Ten years ago, we bought a house in Beverley, Western Australia. By that point, Michael had been living with me in my dinky little duplex in the north-eastern suburbs of Perth for eighteen months. We shared that space with Alex, Callum and Vanessa, my children who were aged between nineteen and twenty-five, three dogs, a cat, three weiros, which only contained one loo and one bathroom. I was heartily sick of queuing for the facilities and suffering through the petty arguments between three young adult siblings who just didn't get along...
The final straw occurred at the conclusion of our trip to Queensland to introduce Michael to Mum and Dad. I was desperate to show that my taste in men had improved and I was sure that Michael was a keeper. We were away for six days and endured five whinging phonecalls from the offspring. Whilst sitting in the departure lounge at the airport, there was one further insult. My oldest and youngest had engaged in a flaming row about kitchen cooking rights...
On our return, I announced that Michael and I were moving to the country and the kids were not invited. Surprisingly, after fairly frequent accommodation hiccups over the ensuing years, they do now get on reasonably well, as a result of not living under the same roof.
So, Michael and I began a quest to find us a home. We'd previously had our hearts set upon buying an old wayside inn north of Perth between Gin Gin and Guilderton, but the cost proved prohibitive. Hence, with only a vague idea of finding a village in an hour and a half arc around Perth, I took to the internet.
I'd never been to Beverley until we bought the House that Rocks. Our home earned this moniker due to being raised on stilts above the hundred-year flood level. A neglected and ugly former State Housing dwelling, a non-existent dust bowl of a "garden", one powered shed with an exceedingly quaint second original shed, a cul-de-sac location and loads of potential.
We moved to Beverley at the end of the driest year on record. Apart from the heritage and Art Deco buildings, the oasis of the town oval, a few shops and a couple of pubs, Beverley was tired and dusty. We didn't care. We'd found somewhere for us to live.
We plunged into renovating and establishing a garden. Within two years, we had done all we could do with the house, given a very meagre budget. The garden was our sanctuary, but Michael's attention was turning towards reclaiming his metal artist status. Unfortunately, the newly renovated second shed at the Brooking Street property did not turn out to be as satisfactory as hoped, hot as hades in summer, cold as a witch's kiss in winter, as dusty as being in Kansas with Dorothy in autumn and carried off by the B52 mosquitoes in spring.
The Forbes Building on Beverley's main drag, a set of four shops with a huge potential "man cave", the remains of a residence and a primitive wet area, was huge and decrepit. In 1928, the Forbes building was trumpeted as very elaborate and attractive. By 2012, she was crying out to be saved. Michael had the vision to imagine what she could become. I thought he was nuts, but somebody had to get behind this mad scheme. Challenges included rising damp, fretting brickwork, a leaking roof, rotting window frames, unstable walls, graffiti, the remains of a hydroponic marijuana operation, ancient partitioning and a bloody full-sized safe onsite. Naturally, we bought her in early July.
Opening the first stage of the East End Gallery in December 2014, Michael battled to finish the last ninety square metres. He was over renovating, dirt, dust, pooh, mummified cats and the seemingly never-ending tasks. Finally, in March 2016, the building was finished (ish) and we were able to expand our artspace to her full one hundred and fifty square metres.
The final piece of the puzzle was building a new home behind the Gallery. We were frustrated at being unable to tend to the garden in Brooking Street on a daily basis. We had learnt that gardening in the Wheatbelt was brutal stuff, given that the weather was hot in summer, cold in winter, the ground was solid clay, with periodic strong winds and lessening rainfall. Reluctantly, we sold the House that Rocks.
So, Station House was built. Three courtyards of potted colour replaced the half-acre of plants, lawn and the endless watering and weeding. Our new abode was insulated and didn't leak dust, rain or wind. All easy-care and able to be left for the winter fossicking adventures that we currently are enjoying. Plus, Michael's two-metre metal fish named Dory adorns the front wall...
Fast forward three and a half years. The East End Gallery is our pride and joy. We are absolutely delighted at what we have achieved. Last weekend, and not for the first time, a guest exclaimed that we were living the dream. And we are...
And Beverley has changed out of sight in the last decade.
We have public art, courtesy of James Giddy. Beverley Station Gallery's Artist-In-Residence programme has suddenly become an overnight sensation after fifteen years, the buildings have been preserved and the stunning Cornerstone is a fabulous addition across the road from the Town Hall.
The outdoor Platform Theatre provides a venue for plays, shows, concerts, all co-ordinated by Beverley Station Arts. The Beverley Singers and B.A.D. (Beverley Amateur Dramatics) use the Platform on a regular basis during the warm months. For those wishing to look their best, we boast a barber and another full hairdressing and beauty salon. Lucky Find would have to be the best independent frock shop in the Wheatbelt for those searching for that perfect outfit.
We have the Beverley Community Garden and the Moort Wabiny skatepark, pump track and adventure playgroup with lights, free BBQs, shade and water (both to play in and drink!).
Avon Trading has expanded to include Nex Dor, their garden gift shop and rivals Mount Magnet's emporium as the best hardware outlet in the West.
The Freemasons Tavern has been exquisitely renovated, offering a delicious menu and the Hotel Beverley is about to enter new ownership in January. The Top Pub's beer garden is a great location to consume a cooling ale on a warm evenng.
The Red Vault has cemented itself as the cafe that motorcyclists travel the picturesque West Talbot Road to visit for coffee on a weekend two-wheeled jaunt. Also providing delicious treats is the Beverley Bakery Cafe.
Mandy's Garden Art is closest to the Avon River, a forgotten corner now bursting with her quirky garden sculptures and her burgeoning nursery. Anybody searching for that treasure or bargain need look no further than Wares West or Alex's Green Corner.
Ferguson's Vintage Machinery Collection and the Dead Finish Museum, both run by volunteers, offer the history buff a myriad of stories. The Museum, now closed over summer, still has a wonderful re-creation of a Wheatbelt garden for visitors to sit and contemplate their navels in a cool and shady space.
And the reality is that we never planned the East End Gallery. Along with the purchase of the Forbes Building, our move to Heavenly Beverley has been to experience a life less ordinary, as well as create a sanctuary removed from decades of inhabiting the Big Smoke and all the stress associated with past events.
This week has been one of remembrance for Michael. Twelve years ago, Michael performed mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on his then-wife Joan whilst their son Hayden applied heart massage. Joan did not survive from the massive heart attack and Michael was widowed. However, he had always known that his life with Joan was unlikely to include a move away from Perth, which Michael craved intensely. Hence, his mood has been of reflection, of sorrow, of guilt, because grief is a state that never quite leaves.
A recent art piece we bought from Artist-in-Residence Sally Watts in a gentle reminder of how lucky we have been to find each other. Two dogs in a tugboat, a lifebuoy around one of their waists. Sally asked us who had saved who. Our response - we had saved each other.
No comments:
Post a Comment