Heavenly Beverley

Monday, 2 February 2026

The Transformation Is Well And Truly Underway!

The East End Gallery currently resembles a bomb site.There are bags of carefully wrapped pottery, jewellery, rocks and wood all over the place. I emptied one of my desk units' cupboards, searching for a particular item. The rest of the contents are in a somewhat untidy heap next to my desk.

We have been arranging units to display the artworks. Most of them are in position, waiting patiently to be filled. That task was put on hold yesterday morning as I bravely tackled Cleaning our fridge, already in situ in our new communal tea and coffee area. I can't remember the last time the fridge received such attention and I am relieved that it didn't expire on the spot from all the scrubbing.

The sofa has been lovingly nurtured with leather wipes to restore its lustrous comfort and appeal. The red tea and coffee unit has had all its legs tightened to prevent wobbling and the sink is about to receive a recycled tap after the flip-mix gave up the ghost. The kettle, toaster and microwave will join the party, along with our sturdy and beautiful wooden table and chairs. The former communal table is to become one of the surfaces for our East End Gallery Residency Artists to utilise for their purposes.

Kim has been patching a multitude of cracks and 'bark" on all the walls in shop 3. Michael has been diligently applying cement and white paint to the two broad steps between Shops 3 and 4 and more cement filling the worst of the floor 'divots' in Shop 3. As we can't yet afford to paint the floor, Shop 3 will maintain its rugged industrial look!

Yesterday afternoon saw me arrange more art pieces in our units whilst the first of the paint is rolled on in gay abandon. That will complete the surprise of this new space and we promise that everybody will be amazed by this makeover. Sneak peek in the photographs with this post.

Today, I had a slightly less energetic day. The hot nights and the need for air-conditioning play havoc with my sleep. At half past three this morning I left Michael in slumber - until the cat disturbed him! - and cleaned the kitchen, popped on a load of wash and started the watering. I crawled back into bed at six thirty and dozed until just before nine.Our wonderful cleaner Michelle rescued our floors and bathroom from complete grot-dom, which another couple of good fairies, Bec and Carl, transformed our windows, blinds, skirting boards and picture rails from most unattractive to pristine!

I had another luxurious rest in the late afternoon before joining Michael and Kim in the Gallery to wonder at their progress. "Red Terra" has been applied to the entirety of the western wall of Shop 3. Tomorrow will see the unveiling of a feature wall of "Corona" , both colours complementing the "Milk White" that will stay in certain sections. I pottered around the Gallery arranging a few more items before we all called it a day. Tomorrow will see us back on the job.

We open, officially on Thursday 12 February and there is still rather a lot to do!

We are planning an extremely casual get-together on Saturday 14 February between 5.30pm and 7.30pm. Bring a plate and a bottle to share and be amongst our first guests to view the newly renovated East End Gallery.

Stay tuned!

Units, units and more units!

Magda is back!

The genesis of my desk area...

'About Time'...

'Odd One Out' and 'Riding in Circles'...

'Gears'...

Kim and Michael taking a well deserved break...

Progress...

The metamorphosis of the fridge...

Ye Gods!

More progress...

'Beyond the Night Sky'...

Here's 'Winston'!

The painting commences...

Saturday, 24 January 2026

Always Bittersweet...

January tends to be a tad difficult emotionally for me. I love summer, particularly the cooler days that arrive after an intensely hot period. We have just gratefully emerged from a string of forty degree days. I am learning to cope physically with how the heat affects my dodgy heart. Hibernation in the airconditioning has become my modis operandi, including some nights to gain a decent quality of sleep. Even with enough rest and keeping my beloved garden alive, I still have days of quiet sorrow when I contemplate my twin daughters as well as another baby whose sex I never knew.

I was seventeen weeks pregnant and very excited in my first pregnancy during January 1985. I believed that since I had passed the twelve week 'danger zone', I was safe from miscarriage and would enjoy a very uneventful five months until our baby would arrive.

We had been planing to attend the first Australia Day fireworks on the Perth foreshore on 28 January. Instead I was in hospital, absolutely petrified and having no clue that a late miscarriage was just like labour and I was losing our first much-anticipated baby.

The baby's actual birth was a memory I can never forget. Delivered into a metal bedpan, the baby was whisked away and an injection was immediately stuck into my bum. I was bleeding heavily so a D&C followed the next morning. I was discharged a day later with no advice, no information and no follow up.

Three days later, I was woken by my very painful, rock hard breasts. Only when my nipples began to discharge colostrum did I realise what was happening. My body was producing milk for my baby. No warning had been given that this might eventuate. That was when grief sneaked into my psyche and destroyed what was left of my shaky self-esteem.

Three months later, I was pregnant once more. No blissful ignorance anymore. And I bled early in that pregnancy, which compounded my terror. I was confined to bed for four weeks and the pregnancy thankfully continued. For the remainder of that pregnancy and every following pregnancy, I would also suffer from blinding second trimester headaches and intense muscular pain. There was no pregnancy glow for me.

Vanessa was born prematurely six weeks early but I finally held a living baby in my arms. She was a stupendously loved child from the second she made her appearance. Another pregnancy after she turned twelve months old was reasonably uneventful and I was actually looking forward to a new little brother or sister for her.

Christopher was born nine weeks early on Easter Saturday 1987. Initially, he appeared to be doing very well, but two days later, he became critically ill. That was when we discovered he had an extremely complex heart defect, compounded by his prematurity.

Christopher was a red-headed, cranky little bugger who fought so hard to stay alive. His body slowly but surely shut down and he died in his Dad's arm on 5 June 1987, having never left hospital. At least I was able to hold him and love him and mother him, a privilege that had been denied me with my first baby. So, we took him to the park and bathed him and dressed him for his funeral. We had his footprints and a photgraph album full of his short and sweet little life.

Fourth pregnancy. Having now experience a late miscarriage and two premature babies, I had a vaginal suture in place from twelve weeks into that pregnancy. And by then, we knew we were having twins. We were very excited, but again I was filled with anxiety. The stress, couple with my size, exhausted me and I was looking forward to bed-rest in hospital from thirty weeks gestation. From New Year's Eve 1987, I was filled with increasing dread. I was having reduced foetal movement but their heartbeats were present on that night and also on 6 January 1988. I tried to stop worrying, that the nagging fear would not lessen its grip.

On 19 January, 1988, I went for my twenty-six week checkup. I had Vanessa with me. My obstetrician expressed concern for one of my twins and suggested I drop Vanessa at the Children's Hospital child care centre, before attending one of the big ultrasound units. He assured me that he would follow me there.

In increasing terror, I left Vanessa at the child care centre and drove to the ultrasound unit. They were expecting me, but I still had to walk through a waiting room full of other pregnant women. The ultrasound attendant did not speak one word to me and then abruptly left me with an image of one of my babies on the screen.

Terry, my obstetrician, delivered the news, My twin girls had both died. I then picked up Vanessa and drove home. Alone. All I remember from those journeys was a fire in bushland on the way in and the black smouldering corpses of trees on the way home. Which was exactly how I felt.

The girls were both by caesarean section that evening as I went into labour with the shock. I had a severe uterine infection after their birth and had limited contact with them after that first night. I forgot to get footprints or locks of their very dark hair. Initially known just as 'the twinnies', they were later named Zoe and Melanie.

And this is where the bittersweet comes in to complicate matters. If my twins hadn't been stillborn, there would have been no Callum and no Alex. I can't imagine life without my beloved boys. They have provided me with such joy and love and care. But then, out of the blue, Vanessa took me to court to cease all contact with me. Suddenly, I felt completely daughter-less, which was a loss incomprehensible.

However once more, 2026 has given another gift to us. Jef and Hippy, our glorious backpackers, have, over the last couple of years, become a 'son' for Michael and a 'daughter' for me. They have just left on their magical mystery travelling tour of as much of Australia as possible before they leave on 31 March. We miss them already, but we now have happily captured was has been missing for both of us. A extra couple of young people who love and appreciate us, unconditionally.

And we are pretty sure that Jef and Hippy will come back to Heavenly Beverley, sometime in the foreseeable future, filled with wonderful stories of their travels all over the world. And in case I forget, happy birthday Hippy on 31 January!

First loss for me...

Second loss for me...

Third and fourth losses for me...

Living with grief...

The loss that goes on for both of us.

Here's where we find hope...

Callum...

Bronwyn...

Violet...

Immy...

Alex...

Jef...

Hippy.

Sunday, 18 January 2026

Of Dreams and Discoveries...

I thank the universe for the exit of 2025. The dawning of 2026 has already treated us with some unexpected positive windfalls, along with a gathering of kindred spirits rallying around us.

Michael's zest for life, which had been missing in action, is returning. His burst of motivation began due to some very special people giving freely of their time and energy. We will forever hold in our hearts Sue Martin and Rebecca Buglass for clearing every artpiece and all the furniture from the East End's main gallery into the smaller space. Plus, lining every join between the floor and the skirting boards with protective tape. Then, Liam, Bec's husband, repaired the damaged ledges and other damage with lashing of cement and filler. As a volunteer, along with Bec and Sue. Then these two fabulous women single-handedly painted the tired and stained chipboard floor with extremely evil smelling oil undercoat. Twice. Girls and Liam, you all deserve medals!

During this awe-inspiring exercise inside the Forbes Building, magic was also occurring outside. A bloke named Kim Brennan joined us onsite in his caravan. the first four days he was resident with us, the weather was brutally hot and windy, so he just set up the van and annex and waited for the Great Heat to pass.

Then, without any impetus from us, he began to work. He cleared a pathway so we (particularly me) could all get to the back door of the building without any injuries or reports. He arranged Michael's sundry disorder of external metal into a semblance of tidiness. He volunteered for roof and bituminous painting duty. He sanded the back door to the area previously known as the Black Hole of Calcutta, fixed the door architraves and transom and then varnished the lot. Inside the wet area, he has filled gaping cracks, holes and trip hazards on the floor.

Meanwhile, Michael was watching all these wondrous individuals returning the Forbes Building to life. He began remembering the satisfaction as the initial saviour of a smelly, filthy, rotting and unsteady building from 2012 until 2016, a building that nobody else had cared about for decades. And she (yes, the Forbes Building is a 'she') had become tired and a bit dishevelled over the last ten years, in spite of our best efforts.

Almost overnight, a blast of Michael's MoJo well and truly erupted. He wanted to be involved again. He wanted to restore her back to beauty once more, just as he had previously done. Kim has become Michael's willing and able offsider, using all his skills from his property maintenance role. The East End Gallery will be renovated to a welcoming and wonderful space once more. Our dreams for the East End Gallery are materialising once more. And Michael is right back in there, up to his elbows in paint!

Before I forget, there are others I completely forgot to thank for their support in the past few months. Jen and Chris Hill have become close friends and have opened their home to us for sleepovers and meals. They saw Michael during his bleakest moments and enveloped him (and me) with love and light. We hope to see them soon so we may thank them in person, from the bottom of our hearts.

Alison Higgins, artist, friend and supplier of the most beautiful bouquet of flowers I have ever seen uplifted my soul during those fraught and exhausting weeks I was caring for Michael. Her instinctive empathy and glorious gift carried me through until when our Christmas began with the kids and grandies.

To all our friends, including that fantastic bunch of canine parents we meet every evening at the Beverley Oval, I hope you know who you are and how appreciative we are of you all.

My son Callum is one of the great joys in my life. His Tuesday evening phone-calls have become legendary, ranging from news of Bron, Immy and Violet to his hopes and dreams to often side-splitting stories in his professional life as a primary school Performing Arts Specialist. Bron and our little granddaughters hold a substantial space in my heart and I love each and every second we spend with them all. Even Ragnar, the particularly omnipresent fickle feline.

Our Autistic and ABI Superstar, Alex, spent four nights with us for a late Christmas and New Year. Alex faces challenges every day but manages to exude enthusiasm and positivity as his natural state of being. He watched one of his favourite movies "The Patriot" on New Year's Eve whilst we attended a hilarious Karaoke night at the Hotel Beverley. We finished up seeing the old year out and greeting 2026.

Our Christmas extended well beyond then as we were expecting the arrival of Jef and Hippy back from Laos, where they spent six weeks with other ex-pat backpackers. They arrived early on Wednesday morning and we have loved hosting them again. They were soon leave us on their own great adventure across Australia together until they leave the country at the end of March. We shall lost forward to every photo, reel and story as they make their way back to Belgium in their springtime. Just to add another language to Finnish and English, Hippy is learning Flemish prior to their arrival in Belgium.

As for me, the hot weather has been causing chaos with my health. From having loved those fiercely bright summer days, and conversely the cold and grey of winter, I no longer feel well in extremes. The air-conditioner in our bedroom has become a fast friend and I am struggle to get enough sleep. Even today at a balmy 32 degrees, I have become listless and slightly nauseated, so the air-con has just been activated. Bollocks.

The good news is that being confined to quarters has woken my little grey cells. Once the East End Gallery's renovation has been completed, then the fun part (and lots of heavy lifting) will commence. I have a picture in my head how the Gallery will look and I am sure that we will knock the socks off all our guests, friends and supporters.

Our first East End Gallery Residency begins with the awesomely talented Narelle Higson on 26 February for two weeks. Narelle is known (by us anyway) as 'the Scribbler' and her mastery of oil pastels has to be seen to be believed. Ros Newick joins us for a week at Easter in April, with Kelly Duncan using our Studio Space in July. Hence we only have Residencies (with accommodation) STILL AVAILABLE in May, October, November and December. Studio Space (no accommodation) in STILL AVAILABLE in June, August and September. The closing date for Residencies with accommodation is 31 January, so get in fast! After 31 January, May, October, November and December will become available as Studio Space only.

I shall be hopping back on the free social media bandwagon to begin publicising the East End Gallery once again. Our Gallery is a unique entity that does not fit into any pre-conceived box. We can't be classified as a business like the supermarket or the chemist or the butcher or the hardware store. We certainly are not a shop as shops make money. Our Gallery doesn't make any money whatsoever. How can anybody package our passion and belief? Those are the values that have sustained us over the last eleven years. Every step the East End Gallery takes is due to our hard work. Bec, Sue, Marion, Michael and I. Kim and Liam as the back-up team. Our artists add to the dynamic atmosphere, and are incredibly supportive of us, but the buck stops with those of us who truly wish upon the Gallery.

So, we are the East End Gallery. We promise you - our artists, our guests, our friends, our supporters - that we will strive to be the best Gallery possible. Please join us on 2026's voyage of discovery and continue to live the dream that is the East End Gallery.