Rather a lengthy period has passed since I last clapped eyes on "Heavenly Beverley". This is not because I haven't been mightily amused by the various shenanigans that have occurred over the duration of the Silly Season. Instead, the last couple of weeks of 2020 have caused me to feel distinctly like an elderly nag that wandered onto a racecourse by sheer accident and is bringing up the rear at a snail's pace. True, we did have extended Christmas celebrations and being summer in the Wheatbelt, the temperature has hovered between hot and bloody hot, which might explain my lethargy. However, with the end of 2020 speedily approaching, I have decided to give myself a thorough shake, rattle and roll and produce some sort of sage commentary about the last ten days or so and broadly, of the previous year.
There was a show on the telly called "A Moody Christmas ", featuring a dysfunctional Australian family who gathered together by habit when they really should have stayed apart. We had our own version of the Moodys, as two of my children don't really get along and the consequences of them inhabiting the same house during a heatwave may have ended in blood, sweat and tears. Does Christmas in other households resemble a massive juggling act which involves keeping certain members of the family apart in order to maintain some harmony?
Prior to Christmas provided the last manic movements before the Big Day. Last-minute shopping. Last-minute washing. Last-minute ironing (yes, I know). At least the ironing was undertaken in front of the 1973 version of the "Three Musketeers" with the air-conditioning on full throttle and four dogs all delightedly sprawling in the coolness of our living room. And Jan, who had deserted her older and less well insulated hotter house and enjoyed the rollicking tale with us.
Christmas Eve saw me in the Gallery. That may have been a mistake but we did actually have a sale - a local lad who wandered in at a quarter to four to find a gift for his lovely lady. When I suggested he may have left his run a tad late, he had to agree. He'd also been hoping for a haircut, but with the main street looking like a cannon could safely be fired down its length without hitting a single car, U Beauty & Hair had packed up and pushed off before his arrival.
Beverley is most certainly not a boring country town. We have entertained and been entertained over the course of the last seven days or so. Eggnog, sangria and mountains of food have all been enjoyed with gay abandon. Most of the extravaganza occurred within the walls of Station House. Christmas waifs Peter and Ann - he was December's Artist-in-Residence - borrowed a fan from us and have honoured us with their presence over several evenings, including a fun-filled Christmas night. Ann, who hails from Wisconsin, had never experienced the fun of Christmas crackers, including paper hats, woeful jokes and utterly useless toys. We had an hour-long extra guest in the form of Charlie McLean, a Kelpie who had wandered away from a nearby farm. Footsore and thirsty when he arrived, he enjoyed the wading pool's water for a copious drink and a swim, joining us in the house before his Dad Trevor arrived to fetch him home. Trevor was resplendent in his attire of stubbies and thongs on a very hot afternoon and I did ask him not to be too cranky with Charlie, who had not put a paw wrong.
Our family version of Secret Santa was not a total disaster, except that my Secret Santa left his offering to me in his unit. There were more than enough presents to go around. Michael, having forgotten the presents for me, bought by Vanessa back in August, panicked and wrapped every single one of them when most of them had been destined for my Christmas stocking. Unaware of his confusion, I bought my own stocking stuffers when we travelled to the Big Smoke on the second last shopping day before the Christmas Day shutdown. Vanessa, who is difficult to surprise, was incredulous by Michael's lack of communication to her, given that he had received what she believed to be very clear instructions. Proving once more, she can lead the old horse to the water and he will immediately forget why he is there...
In between food, food and more food, we have just loved having family around us, even if they do occasionally drive us mad. Callum, Bron and Immy arrived early on the 27th and stayed into the afternoon of the 28th. Much fun was had by all. Imogen Ivy continued to delight Nanny and Grampy, although she had been dragged to three different Christmas parties over three days to placate the needs of six adoring grandparents. Thus, she retaliated by having a couple of very toddler tanties and stubbornly resisting being put to bed. Even so, we all had a wonderful Christmas with our very engaging Grandtoddler and we are already looking forward to the next.
Vanessa roared up in her bright yellow hatchback just for that day. She supplied the majority of that particular Christmas lunch and we really enjoyed having her for that brief snatch of time. She revels in her role of the city girl, enamoured of her close-to-the-beach villa with her brand new and very comfortable bed. Plus, she has returned to a suburb and surrounds she knows very well, including access to a multitude of familiar shopping centres, libraries, parks and cafes. She is currently looking forward to fewer crowds in her favourite haunts and was suitably horrified by the appearance of Hot Cross Buns immediately post Christmas.
Our Autistic Superstar, Alex, made a triumphant entry off the Albany bus at lunchtime on the 28th. He was his usual charming self and we mostly avoided arguing about our differences of opinion. He has very much become a Man's Man, so proud of his job at a Cafe Attendant at Paraquad Industries. Being a closed employment service, his salary is unfortunately not high, but he doesn't care. As far as Alex is concerned, and that's what really matters, his job is proof of his employability. As part of his Thursdays with his fabulous Support Worker, Alex is going to motor up to Beverley once a month so I can have a regular fix and catch up on his news. He is also keen to show me his workplace and I'm sure I will get the Grand Tour when I visit!
Unexpected and exciting were the movements of a couple of giant water-bombing helicopters on the 28th, both of which refuelled on our oval whilst fire fighting a blaze thirty kilometres away. Two extremely dedicated teenage camera fanatics had followed the helicopters from their base in Jandakot (Perth) all the way so they could photograph them up close and personal.
And what of the upheaval that has characterised 2020. Definitely one for the Pool Room. I think that the terror and distress of the Black Summer, the initial ineffectual actions by the Prime Minister, the gnawing realisation that Climate Change was implicated in the savagery of these fires and that blazes that had burnt for weeks were only doused by flooding rains, was my stuff of nightmares. However, large tracts of Queensland, New South Wales and southern Western Australia remain rainfall deficient, which means immediate climate action is still required. Otherwise, Black Summers will become the norm and that is an unacceptable prognosis.
After the initial uncertainty of COVID19's deadly tentacles reaching our corner of the world, Michael and I settled into a new existence of relaxation and calm. I admit that my cleaning efforts ramped up to the top of the gauge. Every day saw sanitisation of all surfaces, doorknobs, light switches, devices and most importantly, hands. Michael did not leave the confines of our compound. I wore a mask everywhere I went, and gloves if shopping. As time wore on, I began walking again with Jan, both of us maintaining social distancing. We met one friend at a time in our courtyard, when restrictions eased. Gradually, our lives took on a semblance of a new normality and we were able to escape to our beloved outback for five weeks during July and August. I have thanked God every day for Mister Mark McGowan and our Western Australian government for the timely lockdowns and controlled borders over the last nine months. Otherwise, we might have faced a taste of the chaos that has caused such tragedy in other parts of the world.
So, what of this last day of 2020? As we approach the Finish Line, my feelings are mixed. Ever wary of further COVID outbreaks, we have settled into a sentiment of active alertness. As always, I have checked the Department of Fire and Emergency Services' webpage for fires. Further south, A Watch and Act is in place for one of the multitudes of fires that are currently burning. One step down from an Emergency Warning, a Watch and Act means to decide whether to leave or prepare to defend property. That is the reality of summer across Australia.
We are cool and comfortable in our airconditioned house with temperatures above the Old Century for the third day in a row. We have watered our garden this morning. We watch the dogs so they don't spend too much time outside in the sun. We hope the cat is snoozing in the shade. And we realise that a return to a pre-COVID lifestyle is impossible, along with the challenges being thrown at our world due to Climate Change.
Will we see in the New Year? Unlikely. Without a doubt, we will enjoy social activity with friends, maybe in our courtyard if the evening cools enough. Then, with the dogs joining me, I shall snuggle into bed and sleep across midnight and to the morning, wishing the best 2021 possible for all.
As Dave Allan famously quoted during his long-running television show - "And may your God go with you".
