Heavenly Beverley : Kate's CCs - Dear Trent, Love Kate.

The "Weekend Australian" is one of those items that I buy almost religiously. I sometimes wonder why. Before COVID 19, this newspaper often irritated the shit out of me but I never want to miss the lives and loves of the likes such as Nikki Gemmel and her family, and the urbane Phillip Adams, along with Facebook buddy Bernard Salt.

Last week's Magazine gave me a further reason to feel connected to the writers who strive to achieve a sense of community and camaraderie. Some bloke from Brisbane, Trent Dalton, invited all the readers of his article "Tales From The Bunker" to add to his commentary. Trent lives in the western suburbs of Brisbane. I spent part of my childhood in the western suburbs of Brisbane. He has a downstairs rumpus room. We had a downstairs rumpus room. Trent talks to his Dad's dearly departed stonefish, Keef. Anybody who talks to a preserved deceased and deadly aquatic creature is my kind of guy. Plus I also make reference to or chat to my Darling Dad on a daily basis from the heavenly lounge where I am sure he is still enjoying a decent glass of red. And he would thoroughly approve of discussions with Keef. His own goldfish, Fred, circumnavigated Australia twice within the confines of a travelling fishbowl.

So, without further ado, here is my letter to Trent - my tale from my bunker.

Dear Trent,

Thank you very much for allowing just anybody to correspond with you. I feel rather privileged to be invited to produce my own piece to send to you, which I hope meets with your approval.

I'm Kate, the Beverley Blogger and I have been writing my own version of events, know as "Kate's Coronavirus Chronicles". This has been added to my blog which is called Heavenly Beverley. I have been writing these posts for nearly six years as a way to scratch the desire to share my literary efforts with the world.

Sometimes, my posts fall flat and I'm fucked if I know why. Stuff I think is sharp and witty may only get a handful of views, whereas other disappointing tripe attracts a legion of fans. As for making my fortune out of my (unpublished) manuscript or being discovered like Mamamia, I live in hope...

Anyway, on to the job at hand. How am I going? How am I coping? Depends on which minute of the day. Always in the background is the shadow of this monster - Coronavirus. She is lurking just out of view and that's where I want her to remain. Six years ago, my beloved Michael nearly died from pneumonia. That nasty bug was known as the Bitch for four very long weeks. Caused by a combination of Michael being a smoker and working in pretty disgusting environments. Since then, my mission from God has been to keep him well. He only has sixty per cent of his left lung functional, is prone to debilitating chest infections and has chronic asthma and emphysema. Our daughter asked me last night what would happen to Michael if he catches COVID 19.

He'd drown, I told her. How do I feel about that? Bloody terrified.

I am trying to connect my youngest child with the Priority Assistance Shopping Programme for his foreseeable needs. Alex is autistic, with severe asthma and a congenital cardiac disorder. His GP put him into isolation nearly a month ago to protect him from COVID 19. Yesterday was the day I set aside for liaising with Woolies to "walk him through" setting up an online account and a request to be included as a Priority Shopper. I can't do this myself with Alex as we live in different regions. The overloaded customer operative I eventually spoke to said she'd try to contact him before her shift ended at seven-thirty. She didn't. So now I have to start all over again. Frustration, along with understanding for the employee's plight was last night's response to this situation.

Today, our daughter was given four weeks notice by her employer. And I get that millions of Australians are losing their jobs. But for my quirky, oddball, hyper-intelligent girl, her position as an administrative assistant had been her first job ever. At the age of thirty-four. I am not upset at her employer - what would be the point? I'm just deflated. For somebody like Vanessa, having a job was the freedom she had longed for. And now, her wings have been clipped again.

Exhaustion. That was why I didn't take the call from her this morning. I had gone back to bed for an hour's kip. Michael, her adopted Dad, with his gentle manner and calming influence. drew her back from the precipice. By the time I spoke to her, she was already adjusting to her new normal and planning life back studying After Work. Relief.

Callum, the ultimate Middle Child between his siblings, is a primary school teacher and has added a high school science graduate diploma to his bow. Which is why he was offered four weeks work as a high school maths teacher during March. Cal is married to our stunning strawberry blonde daughter-in-law, Bronwyn and Daddy to Imogen who has just turned four months old. Bron is a severe asthmatic with other health issues. After every teaching day, Callum has arrived home, stripped off his clothes and shoes, showered thoroughly and changed before he greets his wife and his child. He currently has two more days of teaching left this term. Every day has been a calculated risk of bringing COVID 19 to his family, balanced with the need to keep an income going for as long as possible. Is breath-holding an emotion or an Olympic sport?

Then there are the occasions to release a tiny dance of happiness. This morning, the lack of money was rearing its head again, snarling at me, laughing at me. We are overdue with a number of bills, including the electricity account for the building we own. One of our two tenants, a hairdresser, is finding the going tough. She turned up as I was wrestling with this issue and gave me most of what they owe for the power bill. She provided me with an excuse to brush my hair and teeth, insert some earrings and launch forward into town on a few urgent errands. Which I would not have been able to do. A temporary weight lifted off my shoulders and gave me cause to smile.

That'll do for today, Trent. Have I given you a sense of being me, an overweight middle-aged woman living in a Western Australian country town? I hope I haven't overwhelmed you, as that was not my intention. I am just so grateful that you offered me an opportunity to speak as me.

Cheers,
Kate.

PS give my love to Keef.