Heavenly Beverley : All About Michael (How did I manage to cut my mouth with a crumpet, darling? And other stories...)

Michael has proved himself, time and time again, to be patient, tolerant and fluster-free. Take this morning, for instance. As I continue to be somewhat out of commission with my bung knee, Michael made and served my breakfast. A couple of crumpets with plenty of jam and honey. All was proceeding to plan until I caught a sharp edge of the crumpet in the corner of my mouth. This involved a sharp scratch, a microscopic pinpoint of blood and a loud expletive. Then the obvious question.

Michel did not laugh at me or call me silly. Instead, he sat with a mildly puzzled expression on his face and responded "No Kate. I have no idea how you did that to yourself." And went back to eating his crumpets with no further fuss.

Over the last eight years, I have repeatedly been the source of surprise (and often exasperation) in my husband's life. I have broken a spout off a water container, set fire to a camping chair, set fire to my thongs, set fire to myself, produced inedible cannonballs out of previously tasty rissoles, turned tent-raising into a test of endurance, tripped over quite visible obstacles on innumerable occasions, lost my glasses on the beach, in the bush and in our garden. I have blithely blundered into obvious disasters without a care in the world. Following which, Michael usually has to pick up the pieces. Or me bodily...

I knew, immediately, that Michael was an unusual and extraordinary man from the moment I met him. Even our first "date" was a bit different. As I owned two dogs and Michael had his own dog, our choice of venue was the Whiteman Park dog exercise enclosure. Whilst the dogs introduced themselves and we walked and talked, very little else happened. But his beautiful dark eyes had already drunk me in. A gentle and quietly spoken man, he didn't touch me or try to hold my hand or kiss me after three seconds.

What a change from the Wide-mouthed Frog, the Chilean Stallion, Dave the Brave (who didn't like dogs), the Creepy Technician (who assumed I would have sex with him as he'd paid to see my profile on RSVP), the Sicilian Psychopath or a sad, anxious Kiwi who earned his nickname in a most unfortunate way. Michael was definitely a vast improvement.

So began our relationship. Friends were on the lookout for my welfare and put Michael through the Third Degree. My parents approved of my choice of partner for the first time in my fifty years. His children threw difficulties in our way, but we weathered those storms. We fled Perth to find a place to call home. We found sanctuary in Heavenly Beverley.

Michael introduced me to his beloved Goldfields, observing my reactions and gauging my moods. I fell in love with him, his stories and the places he took me. By the end of our first trip away together, I had become fascinated by the metal artefacts we collected and the places we stayed, which all whispered tales of the hardy folk who had settled there during the Goldrush and beyond.

Up to this day, I keep discovering more about Michael, particularly about his passions. Photos of him in his twenties, working in steel fabrication and moving towards decorative metal art and then into sculpture. The early stirrings of his story-telling through his art has led to his unique style of multi-faceted pieces. He loves manipulating his art to create shadows, as well as art that can be viewed from either side. The only multiple pieces he produces - Magda our redback spider magnet - are still individuals, given that each is hand made by eye.

Approaching another anniversary, we find that our relationship is still strengthening. We are content in each other's company. We love our friends, but we also treasure our alone time.

Hopefully, within a month, we will be moving into our new home, Station House. We plan to mount "Dory" onto our outside golden wall and our van Gogh colours reflect our hard-fought happiness.

And I have no doubt that Michael will continue in his calm ( if slightly bemused) acceptance of my ongoing disasters.

Love you, darling.