We had about as much chance as Buckley's. In our bathroom were two piddles - one actually in our shower and another on the floor. Who was responsible? Had Madame Cat rejected her private dunny next to the laundry door? Or had one of the Canine Clowns snuck in to do the Dirty Deed? The only creature not tarred with the Brush of Guilt was the Pirate Parrot.
Her Feline Majesty may have been shaken by the involuntary movement of her enclosed litter compartment yesterday afternoon. Somebody had shuffled the crate along the floor in an unsuccessful attempt to enter the Inner Sanctum. There was only one suspect in this crime - the Beagle from Hell.
The last piddle in the laundry was obviously the work of our Nervous Nelly, Pip. He can be startled by the sudden flight of a terrifying and ferocious leaf. Upon taking fright, his immediate response is to go to water, literally.
The redecorating of our sofas displayed the evidence of both dogs' antics. So, whilst Michael brewed my first cup of tea, I armed myself with vinegar and water, paper towel and the bin. The mat in our bathroom was promptly tossed in the washing machine. Plus, I shook out the bed as I was tired of the endless supply of debris brought in by the cat. So much for a restful morning.
Then came the Holy Stacking of the Dishwasher. I adore my dishwasher. With the stacking of dirty items inside and the press of a button, kitchen mayhem can be transformed into Order in only a few minutes. If the dishwasher ever learns to make tea, Michael's position could be in jeopardy...
A quick breakfast and a shower and I was in the Gallery. Michael had opened, but was happy to stay and keep me company. And then the stampede began.
Adam and Gem, who are renovating a dinky little doer-upper by the river in preparation for their 2019 wedding, brought a mass of their extended family through the doors. One of them had only just arrived from the UK the day before. Having already met a King Brown snake under the deck a month or so ago, a Dugite in their laundry this morning was the star attraction. Well, for some, anyway. When Adam bellowed "Snake!" half the rellies ran away and the other half zoomed in to try and photograph the hapless reptile. Adam is under instruction to repair the back door to prevent the appearance of any of the Dugite's mates.
They came, they saw, they chatted all at once. I was a bit confused as to who was who, but nobody minded. After about thirty minutes of highly animated cheerfulness, they left the Gallery. I hope the snake had left their laundry in the interim. A gathering of that size at Windward Retreat was not for the faint of heart, including snakes.
Our second guests were a couple who were investigating country towns with a view for relocation away from the Big Smoke. They were narrowing down their choices to Beverley or Collie, just inland from the coast near Bunbury. Although they were impressed with Beverley's charms, as Poms, they felt the more temperate climate of Collie would suit them better. They were a very easy-going couple, who delighted in our Gallery and stayed for a pleasantly casual chat. We waved them goodbye as the next couple crossed the threshold.
Vince and Dor(een) were just wonderful guests. Dor's grandparents were pioneers of Coolgardie and she had been born and bred in the town. She literally had hundreds of stories of the Goldfields and had never lost her passion for this amazing country. The ashes of her aunty were scattered at Burbanks, an abandoned town nine kilometres south of Coolgardie. They had just cleaned out a shed belonging to Vince's father that had been packed to the gunnels with found metal objects. Before long, they had promised an old bed frame to Michael that had been residing in the shed, along with everything else. Dor had me in stitches describing a new recruit to the museum who mistakenly hung a portrait of Jack Cairns, thinking he must be some important early settler. He was not a pioneer, had lived in a skanky shed for decades and shot himself when he couldn't move much after he broke his hip. Doreen said that old Jack was a miserable bastard who never did anything for Coolgardie and "blew his head off" to end his days.
She also told the story of a young man who had been murdered in a fight with his brother and whose parents had erected a tombstone with his photograph and an inscription that he was missed and mourned by his family. Maybe the brother who killed him wasn't actually that fond of him. According to Dor, the victim was a most unpleasant young man who tormented his brother and probably died wondering why his brother had taken to him with a knife.
After picking out one of Marg Harding's pendants to buy for her daughter, Dor and Vince departed, promising to return with some metallic titbits for Michael's workshop. We had been left in a giddy state of goodwill.
Another couple wandered in for a brief look and a chat before locals Lisa and her daughter Beth arrived for a peek in the Gallery. Luke, husband and father was and is notoriously hard to satisfy with a present. Unfortunately, I can't state what Lisa spied for Luke as it's his Christmas present. Needless to say, she was thrilled to find a gift for him that she was sure he'd enjoy. I then had to ring the Chameleon Artist and let him know I needed another of his art pieces and to produce a biography and photo for the Gallery. He was really pleased as well. Win-win situations abounded for us all.
Our Sunday in the East End Gallery is drawing to a close. We have had a truly joyous day.
PS ONLY 13 DAYS UNTIL OUR BIRTHDAY AND CHRISTMAS SUNDOWNER...
Last weekend at the East End Gallery was followed by a frenzy of dusting, tidying and arranging a new display cabinet. Here are the latest views of our beloved Gallery -
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