in the dirt and a satchel for treasures.

I am often drawn to a particular spot to begin fossicking after we set up the car in the shade, the dogs in the crate with water and treats and don sunscreen and insect repellent. Sometimes, I stumble upon finds that amaze me; other times I move on with a shrug.

Fossicking is generally a very meditative affair. Michael and I often split up, heading in different directions. I try to keep the car in sight or a landmark near the car for reference. The landscape of the Goldfields can swallow people very easily, which is why we remain vigilant and don't wander too far.

As fossicking is a quiet affair, other creatures may become curious rather than feeling threatened. I have shared silent conversations with mobs of kangaroos and small families of cattle. I have engaged with squawking corellas and exceedingly clever crows. I have marvelled at the solitary desert lizards (from a safe distance) and the spectacle of wedge-tailed eagles. I have laughed at bristling bushes filled with tiny annoyed finches. I have appreciated insects of every size and colour.

Then there are the trees - from the magnificent single trunked eucalypts to multi trunked bronze gimlets to the indestructible smaller acacias. Flowers that arrive overnight after rain, fields of everlastings, the desert rose or the reliable and pretty mullah-mullah.

These adventures renew and rejuvenate us. We stop thinking about everyday challenges. We focus on all the sweet and simple pleasures.

We feel better because we sleep when we wish, eat well, walk with purpose. We no longer drive every day, particularly when homeward bound, as constant travelling undoes all the rest and relaxation. The dogs are delighted with the twenty-four hour attention from us that is not possible at home. One of our tasks when we arrive in a town is to find a safe location to let the dogs run free or undertake a meaningful walk on lead around the block.

There are certain places we have discovered that we love to stay longer. We have also become privy to "inside information" in some of these favourite spots.

We are on the countdown, as long as Michael's procedure goes well. We are becoming quite excited and beginning the processes of having Will, our van and Lily, our car ready for launch.

We do regret not heading for the warmth of the Northwest. Michael has suffered from multiple chest infections that have truly made his life miserable since May. We won't make that mistake again in 2026. But, we are very hopeful that this shorter break, away from everybody else's coughs and colds, and back to our beloved Goldfields, will be just the tonic we need to launch into spring.

And nobody is climbing up on the roof until we return!