When BLOOM Came To Town...

I must admit I am not a night owl anymore. In fact, I have been known to stagger my way through the ABC News so I am staying up until it's at least 'night time', before I succumb to the irresistible draw of our glorious bed. The only issue with an early evening is that my darling Michael may forget some vital element of our bedtime routine. Like putting away his thongs to prevent canine ingestion or strategically placing our stool on a specific part of the couch to stop canine excavation. Remembering to take his evening meds is another easily forgotten task, along with a laissez-faire attitude towards his CPAP mask if I am not awake to check. Last night, he left yet another box of tissues out on the low coffee table, only to be snaffled by Miss Lexi for her lengthy delectation.

We had been given vastly discounted tickets to see a band named Bloom at the Platform Theatre some weeks ago by the lovely Di Mainwaring. I was a bit ambivalent attending given the show would probably end way past my bedtime. And that Bloom were a tribute band, singing Linda Ronstadt (who was my least favourite singer), Carole King and Stevie Nicks hits. I was still debating on Saturday morning whether I'd actually go to concert or not. Oh, poor, poor pitiful me...

By Saturday evening, I was also brewing one humdinger of a chest infection. I just thought I'd picked up a virus from some careless bastard during my visit to the Big Smoke last Wednesday. I was very tired but, damn the torpedoes, I thought Bloom might perk me up a bit.

A couple of vinos and some very good Vietnamese fusion food from the Chew Chew Truck and I began to improve. The evening was beautiful, the venue was packed and then we were introduced to Bloom by the indestructible Jenny Broun, president of Beverley Station Arts. 

Bloom (the group) was a revelation. Her voice was truly amazing and the blokes on guitars and drums backed her up beautifully. I was definitely not up to dancing, but I found myself bopping along on my plastic seat, in good company and a great atmosphere. I admit to hamming up "Blue Bayou" quite outrageously as I must have heard that song on countless occasions as a sixteen-year-old. But that didn't dampen my enthusiasm for the rest of the show and I travelled back down my own personal garden path with Stevie Nicks and Carole King. "Rumours" and "Tapestry" had been my first two albums back in the time of the dinosaurs. By the final song, I was feeling the earth moving under my feet...

Post concert, we ventured back to the East End Gallery for some more vino, along with local legends Geoff and Amanda and her two sisters Hilary and Erica. We were then joined by our fabulous backpack, Jef for an excellent after-party. Which went on WAY PAST my bedtime.

We hope Beverley Station Arts do invite Bloom back. For us, there have been two memorable shows at the Platform Theatre in the last year. 

Bloom was one of them.

 

 

 

 

 

That Fickle Finger Of Fate!

Those of us who are a certain vintage may remember that weekly comedy feast entitled "Rowan and Martin's Laugh-In". Launched early in 1968, "Laugh-In" was, in some ways, quite progressive for its time. Who recalls their segment known as 'The Flying Fickle Finger Of Fate"? Dan and Dick would be featured with the Flying Fickle Finger of Fate statue to be presented to organisations making dubious decisions, spending outrageous amounts of taxpayers' monies or renegging on promises previously made. Think of the Flying Fickle Finger of Fate being a past version of the Pub Test. Frequent awardees of the statue included the Pentagon and the entire U.S. Congress.

Not that much has changed...

The Urban Dictionary described the Fickle Finger of Fate as -

1. An unseen and unforeseeeable force that controls the direction of all living things

2. The fickle nature of the universe and how it seems to bestow bad luck on some people more than others

3. A series of very unlucky or unfortunate events...

The Fickle Finger of Fate seemed to strike actor Judy Carne, one of the mainstays of "Laugh-In", with regular frequency, particularly after she uttered the phrase "sock it to me" repeatedly. A visual gag would then have her being doused with a bucket of water, struck by an oversized mallet or unfortunately falling through a 'hidden' trapdoor.  

I hadn't realised how much of the "Laugh-In"vernacular had entered our everyday language. "Go to your room", uttered as a response to a very bad joke, was used extensively by my darling Dad. "Very interesting...", "You bet your sweet bippy", "Here comes de Judge!" and "That tickles my fancy" are all quotes that I still use often.

Anyway I have digressed...again. The Fickle Finger of Fate has featured in my life, both in good ways and bad, for as long as I can remember. That this week, for example. I have lost my list of attendees for our Celebration next Friday night, along with my favourite pen. I have no doubt that these items will turn up, in the fullness of time, probably next Saturday morning, in some farcical position.

Then, of course, there is our irrational dishwasher. Being a Euro brand and manufactured in Italy, the dishwasher began having hissy fits earlier in 2024, refusing to co-operate by engaging a normal cycle, all whilst beeping loudly in a most argumentative manner. Every now and then, when the dishwasher responds positively to the Fickle Finger of Fate, all will be forgiven...for one cycle only. The glasses cycle...Usually, the dishwasher's conversion back to good humour occurs every few weeks or so, without any rhyme or reason.

My irritable bowel, which has been behaving itself lately, returned to a state of fury this morning, after I had mentioned to Jodie yesterday how happy it had been. Smugness, uttered without thought, inevitably leads to both the bone being pointed at me along with the Fickle Finger of Fate pointing upwards most aggressively.

The Fickle Finger of Fate also loves to toy with us. Getting injured when we shouldn't have been injured or the complete reverse. My dexterity at breaking camping equipment is legendary- pulling the spout off the 25 litre water container, leaving a chair too close to a fire, bending tent pegs into interesting angles or abusing zippers until they seize are just a few of those memorable moments of 15 years camping. 

Michael has fallen elegantly backwards off a camping stool, slipped off a ledge in Karijini and landed squarely on his feet (!), been attacked by a myriad of creepy crawlies and managed to steer Will off the North-Western Coastal Highway after the caravan tyre exploded, creating a scene similar to that in Apollo 13, when stuff vented into space through the hole in the ship. We lost a jack, a lamp and other sundry items out the hole onto the highway and then came to a rapid stop as a gas cylinder decided to jam itself onto the remains of the tyre. And start leaking. How we didn't have a more spectacular explosion of the van and possibly the car must have been due to the stars aligning in that instant with the Fickle Finger of Fate.

Positive effects of the Fickle finger of Fate have included finding a 1922 Penny between my feet at the Yalgoo tip, an enamelled Federation medallion face down in a creek bed, decorative bed frames in a grove of trees right next to where we were planning to camp, getting lost and discovering an 1890s transport depot with horse paraphernalia everywhere we looked and at least 24 broken bicycle seats of different times left for us to find at Leonora. 

Then there have been the fabulous characters we have encountered by sheer chance - Bruce the Menzies tyre fixer, Para and Jug who were prospecting in Kookynie whilst their good ladies were shopping in Adelaide, Andy and Bobbie, those goldmines of local knowledge in Sandstone, Kath the Marble Bar tourist park manager, Margaret at the Marble Bar Visitors Centre. So many more we know by face.

The greatest legacy of the Fickle Finger of Fate was meeting my beloved Michael in May 2009. That led to a 12 year love affair with the Forbes Building, a 10 year love affair with the East End Gallery (now evolving into the East End Arts Precinct) and a continuing love affair with our artists, our guests, our supporters, our friends and members of our families.

We are now part of a wonderful community taking in all the other artisans in Beverley and beyond, the Beverley Station and Platform Theatre and our resident East End artists - Sue, Jodie, Rebecca and Marion. 

And we plan to lift the roof off the Forbes Building with intoxicating joy at our Celebration on Friday evening. Here's to the next 10 years!

How lucky are we...

 Dan Rowan and Dick Martin...

 

 

 

Do yourselves a favour and have a laugh!

 

 

 

 

Ruby the Beagle was our pre-rinse cycle!

 

 

The fear is real!

 

 

 

 

Vital part of our supplies...

  

 

Which is why we go to Onslow for two weeks every year...

 

 

 

And now, in no particular order, is a montage of the last 15 years in the WA outback -

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And lastly here is the East End Artists Precinct - November 2024