First World Domestic Disasters

Apparently, disasters come in threes. I'm hoping so, otherwise my hair will need the colour purple to hide the greys sooner rather than later. And two out of three of these unfortunate incidents are purely due to modern gadgetry. Advances to technology in the home aren't always to our advantage.

Take our microwave, for example. It was a pretty ancient machine, probably invented just after Adam was a boy. But it gave no warning of its impending demise. Having operated without incident for at least twenty-five years, it gave up the ghost whilst defrosting a bunch of Barfy Burgers for the Three Stooges. Phist...that was its only comment on its deathbed. Very inconvenient. We had to finish the defrosting process by placing the burgers on a tray on top of the tile fire. And watching a lurking Beagle very, very carefully indeed.

But there was no resurrection. The machine had departed to the great microwave resting place in the sky. Unable to contemplate life without one, and with indecent haste, we promptly bought a new microwave. The corpse is still sitting on our front porch, waiting to be presented to Gina and Andrew at their Steampunk wedding. Along with a dead printer.

Then my computer. Fortunately, its state of ill health was temporary and self-resolving, much to my relief. Given my habit of enjoying a glass of vino whilst pounding away on the laptop, I was horrified when I hadn't even sat down in front of the computer  but accidentally upended a glass of vino all over the table. Including under the laptop. Quick as a flash I had the laptop dried and soothed and placated. The bastard responded by not turning on. At all. Repeatedly. With growing dread, I retired to bed, to sleep badly, realising the enormous amount of information I had stored in this temperamental device.

The following morning, a miracle. With great trepidation, I pressed the button. The computer roared into life. I was ecstatic that my data was safe, I would not have to spend any money repairing a fault caused entirely by me and I wouldn't have to (horrible thought) learn how to negotiate Windows 10.

Finally the vacuum cleaner. Given the number of animals who reside at the House that Rocks, last year we had purchased an efficient German dog and cat vacuum cleaner we promptly christened Herman. He had operated with typical vigour and we had hoped to have many trouble free years of service from him.

Not so. Herman's equilibrium was severely disrupted by our requirement that he suck up a vast quantity of fine dust from the wooden floor of the renovated shop 1. He was most displeased and retaliated by clogging every filter and the dust bag so completely that he threatened to overheat every time I tried to coax him out of the linen cupboard.

Last Monday, I visited Godfrey's to buy the essential new filters and dust bag. Easier said than done. The young man on the counter was completely clueless, repeatedly explaining that he was new and didn't know where the stock was located. After a tooth grinding wait while he fluffed hither and yonder, we eventually found the desired items and I left the store at high speed.

I suppose we really were reasonably lucky. Only the microwave had proved terminal and had been replaced. The computer had recovered by the power of my prayer and fresh air treatment and Herman was restored to full recovery by the cleaning out of his pipes, new filters and a fresh bag.

I am hoping that is the last of any home hassles for a while. The previous couple of weeks has severely thwarted, at different times,  my cooking, my Googling and my vacuuming. I knew I was a Luddite for a reason. All technology does is to lull us into an increasing dependence on these machines and renders us impotent when they fail.

Resistance is futile!

They didn't even catch fire....

or give any warning...

or understand my dependence on their convenience...!

Farewell to Simon

We have been so lucky with our two backpackers over the last seven weeks. Madlen, from Germany, worked with us on Shop 2 and Shop 1, prior to moving on to a station in the Gascoyne. She is loving her time in Western Australia and is looking forward to more adventures over the next year.

Simon has been with us for the last four weeks. A twenty-two-year-old from Bordeaux, he is a sheet metal worker by trade but has worked at whatever we have thrown at him - welding, plastering, painting, concreting, placing joists and laying chipboard flooring.

Girls, he can also wash dishes and fold washing. Not to mention, he is quite cute!

Now he is moving on to paid employment (as opposed to slave labour) with a builder in York. This is an ideal situation for Simon; he will be earning wages and have accommodation provided. We have also let him know that if it all goes pear-shaped, he is to contact us and we will come and collect him.

If all goes well, he will earn enough to buy a car and continue his Australian adventure at his own pace.We are very happy for him and wistful at the same time. Simon has formed a mutual love affair with Pip, our Jack Russell, Sascha our Weimaraner and Ruby our Beagle (though it is questionable how close one can get to Ruby as she eats dog pooh...). Ruby the cat is tolerating Simon's presence, which is pretty outstanding, as Ruby tends to be very, very choosy as to whom she associates.

Michael, Simon and Gary have achieved an amazing amount of work in the last four weeks. During this period, Michael had a hospital admission for four days, as well as a week off recovering. So, Gary was solo mentor/supervisor and co-worker with Simon for nearly two weeks.

In spite of various medical disasters. we have finished most of the floor in Shop 4. Simon will move on, we will have a frenzy of activity getting the house and garden ready for Michael's birthday, go to Gin and Andrew's wedding on 19 September and then disappear for ten days to rest and recuperate in the Goldfields.

Now, we just need to find a house, dog, cat and bird sitter!

Simon - day 1

Simon and Gary - after three weeks.

A Chilly Show Day in Heavenly Beverley

This time last year, the weather was glorious. Blue sky, sunshine and warm temperatures had added up to an incredibly pleasant show day in 2014. A bit different in 2015.

We had rain yesterday followed by a clear, cold night. It was a bitter morning. York, 30 kilometres north and Brookton, 30 kilometres south had the lowest minimum in the state.We weren't much above freezing. And I had volunteered to be on the Tourism Steering Committee stand at the show starting at nine o'clock. Bollocks...

I prepared for the Antarctic.Spencer, tee shirt, East End Gallery shirt, leggings, Explorer socks and joggers. I added a jumper to my ensemble, but I hoped I could get away without it. I wanted to  be a walking billboard for visitors to notice and hopefully come to the Gallery after the show.

My two hours on the stand were memorable. I tried to stand in the watery sun as much as possible, but the icy blast permeated my clothing. I admitted defeat and pulled on my jumper. Absolutely frozen by this stage, I returned to the Gallery to thaw out. My beloved Michael had lit the fire.

He relieved me at four o'clock. The temperature had struggled up to about sixteen degrees by this time.But I was determined to return to the show and enjoy the rest of the afternoon. The clouds had dissipated and the sun was pleasant out of the wind.

The show was still jumping as I entered the gates. I wandered around and took photographs. This was a proper country show with agricultural displays, food, art and craft, animals, wine and a lesser number of show bags and rides. I chatted to residents and visitors, laughed at the antics of the children and politely declined to try the "Super Nova" ride. I suffer from terra firma - the less firma, the more terra....

The afternoon light was fading. I walked back to the Gallery. We had one more set of visitors and then we packed up and left for home. We watched the fireworks through the dining room window. They were as good as any other show and we could see them from inside the warmth of our own home. Bliss.

And seemingly, in the blink of an eye, the Beverley Show was done and dusted for another year. Another great success.

Roll on next year.

What else do you expect at a country show...

a shearing demonstration...

is she offering support for the shearer or the sheep...

a chance to stock up on plants for the garden...

or yummy home made treats...

or take a ride on the roadtrain...

or a slide...

small people meeting small animals...

ride 'em cowboy (or girl)

boys will be boys...

a table of cuteness...

yahoo...

if you're into the Super Nova (I'm not)...

a look at the stalls...

sheep idling the day away...

boys being boys again...

the gymbus was very popular...

as was Arty Brellas...

Truly, there was something for everyone at the Beverley Show!

The Wonderful World of Wares West

We have been fortunate to welcome another new enterprise to the East End Precinct. Pat Thompson and John Burnside have leased Shop 2 from us and have opened "Wares West", featuring old treasures, vintage and pre-loved furniture.

Friends and business partners, they are delightful neighbours to the Gallery, and they have wasted no times getting their lovely little shop bulging to capacity. John is always on the lookout for yet another antiques sale and Pat researches voraciously on the items they procure for the shop.

Wares West is often full of happy customers looking for that special something. They welcome local residents and visitors alike and encourage their clients to have a browse, a chat and a seat. Once again, Beverley has provided an energetic and enthusiastic couple the means to open their own business and we are delighted for them.

So, this weekend, if you're coming up to Heavenly Beverley to our annual agricultural show, do yourselves a favour and check out Wares West. They are right next door to the East End Gallery at 116 Vincent Street.

We look forward to seeing you!

Some of the items at Wares West...

and some more...

and more...

an exquisite piece of inlaid furniture...

lovely silverwear...

vintage crockery and more...

and one half of the Dynamic Duo that is Wares West - Pat behind her counter.

The Face of Things to Come in Heavenly Beverley.

Yesterday was one of those really feel good days. I was pretty tired by the shenanigans of the previous day, which had involved five hours driving, five hours for Alex in Emergency, two and a half hours of me with him in Emergency, half an hour of him packing his stuff to come up and stay with us for a week and an urgent pit stop at Subway to feed Alex, who had been given nothing but water and Nurofen whilst he was monitored! I had already rushed into Gilberts' Fresh on the way out to grab one of their excellent pizzas.

Anyway, I digressed. Tuesday morning brought our Shire President, our Shire CEO and our Shire Planner to walk the beat of the main drag and talk to all the businesses about some exciting proposed development of the town centre.

So, I opened the East End Gallery, busied myself with dusting and washing up and waited for our Shire reps to arrive. Meanwhile, Michael, Gary and Simon were creating a din to raise the dead in the back of shop 4 - which I am currently referring to as the "bomb site".

The reconstruction of the floor is continuing at full throttle. Two-thirds of the steel support beams have been concreted into their foundations in the ground. The boys' names have duly been added to the concrete. The welding of these beams has occurred.

Fortunately, the noise had more or less abated by the time the three of them came through our doors. We took them on a tour. Stefan, our Planner, had not been inside the Forbes building since its days BR - before renovations. I was delighted to see he was actually gobsmacked by the progress of the restoration.

I made tea and coffee for Stefan, Dee and Steve and we sat down to discuss the Vincent Street Streetscape Project. This has been a work in progress for some years and we understand that the proposed redevelopment will take some more years to be realised.

But the ideas are wonderful. Street trees for much-needed shade in summer. Designation of intersections. Parking areas to be gravelled. Wider footpaths outside the eateries and hotels. Link roads behind the main town centre. Underground power. Public art space. Redevelopment of the town's Federation Square (I added my two cents worth asked for a wheelchair swing for kids in the playgroup) and a proposed multipurpose community centre.

The latest proposal - to have a free twenty-four hour RV parking area next to the river looks like getting off the ground in the near future. That will be yet another drawcard for Beverley to receive more visitors.

There will be lots of consultation and the funding proposal is for the next financial year. We owe it to ourselves here in beautiful downtown Beverley to be proactive, positive and involved. Michael and I already know what a fantastic town we live in. We have slow but steadily creeping tourism growth here because people are stopping, admiring and talking. They like what they see. We are, I believe, on the cusp to offer a diverse, attractive and innovative town all within a day's drive of Perth.

The streetscape development will just enhance what is already a terrific little country town for both visitors and residents.

Stay tuned.

P.S. :
If anyone has an extremely wealthy maiden aunt who would like to leave her millions to a very deserving cause, the Shire of Beverley would be thrilled with any funding additions from other sources.

the "bomb zone"...

some random fat woman admiring the progress...

view from the "bomb zone" to the workshop...

securing the central steel beam...

the boys' names...

the year of course...

and the beam in-situ.

A Return Trip to Bedlam...

Last night, after we had staggered home, Alex rang me, having chest pain. Again. We had just been on this merry go round the previous week at Joondalup Hospital. And as Michael was still not feeling the greatest (exacerbated by a significant hangover), I was having visions of Michael and Alex sharing a hospital once more.

This morning, Alex saw his GP. He was told to go to Emergency at Royal Perth Hospital, where his cardiologist was based.Callum, having just worked three double shifts at Bravos, was summoned to drive him to RPH. Once Callum informed me what was happening, I was on the road by midday. This was not how I'd wanted to spend this particular Monday.

I roared into the parking areas around RPH just before two o'clock. I walked briskly into Emergency in search of my son. The ambulances (sorry Dr Hames) were queued up in the driveway. *ramping* Alex was inside, having been stabbed for bloods and monitored, but not much else. I had never been in RPH before. On a Monday afternoon, the place was packed.

After a couple more hours of nothing much, Alex had a chest X-ray, was given scripts, a medical certificate for work and a summary for his GP. And he was released into my care for a week of rest and recuperation. In peak hour traffic, we set out to pick up gear from his unit and head for Beverley.

I was reasonably impressed by RPH Emergency. The staff were approachable, answered my questions, found me a chair, explained "the plan" and discharged Alex after five hours. He has a diagnosis of myocarditis, but we didn't see his cardiologist (who is based at RPH) and we have no idea if this is going to be a recurrent condition.

After nearly three hours on the road, we drove into the House that Rocks. I was so grateful to see the outside lights welcoming us home. Just as well Michael was feeling better as I was too tired to stick the pizza in the oven. Twenty minutes later, on bread and butter plates with paper towel for serviettes, we had dinner.

I am on my fourth glass of vino.

An empty emergency department...LOL...

this is a bit more like it...

RPH Emergency Department entry...

Ambulances ramping...oops...Dr Hames has banned ramping. Except I saw six ambulances waiting to unload patients today at two o'clock...

A Series of Sixties...

When I was younger, I didn't think people were much chop after sixty. Actually, I didn't believe people lived past thirty. Until I turned thirty...

Now, the sixtieth birthdays are starting. Michael's sister Sandra and cousin Zoe turned sixty last year. We went to their excellent Horses Party, in honour of all the attendees - there were a few of them - being born in the Year of the Horse.

And this year's crop is underway. One of Michael's oldest friends, Leigh, turned sixty on Saturday. He had flown from Queensland for the occasion and opened the old family beach house on the Dawesville inlet for the duration. About twenty family and friends descended for the festivities, including a mad couple who had also come from Queensland. Talk about devotion.

We arrived about four in the afternoon. We could not have wished for a better day. The weather was magnificent - warm and sunny. Not bad for winter. Other guests arrived over the next few hours. There were balloons, banners and a fabulous BBQ. And a birthday cake. The "boys" were in fine form. I went to bed around midnight - there were numerous beds scattered around the house and we had commandeered one on the ground floor near the loo. The party was still going strong when I woke in the early hours of the morning. Determined not to miss out on the fun, I rejoined the rest of the revellers. But, I had to admit defeat shortly afterwards and returned to our sleeping bags.

Michael crawled into bed next to me at some stage. I could tell he was there as he had turned into a giant ice cube and was using me as a human hot water bottle. After his body reverted to normal temperature, we both went to sleep.

The morning after dawned warm and breezy. The "boys" were all suffering from the after effects of a very good night. Coffee helped, as did sitting very still in the sun. A cooked breakfast was prepared on the BBQ by the outstanding Jen. Some of us partook - surprisingly, I only had a minor headache - whilst other guests looked at the food and decided against it. Michael was able to get a sausage wrapped in bread down so he could take his antibiotic. He chose not to have the rest of his usual meds, as he didn't want to push his stomach too far.

The major disaster of the day, considering the state of some of the hangovers, was the Blocking Up of the Toilet. This particularly ancient piece of equipment had been used very frequently and gave up the ghost at the volume of visits. I heard a whispered rumour of tree roots in the septic tanks. Personally, I think the problem had been caused by too many blokes with alcohol afflicted digestive systems.

So, one by one, we traipsed down to the facilities on the foreshore to answer varying calls of nature. The access path was very steep, so Michael chose to drive to the gents. I tackled the walk. It was beautiful if a bit strenuous coming back. The steps were okay - it was the near vertical road at the top that nearly killed me...

Reluctantly, we left after brunch. Hugs were exchanged and promises to catch up before they all turned seventy! We had to pick up Simon, our backpacker, from Midland on the way home. And we bought Tandoori chicken legs for dinner. I was not in the mood for any complicated dinner preparation. Simon looked a bit the worse for wear. I think he's had quite a good weekend with some mates in the Big Smoke.

We were all tired when we arrived safely home at the House that Rocks. Simon had a sleep and then went to catch up with the French barmaid at the bottom pub. Michael fell asleep in front of the footy and retired to bed for an hour. I pottered around, sorting some washing, thanking Lorna for feeding the dogs and prepared a very simple dinner.

We were not up late last night - any of us. By ten o'clock, one almost sixty-year-old bloke, a slightly younger wife and a fit twenty-two-year-old backpacker were all in bed. The dogs were astonished.

And we were planning on doing it all again in another three weeks. The next sixtieth birthday is Michael's on 4 September. Naturally, we have a weekend blast planned. Just to prove we're not getting old!

The birthday boy...

cutting his cake...

the affair was very sedate....(!)

more of the usual suspects...

some more partygoers...

the birthday boy with a couple of scaly mates.

The Boom Has Been Lowered...

There is no denying that food and I have an ongoing, passionate love affair. We are joined at the hip -literally. I have been overweight for about seven years. This time. Prior to that, I lost twelve kilos back when Alex was young. After I met Michael, happiness was mine. And thus, I gained weight again.

In spring 2013, I was motivated to lose weight. This I did, fairly spectacularly over about six months. By the time Michael was hospitalised in April 2014, I had lost another twelve or so kilos and was feeling particularly smug.

The weight crept back on. I think this is the bane of many women's lives in their forties and fifties. As a teenager and young woman, I would yo-yo diet. If I wanted to fit into a dress on the  weekend, I just didn't eat much for a few days.

In my twenties, multiple pregnancies didn't help. I would gain and lose weight. After Alex was born, he didn't sleep through the night for a number of years. I was chronically tired and exercise was difficult. Eventually, I bit the bullet and took myself in hand. My slim years covered the death throes of my first marriage, a complete breakdown and a chaotic love affair with a serial predator. Unhappiness killed my appetite for quite some time.

After I met Michael, my mission from God was to put weight on him. He was a painfully thin sixty-one kilos. I fed him anything and everything. After his descent into poor mental and physical health, food, little and often, became one of his few pleasures. Gradually, he was gaining some weight.

Unfortunately, so was I! The sticky brown stuff hit the fan after we married. There was no escaping the awful truth. I was a short fat middle aged woman with not much neck and wobbly arms. Hence the weight loss to try and go from being enormously fat to cuddlingly chubby...

And here I go again. I am eighty kilos and I am having difficulty viewing my toes when I am standing up. Shenae, the lovely youthful dietician at Northam Hospital was not a total stick, which helped maintain my slightly fragile self-esteem. She was surprisingly helpful and I have committed to losing ten kilos over the next six months.

Today has not been a great day. Very carb loaded. One crumpet for breakfast and two apple cupcakes as lunch and snack. Oh well. thankfully tomorrow is a new day!

The story of my dieting life....