Heavenly Beverley : Random Acts...

Confession time...I have not written a word on my blog since 31 October. Such poor form. And the truth isn't that I haven't succumbed to the dreaded Writers' Block or another literary calamity. I've had any number of posts swirling inside the nebulous depths of my hyperactive brain.

The reality is that I just don't have enough time each day to complete the myriad of tasks I set myself.

I have written about the weirdness of time previously. There are no set rules. Time seems either to gallop at breakneck speed or drag unspeakably slowly, depending upon my fortunes. There appears to be a direct correlation between enjoyment or satisfaction. That's when time moves into overdrive. On the other hand, longing for a particular resolution - school holidays, the birth of a baby, arguing with power and water utilities, building a house - causes time to slow down to such an extent that we feel like we are treading water. And where's one of those thingamajigs like Hermione had in one of the "Harry Potter" movies, so she could seemingly complete all she wanted to do in a single day.

There really ought to be some sort of higher authority to whom I could complain to about the inconsistencies of time interfering with all I want to accomplish.

Anyway, I've digressed from the focus of this post. Which is all about random acts...of love, of kindness, of generosity, of friendship.

We are continuously given so much. Last Wednesday, Ian and Lindy Kay rocked into Heavenly Beverley in their ancient landrover. Stacked to the vehicle's ceiling with their own and others' artworks, they also had a skeleton of a tree tied to the roof. I'd seen the elderly jalopy passing in front of the Gallery and assumed that the occupants were heading off on a camping expedition, complete with their own firewood.

Wrong.

After unloading all the art they had brought, they took us to lunch at the Red Vault Cafe across the road. Entirely unexpected. No fuss or fanfare. And Ian, with Michael's assistance, set up "The Owl and the Pussycat" against the chosen wall space. What a day.

Jane Gates, the "Sunshiny" half of "Dark Sunshiny Days", a studio that had existed in York had re-entered our lives with three wonderfully quirky and cheerful paintings of fairytale imaginings. On hearing I wanted one of her paintings, "Lacey", to offer to my son and daughter-in-law, for their baby's nursery. she gave the painting to me.

Just like that.

As events unfolded, the kids literally didn't have room for "Lacey" in the nursery. Bollocks. So what I'd really love for Jane's Christmas is that somebody else loves "Lacey" as much as I do and takes this beautiful piece of original art to a new home.

Brian Aylward, pastel and mixed media artist extraordinaire, has agreed to undertake a pastel demonstration on the afternoon of our birthday party on Saturday 14 December. Brian would have to be the grooviest eighty-year-old I know. And he is still producing vibrant and vivid paintings, some of which are on display within our Gallery.

Alex, our Autistic Superstar and I haven't had the easiest of rides lately. However, we have realised that love conquers all. I asked Alex to post a morning message to me every day, so we can keep our close connection as wonderful as ever. Yes, I know Alex's messages will come. No, I have no idea of their content. This morning, I laughed out loud. A dog licking their loved one in bed. I had been similarly assaulted by Stella a few hours earlier. Awesome. Go, Alex!

This afternoon, Michael was walking Stella-Bella and Mister Pip past the tennis courts. The teacher of a bunch of kids asked if Stella liked chasing balls. When Michael confirmed our puppy's adoration for all things round, he found himself with three more balls for Destructo Dog to chomp.

Brilliant.

We are sitting together after dinner. The TV is blaring, Mister Pip is sitting with his Master, Stella is sound asleep on the other couch and all is well in our world.