From Feeling Foolishly Flustered to Tenacious Triumph!

We are thoroughly enjoying our mid-summer break. Before we shut the East End Gallery for Christmas, the heat was stifling, our bodies were flagging and we were perpetually weary. I've had a chance to catch up on all that pesky dusting along with a spot of re-jigging and a fabulous opportunity to go nowhere for days on end.

Not that we have been utterly idle. The Christmas tree is done and dusted, the new calendar has been hung and already contains an alarming number of appointments and we are considering all opportunities to promote ourselves and the Gallery throughout the coming year.

So. in between visits with Vanessa, Alex, Callum and Bronwyn and our grandbaby Imogen, we have been planning. That we are going away for most of the winter is non-negotiable. With the advent of falling rainfall during the cool weather, frosts and bitter cold are more prevalent. Which Michael's lungs do not like at all. So, the itinerary for a Norwesta getaway is already in progress.

However, the nagging issue of cash (or the lack of it) inevitably rears its ugly head. We are still recovering from the whopping double whammy of the rates and the building's insurance. Given that we are on the fixed income of our pensions and a small amount of rent, we do not absorb rises in bills well. Power, water, groceries, insurances costs continue to climb. We need to explore increasingly creative ways to stay financially afloat.

At present, Michael's vitally important contribution is to produce "Magda" his fridge magnet metal spiders. We have promoted Magda on our Gallery pages and on our website. She is available through the East End Gallery and travels with us for sale on our trips.

More than once, Vanessa brought Etsy to our attention. Etsy, she informed me, was a site to buy and sell handmade or vintage items. Emboldened by her encouragement, I decided to set up an Etsy shop and account four days ago. How hard could the process be?

Oh, the danger of smugness. I rapidly discovered that all was not as simple as I'd hoped. For three evenings, I toiled to follow the Etsy instructions. I duplicated material when I didn't need to do so. got stuck in a certain part and was unable to go forwards or backwards and found some of the directions confusing to a point of incomprehension. After the third evening, I spat the dummy, had a giant tantrum and cried bitter tears of frustration and failure.

Michael convinced me to take a breather. So, after a day off, I opened the account in trepidation. The rest of the basic set-up was surprisingly logical and fell into place. Having mastered the initial steps, I then launched forward into Etsy Settings. Although not overly complicated, the additional tasks were time consuming and detailed. Finally, after four days, just after six o'clock tonight, I pressed Publish.

My relief was absolute when I was able to check that our Etsy Shop - Redbacks Forge - was up and running. With wry humour, I contemplated the launch of this enterprise. I recalled the ancient adages that computer technology had been promised to free up our time and simplify procedures.

What a load of bollocks. Maybe those younger than me who have grown up with the internet are able to tackle these odious and often confusing processes. However, I am pleased I persevered. From feeling defeated, I emerged exhausted, irritable but victorious.

We now have an Etsy Shop named Redbacks Forge. I may not be able to operate it but at least I finished it!

Michael's profile photo

Our Redbacks' Forge icon...

Making Magda...

Before powder coating...

Finished spiders...

With Big Mumma Magda!

What I have felt over the last four days!

2020 Wishes ...Or Hopes...Or Dreams

Today is 2 January 2020. For starters, this is a much easier date to type instead of 2019, which involves two hands of course. Being the most uncoordinated woman on the planet, I am delighted to see the back of such a trying set of numbers.

Which brings me to my first wish for 2020. I am thoroughly sick of the rhetoric, the ifs, buts and maybes. I don't give a toss whether this period of climate change is a naturally occurring cycle or has been facilitated by human interference over the last three hundred years. I do know that we, as a species, must take immediate action to prevent the climate from becoming hotter, else we risk unreasonable conditions. I really doubt we have to worry about the next Ice Age for another millennia or two. However, having just become a Nanny, I want a habitable world for my beloved Imogen and for every other baby born in the future. Inaction is not an option.

So I am going to get an Extinction Rebellion teeshirt when we have some money. I will actively lobby for climate change measures as far as I am able. I will continue to recycle, hoping against hope that all my careful sorting doesn't end up in landfill anyway. I will rage and argue for action.

My second wish is purely selfish. Somehow, I hope to ease the monetary pressures that we endure at the moment. We receive our pensions next week. After our bills are paid, we will have less than twenty dollars available for groceries. I am tired of scrimping. We do not live a luxurious lifestyle. All I would like for us and millions of Australians in similar positions is a Fair Go. A flat 10% tax across the board ( as espoused by my darling Dad a very long time ago) would solve a myriad of issues and finally allow the status quo to become fairer.

This January is giving me more than a few moments of reflection. Who remembers Dolly Everett, apart from her family? Dolly suicided on 3 January 2018. How many other children have suicided over the course of the last two years? Enough is enough. Bullying needs to be treated as a crime. Cyberbullying needs to be treated as a crime. Any violence needs to be treated as a crime so that women such as Eurydice Dixon, Ann O'Neil and Rosie Batty don't have to live with the aftermath of violence towards them or their children. One-Punch crime is unacceptable. My third wish is for fewer men, women and children to be traumatised by such hideous and avoidable events in 2020.

Today is our wedding anniversary. Eight years ago, Michael and I were married under a sprawling pepper tree in our backyard at the House that Rocks, surrounded by family and friends. We continue to be each other's best friend and supporter. I have told Michael that at the end of this current twenty-year lease, I want to engage the extension option for another ten years at least. We have had our ups and downs over nearly eleven years, but we have always faced both joy and adversity together. That taste of happiness, that golden moment should be within everybody's grasp.

And for those within our orbit, I wish them peace and health and love. For James and Natalie, the longed-for baby due in July. For Callum and Bron, the wonder to continue with Imogen, for Alex a job he likes and airconditioning, for Michael a rush of inspiration for his artwork and winter up north. For my brothers and their families - a chance to see each other. And for my darling Dad, watching from the universe, a Grand Final win for the Melbourne Football Club.

Wishing the world well in 2020.

Congratulations to James and Natalie and best wishes for your little miracle...

Simon with children Tim and Catherine...

Horsing around with best buddy Tony...

Brothers Simon and Michael...

Nephew Tim with his Dad and uncle...

David and Kerin, son Pete and partner Alison and grandie Elisabeth with some red-suited geezer

Perfected posed photo of Dave and Kerin...

When nobody is watching!

An uncle and his baby niece...

Alex - Christmas @ Banksia Grove 27.12.2019...

The brothers with Bron September 2019...

Happy New Year to Cal, Bron and Immy!

A Grandpa,,,

Living with me is a continual surprise!

Nanny Kate with Immy...

And may the NT News continue with nation-stopping headlines such as this!

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.

Christmas tree up in early December...

A most unusual reindeer...

Christmas morning...

Stella's first Christmas...

The Pirate Parrot...

Pip and Stella en route to our second Christmas celebration...

Grandpa...

Backyard antics...

A Daddy and his girl...

Do I look like a happy Nanny?!

My handsome younger son Alex...

Uncle Al...

Let sleeping puppies and babies lie...

And her Supermummy, our darling Bron.

Belief...

This evening is 2019's final meeting of Country Expressions, our writing group that we established earlier in the year. For fun. For peer support. To be astounded by the creativity of the characters who belong to our quirky bunch. A drinkies group with a bit of writing on the side. And a chance for grammar nuts like me to be given open slather to correct particularly awful writing offences.

The set topic for this get together was "Belief" and I intuitively sailed through my memories to my darling Dad. He and I were intrinsically linked by his beliefs and my belief in him that has led to the formation of many of my own beliefs. Which continue today and beyond. Who knew that belief could be hereditary?

Dad taught me so many valuable lessons. The importance of family, demonstrated by our mutual cups of morning tea from when I was about four. Of patience, of perseverance, of honour, of dignity. Of unconditional love, which held him to his adored wife, my Mum, even when she was irrational and unreasonable.

Of the love of language. The rules of spelling and grammar. The joy and wisdom of an encyclopaedia, a dictionary and a thesaurus. Dad read to me every bedtime until I was ten. He had done the same for my brothers. He introduced me to literature great and simple. Only after we stopped did I realise just how much that private world and daily ritual meant to me.

He was not a hands-on practical or sporting Dad. He didn't play with us as such. This was never done out of malice; he just preferred to be in Mum's orbit. Much later, when Dad was in his seventies and beyond, we would go out together when I visited them and recapture that early intimacy.

He was also adventurous. A bright pink shirt rescued from the St Vinnies' bag, awe and enthusiasm with the internet, yoga that kept him flexible well into his eighties. He was interested in everyone and everything. He adored shopping, especially for clothes. When he could no longer travel, he did so with his mind, through his passion for books.

His honesty and loyalty were legendary. He barracked for his beloved Melbourne Football Club all his life. As far as I am aware, he never lied or fudged the truth. Ever. That was why he remained with the love of his life, even when she sometimes treated him with such indifferent shabbiness.

Dad hated confrontation and kept his own counsel, uncritical unless he felt forced to act in the best interests of others. There was a simple order in his love and his life, Mum first, us, extended family and friends.

That Mum eventually left him alone actually provided him with a silver lining in the last months of his ninety-two years. He was reunited with my brother, Michael, as were the rest of us. I will never forget Dad's face lit by unrehearsed happiness when Michael strode into his room. He was granted his greatest unspoken wish - to be with all his children before he died two years ago.

And I think that Dad's tenacity to live for this goal provided my most powerful beliefs of all. Do not waste time. See and hold and love your family and friends. Be as kind as possible. And always enjoy an evening glass of vino.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

Dad with Michael...

Still witty...

All the ladies loved him!

With David...

And Dad's last birthday...