Wedding Planning - 21st Century Style!

Callum and Bronwyn charged into Station House on one of their typical whirlwind visits. Due to both their work schedules - Callum is a restaurant manager and Bronwyn is an early childhood teacher - they can only blast physically into our lives during school holidays coinciding with Cal's roster. So we usually cram about six months of chatting into a relatively short space of time. Which makes for great entertainment.

During their two nights with us, we ate excellent dinners, drank beautiful vino (including a red all the way from Greece) and watched fantastic footage of their recent European holiday with brisk commentary. They tested out our guest room and gave the space a glowing review.

Bronwyn recharged her batteries with afternoon snoozing. If there is anybody out there who still believes that teachers are on an easy wicket, I suggest walking in their shoes for a day. Bron leaves for work before seven o'clock. She currently has a Year 2 class. The kids rock in from eight o'clock. Bidding them farewell around three, she then launches into designated paperwork, marking and preparation. She usually arrives home around five. That's a ten hour day. Five days a week. With her current bunch of seven and eight year old children. Then she works at home. Not to mention every teacher has to take down and set up their classrooms at the end and beginning of each school year. And buy resources out of their own money. Anyone crazy enough to be a teacher?

Cal's workplace is officially open until midnight. Which means he may not arrive home before one or two in the morning. Then there is the usual crowd control with drunks, counselling the lonely, having a chummy relationship with the local coppers, overseeing staff, the kitchen and the bar and being called at a moment's notice to assist with bookings, bouquets and brickbats at the adjacent villas. Recently, I met him for lunch during his "break". His supposed thirty minutes of down time was filled with ongoing work issues. He was able to sit with me for a few minutes at most. Even then, staff were coming to our table to see him. Anyone crazy enough to be a restaurant manager?

And now they are planning their wedding. I have never seen a more organised couple. They had met with a wedding stylist on their way up to Station House. Ye Gods. Their conversations were filled with flowers and themes and photography packages. Emails were flying backwards and forwards to various purveyors of wedding paraphernalia. Images of suits were being perused and overnight accommodation already being discussed.

They have a date and a venue. They have a budget and the Wedding File. They are exploring options for their honeymoon. As if they don't already have enough stress in their lives, their wedding seems destined to ramp up their mutual anxiety levels.

I want to remind them, every day, to just breathe. There may be an increase in panicky phone calls, especially as the day draws closer. I am Prepared for Emergency Mothering. I have no doubt that their wedding will be beautiful and spectacular and provide them with some of the happiest memories for the rest of their lives. I hope the day runs like clockwork for them. This is, fortunately or unfortunately,  all in the Lap of the Gods.

I also hope that the Mother of the Groom behaves with suitable decorum for the entire event. Wish me luck!

Montage of a proposal...

The Trevi Fountain, late night with just a few other tourists...

Incognito mafia?

Robert De Niro or Al Pacino?

Greek night on their cruise...

Now if that isn't the look of love, I don't know what it is!

My beautiful daughter-in-law to be.

Happy Birthday to a Most Interesting Brother

My brother Simon turned sixty-three today. He lives in Sharon, near Bundaberg, in an idyllic location on the Burnett River. This morning, he would have been up at sparrow-fart watering his growing garden. Bundaberg has been in the grip of a vicious drought for six months and Simon is happily watching the lawn die whilst he creates a more environmentally friendly outdoors with bird attracting trees and shrubs. His goal is to finish with a bushy paradise that is waterwise, low maintenance and marvellously private. Take a sickie for his birthday? Not a chance. Simon's last extended time off work was in 1990 when he almost died from meningitis.

He always gave the impression of being slightly remote when I was growing up. Seven years older than me, I have only built a close relationship with him in the last twelve months. Prior to that, we were siblings, for sure, and spent plenty of time in each other's company at family occasions, but without any real intimate knowledge of each other.

I remember him as a lanky teenager, entertaining his mates at poker nights in the rumpus room of one of our homes. I was also fascinated with his love of tropical fish, building a quite exquisite and large fish tank populated with some beautiful and some scary specimens. Tiger Oscars, a freshwater shark and Giant Gouramis shared a one-hundred-and-eighty centimetre-long watery paradise which always took my breath away.

Thanks to Simon, I also learnt how to pour beer and watch cricket. His eclectic bunch of buddies would often gather for cards and I perfected my early barmaid skills. And as a child in Brisbane during the late 1960s and early 1970s, summer meant cricket on the telly.

The family was split by a move to Sydney in late 1972. David, working at Myers and Simon, studying medicine at Queensland Uni, did not come with Mum and Dad, Mike and me. Further fracture occurred when Mike descended into his own personal hell. At thirteen years of age, I became an only child.

The deaths of both our parents have caused a huge shift in our relationships with each other. Three times in the last twelve months, my siblings and me have gathered to meet, to share, to grieve and to connect. For me, discovering more about my brothers has been incredible. Sibling affection has been transformed into deep and truly astonishing understanding and acceptance.

In particular, becoming familiar with Simon has been intriguing. He is hilariously, brutally honest. He does not suffer fools. His passions are life and work. Yet, he appears to have these two aspects quite balanced. He is happy in his own company, but adores his friends and enjoys being in relationships. His children are everything to him, but he has always allowed them to have their own lives. He is generous with others. Yet, he loathes what he sees as a waste of money, which may actually seem like sound financial expense to others.

Anyone who enters into a relationship with Simon will find him a puzzle and a challenge. However, I really hope he finds that special someone. Simon is an enigma, a blast of energy and enthusiasm. He adores activity - water skiing, snow skiing, hiking, fishing, canoeing. Believe me, I think he is worth the effort.

And we look forward to more of his incredible personality when we return to Sharon in February.

Simon in his natural habitat -

Good Grief

Grief is complex. A vixen. Loving hands. A witch. A gentle soul. Fierce pain. Intense joy. Rollercoaster ride. Lapping tide. A whirling dervish. A deluge or a mist. Sometimes all of these crashing into each other without a chance to breathe.

I woke, surprisingly refreshed, yesterday morning. After prising our reluctant bodies out of our plane seats and then driving home, we had been in a world of stiffness. A couple of panadeine tablets did the trick and we slept, blissfully unaware for a night.

Throughout the day, I was being tossed around. I had fully intended opening the Gallery. Instead I shied away like a frightened horse. An unexpected visit from the divine Miss George and her partner in crime Mr Burley lifted my spirits. Our usual Friday night dinner at the pub  twisted from laughter to tears. Last night, I wept for Dad, for Mum, for my original family and for myself.

My sleep was ravaged by dreams. My jaw is sore from grinding my teeth. The usual joints ache. This morning, in spite of the gloomy weather, I feel more peaceful and less flighty. Better.

I searched for a small photo book Dad had prepared for me a number of years ago. And found it. Dad as a small boy gazing back at me, as a teenager and as a young man. Dad, shirtless and leaning against the railing of the "Lucy Star", in Cairns harbour during World War II. Dad at the helm of the MC "Serenade" which was their home away from home during their fifteen years at the northern tip of the Gold Coast. Mum as a young bride. Mum and Dad, casually and colourfully at ease in front of their villa at Noosaville. As a final touch, I have changed the cover photo. To their final photograph together, both with their wheelie walkers and holding hands. Gold.

So today is another day. Promisingly more serene. And we have our Sundowner this afternoon and evening. So I am going to wear my brightest dress with my brightest shirt and my brightest jewellery. Be filled with pride and happiness in our beloved East End Gallery.

And live in the moment, with my precious memories tucked away in a special compartment within my heart.

...Charlie Brown.

With Dad - 6.12.1980.

Stevie Nicks in full flight.

Remember.

Family, Friends and Farewells.

Dawn at Mandalay high above the Sunshine Coast. Memories and flashbacks are swirling around my mind. Usually my words flow easily and quickly. Not this morning. The jumbled images of childhood, love, joy, loss, fractured relationships and numerous reconciliations are playing havoc with my thoughts. Yet, my need to write about a sometimes peaceful, sometimes tumultuous week is overwhelming.

Our final day with Simon was flooded with fun and laughter. I met Tony and Karen again, Simon's great friends and fellow water skiers at their home just further along Woods Road. We were joined by Simon's enrolled nurse, Lesley, who worked at his medical practice and her large extended family. The kids, all aged between five and thirteen, adored the thrill of Tony's speedboat and the chance to ride an inflatable raft pulled behind. The screams of delight could be held up and down the river. With Karen at the helm, the two old blokes demonstrated their water skiing prowess on discs and chairs. Father and adult son, Graham and Cameron, were blasted across the boat's wake hither and yonder as Tony and Simon attempted to toss them into the drink. Unsuccessfully. I rode the raft with one of the younger children. Initially very nervous, she found her sea legs and declared the ride to be "faster and funnerer". I heartily agreed.

Lunch and a very pleasant afternoon followed the water activities. Tony and Karen's daughter Kim arrived to join us at an extended table. Out of the blue, Tony offered to accompany Simon to share the driving on the trip south for Dad's funeral. The more time I spent with the lovely Tony, the more I realised that he was generous and kind and amiable. Plus, he told appallingly hilarious jokes.

We were joined at Simon's by my newly discovered niece, Sarah and her delightful partner Geoff for a BBQ dinner. Cool and breezy proved somewhat troublesome for Geoff, as he was still dressed in shorts and a tee shirt. A roaring fire did ease his chill factor. They left, reasonably early as the arrival of the working week called for a good night's sleep. Hugs and promises to see them again in summer.

Monday was all about travel and reuniting with the rest of the family. David arrived with the ever-reliable Kerin and enough food to feed the Fifth Battalion. They had picked up brother Michael at Brisbane airport on their way north. My canine nephew Kenzo was also present for the duration. Simon and Tony completed the group. Dinner was loud and cheerful.

Dad's funeral. A smallish gathering as befitting the age of most of his friends. Familiar faces and a shared grief for my darling Dad. All four of us spoke, as did Kerin and longtime friend Joan. Her tribute to Dad (and Mum) was wistful, sad and beautifully spoken. Dad was a bright and charming man and his death has left a perhaps surprising deep pond of both remembrance and sorrow.

More talking back at our accommodation. We were joined by Rob, David's son. He was a thoughtful and articulate young man who added much to our gathering. However, I was spent. I retired to bed just after dinner and slept, as well as I could, with dreams of the past interrupting my rest from time to time.

David and Kerin left with brother Michael in tow yesterday morning. We decided to treat ourselves to a few hours at the Eumundi Markets. The noise, colour and jumble was exactly what I needed. Here was a chance to live in the kaleidoscope of sights and sounds, smells and tastes of the present moment. We relished every second.

After a fortifying afternoon tea and coffee, we proceeded to the Noosa Waters care centre and Dad's room. The efficient and helpful Karen was at her Reception post. The room was opened and we plunged in to another maze of memories whilst attempting to begin the material cleanout of Dad's sweet life.

We worked for a couple of hours. Dad's solid wood desk is being donated to the centre. His clothes will be spread amongst the family. We tossed undies and singlets as these items are usually not accepted by the charities. I watered all Dad's plants as David and Kerin will not be picking them up until they can make a return trip. Dad's sheets and a beautiful woolen blanket were boxed up and sent to Michael in Cooktown. His crucifix will go to Rob. With less items to sort through by Dave and Kerin, I drew in one last look at what had been Dad's home for over a year. Mixed emotions. But Dad (his spirit or his essence or his aura) is everywhere with me. That helps.

This morning is warm and cloudy. We have farewelled Fiona, one of our brilliant hosts. Mandalay has been a haven of comfort and sanctuary over these last few days. We are returning to the rain and cool of the Western Australian Wheatbelt spring. Perhaps more appropriate weather for my up and down mood. And the chance to be enveloped by the warmth of Michael and our immediate little family so I may sleep more peacefully.

At Simon's -

Funday on the Burnett River -

Last night at Simon's with Sarah and Geoff - 

And Dad's farewell -

And the wake -

Final day at Eumundi -