While The Cat's Away...

Friday morning in Heavenly Beverley. The skies outside our desk window are threatening rain. I'm crossing my fingers. We would have some very happy farmers if the clouds would just share some of their moisture. Perhaps the time is ripe for a rain dance.

We returned yesterday afternoon from a wonderful and surprisingly hectic overnight stay in the Big Smoke. We embarked on an almost spur-of-the-moment decision to attend the "Meet The Artist" evening presentation of Shane's Moad's exhibition at the Pan-Pacific Hotel in the city. So, clutching a change of clothes and our toothbrushes, we set off to stay the night in a salubrious establishment. Via Northam, of course.

We had a prior engagement booked with Richard, the other half of the GP couple who are the Spencers. We have warmed to Richard as well as Stephanie, who has shown himself to be compassionate and attentive, with a wickedly dry sense of humour.

After being stabbed by the cheerful practice nurse Janice administrating our Flu vaccines, we spent a brisk and entertaining appointment with Richard for scripts and test results. Then, at last, we hurtled down the hill towards the city.

Into the Pan-Pacific lobby, we felt distinctly like a pair of country hicks. Checking in was almost beyond me. I was totally out of my comfort zone. We progressed to our room, which was comfortable and pleasant, on the tenth floor. After a lightning change, Michael into black and me into a frock, we decided to hang the expense and have a pre-event drink in one of the bars.

The uber-swish Uma bar seemed liked The Place To Be. Intending to have a margarita, my eyes fell onto the description of a Singapore Sling in the menu. I'd actually had a Singapore Sling at the Raffles Hotel in January 2003. With the first delicious sip, I was transported back to tropical delights. And I completely understood how easily one could become rather partial to them.

Across the lobby was Shane's exhibition. The unambiguous clarity of his subject matter was evident in every painting. The wealthy and influential were rubbing shoulders with some of Beverley's Hillbillies. As Mister Spock would say "Fascinating...!"

Two of Shane's brothers were in attendance. Scott, an artist in his own right, was there, looking unassumingly like an artist, casually dressed. Craig, Shane's other brother made an entrance to remember. Resplendent in a purple suit and vest with a purple and white shirt and kaleidoscope patterned shoes, Craig certainly wasn't going to be mistaken as a shrinking violet.

Child Bride Val was there, chatting up the punters, along with her Mum and Dad, daughter Becky and son Ethan and daughter-in-law Sherrin. The champagne flowed, somebody found Michael a red vino after sustained begging, the canapes divine and the conversation lively. And Shane's art was wowing the audience. Before long, a red sticker was attached to a painting... the buyer was thrilled.

Following a most enjoyable evening, we retired to the Peruvian restaurant, Uma, for dinner. Along with three outstanding tasting plates, we took another plunge and ordered our first Peruvian cocktail. I have absolutely no idea as to the ingredients but the intense lemon sherbet liquid bliss knocked our socks off.

The bed was sumptuous, except it was too big. We slept fitfully, aware of the bright city lights and the lack of open windows. Waking relatively early, we adjourned to the breakfast buffet, then last ablutions before we checked out. On being asked by reception if everything in our room at the Pan-Pacific had been satisfactory, I divulged that the hot water had taken the length of my shower to actually heat up.

What a response! Our overnight parking became free, a service fee was waived and the KitKat Michael had devoured out of the Mini Bar was suddenly no charge as well. Thank you to the Pan-Pacific reception.

We headed for home, detouring for a mountain of shopping. Upon arrival, the Canine Clowns were deliriously happy to see us. The Pirate Parrot just about blew up, but Madame Cat was nowhere to be seen.

We were given a full report by Jan later. She'd given the dogs their dinner. She knew I'd medicated every pet for Wednesday. She'd returned yesterday morning. The dogs were playing musical beds. She spied the pink antibiotics labelled for Ruby and assumed the tablets were for the cat. They weren't...

Jan was horrified and apologetic. "I thought the tablets were a bit big for the cat", she wailed. She had managed to stuff three-quarters of a hefty tablet down the throat of our four-kilogramme cat. No wonder Her Majesty was Missing In Action.

We managed to corner the outraged feline this morning and deliver her normal medication - a quarter of a tiny tablet for her blood pressure. However, it appears that a massive blast of an antibiotic (the Problem Child weighs four times as much) has done the cat no harm. She will now probably outlive us all.

Back to normal in the East End Gallery today. Or what passes as normal in the East End gallery...Stay tuned!

The artist, on location...

The ultra-(un)boring Moad family...

"Early Morning Water Tank"

 The Pan Pacific, Perth

Another Scalliwag? A Gun-Toting Outlaw? No, He's a Bone Fide Beverley Hillbilly!

One of my art heroes is local legend, Shane Moad. Apart from being one of the nicest human beings I have ever met, ( and I actually mean that adjective sincerely), Shane is an outstanding talent and we are lucky enough to call him our friend.

Shane and the Child Bride, Val,  live in their renovated cottage just up the road from the Beverley Hospital and adjacent to the railway line. Shane has a converted shed as his studio. From this setting, he produces stunning paintings of the Australian outback and America's South West. He has been quietly, and with absolutely no fanfare, following his passion for twenty-five years. His paintings are in collections all over the world.

He and Val have two adult children, now living in the Big Smoke. They are also amongst the nicest people I've ever met. Ethan is married, has worked in the local shire, graphic design and is now studying a Bachelor of Commerce. I doubt highly that he will become a boring git... Becky is ploughing her way through her teaching degree, impressing with her work ethic and attention to detail. She will a fabulous addition to the teaching fraternity. She is not quite engaged to a lovely bloke who is the brother of Ethan's wife. Talk about keeping it in the family.

Father and son have both had dramatic shifts in career following horrendous vehicle accidents. Shane was taken off his motorbike in the early 1990s. He had worked in a variety of professions and had to rethink his whole future with a wife and two young children. Ethan was involved in a collision on a treacherous piece of road in the Perth hills. Like his Dad, Ethan has had to upskill and change his employment focus.

Shane lives with continual pain. His goal is to keep moving - walking or bicycle riding - and be in his studio for some part of the day. This is sometimes easier said than done. As far as he's concerned, he starts again each and every morning.

Their cottage previously had the dubious honour of being the centre of Beverley's Red Light District. His neighbour, relieved that the house had been sold, then received the shock of his life when he met Shane for the first time. Our quiet and unassuming artist is bald, missing a few teeth and displays a selection of tattoos, including one that proudly announces "Hillbilly". He also favours hats, to keep his head protected, jeans, flannies, boots and carries his set of jangling keys on his hip. Sheriff Wyatt Earp or Wild Bill Hickock?!

And now, Shane has been discovered by the Big End of Town. His exhibition opens at the Pan Pacific Hotel in Perth this evening. Through considerable begging, we have scored a room at the hotel for a slightly lesser rate. So, we will be attending Shane's launch. I just hope our bed is not in a back hallway!

Beverley Hillbillies rock!

A True Gentleman And A Bit Of A Scalliwag

We have just had the pleasure of meeting John Kaye and enjoying his company for the last two months. John travelled from suburban Perth to be Artist-In-Residence at Station Arts, Beverley's community art gallery that is home to the Council's collection. Both the artworks and the residence are within the original and restored railway station. In return for receiving free accommodation, John's requirements were to open the gallery for sixteen hours a week and spend as much time as possible honing his painting skills.

John went above and beyond the Call of Duty. If he was at the Station, he opened their Gallery. He threw himself into Beverley life, attending Stretch, SLAG and Pilates with Janet, rocking at the East End Gallery Sundowner, the East End Gallery's writing group, networking with other artists and never missing an opportunity to walk briskly every day around town.

He and his delightful wife Ann welcomed us at the Station with a delicious dinner. We enjoyed a late afternoon vino with John on a number of occasions. Popping in and out the East End Gallery like a jack-in-the-box, he was always an amiable, jovial and entertaining guest.

John was a fabulous addition as the latest of Beverley's Artists-in-Residence. I hope the committee know how lucky they were to accept him into their programme. He showed no prejudice toward anybody. He was gregarious and pro-active. And he proved himself to be a bloody good artist.

The Freemasons Tavern would agree with me. John's paintings are now proudly displayed in the public bar and the dining room. Congratulations to the Freemasons for supporting a fabulously talented emerging artist.

And to illustrate he wasn't utterly perfect, John managed to lock himself out of the Station one day. Just as well the weather was sunny and calm and not blowing a gale. Recruiting Michael into assistance, the Likely Lads surveyed the situation. The only Way Into The Station was through a second storey window. Our heroes sourced themselves a ladder, and with Michael acting as an anchor, John climbed onto the roof and gained access into his temporary home.

This escapade could have ended so badly. Luckily, there were no injuries and no reports and I was provided with a jolly good laugh from the safety of Station House.

We will miss John. He has joined the East End Gallery as our second newest artist. Miss Te'a Lewis holds the baton in that position. To view John and Te'a's art, drop what you are doing and make your way to the East End Gallery.

PS our Sundowner is on this coming WA Day long weekend - an overwhelmingly compelling excuse to come to Heavenly Beverley!

Introducing Mister John Kaye and a selection of his paintings -

Back To The Drawing Board or My Plans For World Domination

In the aftermath of yet another unsatisfactory election, I must admit to a tumbling bag of emotions. Apart from removing the odious Mister Abbott, there was nothing really to report. The Coalition picked up a couple of extra seats. Labor lost a couple of seats. Mister Morrison compared his election win to a miracle. Mister Shorten has fallen on his sword when he expected to become Prime Minister. This was not the Great Labor Victory that had been foretold.

 At least there are unlikely to be any leadership coups in the near future.

Here in Pearce, our local member Christian Porter will evaporate back into the ether of the comfortable beach-side boundary of his seat. His last visit to Beverley was to open the new Cornerstone building at the end of February. Mister Porter enthused that..."The centre will provide a huge range of facilities for people across the community, including a community resource centre, library, tourism centre, museum, business incubator offices, toy library, IT room and conference room" and that the new centre will address long-term issues in the community, including rural isolation, an ageing population, high unemployment and disengaged youth.

Except that the tourism centre has no staff in attendance. To have service, visitors must seek out the Community Resource Centre staff. Some volunteers have allegedly been spooked by the complicated security systems. What on earth is a Business Incubator Office?! And how can the completion of a building tackle high unemployment and disengaged youth? 

Ye Gods...

I have absolutely no knowledge of Ian Goodenough, the Liberal member for Moore, Vanessa's electorate. Perhaps somebody can enlighten me of his achievements. 

Callum and Bronwyn also live in the mortgage belt north-eastern suburbs of Pearce. As Banksia Grove appears to have an active and enthusiastic community, Mister Porter's presence there could be seen as unnecessary. After all, he is already required to travel to his Ellenbrook office - a God-forsaken fifty-four kilometres from the ocean. 

Then we come to the new Liberal member for Stirling, Vince Connolly. Vince has succeeded Michael Keenan, the bloke who went from university to staffer to pollie. I very much doubt that Michael will have to scratch around for a job. He is a true Liberal success story.

Back to Vince. He comes across as the perennial Nice Guy. Family man. Soldier. Emergency crisis manager. Risk assessor. Staffer to Julie Bishop, whom he regards as a role model. Alex lives in Vince's seat and has a photo of them together on election day.

I decided to strike whilst the iron was still hot and contact Vince. Alex needs a job. I thought work experience in Vince's office kitchen might be a good start. Alex has produced cakes, savouries and lunches since he was in high school With all the talk of supporting his community, I contacted Vince on Alex's behalf. Through e-mail and Facebook. Vince's latest post on his page shows him gathering all his election material for recycling.  I have yet to receive any acknowledgement of my correspondence. *sigh*

My worst fears seem to have been confirmed once more. Most pollies are full of hot air. They may talk the talk, but they fail to walk the walk. In my frustration at this sad state of affairs, I have decided that I need to take over the world with a few simple ideals.

• Discover decency. We all need to carry out at least one random act of kindness every day.
• Smile. Apparently, we use fewer facial muscles to smile than to frown. I, for one, am a great believer in efficient exercise.
• Always tell the truth. Why are politicians and others in positions of power allowed to lie? In parliament, in election campaigns, in advertisements, in court, they can knowingly be allowed to spread deceit. This practice is unacceptable.
• Make no judgements. 
• Make no comparisons.
• Delete the need for understanding.
• Help in whatever way possible. Today I gave donations to the Salvation Army and our local primary school. Why? Because I believe that we need to contribute to our communities.
• Love unconditionally and fiercely and visibly.
• Value everyone.
• Know that every day is a gift.

There you have it. My mantra for life. In the great scheme of things, I may not make much difference to the world. But I will have made a difference to me. And I can hold my head up high.

Our Fearless Leader in Pearce, Christian Porter

Moore's Ian Goodenough...

Stirling's Vince Connolly with Alex

Seems like a sound idea...

Now there's a thought...

Salvation Army in action - Clive Nicholls

And his partner in crime, Linda Nicholls!

Pretty much sums up my values.

When You Wish Upon A Star...

Three days after the Liberal and National Coalition won the Federal election, my cynicism meter has blasted through the ceiling. Suddenly, the government has discovered that, oh golly gosh, they won't be able to deliver the tax cuts to the Great Unwashed on 1 July, which was a cornerstone of their campaign. Former Prime Minister John Howard would have called this backflip a delay in a "non-core promise".

However, I still live in hope that the re-elected government will do the Right Thing by all Australians in the term of this parliament. I do not expect much from our Honourable member for Pearce. He has no reason to come to the Sticks for the foreseeable future, whilst he is busy planning his assault on the Prime Ministerial summit.

I have revisited my Wishlist for us Plebians and decided that I need to be much more specific. In spite of the election promise of tax cuts being discarded so swiftly, I have Great Expectations that my considered requests will be taken seriously...

Dear Prime Minister Morrison,

When you wish upon a star...

I'll start with our Autistic Superstar, Mister Alex Hawes. Alex is my younger son. He is twenty-eight years of age. He was born with an extremely complex heart defect. He developed asthma at thirteen months, was diagnosed with autism at four and mild intellectual disability in his teenage years. In spite of any or all these hurdles, Alex graduated from Year 12 with his WACE (WA Certificate of Education).

Since then, he has undertaken a number of hospitality courses. He is active in his church. He has friends. He has a fulfilling life. What he doesn't have is a job. Last week, he was concerned about using his oil heater.

Alex has been without a job or a volunteer position for over two years. Prior to employment at the Swan Friendship Cafe, (which closed through lack of funding in 2016) the only paid employment he'd accessed was a contract filing at the Lions Eye Institute for six months. So, since he left school ten years ago, he has had one ongoing paid position...

Mister Morrison, Alex would like a job. Part-time working in hospitality. He has a dream to open his own cafe and drop-in centre for other people with disabilities. He would really appreciate a fair go. A re-launch of the Swan Friendship Cafe would be a great first step.

I believe the Swan Friendship Cafe could be a model for other cafes in the metropolitan area. Four to begin. Imagine - up to thirty-two disabled people having meaningful ongoing paid employment across Perth.

When you wish upon a star...

Moving onto Callum. He is my older son and is a primary school teacher. This year, he returned to university to study high school science teaching as he has been unable to gain full-time work. This is in spite of the fact he was a member of the Australian Youth Choir (so he can sing) and is a dancing instructor and can play a musical instrument. He and his wife would love to have a family. A stable position for Callum would allow their hopes to come true. Mister Morrison, your education minister may have to liaise with the WA state education minister to allow this to happen.

When you wish upon a star...

Then there is our aspiring professor, Vanessa. So far, she has completed a Batchelor of Arts, Honours and a Masters. She is working on her second Masters due to an inability to gain employment in her fields of study. She has been merit selected for the Grad Access Programme last year. She has heard nothing for nine months. When will she hear that she has received a position? Her goal is to lecture history. She would really like some direction so she may go forward.

As far as we are concerned, a rise in Michael's Disability Support Pension would be most welcome. We live off around seven hundred dollars a week. We have a mortgage, health insurance, other insurances, utilities, phone, rates and daily living to cover. Currently, we rent out a shop for seventy dollars a week, which is our only additional income.

So, Mister Morrison, as Prime Minister, I would like you to consider our claims with the utmost seriousness. I am the classic swinging voter. I would like to think that your government would give people like my family a fair go because we have a go...

I look forward to your response.

Yours sincerely,

Kate Sofoulis.

Alex with Poh at the Warehouse Cafe (now closed)

With the successful Liberal candidate Vince Connelly in Stirling

Callum as a successful Latin dancer

Allowing his tonsils to be accessed by a five-year-old!

Vanessa as a graduate from the University of Western Australia

With Pip at Station House.

Happy Anniversary Baby...(Got You on My Mind...)

Time is weird. Some minutes, hours, days, weeks and months fly past at a rate of speedy knots. Other periods drag at a snail's pace or appear to stand still all together. Often waiting in anticipation means very slow and very frustrating clock watching. Then, as the moment of joy or even dread arrives, time speeds up. I always find the wait for the dentist excruciating. Once in the chair, with the gentle Dentist to the Stars Vincent talking soothingly to my chicken self, the ordeal is over far quicker than expected.

Ten years ago, I met the love of my life. I had been separated from the ex since 2005. Rather rapidly, I fell into a disastrous relationship with the Sicilian Sociopath, who picked me up in Bunnings and lied from the very beginning. I found out he was married seven months later...

After extracting myself from this awful mess, I had a very nice month long relationship with a sweet and boring New Zealander. Pencil Dick was overwhelmed by my social nature and swiftly broke up with me just after Christmas in 2008. I may have shed a tear or two.

In January 2009, I embarked on a series of hilarious First Dates. The Wide-Mouthed Frog grinned from ear to ear and stared at my boobs for half an hour. Dave the Brave had no sense of humour and didn't like dogs. The Chilian Stallion thought he was God's gift to women, except he was short with no neck, balding, fat and right wing. The Creepy Anaesthetic Technician accused me of being frigid when I wouldn't have sex with him on our virgin meeting. On Oasis Active, the number of blokes I rejected was in the dozens.

By May, I had decided to become a Lesbian. But, a fellow kept lurking around looking at my online profile. So, I lurked back and looked at his profile. Spider52 was a smoker and looking for friendship...His secret photos were of his children and his dog. A widower, he was lonely and needed companionship. Little did he know that his previous (now deceased) wife's friends were planning to hitch him up with One Of Their Own.

We eventually contacted each other directly on 19 May 2009. That first online conversation lasted hours, mostly because Michael's typing speed was a tad slow. We arranged to meet three days later at the Dog Exercise Area within Whiteman Park. On the way there (naturally running late), Michael phoned me to announce that he was running late...And so the most unpunctual couple on the planet met.

I fell in love with Michael the second I looked into his liquid-gold brown eyes. He took longer, putting me through a series of tests prior to committing himself. A sales and service trip which introduced me to his working environment. A Goldfields trip to test my mettle in the isolation of a stunning landscape with only Michael as company. I adored every second of being with him.

The first year of our relationship would have tried the patience of several saints. I was rejected by his children and by some of his friends. We snatched moments of bliss amongst the reality of his situation. Time apart dragged horrendously and time together was all too fleeting.

After a year together, Michael's health broke down physically and emotionally. He was painfully thin, grey and lost in misery. I believe that if I hadn't rescued him, Michael would have died from his pain.

Six months later, we escaped the Big Smoke and arrived in Heavenly Beverley. The last eight and a half years here have been the stuff of dreams. And the occasional nightmare. But look at us now. Every now and then, I pinch myself for the life I lead with my beloved husband. We live in a beautiful home. We have the East End Gallery. We love Beverley. We have the means to escape every now and then in Digger our wondrous caravan.

I am currently sitting next to Michael at our study desk. I haven't felt that crash hot today and I'm still in my jarmies. We've had a slob day, doing very little. And we don't give a toss.

Michael - early 2009

His Oasis Active photograph...

Sales and service trip - June 2009...

Wanerie - July 2010

Wanerie - spring 2010

Our wedding day - 2.1.2012...

 November 2014

With stress relief 2015...

With Lily - February 2018...

Michael - January 2019

Observations By An Election Day Volunteer

For anybody either not in Australia or deliberately hiding from reality, yesterday ushered in yet another Federal Election. These tedious events occur every three years or so and involve us casting votes for a government that probably doesn't give a toss about most of the electors. Having said that, I am a passionate supporter of compulsory voting, as I abhor the concept of all the lunatics taking over the asylum altogether.

As I have said time and time again, I am a classic swinging voter. I have voted for most of the major political parties throughout my adulting years. I will support any elected representative who works in the best interests of the seat, the community or myself. In the case of Mister Christian Porter, the Liberal member for the electorate of Pearce, I remain unconvinced of any altruistic motivations.

Pearce happens to be the electorate in which we live. It is a seat of contrasts over a wide area, stretching from the northern suburbs of Perth and coastal hamlets, through the mortgage belt into the semi-rural and rural, including a number of regional Wheatbelt towns. Mr Porter, a previous Western Australian state politician, moved into the bigger arena of Federal parliament after he decided that he was meant for a greater calling.

Three years ago, I asked for a meeting with Mister Porter, then Social Services minister. As his constituent, I believed he was well placed to assist in a major issue. The Swan Friendship Cafe, located in the neighbouring seat of Hasluck, held by Liberal Ken Wyatt, was in danger of having to close its doors. The Cafe had been operated for a number of years by a not-for-profit organisation, the Swan Friendship Club and run by Maria Sergiovanni and other volunteers. The Cafe had employed up to eight young people with disabilities, including my son Alex. Due to rising costs and the necessity of a supervising full-time chef, the Cafe was in dire need of additional funding sources. Along with the Club's treasurer Joe Sergiovanni, we approached Mister Porter to outline the social and economic impacts of the Cafe and to discuss a case for a financial injection.

We were rejected outright by Mister Porter. Alex has never been in paid employment since. Along with four staffers, he sat opposite us across a large meeting room table. Halfway through the discussion, he verbally pointed out Michael's and my pension status. The purpose of Mister Porter's interjection has never been explained by him...

Fast forward three years. We had become aware of other instances of Mister Porter's indifference to other constituents. Hence, I formed the decision that I could not vote for him and that I needed to make a personal stance.

I signed up to give out "how-to-vote" information for the Other Side. Which is why I found myself at our local school (the designated voting station for Beverley) on a freezing morning. I committed to operating the Labor stand until one o'clock. In the interests of goodwill, I turned up with orange muffins to share with the other volunteers. As far as I was concerned, I was undertaking a public service and needed to behave in a civilised and friendly manner.

We all introduced ourselves. The Liberal volunteers included a well-off farming couple, who counted Mister Porter as a friend. When I explained my previous encounter with Mister Porter as my reasoning for supporting Labor in this election, I was quickly put in my place. That can't have been how it happened...he wouldn't do that...suddenly, I found myself labelled a liar.

After that, the conservative volunteers all stuck to themselves, apart for accepting a cupcake each. I had brought a folding chair with me, which quickly became an emergency sitting point for some of Beverley's frailer voters.

Whoever was the bright spark who designated walking almost the length of our school to the polling booths was a good idea should be hunted down and shot. Numerous residents with walking sticks, on walkers, in wheelchairs or on gophers had to negotiate a gravel driveway before joining the footpath. At least twice, I went to the assistance of people having difficulty with the distance. A friend with emphysema completely lost his puff and had to stop. One chap had arrived without his walker and was unable to continue. With the help of his wife, we quickly whipped my chair underneath him. I then organised an electoral officer to come to him and record his vote. Another of the volunteers offered his help as well. The conservative volunteers all stood there and did nothing.

After I'd left, my chair came to the rescue again. Vanessa (who took over from me) and Vicky from the IGA had to leap into action to calm and seat an elderly diabetic chap whose blood sugar has crashed. The ambos were called and he was duly taken to hospital.

What I was not expecting was the venom of some voters. The stiff-upper-lip farming chap (apart from dismissing my word) warned that a Labor victory was akin to Dante's Inferno. Others in attendance were rude or offensive. Fear and fury seemed to be the catalysts leading to their voting. Logic and reason were not high on the agenda. Yet, if I mentioned any objection to the Liberal cause, I was told I was completely wrong and probably unhinged in my views. Interesting.

I worked tirelessly, smiling endlessly, was well-mannered and promoted the wood raffle and sausage sizzle, which were a part and parcel of an election day fixture. The conservative volunteers were decidedly unenthusiastic towards either of these endeavours. Disappointing.

The election has been fought. The conservatives have been returned. Mister Porter has remained as the Liberal member for Pearce. As a Labor supporter this time, I admit to pangs of regret. But, will the world end due to this result? No more than it would have ended if Labor had won.

There is some very good news for the Prime Minister. A Liberal lunatic has lost his seat and can no longer launch barbs from the side. A very large so-called businessman from Queensland won no seats. A red-headed alternative politician, also from Queensland, won no seats. Their preferences flowed into the conservative coffers. Scott Morrison must be counting his blessings.

As a result of the LNP win, I am setting them some challenges on behalf of myself, my family and the wider community. The Liberal Party spoke repeatedly of "Return to Surplus", "The Bill Australia Can't Afford", "Back in Black" or "Building Our Economy, Securing Our Future". I am hoping that the government produces policies for all Australians, not just the privileged few. This may be the ultimate pipe dream, but in no particular order, my wish list includes -

• tax cuts for low and middle-income earners
• a stimulus package to encourage consumer spending
• a rise in payments for those on pensions or particularly Newstart
• a focus on rewarding employment services, particularly disability services, that place clients in ongoing work
• funding for those businesses (including not-for-profit organisations) that employ people with disabilities on a long term basis
• a living wage for those who volunteer in their communities and an acknowledgement that all volunteers provide a valuable contribution
• a reduction of inflammatory language towards those living in poverty
• a balance of international and Australian university students so all receive a quality education
• a coordinated national approach to all schools, with appropriate funding to those schools with vulnerable or problematic students, an emphasis on employing male teachers to provide positive role models, reduction in class sizes or a significant increase in classroom support for teachers and education assistants and ancillary staff available for breakfast clubs, after-school activities and as emergency respondents
• a sensible non-partisan approach to asylum seekers, as their plight is currently never-ending and imprisoning them is not the answer.

As an aside, I would like an apology from the Beverley conservative farmer and volunteer, who refused to accept my story. Oh, and a re-launch of the Swan Friendship Cafe.

The incumbent...

The challenger...

Analysis of the election result...

My dreams...

In the evil red teeshirt...

Volunteers to the left and to the right...

Sausage sizzle team...

Wood raffle with Lisa.