Curry, Cuddles And Conversation For Twenty-Two Terrific Hours

My elder son, Callum, has always been a busy chap. I remember the Clinic Sister remarking about his seemingly perpetual motion when Cal was an effervescent toddler. Ever a perfectionist, he refused to walk, talk or be toilet trained until he had attained the necessary skills required. Hence after nine months (!) of walking around furniture, he eventually let go at the ripe old age of seventeen months and never looked back. Sometime around two and a half (or thereabouts), he began talking in full sentences. At three and a half, he toilet trained himself in a single day.

He was a social butterfly at daycare and loved Kindy and Pre-Primary. Unfortunately, his gregarious and quirky nature did not endear him to some of his classmates and he was severely bullied, both mentally and physically, throughout much of his school years.

What saved Callum was his tenacity and determination, along with learning Karate and then winning a scholarship to begin his ballroom dancing amateur career. Humphries Dance Studio became his second family, offering him an outlet for his natural energy and nurturing him through his emotional difficulties.

At university to study primary teaching, he chose to take a deep breath, dust himself off from previous dramas and reinvent himself. His social personality emerged once more. Girlfriends were a cause of some angst and a lot of self-doubt. Then he met a gorgeous strawberry blonde firecracker of a young woman named Bronwyn. 

Cal and Bron built a house together, acquired their furbaby (Ragnar the Ragdoll cat) and married in August 2018. After an absolutely horrendous pregnancy, they presented us with our beautiful granddaughter, Imogen Ivy, on 6 December 2019.

Much to my astonishment, I fell head over heels in love with Immy from the very beginning. Having not seen her and her parents since my birthday in July, we decided to squeeze an overnight stay into their busy schedule. Between the three of them, they have an amazingly packed social life and regular commitments. Unable to come to Beverley for the school holidays, instead we choose to go to them. Stella and Pip travelled with us and we rocked into their home at lunchtime last Wednesday.

Callum was already cooking the Beef Rendang for our dinner. The aroma was filling the house with warmth and spice. We unpacked lunch supplies and made sandwiches. Immy, initially slightly hesitant as she hadn't seen us for over two months, soon had me as putty in her little hand. She had changed so much. The previous time we'd seen her, she had just been sitting up. Now, she was sitting with ease, crawling, standing up and walking around furniture. She was vocalising loudly. She loved playing with her toys in her playpen. She was sleeping through the night. She adored company and hated missing any action, so was allowed to stay up after dinner. The following day, she was off to her first baby swimming class.

I sang to her and chatted with her and cuddled her. Her wonderful parents gave me free rein to have my "Immy fix". We chatted amiably all afternoon when Imogen slept for a couple of hours. A leisurely walk followed and we inspected the goldmine of discarded objects that had been placed out for a bulk rubbish collection.

Dinner was wonderful. The Beef Rendang had simmered for hours and was tender and delicious. Basmati rice was the perfect complement. Immy, having gone to bed, performed her Jack-in-the-Box impersonation and joined us for vino, dessert and conversation.

What followed was one of the best evenings I have been privileged to enjoy. We talked, rather than watch television. We shared our past, present, hopes and dreams for the future. We revealed our souls, our regrets, our "getting of (some) wisdom". Wow.

The following morning, we had another communal and convivial breakfast. Immy had her morning nap. Cal and Bron prepared to take her "swimming". We gathered our enormous mountain of overnight essentials and began the packing of the car to return to Heavenly Beverley.

After our hugs and kisses, we were unable to resist a final kerb crawl for any delectable items. We picked up two bar stools and joy of joys, a miniature slide for kidlets from eighteen months to four years old. We left the slide at Cal and Bron's front door before we turned Lily towards home. 

Jan had opened and run the Gallery all day Thursday. After she closed the Gallery, she joined us, along with Greg, James and Celeste for drinks at Station House. We realised how lucky we are. We have fabulous family and friends who add so much joy to our lives.

PS And our darling Immy is also very lucky to have three grandmothers all besotted with her. Michelle, Helen and I all bring her different experiences.  She will never be short on love.

Immy Fix - Wednesday 30 September to Thursday 1 October 2020

Walkies!

Stella at full gallop...

Miss Cutie-pie...

With Mummy getting ready for bed...

Good morning, Miss Imogen...

Good morning Stella bella!

Breakfast with Grampy...

Pre nap cuddles with Nanny...

Off to swimming class.

The Point (?!) Of Jigsaws

The topic of this latest offering for Country Expressions (our monthly writing group) was picked by me, probably in a moment of sentimental madness. I was going to compose a beautifully esoteric post comparing jigsaws to life, their freeform patterns a metaphor for the changing journeys we all experience.

Bollocks to that...

Instead, I have decided to be far more straightforward. Instead of flowery interpretation, I am going to discuss the purpose of the jigsaw. In my opinion, jigsaws are the work of the Devil Incarnate, a device to confound, annoy and frustrate me. 

Don't get me wrong; I have attempted, on occasion, to construct jigsaws or contribute to one being created. I remember hovering over one of Sian's humungous monstrosities, a piece in my hand, trying to judge where it could possibly fit. In sheer impatience at my hesitancy, Sian took the piece out of my hand and placed it in its correct position. At that moment, I realised that jigsaws were not my friends.

Jan has a stunning three-dimensional jigsaw vase. I can admire its beauty, whilst being terrified to touch it, lest it disintegrates. I am not the most coordinated person on the planet; in fact, I share remarkable similarities with Hyacinth Bucket's hapless neighbour Elizabeth, who lived in fear of being invited to tea and being required to hold a cup and saucer. Like Liz, my propensity for clumsiness increases exponentially with a rise in my stress levels. 

Jigsaws sometimes do have a place. Alex was able to identify and complete two anatomically correct jigsaws of a boy and girl when we had no idea of his knowledge of gender. When I was forced to engage with early childhood jigsaws, as a parent helper, I could just manage. The pieces were big and chunky, the design limited and simple and the audience appreciative of my assistance. The line was drawn if I had to tackle a jigsaw of more than fifty pieces. 

Then there's Lego, that hideous concoction that mimics jigsaws with directions to build a particular structure. Any parent can sympathise with that worst of agonies, standing on a piece of bloody Lego left on the floor, causing intense howls of pain, culminating in the confiscation of said Lego for suffering caused.

Tangrams and Meccano are other loathsome forms of mental torture and games such as Connect Four just give me grief. Ask Michael about my lack of ability at following instructions for tent or gazebo construction. These have been episodes when he requires the patience of a saint. Anything that needs some degree of predictive spatial awareness is definitely not my cup of tea. 

And as Liz dreads being asked over to Hyacinth's house, I dread the day somebody gives me a jigsaw, supposedly for fun.

Thus endeth my time on my soapbox.

A jigsaw as a metaphor for life...

ARGH!

My kind of jigsaw...

Now, where does this piece go?!

Teatime torture with Hyacincth...

Don't break the cup, Liz...!

This is supposed to be fun?

Definitely not for me...

Time to confiscate the Lego...

Wish they'd had these thirty years ago...

How Connect Four discs end up as frisbees aimed for the throat!

Oh! What a Night!

Long weekends always throw my equilibrium slightly askew. Instead of three days away from the Gallery to cope with my home existence, we were reduced to only two. Plus, we'd made a decision to motor to the Big Smoke on Wednesday and grab a night with Cal, Bron and Immy. Then we had the brilliant idea that we would leave and be back in Heavenly Beverley to open the Gallery at eleven o'clock the next morning. Oh, the great plans of the Beverley Hillbillies...  

Finally, after six days, I am determined to produce a completely unbiased (!)  record concerning our latest Famous Sundowner. What an absolute blast. We enjoyed the most amazing celebration at the East End Gallery. Approaching our sixth birthday, we have been overwhelmed with the support for our Gallery since the regional borders re-opened within Western Australia.

The culmination of all this love was certainly evident at the Sundowner. We had guests from Perth, from Pingelly and a multitude of local "identities". We ended up with more than half a dozen musicians swapping instruments, singing into the early hours of the morning, along with much murdering of red wine over the floor and the adjacent corrugated iron wall, some appalling dance moves. Michael's thirteen-minute film (!) involving some interesting hand-held effects, including sideways angles, closeups and long random panning episodes of the Gallery and Giftshop.

I implored with all those present not to leave enough food to feed the Fifth Battalion and everybody complied with gusto. We were left with one bread roll and very little else. The sausage sizzle was outstanding, the associated "bring a plate" offerings were delicious, Nobody was left wanting. The whole night was thoroughly flexible. A couple of teenagers retreated to Station House, an enterprising couple set up their caravan in the pharmacy carpark and guests came and went as they pleased. Our numbers were subsidised by our four-legged friends - Stella, Pip, Brin, Rosie and Benson were as much a part of the evening as the rest of us.

As I watched, and clapped, and sang extremely badly, my mind drifted back over the previous years. We started with a speck of an idea after we bought the Forbes Building in July 2012. Michael had dreamed of his own studio or workshop or art space for most of his life. K&S Fabrications had fed his appetite for decorative metalwork. Then Metal Moments in Midland had seemed a golden opportunity to feed his intellect and imagination in his growth as an artist. Neither of these enterprises continued and Michael beavered away during his free time in his Beechboro shed, trying to keep his enthusiasm from wavering and allowing his mind to develop further. His twice-yearly trips to the Goldfields were key in feeding his artistic endeavours. For ten years, Michael continued to collect the found metal objects that he then incorporated into his three-dimensional stories.

One of our sheds at the House that Rocks was supposed to become Michael's art workshop. However, the space was bitterly cold in winter, invaded by giant mosquitos during spring, sizzling in summer and dusty in autumn. He needed an alternative.

Enter the Forbes Building into our lives. She has always been the third partner in our marriage. Michael was firm in his vision. First, the renovation of Shops 1 and 2 to give us a bit of income. The stabilisation of the external wall was an added drama we were not expecting. The remains of the Old Residence were transformed into the Hovel...Michael's ninety square metre man cave took four months to become safe and habitable. Shop 3 began as the East End Gallery in December 2014. The Final Push took another eighteen months to come to fruition. As the renovation dragged on, Michael's good humour was sorely tested. Dirt, deceased animals and various species' pooh were ongoing trials that rained down upon him and the endless cycle of crack repairs followed by plastering and painting wore him down. In the last six months of the restoration, Michael was frequently "over" the project. With gritted teeth, he battled on and finally in March 2016, the East End Gallery was finished.

Since then, Michael has produced - and sold - a number of his sculptures. Our artists have swelled from eighteen to approximately ninety. We introduced Sundowners to our agenda. Artists' Playdays and then Open Gallery days (given our aged status, we can't stay up late very often anymore...).

Fast forward to the present. 2020 has been a rollercoaster ride of unexpected events. A promising start in the Gallery until March, then closure for nearly three months due to Coronavirus. A recalibration in June and July. Leaving the Gallery in the reliable hands of our artists from late July until the end of August. 

September has been a spectacular ride. We have enjoyed our best month ever since we opened the Gallery. Weekend after weekend, Beverley has been packed with visitors all heading for a Day Out. We are committed to our town's brand - "Be Very Beverley". We do not wish to be another York or Toodyay or Chittering. We are Beverley.

Another Sundowner has been done and dusted in the East End Gallery. We still have our birthday party on Saturday 12 December. Keep the date clear and take an early summer drive to Beverley. Stay a day or two. Go for a swim at the Beverley Pool. Spend an afternoon with the kids at the Beverley Playspace (hopefully due to open later this month). Browse for Christmas gifts. Then join us for a sausage sizzle, LIVE music and a great atmosphere to mark our sixth birthday.

If our next Sundowner is anything like the one we have just had, we are all in for a real treat. Maybe 2020 will finish on a high note.

Scenes from the East End Gallery Sundowner - Saturday 26 September 2020 -