Most of my friends know that the early James Bond movies would register amongst my favourites. George Lazenby, David Niven (?!), Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan and Daniel Craig have never quite been top of the wozza, especially with the latest Bond pictures becoming rather too serious. I have enjoyed watching Dame Judi Dench as M, but my heart belongs to Sean Connery as my ultimate 007.
"You Only Live Twice", with an implausible story line, including Bond faking his own death whilst the world teeters on the edge of war between the superpowers, is considered by "Rotten Tomatoes" to be saved by the stunning locations, a truly evil villain and fabulous special effects. The movie was released in 1967.
Mister Connery went on to make "Diamonds Are Forever" in 1971 and then return for the tongue-in-cheek "Never Say Never Again", which although not a particularly intellectual film, was certainly watchable and entertaining. No other actor has ever quite made the grade, in my humble opinion. I was deeply saddened by his death last year.
I am learning that life is what you make it. I was in an unsatisfactory marriage; neither of us was happy and one of us had to make the decision to end the misery for all concerned. So I did, back in January 2005, after a whopping twenty-four years with the same bloke. Initially, I was so pleased to be in charge of my own destiny, to live again with only the kids and me reliant on my decisions that I was uninterested in any sort of relationship for about eighteen months. Then, disastrously, when the next male in my life came along, he presented as the Sicilian Sociopath. I fell head over heels in love with him. So had another woman for the previous ten years. And, of course, there was his wife.
Eighteen months later, after a ridiculous court case before a magistrate that I had been stalking this tosser, I met and dated an exceedingly dull New Zealander for a month. After being refreshed by the lack of drama, I tried to spice our fledgling relationship up a bit. I was not much aggrieved when he broke up with me two days after Christmas in 2008.
Another single life for me, surrounded by my fabulous bunch of friends for nearly six months. I painted some of my house and gardened and entertained. The dogs and I traipsed around my suburb of Marangaroo, through parks and reserves. I had a new and massive pergola that was our extra outdoor room and the pool. Vanessa had left home and was interstate with family. The boys and I settled into a new routine, with Callum delighted to have his own studio at the back of the garden and Alex delighted to be (temporarily) rid of his sister!
I thought I'd give online dating one last throw of the dice. I met Michael and began a somewhat surreal form of existence between seeing him at my place or meeting at a local park as I wasn't allowed in his house by order of his children. We snatched weekends away and he took me to the Goldfields for our first joint camping adventure. I was hooked, both with him and the glorious outback settings. Another life.
During our second trip, I became seriously concerned about his mental and physical health. He was having repeated bouts of bronchitis. He was very thin. His depression and anxiety were both palpable. He took most of our ten days away to unwind from some of his stress and then he was thrown back into the chaos of his home life. His daughter had already left home in a fit of pique, but continued with her demands from elsewhere and his son had become a disconnected stranger. He tried counselling with both of them. Neither was interested.
My next life began at the end of Michael's job trip in June 2010. He was working at the Collie Alumina Refinery in very cold and wet conditions over three days. He became unwell again with pain, cough and breathlessness. He weighed sixty-one kilograms. On our return to my house, I ordered him into bed. He complied. We started living together that very evening.
Six months later, we were on the move. Beverley beckoned as a place for Michael to heal and for us to cement our relationship. We bought the House that Rocked. We renovated and gardened and were married during the 2012 summer. And then, Michael discovered the Forbes Building, on Beverley's main street, was for sale.
She was a catastrophe of a building. Four and a half years of blood, sweat and tears followed. We endured more of his bronchitis and then pneumonia, which nearly killed him in April 2014. His will to live grew stronger as the Forbes Building rose from the hundred-year-old dirt, fretting brickwork, rising damp, massive cracks and disintegrating plaster. He began work as a metal artist once more. We opened stage 1 of the East End Gallery in December 2014 and finished the space in March 2016. In January 2017, preliminary work began on Station House, directly behind the Gallery.
We have lived in Station House for just over four years. Sometimes feels like yesterday. Then came Lily, Michael's first ever new car and Digger the caravan. Three yearly winter trips to the Northwest to diminish his chances of chest infection have been immensely successful.
Yesterday, I turned sixty here in Onslow. I had a wonderful day. I visited a ladies and kids clothing market and a local gift shop, purchasing a fabulous tee shirt for Michael. I spoke to Vanessa by phone, thrilled at her gift and birthday wishes. The boys communicated through Facebook. We had breakfast and dinner at the local resort and bought icecreams.
I can feel myself unwinding. My brain fog has lifted. I am walking on the beach every day, already finding interesting ocean flotsam to be 2021 keepsakes. A leak within the caravan is irksome but we have the time to solve this problem, rather than frantically trying to find and fix the fault as quickly as possible with much gnashing of teeth.
We are experiencing bliss by just stopping. Our section of the caravan park is brand new with spacious sites and oh-so-clean amenities. Being unable to use our toilet or shower for a day or two isn't an issue as we have lovely facilities right next to us.
We are here in Onslow for another eight glorious days. We chat to fellow guests. We eat and sleep as we wish. The main amusement is watching caravans being reversed into position. For couples not entirely happy with each other, this exercise could cause divorce. We often feel like scoring - for skill, for patience, for aggravation, and for eventual success.
Following Onslow will be a three night stop in Point Samson to take in the Cossack Art Awards. An overnight stay in Port Hedland, then a free camp, Marble Bar for a week, with expeditions and fossicking already on the agenda before we head south towards home. And I figure by the time we return to Station House, we'll be ready for our next life back in our beloved East End Gallery.
Michael used to have a pronounced death wish when I first met him. And now? I would say this feeling has pretty much dissipated. Why? Because, most of the time, he enjoys living far too much.
And I am content, at the age of sixty years and one day.
My only James Bond...
Yum!
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